OUTLAWS FROM THE WEST | sootspot

[SHALESTRIPE]

Shalestripe is elated that he'd ribbed Sootspot into accepting this less than savory proposition.

The tom likes to think he is something of a charmer; with enough convincing he can make any snake dance and do his bidding. But today's events are less scheming and more thrill-seeking. Shalestripe, StarClan bless him, has not the knife-point sharpness that his other clanmates boast, but he doees know how to get a nice, big hit of adrenaline. He is just happy to have roped Sootspot into this scheme. After all, he couldn't very well hunt hawks with no bait.

"A'right," the warrior drawls, scars glinting in the early morning haze of orange, "you know th' drill. Big old hawk come's swoopin' an' I'll come in t' pin him down. I ain't rightly able t' finish him myself, though, so help me out once you're to yer paws." Shalestripe sniffs, nose frigid thanks to the nip of winter. His tail flicks eagerly as he turns amber eyes skyward. Sure enough, giant silhouettes of birds circle above them, silhouetted black against the pale daybreak sky. A toothy grin splits the warrior's muzzle. When he looks back to Sootspot, his gaze is pointed, but alight with excitement and something else, too — recklessness.

"Okay, boy!" Shalestripe cackles, teeth bared with delight, "you sit pretty now! I'll just be in th' gorse, so don't you dare turn tail on me!" With his bait set, the warrior dives into the gorse and out of sight of the hawks, preparing himself to attack at the most opportune moment.

/ @SOOTSPOT

𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 ✧ 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐋!

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  — shale . shalestripe
  — he / him ; windclan moor-runner ; mentoring none
  — short-haired black smoke tabby tom with high white and amber eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — headshot by me, chibi by moonacre
  — penned by meghan; all opinions are IC!

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[SOOTSPOT]

Shalestripe was trying to kill him, that had been the first thought when he was propositioned with an idea so ludicrous that the duplicitous tom had a genuine moment of laughter when he first heard it. But, there had been no honey in the tabby's words, no attempts at justification that would mean Sootspot had something to gain by risking his life. The moor-runner had spoken with a sincerity that had made Sootspot realise that Shalestripe wasn't a traitor, he was just an idiot - perhaps that a more dangerous thing than one who would threaten Sootstar's dynasty willingly. Sootspot was to be a pawn in whatever high-stakes game the older warrior had roped him into, his identity as a tunneler far more important than his identity as the oldest son of a leader. It was equal parts irritating and fascinating for his bloodline to not mean something, though trying to curse emotions as weakness, he couldn't deny the sway they had when he'd accepted Shalestripe's offer. The sun felt like fire upon his snakelike spine, his long fur standing to attention as an early chill swept across the moors - he didn't realise the cold's bite was purely fictitious, an aftermath of fear he didn't know he felt.

He listened to the other speak and did not attempt to retort with his usual witticisms, he did not need the other to second-guess 'rescuing' him from the giant bird. "We do not explain how we did this, to anyone!" he called after Shalestripe as he disappeared into the gorse. It was in both their best interests if the catch remained a mystery, he was not interested in a new nickname of 'bait', Shalestripe wouldn't be interested in exile for endangering his life. When there was no reply, loneliness wrapped itself around the chimera like a weighted blanket. His gaze shot to the sky where eager hunters already begun to gather, the winged shadows growing more and more eager in their flapping. Then, one seems to stop, its wings furled and, before long, its body dove like a star flying across Silverpelt. It almost too long for Sootspot to realise that it was diving straight for him, its eyes far better than his own, and fear suffocated the young cat's heart. Badgers, foxes, clans, all of them felt easy to deal with because he was never truly alone, the focus of beasts was divided and all he had to do was blend into the darkness when he did not want to be seen.

The bird's eyes were on him and him alone, there was no pushing another into the light, he was exposed and Stars did it hurt. Sootspot spun around and bolted, tail between his legs (less things for the bird of prey to grasp, he would tell Shalestripe later), the great darkness beneath him getting larger and larger. Then, Sootspot too disappeared into the gorse, a different patch of it, where he knew a tunnel would be found. Sootspot dove into it and crawled away from the light, eyes almost snapping shut when something seemed to swallow the sun behind him. He turned his head and spotted shiny black claws poking the entrance of the burrow, scaly, yellowed skin pressed against the top edge. Sootspot held his breath as the hawk moved to correct itself, talons retreating from his hidey-hole. 'Now Shalestripe... do it now.'


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