- Jun 9, 2022
- 404
- 96
- 28
There is no daylight here. Weaselclaw still misses the feeling of wind rippling through his fur, of sunshine gleaming on a scarred tabby pelt. He walks in darkness, through trees that sigh with sticky shadow, through earth that trembles and quivers like sucking mud in the marsh. Rivers run through here, but even they are slow, clogged with toxicity—he has knelt to drink only once, and had spat the foulness from his mouth. There is nothing here, nothing but the echoes of those searching for their kin and the sour stench of rotting carrion.
Weaselclaw does not search. He has found his mate, his queen, the leader he’d lived and died for. The kits he’d so proudly looked upon after Sootstar’s agonizing birth have sullied their names, tarnished their image. Only Harrierstripe had done as he’d been asked—but the fool went down fighting, and Weaselclaw does not know where his son is now.
Tattered ears swivel as he hears pawsteps near him. “Who’s there?” He bares his teeth in a snarl, blue eyes snapping left and right.
Weaselclaw does not search. He has found his mate, his queen, the leader he’d lived and died for. The kits he’d so proudly looked upon after Sootstar’s agonizing birth have sullied their names, tarnished their image. Only Harrierstripe had done as he’d been asked—but the fool went down fighting, and Weaselclaw does not know where his son is now.
Tattered ears swivel as he hears pawsteps near him. “Who’s there?” He bares his teeth in a snarl, blue eyes snapping left and right.
, ”