FOR ONCE I'M GLAD IM HEARTLESS // skirmish aftermath


Aside from the furious look in her gaze and the remaining bristling fur, one would not even have guessed Soot had gotten into a scuffle. Her opponent claimed himself not a kittypet, yet he fought with complete disgrace! Might as well be kittypet born or worse if you can't bring yourself to even unsheathe your claws... pathetic, humiliating... She could not respect him or his group. In fact, she couldn't stand them being in the pine forest for much longer.

"Another hunt and no prey thanks to our lovely neighbors. If they didn't infest the pine forest we'd still have full bellies, won't be long before we shrivel up if we keep turning our bellies to them, keep allowing them the territory they stole from us." The queen is growling, groaning, and hissing at just about anyone who will listen. She's not yelling or making some dramatic call in the middle of camp, but it was still rather easy to have your attention drawn to her words. "Just got done having a fight with them! Would've won if they hadn't outnumbered us, might be pathetic fighters but with enough numbers you beat skill..." Her reason for defeat anyways...

"I'm sick and tired of it... Not only do I need to feed my damn-self but shortly here my children. Yet their tummies are going to be rumbling and tears will be falling because kittypets are eating their food. I refuse to live that reality... we should at last drive them out!" Her call to action to, again, anyone who'd listen.


The loud spitting and hissing of Soot is what caught the young she-cats attention from where she had been sleeping. Having gone on a night patrol the previous night, Sandra had spent most of the day asleep until she was needed once more for something. Didn't know what she could be needed for as she was terrible at all aspects of fighting and hunting, but she was good at patrolling! She could walk for hours upon hours just watching the territory change, the flowers bloom and sway. Though she wondered what upset Soot so much?

Of course shortly found out as the blue cat went on about the Pine Group that had recently moved into the forest. Seemed there was a lot of skuffles and skirmishes with themselves and the Pine Group. Sandra didn;t reall understand why they had so many fights recently, what was the problem? Could they not live in harmony like they had before? Sure there was a shortage of prey, but that came with the changes of the seasons.

"I dont think driving them out will solve the issue," Sandra softly spoke up as she approached the hissing she-cat, "We've dealt with a shortage of food before! We'll get through it," Trying to sound as optimistic as possible. She hadn't been around for leaf-bare so she couldn't totally say it would be fine. She too was a kittypet that had been brought into the group, was she just like them in Soots eyes?
[ I Use To Hear A Simple Song ]
( ) Oh, stars above. They are sick of the fighting. The camp no longer feels like home with this oppressive tension lingering over them. They try to ignore it most days, blocking it out like it's nothing more than a bad memory. But the tang of blood in the air today is hard to ignore. Crow's fur stands on end, eyeing the patrol that staggers back into the camp. With fur disheveled and clawmarks lacing their scrawny frames, it isn't hard to guess what had happened. Soot's furious announcement only solidifies the guess.

Selfishly, Crow worries about their mate first rather than the members of their own group. What if he was hurt? Claws flex into the earth, the achromatic feline worrying with their bottom lip.

The demand to drive them out sends a chill down his spine. No, they couldn't do that. He couldn't lose Everest. Crow glowers at Soot, his nose wrinkled as if he'd sniffed rotting roadkill. "Not like there's other places to hunt," he snaps back at her, and if anyone looked at him funny, he would brush it off as one of his harmless quips. The bristling fur along his neck suggests otherwise, however. He has to stop this outrageous idea in it's tracks.

Unfortunately, Crow doesn't understand the concept of healthy communication. All they know are barbed words and sharp sarcasm.

"Hey, I have an idea; maybe it's not the stupid kittypets' faults that you aren't a skilled enough hunter."


At least Sandra approaches more gently than they do. One ear flicks towards her in a silent agreement, their whiskers held taut.

