pafp THROW ME TO THE WOLVES [🐺] JOINING

[BRAMBLEKIT.]

CW: past abandonment, parent and kitten death by starvation, slight emetophobia (paragraph marked)

His breath rasps hard and fast around the mouse in his jaws, and heart pounds with fearful adrenaline. When he'd seen that group of cats peering at him through the tall trees, the basic animal instincts to protect his kill had kicked in hard, and their approach had sent him scurrying away from them as fast as his legs could carry him. For a three month old, he's large and sturdy, but he wouldn't last in a fight for his food, and he knows it. When he lived in town, he was easily beaten away from scraps of discarded Upwalker food by other alley cats. Hungry and desperate, the warm prey-smells of the forest had finally lured him away from that hellish jungle of bricks, concrete and steel.

The kitten has nothing but the name the one friendly alley cat he'd known had given him - "Rags," for his tattered pelt. He'd been a soft, well-groomed housecat once, loved by his mother, until the elderly woman that owned them had died and her offspring hadn't wanted them. Rather than give them away, the selfish brutes had dumped Mama and him and his siblings. Mama gave them all of the food she found, so starvation took her first. Then his siblings died one by one, and he was left to fend for himself, clinging to life and learning to survive. He'd forgotten the name Mama gave him in his desperate struggle to live. That alley cat is the only one who gave him any care or courtesy since then. She must be wondering where he is, but he doesn't need her anymore. He has a whole forest full of food now, if the cats who already live here don't take it away from him.

Rags finally comes to a stop in a forest with new trees, thick and branching unlike the straight, tall, sharp-smelling ones he'd initially emerged into. He can still smell other cats past his mouse, setting his matted pelt on end. He hunkers down in the roots of a tree, hoping the fallen leaves will disguise his ruddy pelt, and carefully sets his mouse down to finally take a bite. The mouthwatering flavors melt in his mouth, and he makes a soft noise of surprise and joy as he rapidly chews and swallows. It's the best thing he's ever tasted. Not caring that he'll make himself sick, he digs in with large, greedy bites.

*Midway through his meal, a pawstep crunches down on the leaves nearby. Quickly, Rags shoves his mouse back between his paws and stands, arching his back and puffing out his fur. She's the biggest cat he's ever seen, a sight that nearly makes him vomit up his meal in fear, but she has him cornered. He has no choice but to stand his ground. His paws dance forward a step, then back, as a threatening growl rumbles in his throat. His green eyes narrow to slits.

OOC: please wait for @MERLINPAW ​

[ DIDN'T TURN OUT THE WAY YOU WANTED IT, DID IT? -- ☠ ]​

 

[MERLINPAW]

Merlinpaw, born within the security of bracken-laden camp, had never known the purest state of survival. Terror and starvation, at the peak of its hold over one's psyche, had never crept through the linings of her gut nor her soul. Raised in a loving family, the dilute tortoiseshell considered herself lucky given the circumstances of even her fellow clanmates. But she had known the pain of never fitting in where careful hands had designed her to fit into, like a beast cast in gloom-laced robe, skulking along the edges of searing light. Like her body expanded and ventured farther than her slower spirit could ever follow, she did not belong within the vessel of sinew and flesh and whatever earthly materials she had composed herself of. Whatever potential could be gleaned from her peers only blinded her, burned and branded her to the point where she could only conceal the scars of her own self-deprecation. She had known the sensation of cowering under power, like she hid her eyes within a cache of her own vices, powerlessness a blinding force to gently pull the wool over young and unwhetted gaze. The time spent underneath the tyrant's heel was momentary and brief, like a blink of the eyelid now, but it had only left a lasting impression on her malleable mind. She knew of evil's presence, its ugly face that one could never look too long into, lest they lose themselves in despair. It was far grander and greater than she could ever conceptualize it to be.

