private if only time could heal - getting caught

[DOGBITE]

✦ At the first glance of stars littering the bleeding sky, Dogbite knew he needed to go.

It was earlier than usual, but he decided to sneak away from camp anyhow. His ear caught the occasional shuffle nearby, but the tabby chalked it up to nerves. The urge to disappear for a day and rid himself of more problems grew ever more desperate, as if his trailing through old territories wasn't a flag of danger in itself.

He couldn't allow himself to linger on it for much longer. Earlier that day a cat attempted to ease his pains by offering prey, and all he could see was her. Every good moment felt as though he were suffocating. The similarities of a last meal they'd shared together now a glowering reminder between his paws. Their stomach felt like a river twisting and roaring during horrible storms.

Dogbite had spat it out unceremoniously after the friendly face disappeared.

Finding the usual place, his tired head lolled over aching paws, and his eye closed. Discomfort radiated across him as if he were being burned alive. A fuzzy outline of fire peered from the darkness of his subconscious, and Dogbite was hypnotized.

Slowly, it crept closer and closer, finer details now sharpened with proximity. It was an indescribable thing ringed in a eerie glow. They could almost feel the flames as it brightened. Still, he couldn't make out the strangeness, and they never would. Suddenly he was ripped from the strange dream and back to reality.

Groggily, Dogbite awoke as his pelt sweltered from the sun's heat. Ah, that makes sense. Uncomfortable with the grueling temperature, he clambered off the metallic structure, blinking away his disturbed rest and finding a shady tree to cool off by. Squinting out at the sky, a jolt of terror clawed down the Lead's back.

Damn. He was meant to return well before now, and Hollypaw would surely be looking for him. How could I let myself oversleep? How! There was no time left to chill out. He would need to get back pronto and pray none of the morning patrols caught him slinking about Two-leg place.

Madly dashing from the clearing, his speckled pelt was all but a blur as he jumped containers and onto the fence, struggling to gain balance as he haphazardly rushed over each peg. His right eye quickly skimmed Skyclan territory, waiting for the marker to jump.

At last, the familiar opening in the trees indicated his stop. Panting and sweaty, he leaped to the forest floor and bolted behind a twisted pine, hoping for a second to breathe and collect himself before facing clanmates. I say this every time, but it has to stop... This was too close for comfort. I'll need to think of something to keep Hollypaw convinced I didn't forget to train with them. His anxious thoughts felt jammed as his stuffy coat barely lessened its sweltering.

Maybe a quick hunt? Bring something back. Yeah, that could do it!

With his awkward floundering, surely every bit of prey had bolted for the trees. Dogbite had never been an excellent climber, so the only other option was to creep inland. He wasn't meant to be near the Two-legs' border solo anyhow. Swallowing his nerves, he turned to set his course for camp, ears poised and head tilted to catch sign of any potential onlookers. So far, so good.

Carefully, they began creeping along familiar trails, cinnamon coat bristling with nerves. Just a little bit more, and I'll be out of here. The plan wasn't very sound, but what choice did he—rustiling halted all moving thoughts. Icy dread scored its ugly claws down his side as they met a set of eyes glaring back.

Before he had the chance to stop and think, words exploded from his maw."H-hey! What are you doing th-there?" Dogbite's scratchy voice was several octaves higher than normal, and instinctively, he took a step back. Heartbeat thudding painfully in his head as the silent observer emerged.

✦ OOC ✦ INFO ✦

• @SLATE @Orangestar

• 

• 

  
  ✧ LH cinnamon tabby high white blue eye
  ✧ npc x npc ; sibling to crescent and bear
  ✧ skyclan lead warrior ; mentor to hollypaw
  ✧ 36 moons old ; birthday 07/01
  ✧ AFAB ; nonbinary ; he/they
  ✧ pansexual ; polyromantic ; single
  ✧ "speech", thought, attack, powerplay
  ✧ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ✧ penned by tasmagoric​

​

 

[SLATE]

A SkyClanner being out in the territory all by their lonesome did not remain commonplace, especially not after their troubles with foxes and rogues. Only the stubborn and self-assured cats of the clan insisted on braving the pines independently as opposed to departing camp with a partner, Slate being one of them. A quick sweep of the Twolegplace border was needed, Slate would have explained to any cat who asked about his plans. While that was not untrue, Slate was also keen on continuing an... ongoing investigation of sorts.

Hollypaw's complaints about his mentor's constant absence had sparked within Slate a growing awareness of Dogbite's lack of presence around camp — whenever they were needed to lead a patrol, they never seemed to be anywhere. Then, they would resurface at the end of the day at some point as if they had never been gone from camp at all. There was something suspicious about his clanmate's spotty attendance, one that he couldn't ignore even if he tried to convince himself that Dogbite's business was his own. However, the other lead warrior being unable to do what was expected of him was what Slate truly took issue with.

Trying to gather evidence—a sight, a sound, a smell of any sort—Slate paces along the border vigilantly. His burly form is prepared to move should yet another unwanted "visitor" try and attack him. It's ratbrained to be near city limits at this hour, but it is the recent scent of his fellow lead warrior lingering near the fence line that sets off alarm bells in Slate's head and motivates him to circle around the area like a starving bloodhound.

Finally, Dogbite appears. Their body language as well as their manner of speaking is a dead giveaway — their cautious stance, looking as if they've just seen a ghost. The all-too-familiar stench of the streets wafts from their tabby-splotched pelt as well, and a fire stokes in Slate's eyes. "So, that's where you've been sneakin' off to?" This is what he's been abandoning his apprentice for?! Then, Slate realizes that this situation could be far graver than he originally anticipated. Surface-level anger morphs into an impending fury, his obsidian irises narrowing into thin slits in realization. "Explain yourself, Dogbite. Now." Ivory claws slide out of their sheath. He dares to wield daggers toward his clanmate — a means to "convince," so to speak. Slate was not ready to accuse Dogbite of anything just yet, as they have about a mere couple of seconds to explain their case, but possibilities populate his brain to try and make sense of everything. If Dogbite had been leaking secrets to the Twolegplace rogues this entire time, if all of this senseless bloodshed had been their fault... needless to say, there would be hell to pay.

