camp forever is a long time // it bites

[Marmotbite.]

I ACT LIKE I DON'T F*CKING CARE​

marmotkit | 1.5 months | female | she/her | physically easy | mentally medium | attack in bold #9ab973​

---

Marmotkit is enjoying a nice nap in what remains of the winter sunlight, soft pelt fluffed up against the chill, when the unexpected happens. She's hidden by the tall grass, and it seems someone hasn't been watching where they're going. As a sudden pain stabs through her tail, she jolts awake. Fur fluffed up and still half asleep, she's running on autopilot and sheer instinct as needle-sharp teeth chop down on the offending appendage. She thinks she tastes blood as she clings to their paw, but she's tired and angry and scared and she doesn't know who has just attacked her or why - she only knows fear and pain and bite.

// can be y/c or an npc she's biting

 

[SLATE]

The large tom lumbered through the camp — his new camp. He still received plenty of looks; some hopeful for his contributions to the clan, some doubtful and wary. All Slate could do was ignore the stares and carry on with whatever his duties were.

Slate stepped through a patch of grass, eyes set forward and not even realizing that anything ( or anyone ) was below him. Suddenly, a sharp pain sends an electrifying jolt up his limb and spine. A set of tiny yet sharp teeth were chomping on his paw. "Ow!" Amber eyes glistening with surprise, Slate snapped his gaze downward only to find that a small kit was the perpetrator.

With a quick jerk of his paw, he attempted to flick the kitten off of him. The force was not enough to harm Marmotkit, should she be sent tumbling away from Slate. He knew that the image of a big, burly cat tossing a small kitten aside was not the greatest impression to make upon his new "clanmates," but it was an instinctive reaction as was Marmotkit biting whoever stepped on her tail. Slate couldn't help it — what was he expected to do, just let the tiny teeth remain buried in his skin?​

 

[Bristlekit]

DON'T MAKE ME BE THE BAD GUY​

---

The disturbance is enough to draw Bristlekit's attention, and his aqua blue eyes snap toward Marmotkit and one of those new rogues that Sootstar had dragged in. He's not one to question WindClan's leadership, Sootstar had been chosen by StarClan after all, but these cats sure did look frightening. Perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing, though. As long as they were mean to the other clans, and not WindClan. The young tabby trots closer to the small scene. He's not one to get all ruffled up over an accident, so he's not storming over in a rage. No, Bristlekit is curious, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as it were. He prowls right over with a confident stride.

"Nice bite, Marmotkit." The dark tom purrs with a bit of amused laughter. "You sure showed him!" He was teasing, of course, but his icy vision does shift toward Slate. "You're one of those rogues, right? I bet you've been in lots of fights!" Bristlekit was clearly digging for interesting stories as he smirks up at Slate.​

 

[MAGGOTCRAWL]

"Losing to a kit already?"

The snow-furred tom stands nearby, amusement hidden in his judgmental, partial gaze. The scraps of fur that already lived here remain nameless to Maggot, but another scrap shows up, and acknowledges Slate's attacker as Marmotkit. Odd names, these moor-dwellers, having to remind themselves that kits are kits.

"Perhaps the moor-dwellers don't need us after all," he quips, a flick of the tail at the end of his sentence. With bites like that, their kits had promise. Future strength for WindClan. The nameless kit seems excited, amused by their presence. Maggot looks down at the mud-furred kid.

"Plenty," he simply tells him, knows his appearance gives proof to that. Scarred face and new shoulder wounds - rogue-like markings that bring fascination to young kits.
​

 

[Marmotbite.]

I ACT LIKE I DON'T F*CKING CARE​

marmotkit | 1.5 months | female | she/her | physically easy | mentally medium | attack in bold #9ab973​

---

At her size and age, it doesn't take much to dislodge her. Tumbling head over limbs, she hits he ground with a soft 'oooof'. Blinking blearily, she finally takes in her surroundings. One of those new, even stranger smelling cats - big and grey and scarred had stepped o her. She finds herself a bit to disoriented to feel as indignant about that as she should. The of course, there is bristlekit - loudly making his presence known. He's one of the only cats she's bothered to put a name to the face (or in this case, voice) of.

And lastly, another strange tom with pale fur like snow and scars upon his face. Her gaze is drawn to him the most - while not the same, his scars are similar enough to her own to catch the kits attention. Ignoring the grey one and bristlekit, she plops back onto her paws, pelt twitching nervously as she stares unabashedly at the prickly one. "How didja get that scar?" the words come a tumbling out of her mouth without her permission, spilling out into the air with an air of flustered awkwardness. To cover for her embarrassment, her gaze turns into a glare, back stiffening up as she holds her head just a bit higher - as though daring them to comment on her slip up.

 

[hyacinthbreath]

♚ "Not kind to ask about scars, Marmotkit." Hyacinthbreath mutters softly in passing, though she halts at the sight of the other cats present. With all this energy, you'd think kits would know better than to bite a fully grown cat. Had it been Hyacinth moons earlier, she would have flung the poor thing like a tick on her tail. She seats herself a bit away from the group, tucking her tail over her paws to warm them. Too cold..​