- Jun 7, 2022
- 169
- 42
- 28
please wait for at least one: @citruspaw @Raccoonpaw @FORESTKIT.
[ cw: eye injury [predator], injury [all four of them], blood, concerns of child death (no actual death) the description of hound's injury can be found in the ooc section below the post ]
( ᴛᴀɢs. ) ❝ It'd taken more'n a moment to recognize his wound. Something hot and sticky had coated his shoulder– in the riverbank tussle, he'd thought it mud. Funny how sure the mind can be that all is well, when it's the only thing keeping you on your paws. Numbing adrenaline an' exhilaration beginning to burn. Pain charred the synapses, brought his mind to its knees. There was nothing. There was only this dull throb, and the paws that slowly stopped holding all his weight. Looking at it'd been what brought it all back. The racing of his heart, the flecked ivory fangs and dark, wild eyes. It'd been the scuffle to alert him. Not a word or a sight, but the panic that filled the air, the fur that dusted 'cross the ground. "Citrus!" had been the first name off his maw. A russet snout grasped her throat, pinpricks of red welling up.
He'd thrown himself into the fray past that. Sold his soul to that devil's elixir that adrenaline was. Forestkit'd been thrown to a bush of thorns, Citruspaw plucked from its jaws. Hound stood between the beast and Raccoonpaw no matter the wounds it left on him. Not a thing in this world mattered more to 'im than those three fragile lives pinned in the muck. That'd be the end of him, wouldn't it just? One of these days his strength and heart would fail him, and all that he had loved would be for naught. Premature grief spurred him to panic. From there, Houndsnarl found his way through the rumbling waters to rage. As the fox's teeth tore at his shoulder, his claws raked through its eyes.
Blood is still fresh on the tips of them as the wearied band draws back to camp. Looking at them, the pain of his wound is long forgotten. Each limping step is one closer to safety. A den for the three to curl up in, with a kind soul to watch after them as they heal. Beesong'd keep them safe. Healthy. Some far moons in the future, this'll be nothing more than a ghost of time. A hovering memory written to his shoulder's scar. Hopefully none'f theirs would follow his same path, though he's little hope for Raccoonpaw's healing pretty. But they were alive. Stars above they were alive, and nothing that could be offered is worth more than that.
"You've been brave as can be, all'f you. We're almost there." With a soft, shaky exhale that betrays the pained hitch of his step, Hound lowers his head to take Forestkit by the scruff, pulling the youth near the level of a warrior's eyes as they step into camp. Above the child's head, his own verdant eyes dare them to offer even a word of cruelty to those that follow him. It means near nothing, with the weight of exhaustion and blood loss making a mess of his head. There's no real weight to his anger. Not that there ever really was.
He sways on his paws, barely manages to set the black kitten back on his footing 'fore Hound's own crumble beneath him.
[ cw: eye injury [predator], injury [all four of them], blood, concerns of child death (no actual death) the description of hound's injury can be found in the ooc section below the post ]
( ᴛᴀɢs. ) ❝ It'd taken more'n a moment to recognize his wound. Something hot and sticky had coated his shoulder– in the riverbank tussle, he'd thought it mud. Funny how sure the mind can be that all is well, when it's the only thing keeping you on your paws. Numbing adrenaline an' exhilaration beginning to burn. Pain charred the synapses, brought his mind to its knees. There was nothing. There was only this dull throb, and the paws that slowly stopped holding all his weight. Looking at it'd been what brought it all back. The racing of his heart, the flecked ivory fangs and dark, wild eyes. It'd been the scuffle to alert him. Not a word or a sight, but the panic that filled the air, the fur that dusted 'cross the ground. "Citrus!" had been the first name off his maw. A russet snout grasped her throat, pinpricks of red welling up.
He'd thrown himself into the fray past that. Sold his soul to that devil's elixir that adrenaline was. Forestkit'd been thrown to a bush of thorns, Citruspaw plucked from its jaws. Hound stood between the beast and Raccoonpaw no matter the wounds it left on him. Not a thing in this world mattered more to 'im than those three fragile lives pinned in the muck. That'd be the end of him, wouldn't it just? One of these days his strength and heart would fail him, and all that he had loved would be for naught. Premature grief spurred him to panic. From there, Houndsnarl found his way through the rumbling waters to rage. As the fox's teeth tore at his shoulder, his claws raked through its eyes.
Blood is still fresh on the tips of them as the wearied band draws back to camp. Looking at them, the pain of his wound is long forgotten. Each limping step is one closer to safety. A den for the three to curl up in, with a kind soul to watch after them as they heal. Beesong'd keep them safe. Healthy. Some far moons in the future, this'll be nothing more than a ghost of time. A hovering memory written to his shoulder's scar. Hopefully none'f theirs would follow his same path, though he's little hope for Raccoonpaw's healing pretty. But they were alive. Stars above they were alive, and nothing that could be offered is worth more than that.
"You've been brave as can be, all'f you. We're almost there." With a soft, shaky exhale that betrays the pained hitch of his step, Hound lowers his head to take Forestkit by the scruff, pulling the youth near the level of a warrior's eyes as they step into camp. Above the child's head, his own verdant eyes dare them to offer even a word of cruelty to those that follow him. It means near nothing, with the weight of exhaustion and blood loss making a mess of his head. There's no real weight to his anger. Not that there ever really was.
He sways on his paws, barely manages to set the black kitten back on his footing 'fore Hound's own crumble beneath him.
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──── houndsnarl. trans male, he/him pronouns.
──── approximately 30 moons old, or 2.5 years.
──── bisexual with firm male preference; single.
──── a chocolate tabby with ( stylized ) low white and intense lime eyes. lean and lanky, with whiplike musculature and a long, quick stride. hound's notable features include his impressive height, the long scar across the left side of his face from nose to jaw, his very deep, dense fur, and the confident manner with which he conducts himself. - "speech"