FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS — trapped in a cage

[SLATESNARL]

❪ TAGS ❫ — Charcoal-colored paws carried the lone warrior as he proceeded through SkyClan's territory, his form trudging through the thick mists that had settled upon the land. Slate had not even batted an eye at the rather eerie environment; a walk through the dark pines was not scarier than descending a shady alleyway, nor was dead silence any scarier than the roar of a monster charging down the path. After living a near-lifetime on the rough and tumble streets, Slate couldn't say he was afraid of many things.

His innate sense of direction tells him that he is somewhere near the twolegplace border. The Maine Coon angled his tufted ears and drew in a breath, wondering if he would pick up any scent of Ashenclaw or Howlpaw. Slate knew that vigilance was key here; Twitchbolt and Quillstrike had been captured by twolegs just recently. Nobody could say for certain whether the former two had met the same fate, but at this point, what conclusion is there left to draw?

Just then, a peculiar whiff hits his nostrils. His paws stopped in their tracks, maw drawing agape as he analyzed the scent; something he hadn't smelled in a long while, but it didn't take him long to realize what it was — a twoleg.

That, he was afraid of.

Inky black pupils stretched into shimmering moons, his breath catching in his throat. They were here. They were going to take another SkyClanner, if not him first. While Slate usually opted to fight rather than flee, he knew that a battle with a human was not one that he would win. He maneuvered his hefty form to dart in the opposite direction, plunging headfirst into the fog and away from the alarming scent, but only mere moments later the warrior found himself tumbling straight into a barricade of cold metal. The large cat gracelessly bashed against the wall and was knocked back, dazed. What? He shook his head and spun around, only to come face to face with another wall of wire.

Slate's veins ran ice cold like the metal he stood upon. His heart galloped, beating so hard that it might as well have fallen right out of his chest. His jaw clenched so bone-cracking tight, his fur standing on end. "No, no, no, no- FUCK!" The former rogue screeches. He has tussled with brutes, been face to face with a bloodthirsty mongrel, but Slate now knows that he's never felt fear this intense before.

A scream for help nearly lurches through parted jaws though he is quick to come to grips with reality; Slate knows that any attempts to free him would be futile. The teeth and claws of all of SkyClan's warriors combined would not tear open the steel vines that surrounded him. Even the most street-smart stray couldn't possibly pry the maw of this trap. The methods of the twolegs were cruel and barbaric, but in the end, man always got their way.

Still, he would not just roll over and accept his predicament. Loud grunts echoed throughout the misted pines as the muscular Maine Coon threw his weight against the walls of the cage out of desperation — CLANK. CLANK. CLANK. His shoulder began to bruise with each impact, though the utter panic manifesting in his brain was enough to deaden any pain he felt at the moment. Freeing himself was of utmost priority.

His heart pounded in his chest—a clock ticking down—as his stamina only began to falter and the wire mesh still hadn't budged. His time in the forest was setting like the sun; it would only be a matter of time before the bipedal beasts showed up and took him away. Slate would never see Cloverjaw again.

Slate's sheer bulk wouldn't be enough to save him this time. His fate had been sealed.​

 

[cloverjaw -]

TAGS — It's hard to imagine his journey from being a twoleg's lapcat to fearing them as he does now. Cloverjaw had been born and bred for domestic life. He's not particularly ashamed of it, especially when he thinks of the progress he's made as a warrior- the fearlessness with which he'd leapt at the dog, the skill with which he climbs -but now that he has been made wild, there is a difference in his sentiments towards the upright-walkers. He once found them benevolent. They fed him, gave him warm walls to live within, kept him kind. But then they'd left him. They'd left him, and he'd wandered for days trying to get by on clumsy instinct alone, and he'd wound up with the scar for which he was named. Now that he's a SkyClanner (and he truly wouldn't have it any other way), it gets harder and harder to look at twolegs as benevolent. Cruel is a better word, he thinks: they're cruel for taking Quillstrike and Twitchbolt, they're cruel for taking Ashenclaw and Howlpaw.

