SCORCHSTREAK
THERE’S NO MORNING GLORY
- Jan 15, 2023
- 521
- 133
- 43
Truly, it’s a wonder she managed to move herself over to where she stands now, threatening the life of the beaten and bloodied RiverClan warrior. Sparkpaw, Weaselclaw, and Tigerfrost are warded off by the RiverClan leader, and for a moment any escape seems hopeless. But Weaselclaw calls for the first wave’s retreat, and Tigerfrost wrangles himself away from the leader as the other WindClanners turn tail and run.
She realizes as the dappled tom leaps for her—the plan she’d attempted was never going to work. He’s too quick, and she’s too slow, too injured. It’s even more clear when the tom’s fangs tear into her wrist, and the calico doesn’t even get the chance to do what she’d been threatening. Her claws are torn away from the warrior’s throat, never able to so much as scratch Smokethroat. She rips her paw away after a moment, dazed and slow to react, and stares at the RiverClan leader with wide eyes.
She expects Cicadastar to lunge for her further, but when she scrambles back—sluggish, so stupidly slow—he remains crouched over his clanmate’s limp form. She hopes that the black-furred tom bleeds out before they can get him help. She hopes the second wave tramples Cicadastar into the dirt of his own territory. She hopes that elsewhere in the battle, Hyacinthbreath falls to dirt-sharpened claws.
It is difficult to shed her pride, to turn away from the fight and obey the lead warrior’s order to retreat. But what other option is there? Death? She’s too good to die at the claws of a RiverClanner (no matter how close she understands she’s just come to being flayed by the fish-breathed leader). Her gait is stumbling, lopsided, as she rushes away, searching for the direction that her clanmates ran off in.
// out!!
She realizes as the dappled tom leaps for her—the plan she’d attempted was never going to work. He’s too quick, and she’s too slow, too injured. It’s even more clear when the tom’s fangs tear into her wrist, and the calico doesn’t even get the chance to do what she’d been threatening. Her claws are torn away from the warrior’s throat, never able to so much as scratch Smokethroat. She rips her paw away after a moment, dazed and slow to react, and stares at the RiverClan leader with wide eyes.
She expects Cicadastar to lunge for her further, but when she scrambles back—sluggish, so stupidly slow—he remains crouched over his clanmate’s limp form. She hopes that the black-furred tom bleeds out before they can get him help. She hopes the second wave tramples Cicadastar into the dirt of his own territory. She hopes that elsewhere in the battle, Hyacinthbreath falls to dirt-sharpened claws.
It is difficult to shed her pride, to turn away from the fight and obey the lead warrior’s order to retreat. But what other option is there? Death? She’s too good to die at the claws of a RiverClanner (no matter how close she understands she’s just come to being flayed by the fish-breathed leader). Her gait is stumbling, lopsided, as she rushes away, searching for the direction that her clanmates ran off in.
// out!!
[ MONSTROUS WOMAN ]