HUNTING PARTY [open to marsh and pine]

Willow

rose of thorns
Jun 8, 2022
13
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One success was not enough, nor was two, or even three. Not a crow to fill every belly in the group, not nearly enough frogs. No, the shadow of dusk was falling, gold shimmering through stray pine trees, and the marsh was empty. For all her recent victories in their hunting grounds, it was not enough, and now it seemed that there was nothing but the wind to taste. Even the croaking of bull-frogs had been silenced. Where was the prey? Willow is spattered with thick mud, as her wiry frame strides back into camp, her jaws empty, her teeth unstained. Despite the failure, her head is held high, her eyes still glimmered, and she walks with purpose. An idea had formed within her mind. Through the thorns and into the clearing, she comes to a stop to gaze upon her home with a stony expression.

"I'm taking a hunting patrol into the oak forest." Willow speaks, her powerful vocals sweeping through the camp. No, they would not starve. She wasn't going to let them. They deserved to eat, far more than those kittypets. "Join me." And she waits only to hear who would join her, before she turns to set off once more. Night was falling fast, shadows were deep and long, the air was warm and humid, and there, the thunder-path, as silent and eerie as their territory. She leads the patrol under the road, through the tunnel that was scattered with damp debris, and when they finally emerged into the evening air once again, the towering oaks were there to greet them.

The atmosphere is different, here. She can hear the call of birds as they gather their last meals of the day. She could hear the sound of crickets, of critters in the brush. Yes... there was prey here. She almost suggested that the group spread out... but not with those Pine cats lurking about.

"We should stay within hearing range of each other." Willow's voice is quieter now, audible only to her patrol-mates, before she heads into the thick forest brush with gliding steps, silent like a ghost at dusk.

@FLICKER @BRIAR and this is open to Marsh Group AND Pine Group.​
 


the ivory rosetted molly was no stranger to the rising tensions that was growing between their group and the one that had moved into the pines not too long ago. most, if not all who were settled within the marsh lands were filled with nothing but disgust and vexation for those pampered wannabes and gecko was right there besides her group's distate.

it made no sense to her that the kittypets suddenly wanted to play pretend in the forest, it was almost insulting. her attention was soon to be grabbed by the voice of willow who announced a hunting patrol to anyone that might be willing to tag along so that they may venture to the oak forest. "i suppose i'll tag along." she mews, wandering over to willow and following her out of the camp.

the sun was slowly beginning to make its descent in the sky, hiding away behind the towering arbors, hopefully they'd have enough time to hunt a decent amount of prey before they all skitter away to their dens to rest. gecko lashed her tail behind her as they arrived to their destination, eyes falling to a slight narrow as to observe the surroundings.

she knew there was a chance this patrol could come aross the pine cats as well and the thought made her nose crinkle a bit, those damn housepets should stick to their backyards. the marsh group needed this prey far more than them.


 
The lack of prey in the marshes, even during these warmer moons, had greatly concerned the colony's leader. She spent her days fretting over how much longer it would take before they had to starve. She was glad there was not yet an abundance of kits this season. Her own were now fully grown and capable of hunting for themselves. But despite that, she didn't like to see any of her groupmates going hungry or skipping meals because there wasn't enough to go around. She had even sacrificed more than she probably should to allow them to eat.

Willow's call drew the molly from the shadows and she dipped her head to her younger groupmate. "I'll come with you," she said. Should they run into any of the pine forest dwellers, she wanted to be there to see them off herself. Perhaps they would be more willing to listen to her than those doing her bidding. The thought of coming across the other group made her ears flatten against her skull. If she had to, she would see them all the way back to the twoleg stink they'd crawled out of. This was getting ridiculous. Her cats were at risk of starvation. In summer should this be allowed to continue. And if they were not starved out then, surely they would be come leafbare.


The hunting party's head suggested they split, but remain close in case they encountered others. "Maybe we should split off in pairs," she suggested. "That way if we have a hard time getting to one another, we won't be alone." She preferred to hunt by herself, less chance of scaring off prey, but during these times they could never be too safe.
 

