- Nov 26, 2022
- 546
- 151
- 43
Slatesnarl probably stayed up most of the previous night watching over Orangestar and the kits, marveling at their children's small and delicate little forms squirming about and mewling to high heavens. It's hard to take his focus away from them, knowing that they were in the world now and so vulnerable to... everything. The Maine Coon had dreaded the thought of leaving them, but he told himself it was only for a patrol. He had to move his hip, lest it stiffen and give him even more grief.
Once Slatesnarl had recruited a clanmate to assume a guard post near the leader's den, he had gathered his patrol together and started off for the Twolegplace border. Amber eyes drift along the fence line that separates the Twolegplace from the forest; he cannot help but always think back to when he had first scrambled over the fence and trespassed on SkyClan land, desperate for food. Never again would he return to such an aimless life. Never would his children know hunger or fear.
A rustling in the leaf litter up head signals that a mouse is present, immediately prompting Slatesnarl to drop into the best crouch he could muster. He stiffens, inhaling sharply as tension in his healed ( but still tender ) hip joint teeters on the brink of pain. He makes a mousebrained decision, simply eager to make a catch for the first time in moons, and springs off the ground. A sharp pain wracks his hindquarters, radiating from his bad hip, to which Slate lets out a strained, "Agh—!" and tumbles onto the ground.
Frustrated and admittedly embarrassed, the former lead warrior staggers to his paws, lightly putting pressure on his hind leg. " 'm fine, 'm fine." He is able to support his weight but his joint still aches, a warning that overexerting it would lead to re-injury.
Muttering a curse under his breath, bushy tail drooping low to the ground, the Maine Coon cautiously proceeds forth along the border. Maybe he ought to skip hunting today.
Once Slatesnarl had recruited a clanmate to assume a guard post near the leader's den, he had gathered his patrol together and started off for the Twolegplace border. Amber eyes drift along the fence line that separates the Twolegplace from the forest; he cannot help but always think back to when he had first scrambled over the fence and trespassed on SkyClan land, desperate for food. Never again would he return to such an aimless life. Never would his children know hunger or fear.
A rustling in the leaf litter up head signals that a mouse is present, immediately prompting Slatesnarl to drop into the best crouch he could muster. He stiffens, inhaling sharply as tension in his healed ( but still tender ) hip joint teeters on the brink of pain. He makes a mousebrained decision, simply eager to make a catch for the first time in moons, and springs off the ground. A sharp pain wracks his hindquarters, radiating from his bad hip, to which Slate lets out a strained, "Agh—!" and tumbles onto the ground.
Frustrated and admittedly embarrassed, the former lead warrior staggers to his paws, lightly putting pressure on his hind leg. " 'm fine, 'm fine." He is able to support his weight but his joint still aches, a warning that overexerting it would lead to re-injury.
Muttering a curse under his breath, bushy tail drooping low to the ground, the Maine Coon cautiously proceeds forth along the border. Maybe he ought to skip hunting today.
