- Nov 14, 2022
- 18
- 2
- 3
cw: death, descriptions of decay, gore... all that fun stuff. the npc body is also from this thread for context, permission given!
Any other cat would have recoiled in sheer disgust, even horror when recognizing the floating scrap of fur lodged between slush and mud along the bankside. Not him, though. A distinct lack of sentiment prevented it.
Leechpaw, assigned to one of many hunting patrols, only followed the order to split up, spreading out the desperate hunters for a broader range. By chance, he scented a vole, snuffling around for what few bulbs and tubers remained alive in the frozen soil. Already the change in mentors began to prove useful, as the dark apprentice successfully pounced on the scurrying creature. He allowed it to wriggle beneath his claws, studying the way its small limbs kicked and squirmed before he dispatched it with a well-placed nip to its spine. Picking up the admittedly-thin vole in his mouth, he noticed an odd soggy lump near the icy river as he lifted his head. Confusion crossed his otherwise neutral features; Leechpaw soon trotted closer, tall ears on alert and eyes round with curiosity.
The stench of rot hit him first, and he shifted the vole in his mouth's grip to try blocking at least some of it. Cautiously, he peered over the misshapen and water-logged form ― he dropped his vole to the side in partial shock as he identified the distinct face, tail, and limbs of a cat. Bloated, trapped in a patch of ice, and limply suspended at the water's surface with an unknown face hidden underwater, the corpse looked like it was caught between a freshly-slain catch, such as his vole, and the sun-bleached scraps of fish went to waste, their chests rotted open. The cat, its tortoiseshell-patterned back exposed above the water, was swarming with buzzing insects, ones that scattered into a speckled cloud as Leechpaw inched even closer. A glance upstream at the distant waterfall led him to believe that perhaps the body tumbled down from further along the river ― the water lapped away any trace of clan scent, though he was also holding his breath to avoid the reeking smell for the most part.
Against any cat's better instinct, he tentatively stepped out onto the ice patch, slowly creeping forward with no regard for his own likely watery grave if he should misstep. The apprentice, once close enough, reached out with both paws and hauled the corpse out of the filmy water swirling with body residue. He stumbled backward beneath its weight, flopping backward onto shore alongside it. A decision he sorely regretted, as fur and skin sloughed off under his touch. Leechpaw finally gagged and wrenched his head away but stifled the reflexive disgust. He wanted... no, he needed to see. Typically cats were buried far before this stage, with his elderly mentor scarcely showing any sign of decay beyond stiffened limbs when covering him beneath the earth. Leechpaw shoved aside his brief repulsion and analyzed the corpse now fully unsubmerged with a peculiar look on his face, one of both fascination and a grimacing determination. The tortiseshell was a she-cat, an elderly one at that. Her paws and flanks were abraded, though no blood leaked from the wounds without a heart to pump it out. From struggling against the rough current? Her head flopped at an odd angle, jaws agape and spilling water inhaled in her final moments. A drowning, it had to be. But what about the water was it that caused her body to swell like a frog? Did it fill more than just her lungs? Was there some type of air trapped beneath the layers of skin? Leechpaw couldn't determine anything from just a glance-over... what would really answer his questions was if he sunk his claws into flesh and revealed the mystery beneath. The viscera and guts, all the structures for life in a cat; did it vary from prey? Already, a portion of skin was missing, exposing deteriorating muscles where he dragged the body from the water. It was so, so tempting ― he might go mad if he didn't find out, compelled to discover the answers hidden right in front of him, even if his paws were smeared by blood and rot in the process. To him, the corpse was equal to any prey that others caught, regardless of it taking the shape of a cat.
Yet before he could investigate further, the figures of the rest of his hunting patrol were approaching through the reeds. Leechpaw panicked, tensing on the spot. His reputation, as unbecoming as other cats viewed him, was a fragile little creature. Liable to being squished beneath the rock of judgment at any time. The black-furred apprentice recoiled back from the corpse, features twisting into an uncanny disgust. He picked his vole back up, as though his meager catch might excuse him for taking so long. "I found a body," he muttered around the prey, dull blue eyes locking upon his arriving cats.
tldr: leech went with a hunting patrol that split up and found a body (brookshade, a npc windclanner) by the waterfall from the gorge
Any other cat would have recoiled in sheer disgust, even horror when recognizing the floating scrap of fur lodged between slush and mud along the bankside. Not him, though. A distinct lack of sentiment prevented it.
