- Mar 30, 2024
- 112
- 22
- 18
*+:。.。 One of the benefits of being one of Skyclaw's followers is that he can leave camp as much as he wishes without the need for supervision.
Wrath-Howl takes the opportunity, trudging quietly through a dimly lit forest. It's late, cats are curling up in their nests, preparing for another busy day tomorrow, helpless to the merciless march of time. The leaf litter kicked from time's endless trudge slowly but steadily buries the lost, and those who hang back in their grief are threatened with the same. Cats still openly grieve for Howlingstar, but onwards they too must slough, forced to continue their lives where their beloved leader cannot. Wrath-howl curses each step he, too, takes in his former leader's stead.
There's no point in regretting it all now.
Still, the wolf with cream tabby stripes makes his way quietly in the dusk to join the dead. His paws feel heavy, made sticky by the prevailing illusion of blood, but unburdened by the freeze of death. He isn't sure what he should do. Not here, among the honorable dead, nor back in camp among the righteous living. He helped sculpt the clan he'd wanted, hadn't he? A thunderclan without kitty pets and a senile leader was what he'd vowed to help create...and yet, he felt no kinship with any of the cats sleeping comfortably in their nests. He was no warrior, and yet he could hide behind the rank of apprentice no longer.
"Howlingstar" he whispers to the mound of dirt he stands beside, his memory filled with the sound of cracking bones and dimming green eyes, wide with shock and betrayal, yet never glittering with hatred, not even at the very end. I'm sorry, he wishes to say if I could trade places...but it sounds so hollow. Instead, the killer would sit lamely upon the cold dirt and hang his head.
""What..." he begins, but can't scrounge up enough audacity to finish the question.
Wrath-Howl takes the opportunity, trudging quietly through a dimly lit forest. It's late, cats are curling up in their nests, preparing for another busy day tomorrow, helpless to the merciless march of time. The leaf litter kicked from time's endless trudge slowly but steadily buries the lost, and those who hang back in their grief are threatened with the same. Cats still openly grieve for Howlingstar, but onwards they too must slough, forced to continue their lives where their beloved leader cannot. Wrath-howl curses each step he, too, takes in his former leader's stead.
There's no point in regretting it all now.
Still, the wolf with cream tabby stripes makes his way quietly in the dusk to join the dead. His paws feel heavy, made sticky by the prevailing illusion of blood, but unburdened by the freeze of death. He isn't sure what he should do. Not here, among the honorable dead, nor back in camp among the righteous living. He helped sculpt the clan he'd wanted, hadn't he? A thunderclan without kitty pets and a senile leader was what he'd vowed to help create...and yet, he felt no kinship with any of the cats sleeping comfortably in their nests. He was no warrior, and yet he could hide behind the rank of apprentice no longer.
"Howlingstar" he whispers to the mound of dirt he stands beside, his memory filled with the sound of cracking bones and dimming green eyes, wide with shock and betrayal, yet never glittering with hatred, not even at the very end. I'm sorry, he wishes to say if I could trade places...but it sounds so hollow. Instead, the killer would sit lamely upon the cold dirt and hang his head.
""What..." he begins, but can't scrounge up enough audacity to finish the question.
-
-
♡ Wrathpaw
♡ DMAB— He/Him
♡ 10 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
♡ Brother to Lovelight, Joywing, Laughblossom || Pridepaw, Merrypaw
♡ Thunderclan — apprentice
♡ Mentored by Wildheart
COMBAT:
♡Physically mediocre | mentally very easy
♡ Attack in bold #4a59ff
injuries: None currently , mentally unwell
"SPEECH"