Little Wolf held a reverent respect for Soot, though she didn’t think that the queen should be out hunting or fighting with kits on the way, she has had always admired the she cats strength and strong wills. She did not, however, share the she cats sentiment. She listens to Soot’s words with pursed lips, not liking the idea of her clan going hungry, but also not a big fan of the idea of driving the pine cats away. She had her own reservations, words that she was too afraid to voice in fear of being accused of becoming a traitor. Surely not all the pine cats were that bad right? Surely some of their own members with kittypet blood were just as worthy of being here as the ones without, and who was to say that these cats were any less than them in any way?
She lets Sandra do the talking for her, only nodding her ebony head ever so slightly in agreement to the other she cats words. They had, indeed, faced a prey shortage before, she was certain that they could get through it again. She knew, however, that most of her fellow group mates would not see it that way. A shame really, but she plans on quietly going along with whatever is decided, wether she likes it or not she could not be separated from her family.

Wistfully though, she thinks of the cream colored rom she had met in the woods that day. If it came down to a fight with him she does not think she can bear her claws against him, not when she thinks of his round, trusting eyes. How could anyone ever harm someone so soft, so fragile? No, she thinks. She would prefer to send them home with some harsh words and just leave the ones who wanted to stay in peace.

╰☆☆ She all but limps into camp after Soot, one paw favored and curled awkwardly close to her chest. The foot is not broken, but that hideous ginger cat had sliced a pad with his teeth, and although it's been cleaned thoroughly, every step brings her a stinging pain. Just below the tip of her tail is a nasty wound, blood congealed and dusty from her journey home. There's a bruise on her shoulder from being tackled and pinned.

Despite all of this, there's life glowing in her eyes. She steps beside Soot, quiet for a moment as she listens to her groupmate rant about driving the kittypets away. Flicker nods at her, in full agreement.

It's the simpering, cowering voices of Sandra and Crow that cause the tortoiseshell's ears to flatten. And although Little Wolf does not voice her disapproval, there's a look on her face that Flicker does not like. She rounds on both of them, gaze like lit coals. "Who asked you yellow-bellies? I didn't see either of you defending what little prey we have," she remarks hotly. "Next time we want a cowards' opinion, we'll ask for it!"

She knows not all of the pine dwellers are bad. Ember, for example. But Ember has made her own choice. A wildcat aligning with kittypets... Flicker is having a hard time remembering the flame point in the light she wanted to, not with the sliced paw and the bitten tail and the bruised ribs.

Thankful some cats backed her up in her words, mainly Little Wolf and Crow, but then Flicker spoke up from behind Soot. Holding a paw to her chest and the cinnamon tabby flicked her ears back. No she wasn't there to defend anything, not like she could defend anythiung if she really wanted to. Sandra couldn't defend herself against a simple kitten let alone full grown cats even if they were kittypets. "We are not yellow-bellies, fighting is pointless. Why should we spill blood when its not going to make more prey come back?" Sandra argued back, but her voice was soft and almost wavered a bit. Sandra was a rather sensitive cat, any little arguement or harsh tone could send her into tears though she tried her best to hide it.
[ I Use To Hear A Simple Song ]
Pumpkin is following after the group with her tail down, dragging along the dirt as she walked besides Flicker. She had not been beat, no, not a single paw had been laid on her- the guilt clung in her chest more than any pain from any wound. Crow spoke and immediately she was sent back to that battleground. “So you’d rather let us all starve! Good to know i’m in the presence of a pathetic cat.” she scowls with a huff, her tail lashing back and forth. She remembers the adrenaline that guided her forth, the pure fear in her system as Flicker was pinned and bitten and slashed. The guilt bubbles up once again and she can’t even spare a glance at the femme.
To make them realize they’re making a mistake.” she answers Sandra’s question with tired eyes. Everything sounds so loud now and she feels tears prick up in the corner of orange eyes. “We’re going to die at this rate.” though it had not been long since Mother herself had abandoned her and she’d been exposed to the cruel world, she had grown accustomed to the gnawing pain in her stomach. She wanted to be selfish, but despite her mean demeanor she knows that shes at the bottom of the pole- other cats who could contribute deserved to be fed.

"We already have enough problems without starting fights in our own camp." Moth's voice cut through the din, clear and certain. With how often she had to play mediator as of late, it felt as though she was stuck babysitting a camp full of kits. What a mess her home had become.

She slid in amongst the group, shooting Crow, Pumpkin, and Flicker a warning glance. "So cool it, all of you. Or take it somewhere else, I don't care which." Her gaze lingered on one of their number, however, once she noticed the state of her friend. Anxiety bubbled up within her chest. This was exactly what she had been afraid of. "Lean on me." She told Flicker as she stepped up beside her. "That way it'll be easier not to walk on it. No arguing either. If you let that thing get infected and try and make me to hunt for the both of us, I'm letting you starve."