They are especially cruel for this.

Slate's hollering gets the warrior on his paws. There is a very palpable fear that slings him towards the noise. There is no time that he can waste. He can't be like Blazestar- he can't be too late. "Slate!" Cloverjaw yowls, hoping his brother can hear him; can hear that help is coming. And when he skids to a stop, spraying pine needles in his wake, he knows not what he's looking at. Well, it's a cage, certainly, but... how to open it? His mind races and his jaw slacks with cold panic. He watches his littermate pound his shoulder against the indifferent, glistering bars. Is that right, though? It can't be, or else the cage would've released him by now. But Cloverjaw can't calm himself enough to think; his flanks rise and fall in rapid succession. He can't let Slate be taken. He can't lose him just as soon as he's found him.

There's not enough time nor thought to speak. Instead the silver tabby throws himself at the bars, too, wrapping his jaw around the cold steel and pulling. It's not doing anything. It's not doing anything, but he can't give up- he doesn't know what to do, but he can't give up. Cloverjaw tightens his grip and pulls harder (pulls so hard it hurts), pads digging into the loamy earth beneath him. It has to work. It has to.​

​

 

[Auburnflame]

Cloverjaw's frantic screeching has him nearly reeling back from the sudden panic he can hear within his tone. Minty hues are wide with alarm, wintry and crimson dotted waves bristling along his spine and haunches. Slate! He hears him yowl, and Auburnflame takes no time to decide whether or not to go. He just feels his legs pull him forth, hocks kicking up nettle and soil behind him as he sprints as fast as his limber legs could muster. The fog obscures his vision, revealing dark pines a little too late but he is quick to maneuver around them, fear and adrenaline driving him forward even faster. What was going on? Was Slate injured? Did that mutt come back and attack him? Many scenarios whirled in his mind, turning and turning—flashing images of his body sprawled along the earth and coated within his own scarlet ichor.

He continues to push, crimson tail stream-lining behind him and he nearly misses the potent scent of Two-Leg that violates his nose in mouth. It's nearly suffocating, a musk he'd smelled from afar but never up close like this. The Mist gives way, and Cloverjaw and Slate's screeches are growing even louder. He makes out the silhouette of a strange box—and in it? Slate. Cloverjaw is trying his damnest to free his sibling, to pull apart the vice grip jaws of a steel cage and Auburnflame's heart sinks into his abdomen. No! No, no, no, no! "Slate! Cloverjaw!" He's screaming, coming to a skidding halt by the cage, claws anchoring him to stop him quicker. His heart is thundering, blood roaring in his ears. Almond shaped eyes are now wide and wild, pupils dilated large like black moons. What should they do? What could they do? There was no way to get Slate out, no mater how many of them tried to pry open it's steel clutches. Where were the Two-Legs? Did they know Slate was trapped? Did they see? Do they see them now? The warrior rushes to the silver tom's side, grabbing at the bars with tooth and claw and pulling with all his might. But, it was no use. "We can't get it open!" He nearly cries, panic-filled tears brimming his eyes. Why were the Two-Legs doing this? We haven't done anything to them! Why can't they just leave us alone!
​

[ SETTING FIRE TO THE SKY ]​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

Noise brought the spotted tabby away from his patrol quickly, the familiar snap of a trap singing the fate of something amidst their pine forest. The anxiety was immediate from the Lead Warrior, just as soon as he ran away from the noise did he gather his courage and run towards it instead, the yowls and clank of metal frequenting his ears more and more frequently. Feeling as if he was running on clouds with how weightless each gallop was, it didn't take Silversmoke long to find the scene before them, the whites of his eyes showing as his gaze locked onto none other than Slate. His mouth parted, sound refusing to come out of it. No. No, this wasn't how it was supposed to end! He stormed closer, his tail lashing like strikes of lightning behind him but then he saw Cloverjaw run out in front of him, the other's teeth biting into the wire mesh as if it was going to do something. It was a blissful naivety that caused the Lead Warrior to back up into the foliage. Steel jaws couldn't be pried open by anything. Perhaps he understood the need to try, to fight against all odds, but he also understood the need to survive more than that.