╰☆☆ Flicker's eyes spark like coals reigniting a campfire. She bounds to where Willow is gathering a patrol of cats to leave the marsh and enter the forest. Her dark fur is bristling with her energy. "I'm going too!" She announces, tail lashing just once in excitement.

As the party's paws meet the firmer earth of the forest floor, Flicker's senses sharpen. The air is spiced with pine, with prey trails fading in and out as they continue through the dark. Her ears are pricked, waiting, as her companions no doubt were, for the sound of an outsider approaching. She has no doubt that some kittypet will cross their path, and she's itching for an opportunity to flex her claws.

Briar suggests they split off in pairs. Flicker nods, then glances around her. "Let's go this way, then," she suggests to Gecko, her voice uncharacteristically hushed. She beckons to a trail that's been marked with what she assumes were kittypet claws. They've had their fun hunting here for too long. Regardless of her feelings, though, there's clearly prey to be had if the path is well-worn.
—PENNED BY MARQUETTE.
 

HANGING ONTO HOPE

The hunt had been long and fruitless for Ember today. Still unused to hunting on a territory so well-trodden, the molly was growing weary. If she could just find some prey she knew she'd have no trouble catching it. It was just an issue of actually finding anything. With how barren the forest was she would have sworn it was leaf-bare if she didn't know any better.

Reluctantly, she padded back onto the well-worn trails. It went against her instincts to hunt in the paths carved by other cats, but the others seemed to be finding success in it. Yet, she had hardly set a paw onto it before a scent hit her so hard it left her reeling. Without a thought she began to follow it, in the desperate hope she might finally find herself a catch before one of her groupmates snatched it away. The more she soaked it in, however, the clearer it became that this wasn't any prey scent she had ever smelled. This was the smell of other cats. Not the ones she knew either, she'd had enough time to become more than accustomed to their scent. This scent was more... rank.

She had to resist the urge to gag.

It was by pure fortune she found herself upwind of the strangers, and she used the opportunity to indulge her curiosity. Following their trail using the very same skills she'd been honing all day. A flash of fur caught her eye through the tree line, dark as midnight. Then another, far lighter than the first. Two cats she'd never seen before, hunting in a pair. How odd.

From her vantage point, Ember couldn't see the other marsh cats hidden in the trees.

Only one way to find out who they were, she figured. She stood up and stepped out boldly. "Heya!" The molly called out to Flicker and Gecko, shooting them a bright smile. "Haven't seen you two about before. What're your names? I'm Ember!"
 

Finch hasn’t been part of the pine group long, but he knows to be wary of anyone who smells of the nearby marshlands.

From what he’s heard, those with such a specific scent were part of a separate group, one far less friendly than the one he brought his half-brother to. He’s glad he found the pine-based group first, and that Rain took him and Cosmos in- rather than stumbling onto their side of the forest, potentially having to face rejection from them and having to spend however many more nights struggling to take care of his young brother while trying to find a place for the two of them to stay.

So, when the pungent scent hits him, he stands still, the mouse he caught specifically for Cosmos held firmly in his jaws. Had he and the rest of the hunting group strayed too far from home? Or had the swamp cats strayed too far from theirs?

He doesn’t want to interact with them. No, he’d much rather turn around and go home, perhaps report back to Rain that the marsh group was inching closer to their own group, but, Ember, the flame-point who was among the most recent of joiners, decides to blow the hunting group’s cover and make them known to the rival group. Perhaps she doesn’t know about them, about the potential danger held by anyone who lives in the marshes. The red and white tom lets out a huff, setting his catch down, safely hidden under nearby bushes before stepping out beside his older counterpart. Mismatched eyes stare down the strange cats before him.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong,” Finch speaks, trying his best to hold a stern tone over his nerves, hoping he appears intimidating to the strangers, “But I believe this land isn’t swampy enough for the frogs you eat.”
 
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( ✧ ) Star trailed lazily behind his group-mates. His own hunting for the day has long since concluded, so why not stay in the sun a little longer is what he'd figured. Better that than returning to camp. He was growing tired of the stench of twolegplace.

And what a sad little excursion it was, barely so much as a scrap of prey revealing itself to them, save for a squirrel that had darted the instant Ember had even caught wind of it. Tragic. Perhaps she was a bad luck charm of sorts, though Finch didn't seem to find the same difficulty. How peculiar.

