- Aug 1, 2022
- 214
- 46
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Seal point fur gleams in the morning sun, the scent of the first patrol's fresh-kill on the wind. It's a peaceful morning so far-- thank the fucking stars-- and Clearsight approaches the child hoping to start an amiable conversation, offer a listening ear. They've been quiet, and he's worried. One of Buckgait's little ones-- for all that they aren't necessarily little, they're still a kid, still so young to be facing all that RiverClan has faced.
(He thinks of Ashpaw, blood in the water, screaming for help that wouldn't come. Fate clearly doesn't see fit to spare their children.)
He approaches slowly, softly, sets a fish on the sand between them. The island camp is fairly empty, and Raccoonpaw has tucked themself into a corner near the shore.
"I don't think I've seen you eat this morning," the silver-blue warrior says, worried but gentle; not insistent.
(He thinks of Ashpaw, blood in the water, screaming for help that wouldn't come. Fate clearly doesn't see fit to spare their children.)
He approaches slowly, softly, sets a fish on the sand between them. The island camp is fairly empty, and Raccoonpaw has tucked themself into a corner near the shore.
"I don't think I've seen you eat this morning," the silver-blue warrior says, worried but gentle; not insistent.
// @Raccoonpaw