Now, she stood at the crosshairs of one of evil's avatars - a manifestation of fear and hunger, it seemed. As the young apprentice stood in front of the matted tangle of pelage masquerading as a stray kitten, her own shadow like a covert that coated Rags, she could only stare back with dulled aureates. Where did you come from? I don't recognize the scent at all. Merlinpaw wondered, with her nose twitching as she caught upon a strangely metallic scent. It was unlike anything she had ever had the displeasure to experience - like the Thunderpath, though concentrated in its bitter spit ten times over. The tabby held a mouse between his grip, with eager bites already tearing through the soft skin and scarlets of the prey animal. "M - 'M not gonna h-hurt you. D-Don't worry.." The apprentice mewed quietly back to Rags, as though the behemoth exuded just as much fear as the subjects it towered over, humanity surfacing and pooling upon peach-fuzz countenance. What... What should I do? Should I get Flamestar or someone else? No, I'm scared that he's only going to try to claw at them... She did not advance towards the spittling tomcat, only crouched downwards to meet his serpentine glare, like she assumed a couchant position of a regal display of heraldry. Her parents had done this before, as they stood upon spindly legs once, within the realm of "grown ups" that she once could not attain as a kit. Perhaps it was the same principle here, except she was the parent. Nevertheless, Merlinpaw trained her eyes upon Rags, attempting to garner some semblance of trust - though perhaps looking at him dead in the eye was not the best option.​

 

[BRAMBLEKIT.]

He barely registers the quiet voice speaking to him, every part of his mind preoccupied with trying to plan an escape. Then the beast before him begins to crouch. Rags braces himself for her weight to crash into him, to have to bite and claw and kick until she has no choice but to let him go.

She doesn't move. Neither does Rags. For a long, tense moment, the two are locked in a stare down. Is she waiting for him to let his guard down, he wonders? Her face is much kinder than those of the alley cats who had bullied him and stolen his food, friendlier even than the one who had given him his name. It's... too much, too good to be true, but underneath the grime and glowering, Rags is just a kitten who misses his Mama. The bigger cat's fur looks soft and warm, but he resists the urge to approach and try to burrow into it. He doesn't know if she's safe or not, he shouldn't just go around seeking comfort from cats who might still want to kill him.

Hunger eventually wins its battle against fear. He can't function as well as he should on an empty belly. Slowly, he crouches over his mouse again, nudging it back within reach of his mouth before cautiously taking a bite. He never breaks eye contact with the dappled girl, gauging her reaction.
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[ DIDN'T TURN OUT THE WAY YOU WANTED IT, DID IT? -- ☠ ]​

 

[ROEFLAME .]

-ˋˏ ༻ ☀ ༺ ˎˊ-

Once, Roeflame had been little more than a pile of twigs, hugging them close to her face after being left behind by her mother, made alone by her siblings' desire to seek help. It was a memory that was convoluted with age and new experiences, such as bringing her own family into this world in the safety and warmth of the ThunderClan nursery, and keeping them there to grow and thrive. Still, in the deputy's darkest nightmares, she can still remember glimpses of little Toraline's shattered life.

While out in the territory with her friend, coming up an apprentice short was hard to miss, and with her own apprentices close behind, Roeflame set out to help track down her friends apprentice.
'M not gonna hurt you. D-don't worry…

Like the song of a bird in flight, the sound is high-pitched and hard to pin-point, but it is most certainly Merlinpaw's soft-spoken words. "Merlinpaw?" The deputy chimes, pushing away dying undergrowth to reveal the sight of the apprentice. A breath of relief escapes Roeflame, until celadon optics spot the scrap of tangles that watches the apprentice over a mouse. A kit. By itself? So close to Leaf-bare?

Taking a tentative spot forward, the closer Roeflame becomes, the more the deputy can take note of the way the tom-kits ribs protrude from his flank, the ravenous spark in adrenaline-stretched eyes. My stars…

"Oh." The word escapes Roeflame before she can reign in her shock and horror. The way the kit hunched over his prey, the stench of fear, what would Howlingstar do? Flamestar…?