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 ✹ .　 + 　˚ 　　 · 　 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐄

• 

• 

  a lead warrior of skyclan, slate is forty moons and is mentoring coffeepaw. he is a hulking longhaired maine coon with black fur and prominent reddish rusting on his chest and belly. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face. ✦

​

 

[DOGBITE]

✦ Several emotions rushed through their veins like ice and fire—terror, shock, humiliation, anger, and sadness, to name just a few. When their eye locked onto Slate, his throat felt even drier, and his legs weakened. There was no way out of this, and he had no excuse to scrounge up right then and there. Dogbite had always taken notice of the other's awfully brutish stature but now more so than ever.

A mountain of a cat now stood between them and their exit to safety. They had been caught red-pawed with nowhere to hide. The thudding of their heart intensified as the fellow Lead slunk from the shadows, his hellish eyes glowering. Such words strangled them to obedient silence, and with cowardly dip, he bowed to the grasses below. Tattered ears flattening to their cranium as the world seemed to cave in. Slate's anger was always intense and seemed to only grow in strength as hidden accusations danced around gritted questions.

Dogbite shook their head in understanding. Stealing a helpless glance at the other's claws. Not good. He was painfully aware of his own foolishness in that moment as if it hadn't been their daily mantra before making that risky first step into two-leg place. Now he was on the verge of throwing it all down the gutter. Disappointing his siblings, friends, and worst of all Hollypaw. His fangs ground together creating a grating creaking. Steeling their nerves against the wave of guilt and burning nausea.

I can't get caught. Not like this. Trying to get his sudden shaking under control, the scraggly tabby did his best to formulate words, mind whirring back to life as he thought of a fast lie.

"I-I've been..."

They hesitated to speak further, unsure if revealing the whole truth was a safe option given their clanmate's intimidating nature. Maybe just a half-truth. His head fell forward until their chin touched downy chest fur. Dogbite could not look at the ebony tom when spinning a false narrative. They would fall apart in an instant. "I-I was walking Whiskey home." He prayed the other didn't call on his quick evasion of eye contact. They hardly knew the newcomer, but they had found the warrior to be trustworthy with secrets.

Focusing on his croaking words, he pressed on with a smidge more confidence. "I'm so-sorry it took me s-so long to come back." A sincere apology weaved itself through the tale. "I just wanted to make sure he was okay. It got dark and I ended up spending the night." He believed it was convincing enough, given his previous suggestions at the meeting. Hopefully, the ruddy daylight warrior hadn't made themselves terribly noticeable these last few days. Cautiously, he raised his head to put on an empty expression.

His face was dotted and carved by deep worry lines, scars, and wear that put the pale cat well past his age marker. If one thing was clear as the day above them both, it was that Dogbite was more helpless than ever—at the mercy of a cat he knew gifted little compassion to anything that wasn't Orangestar. He was a rugged bastard of a former loner, but Dogbite came from similar roots. Yet here he was blatantly proving his gross disloyalty to a cat that wouldn't dare copy such a foolish action. Miserably, his eye crinkled with evident remorse, and his chest tightened.

Forgive me, Slate... Forgive me.

✦ OOC ✦ INFO ✦

• 

• 

  
  ✧ LH cinnamon tabby high white blue eye
  ✧ npc x npc ; sibling to crescent and bear
  ✧ skyclan lead warrior ; mentor to hollypaw
  ✧ 36 moons old ; birthday 07/01
  ✧ AFAB ; nonbinary ; he/they
  ✧ pansexual ; polyromantic ; single
  ✧ "speech", thought, attack, powerplay
  ✧ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ✧ penned by tasmagoric​

​

 

[Orangestar]

As a leader, Orangestar has been given a touch of room to gamble on a more dangerous skill: squirrel hunting. She takes to the trees alone, hoping the shade of the pines can coax the bushy-tailed prey from their hiding spots amid the day's peak. She finds herself successful, a lean squirrel practically falling into her paws as it tries to escape, a mistake costing its life. The branch sways beneath her, high enough that it's not immediately salient, but close enough that the leader can hear the voices below: Slate and Dogbite.

The latter interests her. They hadn't been in camp this morning, leaving behind a confused apprentice once more. A string of absences, only one explained, isn't going to be enough. Orangestar thinks of the last Gathering, where Dogbite had been called to go and promptly declined on illness. No cause had been found, but hadn't he stepped out for some fresh water that night and been gone too long? It's troubling, but now, with just the three of them, she might get some answers.

"And the other times?" Orangestar drops the squirrel to speak: her meow is edged, just faintly, with an exasperation that borders on annoyance. Her prey hits the forest floor with a furry thud, ignored as she looks down on them from the trees, tail swishing as a counterweight.

In the space between her question and his answer, the leader descends with an easy grace often unseen. Were the circumstances different, she would be content with that, but she stalks forward a few steps and then stops, expectantly. "Dogbite, you have an apprentice. You are a lead warrior of SkyClan. I expect better."

Or, at least, a better explanation.

ooc ✧ 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦

• // 19 intimidation<3 take that how you will
• 
  
  [ art by pin ]
• ORANGESTAR ✧ she/her, leader of skyclan | eight lives
  
  
  — "a scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes."
  — single ; mentoring springpaw & ashpaw
  — speech is in #F18C47
  — tags | penned by mercibun, contact on discord for plots.
  
  
  
  

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