the sea may burn / slate

[Orangestar]

Between her stubborn insistence on patrols until she physically couldn't complete them and the loss of her third life, Orangestar's confinement to camp had only been about a moon long. Despite her stint being shorn down to a fraction of the usual and the twins with their newly designated milk-mother, it feels strange to be out of camp. Wrong, as much as it is relieving. She feels unsteady on her paws, as if she doesn't know where to place them.

They've left to go hunting, taken off at a brisk walk in the direction of Tallpine. Slatesnarl remains at her side in a familiar support: one she appreciates, but she can't focus on the task at paw knowing that her kits would be waking up soon to a new setting, new sounds, a new queen at their side. You've done the right thing, she tries to console herself once more. Butterflytuft was a competent queen. She would nurture the two into fine young apprentices, and their blood-parents would never be too far away.

The wind changes as Orangestar parts her jaws to voice something to her mate, and her inhale is smothered by the reek of fox. Orangestar coughs as if that would free her from the cloying scent, acrid on her tongue. Her head swivels, alighting upon amber fur a score of tail-lengths from them, and the leader's hackles raise. The monster is a juvenile, bright-eyed and a little too scruffy around its neck to be older than a couple of seasons. Its stance seeks combat, but it hasn't moved yet. Shoulders tensing, Orangestar decides in that instant she will not wait for the scrappy thing.

"Tree. Now!" She snaps, shoving Slatesnarl towards the nearest set of sprawling roots. He's not much of a climber, Orangestar remembers after she's shoved him, but she would rather him be up a tree than at the mercy of a fox's jaws.

Several trees away, the fox startles and begins to give chase.

ooc ✧ 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦

• // @SLATESNARL
  patrol encounter roll: 9 (predator - a fox!)
  tracking roll: 3 (if i had a nickel-)
  
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  [ art by pin ]
• ORANGESTAR ✧ she/her, leader of skyclan | six lives
  
  
  — "a scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes."
  — mate to slatesnarl ; no apprentice
  — speech is in #D2977D
  — tags | penned by mercibun, contact on discord for plots.
  
  
  
  

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[SLATESNARL]

Something within Slatesnarl feels hollow as the pair departs camp. It's odd, how difficult turning his back on those two kittens was. It was not as if they were abandoning them. It's not as if Ramkit and Lambkit were no longer their children. But, returning to an empty leader's den would feel strange. Just as soon as the warrior had grown accustomed to their mewls and their toddling about, they were placed in the care of another queen.

The Maine Coon says nothing to Orangestar as they navigate the pines, though not on account of any sore feelings toward his mate. Those initial expressions of disbelief had long faded. What could he say? What was done was done, and this was the way things were.

Along the way, the charcoal-hued feline had managed to track and finish off a crow. Thankfully, his hip had yielded some flexibility and allowed him to pounce successfully onto his target. Smaller and more nimble prey were harder for the former lead warrior to chase after, but larger creatures were barely able to escape the hunter's claws.

He smells it too, that sour stench of a familiar threat that stings his nostrils. Slatesnarl folds his mangled ears, broad muzzle turning in the direction of the lingering vulpine. It stares the pair down like a shadow of death, not as towering and intimidating as other long-snouts he's met in his lifetime, but still equipped with teeth to bite and tear nonetheless.

She shoves him roughly, ordering that he make for the protection of the branches. The black-feathered bird drops from his maw as a result of the force, though he doesn't even notice. Slatesnarl's first instinct is to jump back and create distance between him and the predator, and his innate fear of dogs and similar beasts urges him to move his paws in the other direction. This was a fight not often won; it had once taken several cats to fight off two foxes ( one of whom had gutted one of Orangestar's lives ).

Slatesnarl's ochre gaze whips around, noticing the hungry-eyed look of the fox as it made for his fresh-kill. Perhaps it was foolish, placing so much value on a dead crow, but it was food for the clan. It could feed the queens in the nursery—including the she-cat nursing his children. Why should he let this half-grown pup steal what was rightfully his?!

Too stubborn to flee, the tom let out a throaty snarl and raised his hackles, swatting with unsheathed claws at the approaching predator and aiming to drag ivory daggers down its face. His heart drums like rain in his chest, jaw clenched and muscles taut as he faces off against his foe.

𝟒𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐉𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 ✹ . + ˚ · 𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐆𝐔𝐍

• prey roll with encounter: 18 ( finds prey and engages with predator over prey, but succeeds in keeping it )
  prey size roll: 19 ( large )
  pts: 3

• 

• 

  — slatesnarl / 44 moons / he/him
  — skyclan warrior & former lead warrior
  — mate to orangestar / father to lambkit & ramkit
  — lh solid black maine coon w/ rusting, amber eyes. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face.
  — click for tags

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