backwritten i know you heard the rumors !

[hollowcreek]

( ✧ ) This is the farthest he has stepped into the moors in many, many moons now. DuskClan, while growing in prime youth, was still in a perpetual fall of collapsing in on itself because of it's unskilled youth. Privetfrost, Gravelpaw and Hungerpaw could only compensate for so much.

It is Rumblerain's kittens however that reminded the hulking tom of what he had seen in the battle that ultimately took Granitepelt's life. Three familiar faces, far too big to be kept in a nursery in his days of WindClan. With such distinguishable traits it was impossible to confuse them, though, and he is sure they would be apprentices by now. He is sure that if they spot him, they wouldn't back down from the threat of an outsider. He wondered what kind of warriors they were for WindClan, which took to Harbingermoon's tunneler physique and to his...

Hollowcreek quickly shook his head. He had taken no claim to those children, had denounced them as being his own. He doubted anyone in WindClan would even tell them the truth about their kin- why tarnish the loyalty to all they have ever known?

A scent has crept upwind, familiar but nothing paired along with it. This cat is alone, and if his nose served him right it was one that would be far too unhappy to see him. With only having one eye and all.

Hollowcreek is a sore spot out here in the open- he was never quite fit for the typical WindClanner- there was no use in attempt at hiding. Dimmingsun was no tunneler either, though, so he wouldn't have to worry about being surprised from beneath his paws. But he is not the Clan cat he once was, either. The healthy fat and muscle from a diet of hares has shrunk, leaving his ribs exposed and cheeks sunken in. He is ghastly to look at now, a husk of the powerful cat that once roamed beneath the name of Sootstar. This fight would not be as easy as the last.

"A pleasure to see you, Dimmingsun! Can you say the same, since the last time we met?" He may not look mighty anymore, but perhaps his goading could throw the younger tom off. "I noticed last time, WindClan managed to keep some special leafbare kits alive. Have you told them the truth, yet? That WindClan made them orphans?"

// @dimmingsun
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( I SEE YOUR COLLARBONE ; AND WANNA LOSE CONTROL )

 

[DIMMINGSUN]

It's not like Dimmingsun has made it a personal goal of his to seek out more DuskClanners and cull them, like they arguably deserve... no, it's nothing like that, because WindClan itself deserves more of his attention.

Somehow, still, he finds himself near the border again. An invisible division; is that all it takes to differentiate someone from being a rogue? Not even that long ago, back before the five Clans or even the Colonies had been established, all of this had been free reign — anyone could call dibs and protect an imaginary land of "their own" with tooth and claw. No one had batted an eye then; no one, aside from those with greedy wishes.

The moment Dimmingsun's eyes land on Hollowcreek, he knows the differences, imaginary as they might be.

"Hollowcreek," he drawls. Dimmingsun's voice does not match the faux-mirth on his face. "I can't say the same." In some way, he had expected to see Hollowcreek again. The scar over his eye itches; a reminder of what has been taken from him. Such a thing could not go unpunished for long.

Not if Dimmingsun has a say in the matter.

Although wrath is brimming underneath the surface, as it often does with him, Dimmingsun puts it off for just a moment — to see if Hollowcreek has the same thing on his mind, or if he is merely here to flaunt his own existence. "Hm. That's odd..." Disgust is barely contained as he looks Hollowcreek over. "I don't believe you're dead, no? How would they be orphans?" Irritation is what he plays at; to play the smart-ass who operates on clear-cut definition; an attempt to force the first move out of his opponent.
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