Silversmoke stood there, a reaper waiting to collect a soul from a doomed cat. "Go on, escape. You won't let me win, will you?" He egged the other on, perhaps out of the thin chance that it'd give Slate the strength to break free of his cage. It was futile, almost cruel, but... nothing else could be done. Any moment the ferns of SkyClan's territory would part and reveal monsters with two legs and Silver wanted nothing to do with it. Their collars were suffocating, their hands cold and sharp, their shrieks like torture to sensitive ears. Piercing odd eyes bore onto the back of Cloverjaw's head and then to the horizon, ready to whisk him back to the safety of the undergrowth if need be. His nose pointed at an angle towards the earth, his ears pointed in spite of it. His fur was a lake disturbed by a skipping stone, bristling for but a second before settling again as he offered last rites to the charcoal tom. "Come back to us." He wanted Slate's final words to be a promise, that their angry games wouldn't end here, that Silver didn't have to take the easy way out by letting the Twolegs make his victory for him.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of familiar fur and felt the time around them stop. He reached a paw out and his heart fluttered when it touched empty air instead of the cat he wanted to drag back to safety. He can handle himself, he knows what he's doing. But, could such confidence be applied when there were twolegs lurking nearby? Could he stomach inaction if it ran the risk of never seeing Auburnflame again? The spotted tabby let out a pained hiss, half-leaping out of cover. "Auburn, Cloverjaw, get back! Unless you've learned how to break shiny things you can't do anything for him now. Don't let yourselves get taken too." He mewed with an urgency he hadn't expected, not until he took to time to think about his desperate words. He had seen the worst of Twolegs and would not wish that fate on anyone - he wasn't even sure if he'd wish it on Slate. Defeating the brute in combat and taking an eye felt like child's play compared to what a human could do if you weren't the perfect little show cat.
​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Another shriek piercing their forest brings Blazestar's heavy golden pawsteps to a halt behind the other warriors. His dismay is enough to chase the exhaustion from his body. Slate, fluffed-up with rage and fear, slams his bulk against the thin-looking silver tendrils that hold him captive. They bend and bounce, but nothing budges, and the stench of these strange Twolegs is thick.

Silversmoke, despite his misgivings about Slate, seems as devastated; Blazestar remembers with a clenched heart that Cloverjaw is a littermate to the former rogue. Auburnflame, too, gives it his all, but no cat can free him now. He's cornered like prey, captive and held at the mercy of a beast too strange to truly understand.

These are not the gentle housefolk Blazestar had known. It's hard to reconcile the Twolegs he'd known and loved like kin with these awful predators who roam their pine forest and steal their Clanmates.

"He's right," he says, his voice cracking with effort. "We can't risk losing all of you. We will find a way to get him out, but get back." He gives the flame-eyed rogue in the den a desperate look, one he wishes could communicate hope. It does not. It's as bleak as he feels inside.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[cloverjaw -]

TAGS — He hardly notices Auburnflame's assistance with the panic tunneling his vision, but when the red-swept warrior enters his awareness, Cloverjaw feels a surge of renewed effort. There's two of them now. They have to be able to get the maws of this steel belly open; they have to save Slate. But they can't-- even between them both, the cage doesn't budge. Cloverjaw's teeth ache with the effort of pulling. We can't get it open! Auburnflame cries, and Clover's jaw slacks with anguish. They can't be defeated. Slate still isn't out of the cage! "Don't say that! There's still time," he snaps. His anger is uncharacteristic-- it hardly suits him, and yet it bubbles beneath his skin all the same, stress turning caustic, but it only gets worse when Silversmoke urges him away.