Despite the severity of her words, her tone was light. Brimming with worry and care.

Another voice chimed in as she tended to the tortie, a softer one that had been lost among the more impassioned cries at first. Her eyes wandered over to Sandra before she glanced pointedly away. It'd do no good to lend her voice to the discussion, not right now. Tensions were high enough already, and after their little scuffle Soot and Flicker both looked ready to bust a vein.

Besides, she was did not agree with either 'side'. Not completely. She had her own reservations about attempting to drive the kittypets out, but not because she doubted it would bring the prey back. Less cats in the territory would mean more prey, it was that simple. Not for sympathy either, she didn't givea lick what happened to the kittypets. No, she simply worried what it would cost to drive them out.

− ♱ ABOUT : the walk back had been agonizing. step after blistering pawstep, the pain in his bruised ribs puffing the breath from him every now and then. he wasn’t built to withstand a full force plow to the side from a cat like rain ; twice his size and obviously fed decent enough. cicada was hardly weak, but full - frontal attack to his shoulder and rib had done at least enough damage to cause him some extra aches and pains over the next couple of days. he leans just slightly on a colony mate for the final couple of yards, still a bit winded, the nick just above his left eye an extra, biting sting. a sick warmth grew in his chest at the thought of the cinnamon tabby, though, who had walked from that clearing, neck bearing four brand new puncture wounds. he still stood by his opinion ; kittypets belonged within their twoleg nests, eating hard pebbles and basking in the sun like the lazy, mooching rats they were. they were bound to be killed one way or another, and their sorry pelts would only stud their land and seep it’s rich soil with their pampered blood. he could only hope the blooms that grew from their flowering bones would entice the prey they’d driven off with their oafishness.

he breathes a sigh of thanks to whoever had assisted him back to camp, pressing his nose gently to the base of their ear before turning his attention towards the sound of bitter, angry yowling. soot. fiery, opinionated ; her final shriek during their excursion in the pine forest had been enough to foretell him of the scene he would find upon return. storming off in a fit of disgusted rage, tail lashing, a sight to behold despite her belly full of kits. he can’t help himself from nodding along, allowing his tall figure to slowly, painfully settle just beneath a patch of moss - coated thicket, shading him from the overhead sun. he could his body close, tail wrapping around his body — while soot was right, they did need to act now, he would also appreciate some rest. hunger brings the rhythmic throb of a migraine to weigh on his temples, orbital ears coming to pin flat along the slope of his skull.

sandra speaks, then crow . . both obnoxiously complacent and a sudden snarl rips from his maw, fixing his icy luminaries on them both, “ those stupid kittypets are just that — kittypets. they shouldn’t be here regardless. “ cicada spits just after flicker, who had aptly called them both cowards to their face. a brief flare of pride for his colony mate is soon overpowered by the rage that still thrums within his chest, beating against aching ribs like a wing - winged songbird, “ if you know of any other places to hunt, please, share with us — otherwise we will be eating at eachother before long. “ with each word his accent gets thicker, syllables slurring into deep, harsh vocals until he is near spatting. to think he’d lived amongst such traitors, such cowards — he’s sick at the thought, eyes momentarily squeezing shut with the force of it all. sandra speaks again, and he can’t help but open them again simply to roll. the way her voice trembled keeps his viscous tongue from turning on her in the way it had crow, though he levels her with a brutal icewater gaze from his place beneath the briar.

one less kittypet is one less mouth to feed, and one less kill to catch. maybe a beating would do them some good. “ he snips anyway, tail lashing angrily at his heels. perhaps they did need to drive them out. they were notoriously scaredy cats, and so long as he wasn’t faced with the silver - blue tabby leader, he should be able to hold his own against their pathetic kind. these cats were able, but not willing to drive out the parasites invading their rightful home. pitiful.. pumpkin is speaking and then, suddenly, there comes another . . moth. she is attempting to play mediator, once again — his expression morphs into fury once again, head snapping back towards the molly as she emerges, “ now isn’t the time for your damned coddling. look where being complacent has gotten us, what sharing the land has gotten us : greedy, filthy pets taking more than they need, driving our kill away. now is the time to be angry, before we all starve to death. ” he hisses, baring his teeth at the girl. there was no sense in calming them down ; they should be riled up. they should be furious, as he was. disappointment is not quite the word as he rips his gaze from her, giving his paws a couple of rough, irritated licks.

