he's just standing there... menacingly -- scarecrow

[breezerunner]

It's hard not to feel uneasy around WindClan these days. It's always been in Breezerunner's nature to be a bit weary and uncomfortable, but with all the confounding things coming together... Breezerunner finds himself lingering further and further from camp these days. Tensions are running high; there are rumors and stiff conversation that he'd rather not partake in. He's never been the social type. If anything, most of his clanmates probably assume he's just over-committing himself to hunting as per usual. And he does. He is hunting. It just happens to double as a solid excuse to be lonesome and clear his mind. Quiet, brooding Breezerunner does it again.

Breezerunner streaks across the moors. His paws push him forward with such force that he feels like he might really be flying. It's all metaphorical though, isn't it? From a distance, he probably looks like he's ensuing in a great chase. Whether he's running towards something or away from something else, not even he knows. His paws thrum rhythmically against the ground, catching up dirt and grass along the way. Before he can realize it, he's coming up on horseplace, and his pace slows a little with the self-reminder that there are other animals and even kittypets and barn cats that make their home here.

He wonders, in a hunger he hadn't even registered yet, if there might be something edible nearby in the garden or the barn. Breezerunner slows to a trot, moving towards the garden as his first place of investigation. "Surely this place hasn't been picked over by rogues yet," the moor runner mutters to himself as he rounds a corner. But as soon as spots the garden he freezes in place, nearly falling over from how quick his pace is ceased. There, standing tall- much taller than any of the others he's seen- with its gaunt limbs outstretched in a freakish fashion, stands a twoleg.

Breezerunner's nerves feel like they're on fire. Danger! they scream at him Danger! Danger! But he feels like he's cemented to the ground, trapped in the black beady-eyed stare of the twoleg. Along his spine and all atop his shoulders and haunches, his smattering of white and grey fur stands up on end. The twoleg doesn't move. It doesn't come closer or move away. And Breezerunner's back puffs up taller, trying to make himself seem big and intimidating. Still, it doesn't move at all. Altogether, his confusion, fear, and anger melt together. Is this perhaps an illusion? Has he starved himself into delusions? Maybe he too is falling ill.

/ scarecrow prompt for fall! couldn't help myself :3c + i guess this is somewhat retro to the tc/wc "get along shirt" era​

 

[SNAKEHISS]

The moors — his home as well as the longtime home of his predecessors; his safe place. They surely didn't feel so safe nowadays, with rogues strutting along the borders. They were growing bolder, hungrier, and more dangerous by the day — it isn't safe to be alone out here, Snakehiss knows, which is why he is constantly on alert and is trying to keep this hunt brief. Just catch something and head straight back to camp, he tells himself.

Snakehiss had also taken to the borders near the Horseplace to see if he'd yield better results there; the rogues had been catching everything in sight elsewhere, even so much as scrapping with WindClanners over their catches. Even the slightest rustling of grass is enough to make his pelt prickle; a beastly brute of a cat could lunge out from the grass and topple him over, and even eat him alive if it came down to it. The young warrior shudders at the very thought. His parents had told him that rogues were vicious creatures who would turn on their own kind if they were feeling ravenous enough.

He quickly ducks into the cover of the tall grass around him, freezing upon hearing movement up ahead. Mustering all of his bravery, the black feline ever so slightly emerges, shaky sights scanning his surroundings before landing on a familiar bicolored tom. A haunting bipedal figure stares Breezerunner down ahead; a twoleg, unmoving but menacing all the same. Harebrain! Make a run for it before it gives chase. Snakehiss fights the urge to call out, knowing that he'd be sacrificing his own safety for the sake of his clanmate. Between him and the other, he'd rather the strange twoleg snatch up Breezerunner.

✰ INFO

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  ✰ SNAKEHISS
  —— he/him; warrior ( moor runner ) of windclan
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— long-limbed black tom with green eyes, a small white chest patch, and a notable bite mark on his right foreleg
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

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