Bat trailed a little ways behind the patrol, his petite frame slinking about like a sly fox as he kept a steady but somewhat sluggish pace. He always did feel more comfortable when the cataclysmic night sky draped itself over his pelt- though he didn't harbor a singular ounce of grace for having been woken up and practically dragged by the scruff on such a trivial endeavor. And yet he complied even still, because despite his poisonous attitude, he would never dare to tell Thistleback- who was something of an acting mentor to him- 'no.'
The serenity of their journey was unexpectedly shattered by a stentorian screech- so violent in its intensity that it made Bat jump, his heart rate immediately rising to the point of its beat audibly thundering throughout his own ears. He didn't need to guess where- or rather, who- the sound emitted from, for there was only one individual on this patrol who would allow themselves to display such a pathetic overreaction over anything. "Bloody hell, Chickbloom, just what's yer-" With risen hackles and bristling fur, Bat nearly began to go off on his own verbal rampage before taking a singular glance at Thistleback- who was placed a short distance ahead of him- and decided against it, his tense jaws closing with a snap of his teeth.
By this point, Bat had only just registered what it was that had given Chickbloom such an otherworldly fright- a hoard of bats overheard, flittering erratically about in an incomprehensible pattern- their leathery wings catching the gentle rays of the moon and flickering stars overhead so that they seemed to glow, but only momentarily. Retreating back into the security of shadow for only a millisecond before throwing their miniature, clumsy bodies back into the open sky. Bat's body visibly relaxed then, and his brow- which had been heavily creased just moments prior to the sighting- had disappeared from his face, the hardened expression now replaced with something akin to awe. "Wicked..." Was the only word he could think to utter, its deliverance coming out as more of a breath than a statement.
Memories flooded back to him then- memories which he had not allowed to resurface ever since he began his solitary journey through the world. His mother had birthed him beneath the bridge of a highway, the underside of which were infested with bats such as these, every crevice filled with an amalgamation of mousey fuzz and dusky wings. She had stared up at them then, and christened him what he has always been known as- Bat. She would often make comparisons between the coloration and pattern of his pelt and their own, such comments being something he often resented in his youth, viewing them as insults above all else- rabid and vicious little things they undoubtedly were- but now it filled him with some sort of solace.
He was broken from his internal reiteration of his past by the unexpectedly swift movement from Thistleback, who had shifted his weight while gaining minimal momentum before throwing a nearby rock into the airborne frenzy. The action caused Bat to step forward, panic igniting his viridescent eyes and his breath hitching as he prayed to whoever may be above to listen that it wouldn't knock one of the tiny creatures straight out of the sky. Much to Bat's relief- apparent in the way his lungs deflated with a hearty sigh and eyes returning to their perpetually half-lidded, rather uninterested looking state- it missed them all. Fascinatingly, it elicited some sort of stimulation in them- they would swoop down in an attempt to catch it before retreating entirely once realizing it was nothing more than hardened mineral. The phenomenon was easily explained away by Thistleback- they were simply blind.
"Brainless lil' buggas." His comment- accompanied by a short chuckle- was uncharacteristically lighthearted, a boxy grin pulling at the edges of his mouth as his attention once again locked onto the bats overhead. He was sure he could stand there forever, staring endlessly at the way they did nothing more than exist- their lives carrying such little impact compared to most everything else- and yet they continued to do what they did with every new moonrise. Allowing themselves to embrace the air battering against their pumping wings, hunting food that was so miniscule you'd wonder how they never starved, a multitude of them together as one. Bat yearned for such trivial satisfaction.
Whatever question was proposed thereafter, along with any answer that would be given, was lost on Bat. His ears were turned away from them all, swiveling every now and again to follow the catastrophic symphony that emitted endlessly from the compiled bats- their song was chaotic, overlapping and not a singular soft shriek was discernable from one or another- but it was beautiful to him.
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