It's easy to notice, the moment the pungent smell hits the other two. They seem to halt in their tracks, eyes wide, before seeming to abandon their previous task all-too-quickly.

He quirks a brow at the bold stance Ember takes straight away. Evidently, the rumors haven't reached her just yet. Though Finch was another story. To an extent, Star could sympathize with the marsh cats. While clearly they were out of their minds in some way to spend time in a place so dreary, he was growing tired of sharing space with pet kitties himself. His chin lifts upward, ever so slightly. Yellow optics flicker toward Finch. "Relax, Finch. Maybe they're branching out." His gaze shifts to the marsh cats. "Finally came to your senses, hm?"
 

╰☆☆ Flicker does not scent the other group of hunters--not at first. They are upwind from her, on stealthy paws, and she is focused on the forest trail in front of her. She tastes the air, then frowns, puzzled. Is it just me, or is--

The quiet is broken. A voice calls out to her and Gecko from behind them. Flicker snaps her head over her shoulder. Her fur beings to spike along her back.

A grinning fool, about her age, is approaching them with a smile on her muzzle. She's almost as pale as Gecko, with slate-colored eyes beaming at them from a golden face. Her scent is unmistakably piney.

"Haven't seen you two about before. What're your names? I'm Ember!"

Flicker is dumbfounded for a moment. "Do you have bogwater for a brain?" She snaps, taking a step closer to Ember. "You're stealing our prey and then you wanna make friends?"

She is about to say more, but two shapes materialize from behind Ember. A younger one who demands to know why they are in the forest, and one a bit older than both, white like clouds.

She fixes her stare on Finch first. Her gaze burns. "We thought we'd start taking back some of the prey you freeloaders have started poaching," she retorts, lashing her tail.

The white cat looks at them calmly. This infuriates Flicker more than Ember's friendliness or Finch's stunted hostility. "Finally came to your senses, hm?"

Flicker unsheathes her claws. "Yes, we have," she says, voice low, almost a growl. "We've decided to stop letting you all drive us out of our own home!" Her voice dissolves into a hiss and she tenses, muscles solid as ice, as she faces the three cats. She's poised to spring at any further provocation.
—PENNED BY MARQUETTE.
 
With group-mates at her side, Gecko, Briar, and Flicker, there is hope. There is confidence. There is swelling, fiery pride. Willow slips into the shadows of the trees, but she doesn't get far before the scent invades her muzzle, ruins her mood, shatters her thoughts of the hunt. The Pine Group had found them quickly, and she could hear the chatter through the trees, smell their stench wrapping between oaks. They were engaged with Flicker and Gecko, their voices like bitter poison to the creamy tabby's tall ears. but despite the annoyance, she is grace. She is silent, like a ghost, gliding through the trees.

Willow circles back around, and she's behind the Pine Group now, creeping closer, over mossy logs and between towering trunks, a huntress in the woods. Flicker's biting words ring out, and a thrill runs through the tabby's mind. Tensions cracked the peaceful air, a cauldron of hell-fire waiting to boil over and explode.

Willow's eyes glimmer with a distasteful light as she peeks at the scene from the twisting branches of a thick bush. A wave of her feathery tail would allow Gecko and Flicker to catch sight of her, and Briar, wherever she might be, as the cream tabby crept further behind the Pine Group patrol. Closer... closer, weaving along leafy paths, such silence upon light footed paws. And then... she smells it. A freshly killed mouse, hidden under a nearby bush. It made her mouth water. It made her eyes shimmer with rage. It made her claws prick heated earth.

The woman pounces from where she had crept, hopefully undetected, behind the Pine Patrol. She aims to crash down upon Finch's back, to crunch her teeth down into the back of his skull, and with a mighty heave of her wiry body, slam him nose first into the closest tree trunk. If successful, it would be a brutal and bloody surprise attack, swift, ruthless, and cold.​
 
Gecko and Flicker split off at her suggestion, so that left the shadowy leader to her lighter-colored companion, Willow. The two start off together before the all too familiar scent of the pine cats hit her nose. Briar watches as her companion slips through the trees, narrowing her eyes. She follows behind a little slower. They come up behind the quad of cats. Two from the pine forest are engaged in conversation with their own. It isn't friendly, but there does not seem to be any indication that it will grow violent just yet. Briar intends on being firm with the cats, plans to order them to turn tail back to the pine forest or the river or the moors to hunt today since they refuse to crawl back into their twolegs' laps. The marsh cats deserve what little they can scrounge up in the oak forest. These cats at least owe them that.

