the dark forest I'LL GO DOWN GUNNING — open, dark forest

[WEASELCLAW]

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.

, ”​

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[HARRIERSTRIPE]

He doesn’t recognize the voice at first- it’s been so long.
His mind is scrambled and his sanity runs dry. One would not blame him after being lost and alone in this decaying forest for so long.

Harrierstripe knew he was dead. He knew this was not StarClan. He doesn’t know where he is or how to get rid of the hunger gnawing in his belly. When he hears the snarl he does not think, he reacts like a like a cornered animal. Shooting out past a decaying tree, Harrierstripe pounces for the brown tabby with outstretched claws. Aside from faint yowls of despair in the distance, he has not encountered another cat face-to-face in his time here. He does not trust anyone or anything in this forest.

Teeth aim to dig nip into flesh as Harrierstripe continues to wrestle with the feline he thought to be a stranger. He pays no mind to familiar ice-cold eyes or the identifying nicked ear. In this moment if Harrierstripe could lay a killing blow, he would.

☾ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Harrierkit . Harrierpaw . Harrierstripe
  » WindClan Warrior
  » He/him
  » A black and chocolate chimera with golden eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A foe who uses jeers and taunts to distract his opponents.
  » Excels in using terrain to his advantage.
  » Fights to overpower and see another day.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

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[WEASELCLAW]

The creature attacks him, rather than answer his question. Teeth lay his flesh bare to the bone, and claws tear ragged chunks from his pelt. Weaselclaw falls onto his back, his snarls rumbling up through his mouth like bubbling blood. “Fool! You think you can—” But his rage dies in his throat, and his breath quickens in his chest. The eyes that glare back at him from the gloom are fiery gold—the face that looms over him is achingly familiar, striped like a badger’s. He remembers licking that face clean of afterbirth, remembers watching those eyes hang on his fur with adoration.

“Harrierstripe.” His chest aches, then, for the son he’d lost. “You’re here, too.” If his son will let him up, Weaselclaw will struggle back to his paws, blue eyes wide and full of emotion. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says then, bitterness stinging the surface of his tongue.

, ”​

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