- Jan 1, 2023
- 313
- 182
- 43
The throbbing of a freshly-made wound had almost hurt as much as the sting of defeat.
As the curtain of dawn slowly drew away to reveal molten light, a lone warrior limped back to his territory, with his gait like coils of yarn spooling out ungracefully to the ground he treaded. Chrysaliswing's heterochromatic eyes settled upon the quietude of the Thunderclan border, once bearing witness to caterwauls of contempt and flurries of claws. Now, the forests lie deathly still, pursing their lips and simply watching as the chimaeric feline straddled back to his home. Each step upon a darkly-lit path had been one of agony, as though his piquant wounds only invited a searing pain into his leg and his tail, as though the entire world would concentrate into his suffering now. Whiskers twitched as the stench of oak rolled along his own, though even now did it fade into the obscurity of the pines, as the needles and the foliage would soon wash him of his fight. Perhaps a smarter cat would have rolled themselves in a mud puddle to rid themselves of the scent of another clan, but the longhaired feline simply wanted to get back to his camp. It was not the worst he had endured, but even scars were once open wells of blood and gore, even as the self had survived and persevered through a lapse in judgment. It had been a mistake to wander too far from his own border, and now he paid the price. A snort escaped his maw as the scenario rewound through an addled head - at least he showed that mangy prey-stealer not to mess with the clan of the kittypets. It was a shame that he had to make up for so much of the reputation that outsiders ate away at.
"I need help from a medicine cat." Came the oddly monotone voice as Chrysaliswing arrived to the camp, as though he had sutured up his lesions with sheer willpower alone, and he did not bleed from the unfolded apertures of his flesh. Bustles of dawn patrol and restless wanderers flitted through his ear, and he counted himself lucky that there was no spectace propped up to meet him, no audience to prod the details out of him. Mismatched gaze searched around for either @DAWNGLARE or @Fireflyglow , and perhaps the twain would emerge from their den to witness him. Ducking through the thicket-laden mouth of the entrance, a visible grimace took hold of his features for a moment, as though his face would also well up with his ichor. It had been mostly shame that seared through flame-fraught face, shame that he had even allowed himself to get into this position in the first place. It's all Termitehum's fault. If they hadn't said what they said to me, then I wouldn't have run off. Upon the morning's young light, the cats of Skyclan would see the many marks upon a feathery tail and the rightmost hind leg, as if undressed by an urticating force of thorn and hollybush. They were simply more scrawled verses to add to a repertoire of a life led in war.
As the curtain of dawn slowly drew away to reveal molten light, a lone warrior limped back to his territory, with his gait like coils of yarn spooling out ungracefully to the ground he treaded. Chrysaliswing's heterochromatic eyes settled upon the quietude of the Thunderclan border, once bearing witness to caterwauls of contempt and flurries of claws. Now, the forests lie deathly still, pursing their lips and simply watching as the chimaeric feline straddled back to his home. Each step upon a darkly-lit path had been one of agony, as though his piquant wounds only invited a searing pain into his leg and his tail, as though the entire world would concentrate into his suffering now. Whiskers twitched as the stench of oak rolled along his own, though even now did it fade into the obscurity of the pines, as the needles and the foliage would soon wash him of his fight. Perhaps a smarter cat would have rolled themselves in a mud puddle to rid themselves of the scent of another clan, but the longhaired feline simply wanted to get back to his camp. It was not the worst he had endured, but even scars were once open wells of blood and gore, even as the self had survived and persevered through a lapse in judgment. It had been a mistake to wander too far from his own border, and now he paid the price. A snort escaped his maw as the scenario rewound through an addled head - at least he showed that mangy prey-stealer not to mess with the clan of the kittypets. It was a shame that he had to make up for so much of the reputation that outsiders ate away at.
"I need help from a medicine cat." Came the oddly monotone voice as Chrysaliswing arrived to the camp, as though he had sutured up his lesions with sheer willpower alone, and he did not bleed from the unfolded apertures of his flesh. Bustles of dawn patrol and restless wanderers flitted through his ear, and he counted himself lucky that there was no spectace propped up to meet him, no audience to prod the details out of him. Mismatched gaze searched around for either @DAWNGLARE or @Fireflyglow , and perhaps the twain would emerge from their den to witness him. Ducking through the thicket-laden mouth of the entrance, a visible grimace took hold of his features for a moment, as though his face would also well up with his ichor. It had been mostly shame that seared through flame-fraught face, shame that he had even allowed himself to get into this position in the first place. It's all Termitehum's fault. If they hadn't said what they said to me, then I wouldn't have run off. Upon the morning's young light, the cats of Skyclan would see the many marks upon a feathery tail and the rightmost hind leg, as if undressed by an urticating force of thorn and hollybush. They were simply more scrawled verses to add to a repertoire of a life led in war.
