- May 16, 2023
- 78
- 13
- 8
⁀➷ Fighting Sootstar's pack of loyalists left him bone-tired and weary. Though, he should've been grateful that he still had enough blood in his veins that it could clot into his fur, that he had enough strength to feel the soreness of his body when he walked upright and had not been felled by one of Sootstar's hellhounds.
Still, something had been tugging at his stomach even before the attack. Something that had been sitting there for nearly a moon, but grew heavier with the arrival of their prodigal medicine cat apprentice and the young one she whisked along to rescue in her escape.
"Hey, have a moment?" Foxglare murmured lowly as he approached the ash-dusted she-cat. He was loathe to take one of their healers away from their critical work, but it seemed he caught her in what had to be a rare moment of solitude. He would meet Cottonpaw's—Cottonfang's? He didn't know how to parse the questionings surrounding her name—blue eyes with a searching glint of his own. Some of them didn't trust her, her proximity to her mother held her in the scrutiny of the rebels she sought her refuge in. But Foxglare found himself wanting to trust her, for whatever inexplicable reason his heart softened for her. In any case, he hoped that she was at least trustworthy enough to give him a straight answer, "Sedge. Where is he? Is he still...?"
Was he still trapped there in Sootstar's snake pit? Why hadn't he arrived alongside her, or with any of the late-comers who made a break for it in the night and joined their barn congregation? Would he have to relent to the impulse that pulsed in his heart and itched at his feet all this moon? The urge to tear off onto that rat-teeming moor to fight Sootstar's army singlepawed to get him out of there pulled at his chest and his limbs. It was his responsibility, Fox knew, to ensure Sedgepounce made a clean break. He was a damn fool for not running to look for him first the day they made their escape. He could only hope that when the other arrived he would be able to forgive him for not standing behind his word to look out for him...
But first, he had to know... Where was he?
Still, something had been tugging at his stomach even before the attack. Something that had been sitting there for nearly a moon, but grew heavier with the arrival of their prodigal medicine cat apprentice and the young one she whisked along to rescue in her escape.
"Hey, have a moment?" Foxglare murmured lowly as he approached the ash-dusted she-cat. He was loathe to take one of their healers away from their critical work, but it seemed he caught her in what had to be a rare moment of solitude. He would meet Cottonpaw's—Cottonfang's? He didn't know how to parse the questionings surrounding her name—blue eyes with a searching glint of his own. Some of them didn't trust her, her proximity to her mother held her in the scrutiny of the rebels she sought her refuge in. But Foxglare found himself wanting to trust her, for whatever inexplicable reason his heart softened for her. In any case, he hoped that she was at least trustworthy enough to give him a straight answer, "Sedge. Where is he? Is he still...?"
Was he still trapped there in Sootstar's snake pit? Why hadn't he arrived alongside her, or with any of the late-comers who made a break for it in the night and joined their barn congregation? Would he have to relent to the impulse that pulsed in his heart and itched at his feet all this moon? The urge to tear off onto that rat-teeming moor to fight Sootstar's army singlepawed to get him out of there pulled at his chest and his limbs. It was his responsibility, Fox knew, to ensure Sedgepounce made a clean break. He was a damn fool for not running to look for him first the day they made their escape. He could only hope that when the other arrived he would be able to forgive him for not standing behind his word to look out for him...
But first, he had to know... Where was he?
- OOC: @cottonfang
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sun.fox.foxpaw. foxglare
— he/him. 14mo moor-runner of windclan
— a large, scarred golden tabby with high white and grey eyes
— smells like wet oak wood and dewy sedge
— sounds like leon kennedy, with a vague texan drawl.
— the straight-faced and taciturn adopted son of houndthistle, lived as a twolegplace loner until 7 moons old, now a moor-runner of windclan. stalwart and resilient, he is not easily shaken and lives by a very strict personal code of honor.
— “speech”, thoughts, attack
— hs by ava, fullbody by antiigone
— penned by eezy
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