![Tybalt [Stagstrike]](/data/avatars/l/0/397.jpg?1666054888){kind=avatar}
- Jul 23, 2022
- 190
- 12
- 18
He didn't know who had brought the mouse back to camp. He didn't know if it had simply gone bad sitting in the fresh-kill pile or if it had simply been rotten from the start and no one had noticed. Tybalt hadn't noticed the thing either, at least not at first.
He had been sunning himself outside the warriors den when he first picked up the smell of sickness. He glanced around, alarmed, and his breath quickened as he began to silently panic and the memories of his mother's death began to flood his mind. The scent that he searched for now was similar enough to the diseased rat that he was certain it would kill whoever ate it.
The brown tom got up, moving quickly through the camp. His jaw was clenched, and his tail lashed with agitation as he searched for the culprit, desperate to get rid of it.
And then he found it. A mouse at Olivepaw's feet, the tiny apprentice leaned forward with her jaws parted to take a bite.
"Olivepaw!" he snapped sharply. Tybalt's pelt bushed in alarm, and he quickly smacked the prey away as he came forward to admonish the small molly. "Don't eat that!"
"Couldn't you smell it wasn't any good?" he asked, his tail still lashing wildly. "You'll get sick if you eat it! It'll kill you!"
He was yelling at her now, speaking louder than he'd previously meant to, but unlike his usual outbursts, he wasn't really angry. He looked angry, he sounded angry, but in reality he was terrified, and his eyes were alight with fear. Terrified of watching someone else succumb to a horrific death, while all he could do was watch and regret not knowing what was coming next.
He continued to scold her, the words pouring out of his mouth faster than he thought possible. "Was this in the fresh kill pile? How long had it been there? Don't you know how to tell when prey is bad? Why didn't you have someone else check it first? Do you want to die?” He spit the last sentence, likely going too far in his reprimand, but he hardly cared. His legs were trembling now, and it was as if he was looking through the apprentice instead of at her.
// please wait for @olivepaw
He had been sunning himself outside the warriors den when he first picked up the smell of sickness. He glanced around, alarmed, and his breath quickened as he began to silently panic and the memories of his mother's death began to flood his mind. The scent that he searched for now was similar enough to the diseased rat that he was certain it would kill whoever ate it.
The brown tom got up, moving quickly through the camp. His jaw was clenched, and his tail lashed with agitation as he searched for the culprit, desperate to get rid of it.
And then he found it. A mouse at Olivepaw's feet, the tiny apprentice leaned forward with her jaws parted to take a bite.
"Olivepaw!" he snapped sharply. Tybalt's pelt bushed in alarm, and he quickly smacked the prey away as he came forward to admonish the small molly. "Don't eat that!"
"Couldn't you smell it wasn't any good?" he asked, his tail still lashing wildly. "You'll get sick if you eat it! It'll kill you!"
He was yelling at her now, speaking louder than he'd previously meant to, but unlike his usual outbursts, he wasn't really angry. He looked angry, he sounded angry, but in reality he was terrified, and his eyes were alight with fear. Terrified of watching someone else succumb to a horrific death, while all he could do was watch and regret not knowing what was coming next.
He continued to scold her, the words pouring out of his mouth faster than he thought possible. "Was this in the fresh kill pile? How long had it been there? Don't you know how to tell when prey is bad? Why didn't you have someone else check it first? Do you want to die?” He spit the last sentence, likely going too far in his reprimand, but he hardly cared. His legs were trembling now, and it was as if he was looking through the apprentice instead of at her.
// please wait for @olivepaw