But before she can step forward to do just that, Willow beats her to the punch and the reaction... the reaction surprises her. Briar had an inkling in the back of her mind that one day they were going to need to use force to drive out the pine cats, but she did not intend on it being today. A fight required careful planning, strategy, preparation. But before she can react, Willow is flinging herself at the firey colored tom. A gasp leaves Briar's throat and without even thinking, she leaps out of the shadows after her groupmate.
"Willow! Get off, now!" she shrieks, fury splitting the stunned air as she aims to grasp her groupmate's tail in her jaws and violently yank her backwards in an attempt to free the pine cat from her rage. Her eyes pleadingly shoot to Flicker and Gecko, begging them for help. They are not ready for a war... not yet. The two pine forest cats had done nothing to provoke a fight, and they should not give them one.
 



just as their leader suggested, gecko and flicker had split off from the rest of the group to venture forth along their own path through the oak forest, unfortunately they didn't seem to get very far from where they had began before the duo were stopped in their tracks by an overly cheery feline who appeared from the underbrush and bombarded them with introductory rambles as if blissfully unaware of the situation both groups happen to be. there was hardly anytime to come up with a response before two more cats had appeared at the side of the younger molly creating a slow rise of tension as her hunting partner replied to their words in a snappy manner.

suddenly, from the corner of her eyes she spotted a familiar wave of a tail that appeared behind the pine group and without a second to waste the cream-furred she exploded from out her hiding spot to crash down upon the poor, unsuspecting finch. honestly, if briar hadn't come when she did gecko would have taken this as a sign to join her groupmate in running these pine cats back to their pathetic excuse of a group with tails tucked firmly between legs.

the ivory molly felt her jaws tense slightly as briar shot a desperate look towards them to help tear willow off the tom. even if they did get the other away from finch, the damage has already been done and this situation will surely escalate into a full-blown scuffle between both patrols depending on how the other two react. gecko seemed to stay where she stood, muscles stiffening beneath patterned fur as she watched the scene play out. sure, the attack was unprovoked and unnecessary but they won't be getting anywhere if they keep letting these squirrel-brains walk around like they own every inch of grass they step on.



 
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Finch’s eyes narrow at the tortoiseshell that speaks to him. Taking back prey? Freeloaders? What was she on about? Swamp cats only hunt in swamps, only eat gross things like… Frogs! And, Lizards! Snails, too! Swamp cats don’t eat mice and birds! That’s food for pine cats!

He opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it as soon as Blinding Star tells him to relax. The tom keeps his eyes locked on the sour-smelling cats, but it isn’t long before the tortoiseshell says something that sends another wave of anger through him. Driving them out? The ginger tom takes a quick look around the area, making sure they weren’t in marshland. Nope. Not a marshland in sight. So, why would this cat accuse them of such a thing? If anything, it was them causing all the trouble!

“But, Rain said that –”

He isn’t able to get his sentence out.

Perhaps, he should've just gone back home. Perhaps, he should have been more alert towards his surroundings, been more aware of the increasingly repulsive smell of the marshes surrounding him. Maybe then, he would have been able to dodge the flash of cream fur that speeds straight for him.

It all happens so fast. The air is knocked out of him as his body hits the ground, He feels teeth in his neck, claws in his shoulder. The pain is blinding. His ears, ringing. Time feels like it’s slowed down, and, for a second, he’s confused- as if hitting the ground made him forget where he was, who he was, why any of this was happening.

His name is Finch. He has a brother named Cosmos. They live with the Pine Group. There’s a cat from the Marsh Group attacking him. He cannot die, because Cosmos needs to eat. Because, Cosmos needs someone to take care of him. Because, he’s all that Cosmos has left.

He certainly cannot let someone who lives in a swamp take him away from his brother.

