sensitive topics THE MONSTER YOU MADE ME [ ✦ ] killing practice

[Bluepool]

// in this thread, Bluepool makes Featherpaw kill a rabbit while she holds it down so if such things upset you please do not read on tw is also for descriptions of death and dead animals

Death is inevitable. Bluepool knows it as well as any other cat. But Featherpaw is young, she does not understand yet that in order to live other creatures must die and they must do so by her paws. She certainly can see all the fresh-kill laying in a pile, certainly enjoys tearing into flesh and blood and filling her belly, but it is important to remember that the food you eat was once alive, that it was once a living breathing creature racing across the moors just like herself. Its a somber thing, to feel a life leaving a body underneath your paws, to see the fire behind a creatures eyes die out, but it is necessary for their survival. In this life it is either kill or be killed and Bluepool has every intention of ensuring her apprentice had all the tools necessary to survive. That was her job, was it not?

She had departed early that morning, allowing her apprentice to sleep in for a bit. No doubt he was awake now, chatting with his friends maybe or wondering where she was. She comes into camp now, a rabbit clutched gently in her jaws, its twitching movements an indication that it is still alive but terror keeps it frozen. It thinks that perhaps if it doesn't move she wont kill it. It works out too that the creature is young, just barely old enough to leave its mother and not the full size of a regular hare. It is in the same developmental life stage as Featherpaw, just figuring out what its like to be on its own, though now she supposes it would never know. This was a cruel lesson, but one that needed to be imparted all the same.

She places the rabbit down in front of her, placing a paw on its neck to keep it in place. Its sides heave and its brown eyes dart around to look at the faces of the cats that surround it, fear evident in its gaze as Bluepool uses claws to keep the creature from moving. "Featherpaw!" she calls out "Will you come here please?" she waits until the red tabby is before her, yellow eyes impassive as she looks at her apprentice. Still so young but he would need to know this feeling if he had any hopes of safely killing his own prey. "The first step to hunting, is not learning how to stalk or how to chase your prey, it is learning how to kill" she begins. "A hare can be a dangerous creature, they have powerful back legs that can seriously injure you if you are caught by one. You must not hesitate when going in for the killing bite during a hunt so I want you to practice this now" and if it was not obvious by now what Bluepool wanted him to do, she now shifts, so that one paw is placed on the rabbits hindquarters and the other holds down its shoulders. It struggles but only for a moment before she is pressing claws to its flesh and it stills, its small body trembling under her feet. "Kill it." she instructs him plainly.

// please wait for @FEATHERPAW to post

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[FEATHERSPINE]

There were times Featherpaw looked upon her mentor with disdain. Bluepool was a trusted lead warrior- someone, by all logic, worth emulating. But she grinned, joked, prodded- spouted ridiculous things about death. Antithetical to the perfect future Featherpaw had envisioned for himself, he gazed upon her often with poorly-masked confusion.

Not today, though. Today there was fear in the boiling sun-yellow of his practiced scowl.

Kill it.

Bluepool's justification- of how a good hunter should be well-practiced, should be fearless, should not hesitate- it made perfect sense. But when she instructed him, tone sharp and leaving no room for argument... Featherpaw did hesitate. She looked town at the squirming thing, its rolling, glossy eye, bloodshot. It convulsed with what Featherpaw recognised as fear.

Fear of death. It sprawled like a stinking poison from this doomed little creature. She held its eye, against her better judgement. The life within it. The gleam of the sun and the twitch of terror.

They have powerful legs that can seriously injure you. Poor thing. Its mother hadn't taught it how it could use its legs to defend itself- had it been smarter, it could have kicked Bluepool in the face. It could have run away with its life. It could have prevented any of this from happening.

Featherpaw's glare hardened. He took a step forward. You would hurt me, she thought as she looked into its little eye. Under the paw of an enemy, if she was not practiced enough... this could be her. Convulsing, waiting to die. Life held taut in the in-between. His jaw tightened.

Bending her neck, without a word she parted her jaws. Hurt them before they hurt you. It was true for this rabbit, and it would be true for her. It was the only way, she was learning. Fight or die.

Her fangs punctured its throat. Warm blood spread across her tongue, spilling and spilling and spilling. It was bitter, and her frown deepened in response, but- but she would not back away. Perfection was the only way to win. The only acceptable way. Making any mistake, enabling any lull, could mean an end came hurtling toward her. Hurt them before they hurt you. You'd hurt me with your kicks. You wouldn't be sorry.

It died by her bite; the blood-taste was metallic, and embarrassment flushed Featherpaw as a droplet dribbled from his jaws. "There. Really fun. Thanks." Sarcasm seeped from her words, a new feeling of embittered accomplishment, terror-tainted, reality-razed, rolling through her. Death was easy. Killing was easy. It was sad news for the rabbits of the world.

She would not be a rabbit.​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[Bluepool]

What is going through Featherpaw's mind in this moment, she has no clue. No doubt he resents this. Bluepool had the first time she had been made to kill in a similar fashion. Images of her father come to the forefront of her mind. Back then, life had been much crueler, the lessons harsher and quicker because one did not have a mentor to teach them the things they needed to know, to watch over them. Back then you learned the basics from your family, from helpful friends, but for the most part you were on your own. It was a wonder how they survived for so long back then though she supposes that many did not. She and her sisters had been either lucky or very skilled. She chooses to believe the latter.