Cloverjaw's ears flatten to his skull; the long, silky fur on his nape bristles uncontrollably. He's being asked to stand down? He hardly registers the anguish in Silversmoke's own voice, mind racing too quickly with panic-infused misgivings about the whole situation. Did Silversmoke just want to see Slate gone? Their bad blood surely must make this easier to stomach-- but the thought sickens him. Enrages him. Even when Blazestar chimes in, agreeing with his lead warrior, Cloverjaw can't help but wonder if they all just want Slate gone. His incredulous gape becomes a determined, rancorous snarl. He can't think enough to dispute his superiors with words; but he can keep prying at the bars of the cage, hoping that it will give (and knowing that it won't), whatever the consequence.

"I'll get you out," Cloverjaw growls, though his teeth and claws are growing sore from the effort. "You'll be okay...." His silky tail, all hawthorn spikes, lashes behind him; tears sting the edges of his sap-hued eyes. He can't let Slate leave. He can't be abandoned a second time, not so soon. If his clanmates want him to fall back, they'll have to pry him away.​

​

 

[SLATESNARL]

❪ TAGS ❫ — His brother's call strikes a twinge of fear right through his heart. There is a strange tug of war with his heart, as he wants to be able to see his brother in this frightening moment but would also rather him run in the opposite direction. "Clover!" He gasped. No, not Cloverjaw, Clover. His littermate. Slate had cried out for him once, a long time ago when they were only children. Here he was again, being forcibly stripped away from his family and likely to never see him again... maybe even permanently this time. Who knew if Slate would have an opportunity to escape like he had before?

He watched, backed into a corner, as Cloverjaw attempted to rip the cage open. These twoleg contraptions were built to withstand claws and teeth; even if the cold wires managed to bend, it wouldn't be enough for Slate to escape. "Stop, it's no use." Slate admitted. It was not an easy thing to submit to defeat, especially for a cat who liked to win, but nobody ever stopped the twolegs.

How cruel it was, for that snobby bastard to show up next and stare down at him while he paced frantically in the tight space. It was humiliating, quite frankly. As much as Slate prided himself on avoiding the twolegs and being smart enough to do so, he had literally walked into a trap. It seems that Silversmoke isn't being entirely antagonistic, though, and expresses concern in his own way. "Come back to us." The lead warrior had uttered, to which Slate bit back a snippy retort, something along the lines of "why would I want to ever see your ugly face again." He couldn't bring himself to do so. As much as sharing a den with his rival was by far one of the most difficult aspects of residing in SkyClan, he knew he'd much rather live in the forest than with a twoleg again.

A grim frown is all that Slate offers Silversmoke, meeting the silver tabby's gaze for what could possibly be the final time. This isn't how he wanted things to end. It had been his dream ever since kithood to die wild and free rather than die confined within the stuffy walls of his masters.

Auburnflame, panic-stricken, quickly arrives at Cloverjaw's aid but not long before Silversmoke warned them both to get back. Slate says nothing, only watching in silent horror as the SkyClanner's efforts are met with nothing in return. His ears pick up on another voice and his shining gaze whipped up to meet the leader's; they both knew what was going to come. There was no way in hell that he was getting busted out of this contraption, not unless a twoleg freed him. They all needed to scatter before that happened. "You all need to get outta' here, now. They're close." The stench of the humans was strong; who knew when they would arrive to claim their prize?

Stubborn and determined, a commonality between the brothers, Cloverjaw defied the orders of Blazestar and kept helplessly tearing at the metal. The charcoal-hued male approached the wall of the cage, only mere hair-lengths from his littermate now. "Hey, hey. Listen to 'em, yeah? I'll... find my way back. They couldn't keep me before 'n they sure as hell won't keep me now." A promise yet to be fulfilled, a sense of false hope in order to keep Cloverjaw from crying. If he didn't stop and use his head then he'd fall prey to the cold clutches of those bastards as well.​

 

[TWOLEG]

A tall, lumbering form grows closer, his loud, careless feet snapping twigs beneath every step. Four cats, they've managed to trap here. These woods are growing more and more populated with feral cats - the townfolk are complaining, but they're making progress. Soon, they'll all be adopted and into homes of their own, not out cold and hungry in the wild where they don't belong. How lucky of the captured cats to now be fed and warmed, with comfy beds and medical care awaiting them! He is changing lives out here.