Time speeds back up, and he feels his own claws unsheathe. He tries to dig them into light-colored fur, to sink them into the cat attacking him. “Get… Get off..!” he manages to shout out, trying his hardest to throw the older cat off of him.
 
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( ✧ ) The bright-eyed tortoiseshell speaks up, lip curled as she addresses the group with unrestrained hostility. He regards her cooly, though his brows would scrunch together at the mention of freeloading. Mispoken words, they must be. He's done far more than earn his keep. Far more than even one so energetic. So eager to pounce at such a small gathering of strangers. It's likely the only thing exciting to happen in her bleak little life. He nearly smiles at the thought, a warm reminder.

But he quiets, drawing still once the air has shifted, tainted with something the dark. The stench of salt and mud grows ever so slightly stronger. It crawls on his back. He glances behind him.

And not a moment later, a shadow is lunging from the darkness, teeth bared and flashing in the dim light. In a heartbeat, his claws are unsheathed and a stance is drawn, his body perched to defend himself. But oh, she wasn't aiming for him.

Finch is brought to the ground, yowling now, his claws desperately gripping at tabby fur. Star blinks once. Twice, and then he's moving.

In a flash of pale fur, he's lunging towards the two. Teeth sink into Willow's scruff and he pulls. Stars know he hadn't a care for this 'Finch' he'd met today, but an action so low and so zealous─ He hisses through clenched teeth, claws attempting to curl into Willow's fur "Too cowardly to pick on someone fully grown─?"
 
Briar’s shriek rings in her ears, and Willow thinks for a moment about why. Was Briar soft? Unwilling to fight back against these fools? But the thoughts are disjointed, because her teeth have fastened into flesh, and she tastes blood. It’s a thrill, a rush like a river crashing down a mountainside. But the burn in her tail is persistent, the demand of her leader a reminder. How… annoying. Finch doesn’t have to worry about bucking her off, Briar’s rough yanking at her tail does the job well enough.

Willow steps back with bloodied fangs, catching sight of Blinding Star diving at her from the corner of her golden eyes. She ducks to the side, away from him, skittering back toward her spiky furred leader. But… she’s not running. Not hiding. No, she has other intentions. There’s no mistaking the proud, red stained smirk that she sends toward Blinding Star as he spits his words, and then Willow goes straight for the bush where that freshly killed mouse had been hidden, quick to find it, to snag her teeth into its fur. This was her prize, and perhaps the pine group would be more concerned about getting their wounded comrade home than trying to stop her from taking the mouse. She holds it in raised jaws as she returns to Briar’s side, stinging pinpricks of blood from her own leaders teeth staining the cream of her tail. A small price to pay for food.
 

He had separated from the patrol, distracted by the scent of a squirrel that he had every intention of catching. His hunters crouch was perfect! Everything lined up and it would’ve been a great catch if not for the yowling and screeching.

“Mouse dung!” He yells loudly as the squirrel bolts for the safety of the tree, out of his reach. He gives it one last, forlorn glance before turning towards the sound of the battling patrol.

When he pushes his way through the undergrowth he freezes, shocked at the scene in front of him. The leader of the marsh group and Blinding Star pulling another cat off of Finch with others from his own group and the marsh group standing there watching as one of their own attacks a cat much younger than themselves.

He’s appalled and in shock at the events he has found unfolding before him but he’s glad that the ebony she cat sees the wrongness of this situation.

“All this for a mouse? he spits on the ground in front of the marsh group cats in disgust “you would attack a cat not even a season old over a mouse?” His muzzle wrinkles and he looks at the piece of prey now dangling between Willows jaws like it is a piece of crow food. “I hope it gives you a stomach ache” his words are directed at Willow but he then turns his gaze to Briar and nods in her direction, grateful she pulled the other cat off Finch but still bristling in fury over the fact this had ever even happened, when it in fact hadn’t needed to “Rain will be hearing about this” he informs her before padding to Finches side “hey kiddo come on let’s go home” he says, offering a shoulder to help him get up.
 
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HANGING ONTO HOPE


Do you have bogwater for a brain?