  • CICADA ; he / him, roughly thirty two months old, marsh group member
    − tall black smoke tortie chimera with icecap eyes and curly fur, homosexual
    − speaks with a german accent, attack in #171717, penned by antlers

  • none.


"A beating is something they deserve. Something they need to understand that their soft hides don't belong here." This, this was something she could ageee with. She had many encounters with them and now Soot, Flicker, others had tense or even fighting encounters with them too. She was starting to see that there was no other way. That these cats will not leave and they will take the prey that they need to survive. "We were here first so why do we have to give up the lands we hunted on? Why do we have to worry about our future and if we can manage when they don't have too? They will just go running to their twolegs like cowards and get food from them. Well fed with no cares in the forest." Her voice was cutting as she came to stand beside Cicada, tail flicking with her pricks of agitation.

"I'd love to see you say fighting is pointless when the cold moons come and we have to pick and choose who gets to eat because there is not enough to go around." It is clear whose side she is on and she understands that her sister may not like this. But all the sharpness and seeing what that group of cats are doing can not stay unanswered. They do need to do something and her flaming gaze flicks to the pregnant molly to make sure she is not hurt from their encounter.

They... They lost to kittypets?

The same kittypets he made games out of? The ones Leaping Toad assured his brother were easy targets? Those kittypets?

Soot says it's because they were outnumbered by the kittypets' ambush. But, if kittypets were supposed to be easy to beat, wouldn't those who the brown tabby was led to believe were skilled fighters be able to beat them? Were the tales he was told - of both his group and the opposing group - wrong all along? Were they the weak ones?

Cerulean, fright-filled eyes watch the bickering before him. He glances at the kill-pile, suddenly aware of the lack of prey within it, of the lack of prey within his own stomach. Were the kittypets trying to drive him out of their home? Was that their plan? Pumpkin's words hang over him amidst the older cats words. They were going to die.

"Are they... Are they going to kill us?" he asks between the others' tense exchange of words, a tremble in his voice. If the kittypets were stronger than he thought - if they were able to defeat those within his own group, to harm them - he'd have to rethink his games. Make them more difficult, train harder. Train Ribbit better. He couldn't let anything happen to himself, to his brother. Especially with danger on the horizon.
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She did not appreciate how these cats were speaking, the tone of voice they used against the cats who voiced their concerns or even her, although she had not spoken a word. Her ears lay flat against her head and she is about to say something, mouth opening to protest, to ask if they could please please please just maybe leave the kittypets alone? But she knew it was a foolish thought, and besides, before she could speak the others from the patrol had returned.

Her gaze softened for the injured cats, sympathy for their wounds glimmering in her emerald green eyes as she watched them limp away. She understood her group-mates concerns of course. Food was hard to find in the marshes but certainly there were other places that they could hunt? The other day Willow had caught a fish, after all. Could they not just search elsewhere for prey?

Her ear flicks in the direction of Leaping Toad’s voice and she turns to face him “of course not, everything will be okay” she immediately reassures. Being the oldest of her siblings she had always been the one who had to put on a brave face, even when she herself was terribly uncertain. She couldn’t let the others see that she was frightened, that their words and their wounds scared her. There was something in the air, something looming and she could feel it. The pine cats would not put up with the cats of the marsh attacking them and spitting in their faces every chance they got much longer. Anxiously, she digs her claws into the soft earth. She does not want to battle like Bone and Cicada seem to want, but she does not want to be called a traitor or weak. She doesn’t know what to do.


Sandra. So naive. Soot expects such a response from her. For a large pawful of reasons, the molly gets cast a pitiful look from the blue molly. She too was a kittypet- despite her harsh words to the Pine group she's not forgotten that few of her own group-mates shared their blood. At least they had enough brains to have joined the marsh group rather than completely rip away their resources... That's exactly what Rain and his gang had done.