"Merlinpaw, is this er- a friend of yours?" Should any of her own apprentices linger too close, Roeflame would flick her tail to signal them to stay back.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── I GOT A POCKET ⋅✴⋅ A POCKET FULL OF SUNSHINE ──┐‎

• apprentice tags — @Dovepaw @Dwindlingpaw
  mentioning @Flamestar
  

• 

• 
  ROEFLAME ✩ she/her, Deputy of Thunderclan, twenty-seven moons.
  ⭃ petite cinnamon silver ticked tabby with murky green eyes & a small scar over her left eye.
  ⭃ mate to Burnstorm ☀ mentor to Dovepaw & Dwindlingpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted ☀ underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[Flamestar]

〔✦〕Moons had passed since the last kit had been found on their territory. It was a fortunate thing that none had been left during Skyclaw's short-lived reign. When Merlinpaw had wandered off, she had felt conflicted. On one paw, she was worried...there were many dangers in the forest that she was not trained to handle yet. But, she couldn't help but feel proud at her apprentice's small confidence burst to stray from the patrol in the first place. Surely Merlinpaw hadn't gone far, but the sooner they found her the better. "I'm sure she's around here somewhere." she called to Roeflame as her friend turned to check in the other direction.

Flamestar continued her path for a little while, before turning back to see if the deputy had any luck finding her scent trial. She was pleased to find that as she followed Roeflame's trial, she began to pick up Merlinpaw's scent as well. The leader eventually came up on the scene, her gaze immediately spotting the ragged looking kit a few tail lengths in front of her apprentice. Alabaster paws came to a halt beside her deputy, not wanting to get too close and startle the kit. He was crouched over a mouse, slowly and carefully eating it...he looked as though he would dart at the slightest breeze. "Who is this?" The tabby would begin carefully, blinking down warmly at the hungry kitten. She tilted her head curiously, letting her motherly tone slip into her voice without any thought at all. "Are you lost little one?" The forest was no place for a lone kitten...he would need to come back with them if his mother wasn't nearby.

even on my weakest days ( I get a little bit stronger ) //

• ooc.
• FLAMESTAR —— leader of thunderclan , mentoring merlinpaw . storm x lily . littermate to nala, smokey, and nemo ✦ penned by icey !
  ✦ afab / she/her / 38 moons & ages every 20ᵗʰ
  ✦ widowed / heterosexual / closed to romance
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— difficult in battle
  ★★★★★★★★★
  
  ✦ "speech", 'thoughts', all opinions are in character
  ✦ tags — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  
• 
  
  

  a longhaired red tabby with low white and green eyes. flamewhisker's fur is a vibrant hue of red, riddled with thick classic tabby markings. her fur is medium in length, and she has a large, feathery tail. her chest, belly, tail tip, and her paws are dipped white. flamewhisker's eyes are a dark, deep shade of green. her shoulder has a large scar on it from a fight with a dog. she also has a shredded ear from a disagreement with a loner during her time alone before joining thunderclan. on particularly cold days, or sometimes before a major weather change, she will walk with a slight limp from her shoulder injury.

​

​

 

[BRAMBLEKIT.]

For a moment, it's going well. He still has his mouse, and he's properly filling his belly for the first time since he was dumped. Rags starts to ease down into the fallen leaves - until he sees the approaching shapes over the girl's solid shoulders. He swallows hurriedly and lets out a hiss, shrinking back against the roots.

But the two adult cats speak to his dubious new companion as if they know her. Slowly, Rags starts to creep around to put the tortoiseshell - Merlinpaw - in between him and the newcomers. She's as good a shielding wall as any, he decides, built all big and solid. But he freezes in place as he's noticed, a pair of green eyes like his own coming to settle on his tattered pelt. He looks up into the face of a molly the color of street lights and sheep's wool. "Are you lost little one?"

He scowls at her. "No."
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[ DIDN'T TURN OUT THE WAY YOU WANTED IT, DID IT? -- ☠ ]​