- May 16, 2023
- 78
- 13
- 8
⁀➷ The air is brisk as the final days of greenleaf make their exit, and the stars shine dimly in the fading light of sunset. It now had been a couple sunrises since Foxglare had done away with 'Foxpaw', and only a couple sunrises since he made his oath to fix his life upon the protection of the moors and the cats that made a home here. Perhaps it would be odd to see the freshly-made warrior sitting alone at the clan's burial grounds, but it was here he would be found.
Foxglare wondered if he would ever feel a kinship with the stars the way the others did, seeking their wisdom and having faith in their passed loved ones finding a home in Starclan. Starclan was for Windclanners, he was told, no one knew what happened to non-clan cats when they died, but they were not to be allowed in to the clan cats' afterlife. This confirmed to him that there was no one he knew watching over him from Silverpelt, and as he looked upon the stars twinkling indifferently above, he wondered if those passed-on strangers gave him any consideration. Foxglare tried not to fix his thoughts on it too much, but he supposed he was feeling pensive these days.
A now-familiar memory resurfaces in the stillness of the graveyard, one he for so long thought was only a nightmare until Hound had revealed to him the truth of his origin and subsequent adoption.
The smell of mud, and something else, pungent in the air. The frenzied sound of snarls and manic barking ringing through his ears as someone hushed him frantically. Foxglare so often dismissed the images from his thoughts, but today he held them in the forefront of his mind, fixing his gaze upon them with determination. Teeth, wicked and sharp, snapped into their hiding place. Whispers turned to screams turned to silence and he could no figure out why he was the one left beneath the thorn bush. For a while, the only thing he could perceive was the smell of blood.
They, a mother and two siblings he couldn't remember the faces of, would not be waiting for him in Starclan. Foxglare had only this memory to hold of them, and a hope that there existed someone else out there that remembered them. It would be sacrilegious to say such out loud, but he hoped that they would be allowed a comfortable place too, if Starclan was not for them.
His ears twitched at the sound of a familiar set of paws behind him "Shalestripe," he said in lieu of greeting, "Just payin' my respects." He casts a sideward glance at the man he called his mentor up until a few days ago, "Were ya lookin' for me?"
Foxglare wondered if he would ever feel a kinship with the stars the way the others did, seeking their wisdom and having faith in their passed loved ones finding a home in Starclan. Starclan was for Windclanners, he was told, no one knew what happened to non-clan cats when they died, but they were not to be allowed in to the clan cats' afterlife. This confirmed to him that there was no one he knew watching over him from Silverpelt, and as he looked upon the stars twinkling indifferently above, he wondered if those passed-on strangers gave him any consideration. Foxglare tried not to fix his thoughts on it too much, but he supposed he was feeling pensive these days.
A now-familiar memory resurfaces in the stillness of the graveyard, one he for so long thought was only a nightmare until Hound had revealed to him the truth of his origin and subsequent adoption.
The smell of mud, and something else, pungent in the air. The frenzied sound of snarls and manic barking ringing through his ears as someone hushed him frantically. Foxglare so often dismissed the images from his thoughts, but today he held them in the forefront of his mind, fixing his gaze upon them with determination. Teeth, wicked and sharp, snapped into their hiding place. Whispers turned to screams turned to silence and he could no figure out why he was the one left beneath the thorn bush. For a while, the only thing he could perceive was the smell of blood.
They, a mother and two siblings he couldn't remember the faces of, would not be waiting for him in Starclan. Foxglare had only this memory to hold of them, and a hope that there existed someone else out there that remembered them. It would be sacrilegious to say such out loud, but he hoped that they would be allowed a comfortable place too, if Starclan was not for them.
His ears twitched at the sound of a familiar set of paws behind him "Shalestripe," he said in lieu of greeting, "Just payin' my respects." He casts a sideward glance at the man he called his mentor up until a few days ago, "Were ya lookin' for me?"
- OOC: @SHALESTRIPE ! for reference time-wise this takes place in mid-late august,, shortly after yellowcough is announced at the gathering to have begun to spread and before badgermoon/curlewnose betrayal !
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sun.fox.foxpaw. foxglare
— he/him. 13mo moor-runner of windclan
— a large, scarred light ginger tabby with high white and grey eyes
— smells like wet oak wood and dewy sedge
— sounds like leon kennedy, with a vague texan drawl.
— the straight-faced and taciturn adopted son of houndthistle, lived as a twolegplace loner until 7 moons old, now a moor-runner of windclan. stalwart and resilient, he is not easily shaken and lives by a very strict personal code of honor.
— “speech”, thoughts, attack
— hs by mercurial, fullbody by antiigone
— penned by eezy