And he's about to change another.

He can hear the yowling of a cat in the direction of the last trap he'd set. He head towards there now, wondering if it will be another pair like the last ones. Now that was a rare sight! How did two cats trigger the trap at once? Bizarre!

The man rounds a massive pine tree, shoving his hands into the pockets of his red jacket before peering around to see a dark-pelted cat in the cage. He can't tell if there's more from this angle; he just needs to get around this shrub....​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

They weren't listening. Good StarClan, why weren't they listening?! Black claws unsheathed, tearing at the leaves with reckless abandon. They didn't have time, even Slate knew that, but it seemed that they still tried. Blazestar's voice was an echo of his own, his tail flat at the sound. He didn't want to watch them get taken too, but that would be the reality if they didn't move. It was no sooner that the male's scarred muzzle parted again to speak when a loud crack interrupted him, the noise like gunfire to his sensitive ears. Silversmoke nearly jumped out of his skin, his head slowly turning to where the noise had come from. No soon after that, there was another and another and another, approaching with such a speed that Silversmoke wasn't even sure he'd be able to register whatever it was he saw. But, he knew what those loud noises meant.

They were the bells of the reaper, but it couldn't toll for thee. Not today.

His blood was ice in his veins. Ears pulled back, the tom began to shrink and shrink until he was near level with the floor, his pupils as wide as a pet tag. "Run." It was a voice barely spoken above a whisper, drowned out by the drumming in his tufted ears. He thought of Howlpaw, poor sweet Howlpaw, taken away from her father and family, young enough to be picked out as a present for some callous twoleg kit. He thought of Ashenclaw, who'd chosen to leave that awful twoleg life behind to be with good family out in the wildness, forced back into the home of a monster. He thought of Quillstrike and Twitchbolt, separated by twolegs, never able to know when the other one would die. His vision blackened, stars dancing across the corners of his eyes as he tried his best to focus on what was in front of him. Cloverjaw, who may have been chilled out enough to lack the qualms of a housepet life but whose heart could've easily belonged to SkyClan too. Auburnflame, who had family that would miss him, who Silversmoke would miss. His paws move without his brain thinking... towards Slate's cage.

"RUN!" He yowled as he ran, his teeth rough as they aimed to latch around @CLOVERJAW 's scruff. With an almighty heave, and a slight bitterness that one of the idiotic cats happened to be as big as him, he pulled backward, hoping to yank the other tabby away from Slate. He would attempt to push him towards Blazestar's direction before letting go (if successful), panicked eyes urging Auburnflame to follow lest he wished to be manhandled like Clover. It was only when both cats had gotten moving that the Lead Warrior would follow suit, looking over his shoulder one last time towards Slate. Silver sneered, he hadn't wanted the bastard to see him so scared but... the charcoal tom had no room to judge. Literally. He was in a cage. "You better keep your promise."

[ silver'll try to be out when/if the other charries are out!! ]

​

 

[cloverjaw -]

TAGS — It takes Slate's urging for Cloverjaw to finally relent. His can't think of his attack on the mesh wiring as concluded; after all, Slate is still trapped within it, but the smoke-hued tom has finally voiced what Clover can't bring himself to. It's no use. Sore claws and sore teeth pull away from the bars of the cage, but the silver tabby remains practically pressed into it all the same. He can't just leave. He can't watch as Slate is taken away from him. Wide amber eyes stare helplessly in at his littermate; Clover can't speak, can hardly even think. He just stares, as if his attention can communicate the vast tangle of pain and anguish forming knots in his chest. Even the stench of twolegs approaching can't rip him away from Slate's side. It takes his brother's assurance to even slightly tame the wild beating of his heart. I'll... find my way back, he says. They couldn't keep me before 'n they sure as hell won't keep me now. Cloverjaw's teeth clench; his ears flatten. "Don't give up," he urges, hoarse voice catching on the words. He presses his auburn nose into Slate's fur as best as he's able to through the bars.

