![Tybalt [Stagstrike]](/data/avatars/l/0/397.jpg?1666054888){kind=avatar}
- Jul 23, 2022
- 190
- 12
- 18
Tybalt paced, his pale paws treading over the flattened grass as he circled the small patch of earth. Skyclaw would not be easy to kill. A simple attempt to fight him would end with Tybalt outnumbered, throat slashed just as easily as Mousenose's. But a successful kill would be too fast. The kit and kin-killer did not deserve an easy death. Exile was far too good for him, but a simple bite to the throat would kill him too fast.
Tybalt sat down, scraping up grass with his claws. He had seen many cats die in many ways. Foxes, wolves, drowning, starving, dogs, and more. Nobody was going to starve Skyclaw, that was for certain. To drown him would require getting him near the water alone. A large predator would either have to be lured into the camp—risking others—or have Skyclaw be lured toward it. He would never fall for it. Perhaps a larger group of cats could kill him, but it would risk injury. Skyclaw and his lackeys may well slaughter them all and manage come out unscathed.
Deathberries? He and his cronies had been willing to subject kittens to a particularly miserable death. But the crimson fruits were easily recognizable. Their scent was easily picked out, and even smashed up, the taste was enough that they would be spat out quickly. But poisoning was an agonizing and slow death, one he had seen firsthand watching his mother die. And while it was no simple wild plant that had taken her from him, the agony had been a similar one, perhaps worse.
A death just as nasty and foul as Skyclaw himself.
Tybalt sat down, scraping up grass with his claws. He had seen many cats die in many ways. Foxes, wolves, drowning, starving, dogs, and more. Nobody was going to starve Skyclaw, that was for certain. To drown him would require getting him near the water alone. A large predator would either have to be lured into the camp—risking others—or have Skyclaw be lured toward it. He would never fall for it. Perhaps a larger group of cats could kill him, but it would risk injury. Skyclaw and his lackeys may well slaughter them all and manage come out unscathed.
Deathberries? He and his cronies had been willing to subject kittens to a particularly miserable death. But the crimson fruits were easily recognizable. Their scent was easily picked out, and even smashed up, the taste was enough that they would be spat out quickly. But poisoning was an agonizing and slow death, one he had seen firsthand watching his mother die. And while it was no simple wild plant that had taken her from him, the agony had been a similar one, perhaps worse.
A death just as nasty and foul as Skyclaw himself.