- May 5, 2023
- 541
- 228
- 43
So she unfolds her scarred shoulders into a line and her pale neck high, teeth clicking together as she sets her jaw neat. It had taken a moment, a night's rest, many assurances whispered to herself in the dark, but she had come back to herself eventually after quite a few hours of feeling slightly distant. Close now, she fancies she can feel the brush of each needle beneath her calloused paws, smell the tapestry of scents her patrol forms as they fumble along the border in the dim gloaming of dawn, just before the sun's rise.
A branch cracks, just far enough away to note it's not under the paws of Cloudypaw or Primrose, or any of her other patrolmates. She knows she'd do it regardless, out of worry for her patrol's safety, but it still feels like a surrender when her head swivels that direction. Neck lifted like a startled deer, ears twitching as if a familiar voice might emerge from the pockets of shadow between the pines, she feels cold trickling down her back as much as if someone had dumped slush between her shoulder blades.
" Who's there? " she calls out, and she'd feel slightly silly if it weren't for the fear—because, like it or not, that's what it is—sinking its teeth into her nape. Her fangs grind together, not liking the feeling at all as it winds its way languidly through her veins. She's beginning to really feel paranoid when there's an unmistakable flurry of heavy pawsteps, the rustling sounds of a living creature in motion. In the great swathes of shadow the trees cast, though, it's impossible to see anyone amidst the rows of pines. The forest that always feels so safe, so dependable, suddenly seems ominous in its semi - orderly pattern of trunks, in the heavy dips of shade beneath them. The lack of a visible pelt alone sets her spine to a shiver; only a dark cat's fur would not show up in the shadows.
" This is SkyClan territory, " she says, bringing the edge of a snarl into her voice. Her Clanmates have never known her to be anything but polite to joiners—but today, her voice is bluesteel cold. They surround her, her patrolmates flank her, but how can she explain it to them? How could she dare to involve them in an issue where the fault lies with her alone? She couldn't; she can't. It's probably just some lost kittypet, she reminds herself, get ahold of yourself! So she merely growls, relieved to find her voice has not miraculously reverted to a wavering stammer, " Get out and stay out, please. "
OOC : Optionally, you can choose to roll for your character to notice details:
1-5: They don't notice anything that stands out.
6-10: There's a strange smell on the wind, an acrid artificial scent that's unmistakably from Twolegplace.
11-15: A broken stick rests some distance away. It's rather stout for its size and must have taken some force for a simple pawstep to break it.
16-20: There's scuffed pawsteps beneath a trunk a few trees away. They're huge, and have six distinct toe - prints instead of four.✦