Thundering steps approach. Cloverjaw recognizes them as a twoleg's odd gait, and his chest clenches with cold fear (if not for himself then for his littermate), and yet he can't pull himself away-- it takes Silversmoke's teeth in his scruff to get him moving. He stumbles backwards at the force of the lead warrior's pull, eyes still locked on the cage that contains Slate's smoky form. I'll see you again. He can't let his gaze linger for too long, though. The twoleg would be around the corner any minute, and then they'd all be in danger. Though he doesn't fear twolegs as much as some of his other clanmates, he doesn't want to put any of them in danger-- and he doesn't want to be forced back into kittypet life, either. He'd been content with it before, but he's wild now. Hopefully... hopefully Slate could escape it a second time. Back to his senses, Cloverjaw turns oh-so-reluctantly away from Slate, and he bolts. He'd see his brother again, and that's a promise.​

​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Cloverjaw is angry, stubborn, and continues to worry the shining vines trapping Slate in the Twoleg den. Blazestar looks at Silversmoke wearily -- what are they to do, if the warrior won't obey, won't leave his littermate's side? He doesn't want to leave Slate either, but a growing sense of foreboding begins to build within his chest like a dark storm.

It's Slate himself who speaks next, agreeing with the leader and lead warrior. "You all need to get outta here, now. They're close." The flame point tenses, and when the strange somehow harsh scent of a strange Twoleg hits his nostrils, he recoils. A shadow breaks over the cats, and Blazestar's pelt fluffs out around him. Silversmoke screeches for them to RUN, and goes to drag Cloverjaw himself if the tom will not flee.

Blazestar's eyes dart to Auburnflame. He rushes to him, attempting to shoulder him away from the trap. "We have to go now!" His yowl is tempered with terror. The Twoleg that looms close is not a gentle elderly housefolk with treats and soft, wrinkled paws; this is a creature who traps and steals cats in odd dens, who is tearing his Clan apart.

If he can get Auburnflame to run with him, Blazestar will aim to run and leave Slate to his fate.

// out if Auburnflame goes too!​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[SLATESNARL]

❪ TAGS ❫ — The impromptu departure did not last for very long. The raw feelings of anguish accompanied by the frenzied panic of a nearby twoleg were now only heightened by the upright beast's approach. Chaos ensued, with Silversmoke lunging forward and tearing his brother away and Blazestar making a run for it as well. His heart began to pound rapidly as he was fated to be left behind, to be taken to... stars only knew where.

He makes a realization. "The shelter-"

Slate's breath catches in his throat, and he raises his voice in a last-second attempt to call out to his feeling clanmates, "THE SHELTER! FIND OUT WHERE THE SHELTER IS!" Cloverjaw would remember. They had been told what the shelter was as kittens, how they would never have to rot away behind those metal bars because of their purebred heritage. Blazestar surely must have known as well, once being a kittypet himself. The tom doesn't know for certain if the other SkyClanners had ended up there, but it may have been worth taking a chance on. Unwanted animals and strays abducted from the streets were taken there.

"I THINK THAT'S WHERE THEY-" Slate couldn't bring himself to finish his thoughts, not with the twoleg so damn close to him. It had been so long since he had been in such close proximity to one, their alien stench overwhelming his nostrils and uprooting memories buried deep within his psyche. His kittenhood, the separation from his family, all flashing before his very eyes.