Ember blinked. Well, someone seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the nest. The stranger stepped closer to her, apparently attempting to look threatening. She couldn't help but laugh though. It was just such a strange expression. "I sure hope not!" She giggled, attempting to lighten the mood. "That sounds gross." She stuck out her tongue and made a little gagging sound as if to emphasize the point.

As her groupmates stepped up beside her, she gave them both a nod and and a smile. Though the latter quickly faded as they spoke. Their words sharing the edge that of the dark-furred molly before her. Her gaze flickered between the two cats beside her and the two opposite in confusion. For the moment though, she latched onto what Finch had said. "He's right, if you're looking for frogs you should-" she began brightly, before the same molly cut her off.

Stealing prey? That made no sense. They were well within their territory, I mean, their scent was all over the forest! These stranger's scent - on the other paw - stood out starkly. There had to be some sort of misunderstanding.

Before she can say another word, everything goes wrong.

Something bursts from the bushes behind her and she spins to meet it on instinct. Eyes wide and claws at the ready. It isn't headed for her though, instead it slams into Finch beside her and suddenly there is the rusty scent of blood in the air. She steps forward to help him but its already over. Another strange cat is already dragging the attacker off of her group-mate and Blinding Star has already leapt to the defense.

She feels a pang of guilt that if her instinct hadn't been to protect herself, she might have been able to help Finch.

Now is not the time for that though, as the attack finally clues her in to the tension in the air. With Red walking their injured friend back home, she puts herself between the pair and the foul smelling strangers. She attempts a smile. "Well, it's been fun," Ember tells them, her voice still warm but now a touch strained. "But I think we should all head home now." Her gaze seeks out the molly with fur of pure midnight, who dragged 'Willow' off and spoke so authoritatively. Hoping to find a sympathetic eye. "I think you've all done enough work for one day."

She didn't understand the intent of these strange cats, but she was going to keep them away from her friends. She wouldn't have them following her patrol into the pine forest to cause more trouble or worse, finish off Finch.

Either her words would warn them off or she would do her best to keep them busy to give everyone else time to get to camp and warn Rain.
 
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Briar was seething with a rage she did not know she was capable of feeling. Her already bristly fur prickled at her groupmate and she spat the blood she had drawn from her tail onto the ground, her eyes ablaze. "I send my deepest apologies with you to Rain... tell him he can come speak to me about this," Briar said to the pine group as they sulked off with their tail between her legs. This was bad. This could mean war and they were not ready for that yet. While she would normally have no interest being civil with that ex-kittypet, she would do whatever she could to spare them a war right now, but perhaps Willow had already sped up the inevitable result of this entire conflict. They had tried words and yet their prey still dwindled. However, Briar would not have her group looking like a group of bloodthirsty rogues over a mouse.

Without wasting another word on their rivals, the she-cat turned to Willow. "Drop the mouse. Now," she demanded when she saw that horrendously smug look on the lighter she-cat's face. Fury bubbled in her gut, threatening to spill over. The iron taste of Willow's blood in her mouth almost delighted her. She wanted to draw more of it for this, but that was not their way. "You do not eat for the rest of the day. I don't know what I'm going to do with you yet, but you will not like it." That was no empty threat. Briar just had to come up with something so unbelievably unpleasant for Willow since she had attacked a child unprovoked. "There was absolutely no reason for violence. Especially towards a cat you are more than twice the age of. We will find a way to solve the issues a second group coming into our forest has caused, but it will be on my terms. Not yours. You can walk yourself home. I do not want you in my sight. Flicker, Gecko. With me."
 

( ✧ ) His eyes narrow at the wiry she-cat, reguarding her with cool hostility. Even if claws did not meet flesh, she was driven away. And she was so very proud of herself, it seems. For what, he did not know. there was nothing honorable about attacks from the shadows, much less from targetting someone so much younger.

And she retreats, only to grasp Finch's mouse between her jaws.

Oh. His lips curl into a smile. Now isn't that just pitiful? In a few moments, his stance relaxes, claws are snuggly tucked back into their sheeths with a tap of his paw. A passing glance to Red, and oh, he's upset. A dangerous game, being so forthright about his feelings. Still, Star finds his words agreeable.

"So starved for prey that a single mouse means so much to you?" He questions with a light hum. His tone is friendly, if anything. It's a mere observation after all.

