- Dec 17, 2022
- 575
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"I smell RiverClan." Raccoonstripe's voice is a harsh growl. He'd left camp ill-tempered to begin with; a light rain had begun to fall, and his dense tabby fur is uncomfortably cold and wet. This had been a border patrol, but the scent of prey had been scarce since they'd set paw into the forest, and now there's too-fresh RiverClan scent within proximity to their territory lines. He doesn't want to find one of their patrols again — the last one he'd encountered, with Stormpaw alone, had been maddening. I still want to rake my claws over their ears. He thinks of Beefang, her smug grin and crazed amber eye, and his stomach twists angrily. Over their throats.
No doubt, Scarletpaw and Stormpaw can feel Raccoonstripe's bad attitude. It's a little unfair to Palefire — this is one of her first patrols as a lead warrior, and though he could have let her lead it, instinct had taken the wheel. He is at its helm, tasting the rain-stained air, his frown creasing his white muzzle.
"Is that..." His fur prickles. Blood? He pushes his nose through a clump of undergrowth, his single eye searing his surroundings. There's something too-bright in his periphery, something that lies too-still.
Raccoonstripe stiffens. "No," he murmurs, his tail beginning to lash behind him. "It can't..." He forgets decorum, for a moment, forgets his too-damp fur and aching belly; he rushes for the limp shape crumpled near the border, just a whisker over where it should been. There are signs of a fight — tufts of multi-colored fur, scattered blood droplets, and, most telling, a neck wound that had proved fatal for... "It's Freckleflame." He stares at her body as if willing it to move. "She's dead."
[ tagging apprentices @Scarletpaw and @STORMPAW. and @Palefire by request, but no need to wait :) takes place after this thread. please note it will appear as though there's been a fair fight ]
No doubt, Scarletpaw and Stormpaw can feel Raccoonstripe's bad attitude. It's a little unfair to Palefire — this is one of her first patrols as a lead warrior, and though he could have let her lead it, instinct had taken the wheel. He is at its helm, tasting the rain-stained air, his frown creasing his white muzzle.
"Is that..." His fur prickles. Blood? He pushes his nose through a clump of undergrowth, his single eye searing his surroundings. There's something too-bright in his periphery, something that lies too-still.
Raccoonstripe stiffens. "No," he murmurs, his tail beginning to lash behind him. "It can't..." He forgets decorum, for a moment, forgets his too-damp fur and aching belly; he rushes for the limp shape crumpled near the border, just a whisker over where it should been. There are signs of a fight — tufts of multi-colored fur, scattered blood droplets, and, most telling, a neck wound that had proved fatal for... "It's Freckleflame." He stares at her body as if willing it to move. "She's dead."
[ tagging apprentices @Scarletpaw and @STORMPAW. and @Palefire by request, but no need to wait :) takes place after this thread. please note it will appear as though there's been a fair fight ]
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