The Maine Coon let out a feral hiss and arched his back to the best of his ability, channeling the ferocity of a thousand lions. "Get the hell away from me!" Slate snarls up at the looming figure, pointed teeth jutting from the bottom of parted jaws. He dared them to open this damn cage; a fight with a twoleg was one that he likely wouldn't win, but would Slate wouldn't surrender without one. Purposed for the life of a pampered show cat, Slate rejected his destiny a long time ago. They couldn't keep him and they never would!​

 

[Auburnflame]

Panic begins to settle into his abdomen, thick waves of wintry hair bristled along widened shoulders as Cloverjaw snaps back at him. Auburnflame couldn't help but to pull mismatched ears back, visibly flinching from the sudden onslaught of anger that spews from the silver tom. He knows it isn't out of malice, but of undeniable fear. Cloverjaw and him were useless against the steel woven trap, their yanking along the smooth tendrils proving so time and time again. He doesn't want to lose Slate—he doesn't want to lose anyone. Tears become visible within the corners of vibrant eyes, pupils wide and desperate as he stares at the dark figure held prisoner. He latches his teeth around it once more, trying hard to pull and pull. His jaws strained and ached, his teeth threatening to crack under the pressure but he doesn't stop. He can hear Blazestar and Silversmoke screeching behind them, yelling for them both to get back.
Cloverjaw and Slate share words, promising each other they will be together again. It tugs so hard at Auburnflame's heart strings, tugs them so taut that he feels as if they may snap. Slate's figure soon grows lighter within his psyche, becomes the purest of white with fiery orange markings. Molten amber eyes darken to a rich chocolate, a distinguishable scar along a broad muzzle. Ora, he breathes—his heart beginning to roar even louder. He imagines that Ora is caught within the clutches of Two-Legs, taken from him. He feels half of himself rip along with it—fat tears stream down his muzzle. "No!" I can't let him leave. I can't do it. He throttles at the steel bars wildly, ivory claws gripping for dear life. He is oblivious to a strange looming figure that makes his way towards them, steps shaking the very earth it walked upon. Little does he realize that man walks towards them, and Silversmoke rips Cloverjaw away from the trap and all that was left was Auburnflame.

The stench was overwhelming now, acrid smell of the Thunderpath amidst other undetectable foul scents wreath around him and choke at him. His eyes finally tear away from Slate's form, a sudden chill freezing him in his position. He doesn't see the Two-Leg, but he hears him. He's close. Too close. The calico could only wish that he were bigger—big like his ancestors of the plains, with golden manes and thick with muscle. He'd be able to protect his clan from dangers like this, he'd be able to rip open this prisoner and free his clan mate. Blazestar's petrified howl finally rips him to reality, and with one final look to Slate—he whispers to him. "I'm sorry...I tried." Tears continue to fall as his leader's more hulking form shoulders him away, ripping his grip abruptly and chipping one of his claws. He winces for a moment, but with adrenaline pumping fiercely through his body it does not hurt for the moment. Dusted pink pads thunder along the nettle-laiden floor, mist concealing the patrol and leaving Slate behind. He hears the distant screeching of his clan mate, fire and venom spewing from bared fangs. He makes out the words meant for Cloverjaw, but just barely. The shelter...
Could that be where he was being taken? Please, Slate. Be safe. Wherever you are.

//out
​

[ SETTING FIRE TO THE SKY ]​

 

[TWOLEG]

There is a flurry of motion as he approaches but he pays it no mind. The woods make noise, lots of noise, and surely there were other animals roaming around shaking bushes and branches and the like. The twoleg towers over the rattling cage, looms down over it to the hissing black tom inside and reaches out to grasp the curved handle at the top before hoisting it up in the air and away from himself to avoid any wayward claws scratching. The stray cat is screeching, yowling, it's a terrible sound and his attempts to shush it are met with only more noise.
The twoleg speaks in a soft tone, though his words are indecipherable to the felines hiding around them and the one still spitting and hissing within the confines of his cage.
Tomorrow…tomorrow he will come and set more traps, it seems there are more cats in this area than he initially thought.
With a pivot on worn boots the man is walking away back where he came, steps retraced and body twisting to hold the cage aloft as he maneuvers around tall shrubs and tangled roots.

//Out!
​