At the end of the day, she doesn't expect someone with kittypet blood to understand. She doesn't give her any more acknowledgment.
Crow, however? They should know better, she hisses at them. Luckily others managed to speak before the pregnant molly or she may have let out a heap of barbed words.

Just like that, there is now inner-bickering. Soot had not intended on causing this but she didn't see it as a bad thing, she'd ensure anyone who backed the kittypets who should know better wound up on her shit-list. She couldn't be friends or allies with felines who rushed to the aid of felines who had stolen from them. If she was Briar, she'd be making a list of cats to kick out... but again, their ebony leader did not think similarly to the blue molly.

"I'd like to see them try! One of them practically submitted to my paws the moment I raised my claws, might as well have been asking to be killed." She assures after Little Wolf, but a bit more aggressively.

"The moors have plenty of prey." Salamander chimed in, keeping her voice carefully composer and devoid of any emotional infliction. She has already said this time and time again. Would they listen this time? Probably not. "Where do you think I've been catching rabbits?" She finished with a shrug. Salamander had proved the spot was viable but that did little to combat stubbornness. It was honestly impressive how arrogant some cats could be.

The blue molly stepped toward Leaping Toad, her tail lashing back and forth. Cold, teal eyes glowered at the gathered group as if warning them to speak softer.

"I will tear anyone who tries to harm you limb from limb, little one." she assured her nephew, claws digging into the mud underfoot. "I promise you that, okay? No matter what happens I will keep you safe." Salamander crouched down to look her nephew in the eyes as if they were the only two there.

Her gaze sharpened at Cicada's words. Spitting her every attempt at civility and back in her face. She could see his injuries plainly, knew that his tempter likely held away over his words, but she didn't much care. She wasn't going to let him talk to her like that. For him she would spare no sympathy. "Anger doesn't put prey in anyones bellies. If you wish to actually go out there and solve the problem than be my guest, but don't throw tantrums at your groupmates like a petulant kit." She spat, her lip curdling in disdain. "The cats in this camp aren't the ones stealing your prey."

Her voice lowered as she glared at him. "That said, if you ever take that tone with me again you'll have worse problems than whine about than a few kittypets." Moth warned. Though not usually one to pick a fight, she wasn't just going to let another cat walk all over her, and he needed to know that.

Her ear flicks as Leaping Toad asks if the pine cats are going to kill them, and everyone rushes to provide assurances that would never happen. How certain they were that everything would turn out alright. How she wished she shared their faith. No, she stayed notably silent, her eyes subconsciously finding Flicker.[/b][/b]


╰☆☆ "Fighting is pointless," Sandra whines in response to Flicker's insult. "Because we shouldn't suffer fools," she responds, lifting her lip just a touch to drive her point home.

She gives Pumpkin an appreciative nod; the cinnamon calico had fought bravely, even as small and young as she is. Flicker can tell she's a bit down, a bit defeated, so the tortoiseshell brushes her tail against the younger cat's flank in a gesture of solidarity. "We are not going to die," she calls out, confident despite her injured paw, her bleeding tail, her bruised body. "Because those of us who aren't cowards will keep the rest of y'all safe."

But Moth's sharp voice cuts right through Flicker's bravado, and her ears flatten as though she's a chastised kit. Her pout is immediate, but she doesn't argue with her friend. She offers a gray flank for Flicker to lean against, and she takes it, silently relieved to be able to take some pressure off of the stinging paw. "It won't get infected," she grumbles, but she isn't sure. The weird-looking tom who'd bit her might have poisoned her somehow, who knows.

She's almost brought right back to her previous spirited rant when Cicada backs her up, but when he snaps at Moth, she flinches visibly. That's probably a mistake, buddy, she thinks. Moth won't suffer that insult kindly. But Bone and Soot give their voices again, while Little Wolf and Salamander work to calm the frightened Leaping Toad.

She scowls at Moth, who lights into Cicada with abandon. "He didn't mean it," she says to her friend. Even if he did mean it, Moth can't fault them. She hadn't been there. Hadn't seen the smug look on those wretched kittypet's faces. The thought causes her blood to simmer all over again.

Sooner we're free of 'em, the better, she thinks, giving the split pad a cursory lick.