smogstar
STARVED VULTURE.
- Oct 22, 2022
- 714
- 261
- 63
A belated arrival leaves his claws wanting, angry to be pricked into damp earth rather than someone's skin. "Damned bottom feeders!" the deputy snarls toward the fleeing forms, rat-like in their craven retreat to the moors. Wellsprings of ire roil beneath his fur, a seething exhalation passes through grit teeth. It'd do no good to give them chase; the violent confrontation is in its twilight, and tending to ShadowClan's wounds takes precedence. Grudgingly, yet dutifully, his regard diverts from the WindClan patrol and turns upon Orchidbloom—a maimed, profusely-bleeding Orchidbloom.
A cavity rests where a pallid eye should. Her fur bristled indignantly in waning ferocity, and those white strands on her profile now part and curl from spilt blood. They've found refuge behind their leader's stalwart stance, yet for a wound so ghastly, it's imperitave to usher them back to camp, lest they bleed out. The sight offends the tom greatly, has his stomach performing somersaults over a mess already made. But it doesn't ruffle him as severely as the stink upon his palate. WindClan once more drags their wicked paws about the border and spoils the very air that ShadowClan breathes.
With @BLOODPAW in tow, torn from training by the skirmish's din, Smogmaw draws closer to the cloister of clanmates. Last moment of combat he'd caught was the blow upon to Orchidbloom, but Betonyfrost's efforts to overpower her squirming adversary went noticed as well. She should've finished the job, raked her claws from shoulder-to-shoulder. Still, commendable tenacity, however laggard—he isn't one to speak, anyhow, seeing as he couldn't get here in time. He notes Singepaw's presence too, his other apprentice who'd gone on this patrol instead, and feels relatively relieved at the lack of substantial wounds.
"You look bad," the tom meows, Orchidbloom's void staring right back at him, even if she did not look at him directly. "And you need help, now. Can you walk?" Amber eyes flit Chilledstar's way then, anticipating a response determine their course. Not just apropos Orchidbloom—the de facto peace brought by Sunstar's leadership has been shaken. Infractions like this cannot be handled with nonchalance.
A cavity rests where a pallid eye should. Her fur bristled indignantly in waning ferocity, and those white strands on her profile now part and curl from spilt blood. They've found refuge behind their leader's stalwart stance, yet for a wound so ghastly, it's imperitave to usher them back to camp, lest they bleed out. The sight offends the tom greatly, has his stomach performing somersaults over a mess already made. But it doesn't ruffle him as severely as the stink upon his palate. WindClan once more drags their wicked paws about the border and spoils the very air that ShadowClan breathes.
With @BLOODPAW in tow, torn from training by the skirmish's din, Smogmaw draws closer to the cloister of clanmates. Last moment of combat he'd caught was the blow upon to Orchidbloom, but Betonyfrost's efforts to overpower her squirming adversary went noticed as well. She should've finished the job, raked her claws from shoulder-to-shoulder. Still, commendable tenacity, however laggard—he isn't one to speak, anyhow, seeing as he couldn't get here in time. He notes Singepaw's presence too, his other apprentice who'd gone on this patrol instead, and feels relatively relieved at the lack of substantial wounds.
"You look bad," the tom meows, Orchidbloom's void staring right back at him, even if she did not look at him directly. "And you need help, now. Can you walk?" Amber eyes flit Chilledstar's way then, anticipating a response determine their course. Not just apropos Orchidbloom—the de facto peace brought by Sunstar's leadership has been shaken. Infractions like this cannot be handled with nonchalance.
