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Lionsnarl

Guest
desperate for changes, starving for truth​
It felt good. No longer yoked by moniker to a crime that so many others had committed but had not been lashed to by title and stature, the ginger king stood a little taller, his broad head held a little higher than he had allowed it to in seasons. Amber still stayed .... present .... in his mind, always haunting his dreams, but last night, that hellish figure hadn't petrified him. Its cold, unfeeling gaze didn't pierce, didn't judge. It simply looked. It observed. It seemed ..... more at peace. It surveyed him with lifeless eyes, as it always did, but the voices ceased. The spinning slowed.

It had just been them.

"I'm sorry. He had croaked out again. For the billionth time. He was always sorry. Forever sorry. Always guilty. The phantom only tilted its head. He didn't mean it. It emanated, but it wasn't mocking. It was a reminder, a peace offering.

"I didn't. You didn't deserve that." The ginger tom responded. The swirling shadows of the figure stopped, slowed, changed directions - all as calm as summer water on a hot day. It seemed to think. After a long moment, the figure closed its unfeeling eyes and bowed its head.

Lionsnarl had woken, not with a start, but a warm feeling in his chest. He was free. Free to be, free to go out on a little hunting mission and actually catch something! It wasn't much - barely more than skin and bone - but he seemed proud of himself as he dropped his prize upon the dwindling freshkill pile. He twitched his whiskers in self-satisfaction. Yes, this was preferable. He was preferable now. It would be a good day.

// would like to clarify its not the real amber that's been haunting him, just a manifestation of his own guilt that turned into a recurring nightmare​
✦ ★ ✦​
 
What did Finchfang know of being haunted? Something, perhaps, but he certainly was not inclined to share: that much was clear in everything from his tightly controlled gait to his carefully chosen words. The long-limbed tom watched Lionsnarl's entrance into camp from a few paces away and twitched his whiskers as the ginger cat deposited a scrawny piece of prey on the pile. He sighed slightly at the sight, if for no other reason than because he had wanted what he had caught to stay on top for a while longer. He liked the feeling of accomplishment which rose from seeing his kill atop the heap - even if his was only marginally fatter than Lionsnarl's, and even then only if you squinted. Quiet yourself, Finchfang. he thought disapprovingly. More food is more food. You ought to be grateful there's prey to catch, in the first place. That's not a given in leaf-bare.

Pulling himself to his feet, the brown tabby took measured steps towards his Clanmate and gave a congratulatory nod. "Nice work." then, suddenly feeling a stab of concern that Lionsnarl might believe he was being sarcastic, he added quickly, "Tough to find them fatter than that this time of year." ​
 
WE'VE BEEN DOIN' ALL THIS LATE NIGHT TALKIN' ✧​
"Woah!! Maggot-man! Where'd you find that?" Fireflypaw is quick to notice the scar-riddled tom's offering to the fresh kill pile a few pawsteps away, not having exactly seen what the man caught. What, he couldn't be encouraging even with his bad sight? Sue him. Whatever that meant. Glancing over his shoulder at @HUCKLEBERRY , Fireflypaw nearly vibrates in place as he tries to restrain himself from getting too excited. He didn't want to upset himself anymore over thinking of- no. Nope. He couldn't. Not right now.

"Huckle! Huck! What if we go hunting and I catch somethin' like that? Wouldn't that be so cool?" He cackles haughtily as he tries his best to put on a smile. For Lionsnarl, for Finchfang, for Huckleberry. All of them. They needed the bright and peppy Fireflypaw, not the sad and down one. Finchfang praises Lionsnarl, and Firefly feels more proud of the ginger tom. "Looks like 'yer not gettin' too old, maggot-man! Still got some huntin' skills!"​
 
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