Leechpaw, assigned to one of many hunting patrols, only followed the order to split up, spreading out the desperate hunters for a broader range. By chance, he scented a vole, snuffling around for what few bulbs and tubers remained alive in the frozen soil. Already the change in mentors began to prove useful, as the dark apprentice successfully pounced on the scurrying creature. He allowed it to wriggle beneath his claws, studying the way its small limbs kicked and squirmed before he dispatched it with a well-placed nip to its spine. Picking up the admittedly-thin vole in his mouth, he noticed an odd soggy lump near the icy river as he lifted his head. Confusion crossed his otherwise neutral features; Leechpaw soon trotted closer, tall ears on alert and eyes round with curiosity.
The stench of rot hit him first, and he shifted the vole in his mouth's grip to try blocking at least some of it. Cautiously, he peered over the misshapen and water-logged form ― he dropped his vole to the side in partial shock as he identified the distinct face, tail, and limbs of a cat. Bloated, trapped in a patch of ice, and limply suspended at the water's surface with an unknown face hidden underwater, the corpse looked like it was caught between a freshly-slain catch, such as his vole, and the sun-bleached scraps of fish went to waste, their chests rotted open. The cat, its tortoiseshell-patterned back exposed above the water, was swarming with buzzing insects, ones that scattered into a speckled cloud as Leechpaw inched even closer. A glance upstream at the distant waterfall led him to believe that perhaps the body tumbled down from further along the river ― the water lapped away any trace of clan scent, though he was also holding his breath to avoid the reeking smell for the most part.
Against any cat's better instinct, he tentatively stepped out onto the ice patch, slowly creeping forward with no regard for his own likely watery grave if he should misstep. The apprentice, once close enough, reached out with both paws and hauled the corpse out of the filmy water swirling with body residue. He stumbled backward beneath its weight, flopping backward onto shore alongside it. A decision he sorely regretted, as fur and skin sloughed off under his touch. Leechpaw finally gagged and wrenched his head away but stifled the reflexive disgust. He wanted... no, he needed to see. Typically cats were buried far before this stage, with his elderly mentor scarcely showing any sign of decay beyond stiffened limbs when covering him beneath the earth. Leechpaw shoved aside his brief repulsion and analyzed the corpse now fully unsubmerged with a peculiar look on his face, one of both fascination and a grimacing determination. The tortiseshell was a she-cat, an elderly one at that. Her paws and flanks were abraded, though no blood leaked from the wounds without a heart to pump it out. From struggling against the rough current? Her head flopped at an odd angle, jaws agape and spilling water inhaled in her final moments. A drowning, it had to be. But what about the water was it that caused her body to swell like a frog? Did it fill more than just her lungs? Was there some type of air trapped beneath the layers of skin? Leechpaw couldn't determine anything from just a glance-over... what would really answer his questions was if he sunk his claws into flesh and revealed the mystery beneath. The viscera and guts, all the structures for life in a cat; did it vary from prey? Already, a portion of skin was missing, exposing deteriorating muscles where he dragged the body from the water. It was so, so tempting ― he might go mad if he didn't find out, compelled to discover the answers hidden right in front of him, even if his paws were smeared by blood and rot in the process. To him, the corpse was equal to any prey that others caught, regardless of it taking the shape of a cat.
Yet before he could investigate further, the figures of the rest of his hunting patrol were approaching through the reeds. Leechpaw panicked, tensing on the spot. His reputation, as unbecoming as other cats viewed him, was a fragile little creature. Liable to being squished beneath the rock of judgment at any time. The black-furred apprentice recoiled back from the corpse, features twisting into an uncanny disgust. He picked his vole back up, as though his meager catch might excuse him for taking so long. "I found a body," he muttered around the prey, dull blue eyes locking upon his arriving cats.
tldr: leech went with a hunting patrol that split up and found a body (brookshade, a npc windclanner) by the waterfall from the gorge
