private The moment to live and the moment to die ☠ Scuffle

Bonepaw.

Quieter than the dead
Dec 18, 2023
77
15
8
*+:。.。 Claws pull unfamiliar, rotten dirt from padded down earth. Once upon a time, this very trail was one walked solely by Thunderclan paws...now, it was Shadowclan's oyster - providing them new opportunities to hunt where they'd once had only been allowed to reside on the ground behind the Thunderpath. I wonder if she walked along this same path before, he thinks, a harsh warmth shattering through a carefully crafted pane of ice.
He hates them. He loathes the ground his paws can't physically scorch or raze. He loathes that she might still walk upon this earth herself, casually and without remorse as if she hadn't taken the life of one of Shadowclan's best warriors - a daughter, a friend, a wife, a mother. It takes so much - everything in him not to rush past the scent line marked by the spoils of war; to break through bushes and leap past roots until his splintered paws carry him straight into Thunderclan's heart - until his claws tear straight through hers. Bonechill extends his talons to their limit as he shadows the borderline between the two clans, tapping them restlessly against the absolute edge. Lost in fantasy, he imagines clawing his way into Starclan, finding her spirit, unfairly joined amongst their ancestors, and finding a way to kill her there, too. For ever moon he's now forced to spend with another family member stolen from him, he hopes to impart upon her a fresh new scar; another layer to a deep wound pulling forth more of the same blood she'd spilled from Needledance.
He wants her to die.
He needs her to die.
Oh, how he longs to kill a Thunderclanner.

For now, he settles on twitching his ear towards the tell-tell rustle of a bush growing close to his starving claws.

The bulky warrior, quiet and swift as death itself, throws himself forward, aiming to barrel into the unsuspecting Thunderclanner with little pause for remorse. It's not as though they're warm to the idea themselves.


  • For the funsies
    DEFENSE: 60/100
    ATTACK: 30/100

    Do with that information what you like <3
  • 88578365_0bDzPO167fzILmk.png

  • GENERAL:
    Shadowclan — warrior
    DMAB— He/Him — Unsure
    16 moons
    Son to Ferndance x Needledrift
    Littermates with Bloodwing, Shadewhisker, Splashdance
    Half-brother to Gigglepaw, Morelpaw, Branchpaw



    COMBAT:
    Physically hard | mentally hard
    Attack in bold #738171
    injuries: None currently
 


Stormywing prowls through the undergrowth, her lean, scarred form blending seamlessly with the snow-dusted foliage. She's been out here all day trying to scrounge up something to bring back to camp, but not a single scent trail has crossed her path. Her breath fogs in the cold air as she moves, frustrated golden eyes scanning the forest. The air here is tainted with ShadowClan's stench, rank and bitter. It makes her pelt bristle. She knows this stretch of forest well; it was ThunderClan's before the battle, and bitterly she can't help but think of what prey might lie beyond the new scent line.

A rustle to her right sends her instincts flaring suddenly. Stars, had she been that lost in thought? The warrior barely has time to pivot before a massive ShadowClan tom bursts through the brush, barreling toward her like a rogue storm. She doesn't know his name but she recognizes him from Gatherings, a brute of a young cat with rage written in every swipe of his claws. He crashes into her, the impact sending a jarring shock through her smaller frame as she struggles to keep her footing. She hisses, claws lashing out blindly as she staggers with her ears ringing. His weight is overwhelming, but she refuses to crumble. For every inch of ground she loses, her resolve burns hotter. You will not take more from us!

"Get off my territory, fox-heart!" She snarls, voice raw with fury. She twists beneath him with a burst of strength, her hind legs kicking up and attempting to rake against his exposed belly. If her claws find purchase, she will press the attack to try to drive him back with sheer force. Her muscles burn, but she doesn't relent, her strikes fueled by rage for everything ShadowClan has taken from her: land, Mottledpaw's eye, and pride.

As soon as she scrambles to her paws, she lunges forward, her teeth snapping dangerously close to his ear. "What, you think this whole forest belongs to you now?" She spits, her voice trembling with effort. "Come back here again, and I'll make sure you leave more than just your pride behind!" Golden eyes blaze as she circles him, ready to strike again if he dares to make another move.

// rolled 41 for defense and 91 for attack!