Lucky him, he has the pleasure of seeing the molly reprimanded by her leader, her voice all venom and cold-fury. He offers a pitying look to Willow, though the flickering of a white tail betrays his amusement. "A bit harsh, isn't it? Clearly she needs that mouse," he comments with a pout.

There's one last shake of his head, tragic and seeping with his neverending empathy, before he's turning on his heel, trailing after Red and a wounded Finch.
 

╰☆☆ Flicker is riled, sure--there's a delicious fire set to her bloodstream, an urge to pounce. But she holds herself still, despite the unsheathed claws and the tensed muscles. It's one thing for the kittypets to be awkwardly friendly or taunting, but technically, they haven't done anything worth attacking over... yet.

But as the tortoiseshell is staring fiercely into Ember's slate-colored eyes, the tension is disrupted with a shriek and an explosion of fur and claws. Willow, who'd gone to hunt with Briar in a pair, crashes onto the young ginger-colored tom and pins him, her jaws reaching for the back of his neck.

Flicker takes a step back, her shock plain. What had been the catalyst for Willow to take such action? Was she offended by their words? Was it... was it the mouse Finch had purloined from the woods?

Chaos erupts. Briar crashes through the dark to grip Willow's tail in her fangs. She pleads with Flicker and Gecko to assist. The rosette queen seems to hesitate, and Flicker understands why, she thinks. She doesn't want these bloody house pets here anymore than Willow does. But Briar is their leader, and she must have some reason for wanting to keep the peace, even if Flicker doesn't understand it. She moves toward the squabble, but stops in her tracks when the white pine tom lashes out at the trapped Willow.

Blood is in the air now, Finch's, Willow's. She bares her teeth, but she isn't sure who it's at anymore. She's beside Ember now, both of them seemingly too late to assist their groupmates.

Flicker's mouth parts, as if to say something, but she is cut off by the pine cats as they begin to depart. Ember says, "I think you've all done enough work for one day."

She seeks the flame-pointed cat out, wondering what the hell that's supposed to mean, but she's leaving with her companions. Flicker stares after them, wondering if she's missed something, some cue. Why didn't this battle excite her? Why hadn't she jumped to help Willow?

Not a fair fight, she thinks, and sighs. Her muscles relax. There's an element of skill to stalking one's enemy from behind, she knows this, but somehow it doesn't seem right to her. She wants her opponent to look her in the eyes. It's the best way to prove her worth.

Flicker's frustration boils over. She calls after the pine cats, particularly to the friendly Ember, "Next time, I--" She stops. Next time, what? She doesn't know. Briar commands Gecko and Flicker to her. She's scalded Willow with her thorn-sharp tongue, and their leader's green eyes are blazing with fury. She should stop while she's ahead, she figures.

With an exasperated sigh, Flicker joins her groupmates. The incident leaves a strange taste in her mouth.
—PENNED BY MARQUETTE.
 

His attacker was pulled off of him before he could do much- if any- damage to her. Blurry vision doesn’t catch who he should thank for saving his life, but he does see his attacker run off. Towards the bush he left the mouse he caught in. Cosmos’ mouse.

“N-No… That’s–” His protests are weak, tired from the events that unfolded. He worked hard to catch that mouse, only for it to wind up in the jaws of someone from the opposite side of the forest. And their group accused them of being freeloaders? Of stealing their prey?

He doesn’t want the mouse anymore, doesn’t want anything that’s been between a marsh cat’s teeth fed to his brother. No, nothing that has anything to do with the Marsh Group will ever come close to Cosmos, if Finch can help it.

Red approaches him, and with his help, he’s able to stand. The smell of marsh cats has long been washed away, replaced by the evermore sickening scent of his own blood. He can feel it running down the back of his neck and down his leg, his fur sticky and a deeper shade of red than it was before the encounter. He leans on the flame point as he’s led back home, grateful for the extra help guiding him.

He’s not sure what to do now- what to feed his brother, how he’s going to manage catching anything to replace what was taken, what with being unable to stand without help. He’ll figure it out later, he supposes, when he doesn’t feel dizzy, when the blood is washed from his fur.

He just hopes Cosmos doesn’t see him like this.
 
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