- Dec 18, 2022
- 21
- 0
- 1
// this thread takes place during the border fight and herb raid threads; it is only open to cats left back in camp during that time.
apprentice tag @slatepaw
. . .
lynxtooth paces.
he does not know how long they will be gone. how long his son will be gone, his brave gravelpaw, fighting for windclan's honor and survival — when they will come marching back with heads held high and pelts bloody, catmint in their jaws. they have prayed to the stars and they have chosen their very best; he can foresee no other outcome but victory.
(though he does know to expect casualties.)
he paces. guard duty had initially felt like a slight — and it really might've been if not for the trust and approval he had found in sootstar's eyes, looking to her after badgermoon's decision, conflicted. this was no placating concession to a child passed over. windclan needed him here, just as it needed his littermates out in the wilds.
he would ensure that their sick and wounded, their kittens and queens and elderly, came to no harm while this camp was left so barren. teeth bared at nothing, lynxtooth paces and he paces, wondering who might dare launch retaliation. who would even dare come to skyclan's aid, survival no guarantee in such a brutal season? probably no one; they've planned well and prepared, and this should set skyclan and any allies off-balance. the best outcome, he knows, is one in which he sees no battle at all.
still he itches to sink his teeth into a mangy kittypet skyclanner. hoarding the forest's herbs while their twoleg lovers fatten them up and keep them healthy. it's a disgrace. windclan has a right to those herbs, passed down by the stars to their chosen and most blessed, and the results of this raid will prove it so.
. . . tags.
apprentice tag @slatepaw
. . .
lynxtooth paces.
he does not know how long they will be gone. how long his son will be gone, his brave gravelpaw, fighting for windclan's honor and survival — when they will come marching back with heads held high and pelts bloody, catmint in their jaws. they have prayed to the stars and they have chosen their very best; he can foresee no other outcome but victory.
(though he does know to expect casualties.)
he paces. guard duty had initially felt like a slight — and it really might've been if not for the trust and approval he had found in sootstar's eyes, looking to her after badgermoon's decision, conflicted. this was no placating concession to a child passed over. windclan needed him here, just as it needed his littermates out in the wilds.
he would ensure that their sick and wounded, their kittens and queens and elderly, came to no harm while this camp was left so barren. teeth bared at nothing, lynxtooth paces and he paces, wondering who might dare launch retaliation. who would even dare come to skyclan's aid, survival no guarantee in such a brutal season? probably no one; they've planned well and prepared, and this should set skyclan and any allies off-balance. the best outcome, he knows, is one in which he sees no battle at all.
still he itches to sink his teeth into a mangy kittypet skyclanner. hoarding the forest's herbs while their twoleg lovers fatten them up and keep them healthy. it's a disgrace. windclan has a right to those herbs, passed down by the stars to their chosen and most blessed, and the results of this raid will prove it so.
. . . tags.