She watches with a neutral expression as her apprentice stares down at the rabbit under her paws, watches him contemplate the act before carrying it out. It is not her first taste of blood but it is her first time taking a life, watching the light die from behind once alive eyes and knowing you are the one who extinguished it. But she gets the job done and Bluepool can tell from the way she looks away that she had not enjoyed it. She would be worried if she had.

"It was not meant to be fun" Bluepool's tone is icy, lacking of the warmth and laughter that it usually held. This was a serious matter. Featherpaw's sarcasm does not escape her, and she does not appreciate it. Her golden eyes narrow for only a moment, pinning the apprentice in place as silence stretches out between them for a long moment. "Eat. Then meet me at the entrance of camp." she says dismissively. She does not tell him what they would be doing today and she does not specify if he should eat the rabbit he had just killed or not. She merely turns away and heads to the entrance to groom herself in the sunlight as she waits.

// out!

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[PEONYBREEZE]

❀༉˖° Perhaps it was wrong to pry, but Peonypaw thought he had the great excuse of well, we can always learn something new by watching. No matter stayed secret for very long in this camp, and nobody could say it was inappropriate to look the lead warrior's way for long.

Peonypaw's tailtip flicked as he looked on, trying to imagine what the both of them were thinking. A mentor trying her best to teach her apprentice something extremely important- and a young apprentice who no doubt much preferred to find his food already unmoving by the time it reached his paws. Peonypaw found there was little room to disagree; while it was true you get desensitized to the act of killing for your own good after just a handful of prey, it wasn't often you had to actually look your meal in the eye while doing so. Out in the moor or within the darkness of the tunnels, there was just adrenaline. Do it now or stay hungry. No thinking.

He didn't blink as he watched Bluepool leave, waiting until she was completely out of sight before approaching Featherpaw.

"You can gag now, if you want," he offered, assuring Featherpaw that there was no immediate danger of someone older who would judge for such a thing. "And, there's a little- there-" He raised a paw to touch his chin, mirroring the spot where Featherpaw's scorching fur was stained with evidence.

°
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[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── Wolfsong does not believe that killing prey is the only lesson Bluepool imparts by instructing Featherpaw to bite into the pinned rabbit. He watches his kit hesitate, then steel herself, eyes darkened with intent. Perhaps he will compare his future catches with this moment and find hunting is a different beast altogether, that prey squirming in terror take a different sort of will to snuff out. Perhaps Featherpaw will defeat a warrior and find it much the same: wide eyes, heaving heart, trembling limbs.

So too is it a test of obedience, though that is not all Featherpaw has learned. This is not the way Wolfsong or Sunstride came to first deal death, and he does not know that he approves of Bluepool's methods. Forcing a kill should be a resort for an apprentice who hesitates to deliver the last blow in a hunt. Otherwise, a natural environment is best.

His ear flicks as Peonypaw speaks with Featherpaw following Bluepool's departure. After a moment, he follows, appraising her carefully. He has undergone a change, that much is clear to Wolfsong; he has watched her grow from a suckling newborn to an apprentice, and there is little he cannot see in his children. "There is enough rabbit to share, if you would indulge your ðir."​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 38 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

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[sparkspirit]

Hurt them before they hurt you. He remembers his heart pounding. Wild-eyed trembling, shaking, struggling to clench down as they scrabble at his shoulders. Please, please, I don't want to die, in claws that dig in and slowly, slowly still. Not a rabbit, but a warrior like him. Someone who wanted to live the way that the rabbits wanted to live. What was the difference between the two of them, anyway? The answer? Not nearly enough. At least the chase made it easier, like Peonypaw said. In that moment he is once again the hunter and not an equal to the prey. They all struggle with such things in WindClan. How could they not, living the way that they did?

Sparkspirit doesn't mean to intrude upon the two of them, yet he joins the growing circle surrounding Featherpaw with a nod of his head. He doesn't ask for the rabbit. Perhaps Wolfsong intends to return it to its place as prey, not a living being whose life had been extinguished, but his suddenly squeamish stomach couldn't handle helping. "It's not like that when you hunt," he offers quietly. "It's...faster. No time to think on it." He shrugs one shoulder. "Worst lesson so far?"

𝘛𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘓𝘌𝘋 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘋𝘚 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐  ･｡ﾟ  🗲  ╱╱ 11.07.2023 𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘚𝘈𝘠 ˊˎ＜

• OOC. —
• 🗲　　. 　 ˚　.  SPARKSPIRIT. HE - HIM - HIS. 14 MOON OLD MOOR RUNNER OF WINDCLAN. VERY LOYAL TO HIS CLAN. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  ————
  
  
  ——  a trim mock tortoiseshell tom with mostly black fur splashed with the occasional patch orange. he has a singular white mark on the back of his neck shaped similarly to a lightning strike, and a small scar across the bridge of his nose. his eyes are a shocking electric blue.
  

  ✦ ECHOLIGHT x ELMBREEZE. ADOPTED BY YEWBERRY. BRIGHTFAM, BUT SOMEWHAT ESTRANGED DUE TO HIS LOYALTY TO WINDCLAN. ————————

• "speech"

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