- Aug 9, 2022
- 689
- 327
- 63
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Strange tracks, an apprentice had said upon returning with their mentor from a hunt. The mentor was just as helpful in description, not really giving much detail if at all on what to expect but Smokestar decided to check it out regardless. The first two cats he saw in camp were Aspenhaze and Pikesplash and they would suffice for this quick patrol, if it came down to a fight at the very least he knew both were capable of handling themselves if things grew dire. With little hesitation he sets out with the duo in tow, the area the tracks had been found was near the edge of their border with two-leg place and he hoped it was just a loner passing through and not another incident with rogues or kits being abandoned; their nursery was already full to bursting with leafbare children and though the river had yet to freeze this season he still fretted constantly about them and their survival. He wants to name several apprentices come newleaf, not dig shallow graves far too small. The dark tom pauses slowly as he catches a scent of something off, someone had been out here and it was not a RiverClanner; his tail flicks dismissively to the two warriors, encouraging them to spread out and search the area but hopefully they'd be mindful to not go too far.
The dark tom himself ventures forward with a caution, eventually stumbling upon the faint divets in the snow that were distinctly cat-like but somewhat heavier. Either whoever made them dragged their paws in a lumbering manner or they simply had larger feet than what you'd expect from a common domestic. His ears pinned back as he sniffed hesitantly, that unfamiliar aroma present and bitter.
He follows the tracks cautiously and then stops suddenly as they too end with an abruptness that made him lift his head with a sharp jerk of alarm. They just stopped right here in the middle of this clearing as though the owner was simply picked up and carried away. Logically, it was probably due to the harsh and cold winds sweeping the snow back over the indents, but something about it made his fur prickle with unease. Smokestar scans the treeline carefully before he spots a sudden flash of gray and white fur, dappled in shadows - claws clench around his heart at the sight of the movement vanishing deeper into the thicket of snow-covered barren trees and he finds himself impulsively moving to follow.
"Wait...wait!"
It couldnt be, of course, every rational part of him was ordering him to stop and consider how dangerous it was to go chasing after shadows, but his thoughts were a whirlwind of panic and desperation; it had only been a brief glance but he'd seen something tall and patch pelted - much bigger than a normal cat. Smokestar clambered over a fallen tree through the twisted branches and then immediately regretted the decision, at the midst of the pile of clumped wood and broken logs was the makings of some kind of nest lined in gray and matted fur with bracken - the scent the same as the tracks he'd been staring at before. In the middle two mewling kits, much larger than a normal kitten, lay curled together and then he feels the eyes on the back of his neck seconds before the claws followed. The dark tom is knocked from his perch and sent rolling across the snow, red drops from wound now scoring the back of his neck trailing in his wake like the tail of a comet. He staggers back upright to all fours as he finally catches sight of the cat. It was not a normal cat by any means, large and spotted and in the shadows he sees what his eyes had tricked him into seeing; the imposing black, gray and white figure of his mate - but this was not even close once in the light. A stocky but formidable body build for crushing, long tufted ears and a short tail. The not-cat yowls at him and he takes a step back slowly.
He was stupid, he was an idiot, chasing ghosts in foolish desperation. He should know better, he should have not given into the folly of heartache but for a brief moment he had been so convinced that StarClan was wrong, that he was wrong, that Cicadastar was still alive somehow or at least his spirit was still present in some way and he could see him, talk to him...
Smokestar struggled to let go and he'd pay for it.
Strange tracks, an apprentice had said upon returning with their mentor from a hunt. The mentor was just as helpful in description, not really giving much detail if at all on what to expect but Smokestar decided to check it out regardless. The first two cats he saw in camp were Aspenhaze and Pikesplash and they would suffice for this quick patrol, if it came down to a fight at the very least he knew both were capable of handling themselves if things grew dire. With little hesitation he sets out with the duo in tow, the area the tracks had been found was near the edge of their border with two-leg place and he hoped it was just a loner passing through and not another incident with rogues or kits being abandoned; their nursery was already full to bursting with leafbare children and though the river had yet to freeze this season he still fretted constantly about them and their survival. He wants to name several apprentices come newleaf, not dig shallow graves far too small. The dark tom pauses slowly as he catches a scent of something off, someone had been out here and it was not a RiverClanner; his tail flicks dismissively to the two warriors, encouraging them to spread out and search the area but hopefully they'd be mindful to not go too far.
The dark tom himself ventures forward with a caution, eventually stumbling upon the faint divets in the snow that were distinctly cat-like but somewhat heavier. Either whoever made them dragged their paws in a lumbering manner or they simply had larger feet than what you'd expect from a common domestic. His ears pinned back as he sniffed hesitantly, that unfamiliar aroma present and bitter.
He follows the tracks cautiously and then stops suddenly as they too end with an abruptness that made him lift his head with a sharp jerk of alarm. They just stopped right here in the middle of this clearing as though the owner was simply picked up and carried away. Logically, it was probably due to the harsh and cold winds sweeping the snow back over the indents, but something about it made his fur prickle with unease. Smokestar scans the treeline carefully before he spots a sudden flash of gray and white fur, dappled in shadows - claws clench around his heart at the sight of the movement vanishing deeper into the thicket of snow-covered barren trees and he finds himself impulsively moving to follow.
"Wait...wait!"
It couldnt be, of course, every rational part of him was ordering him to stop and consider how dangerous it was to go chasing after shadows, but his thoughts were a whirlwind of panic and desperation; it had only been a brief glance but he'd seen something tall and patch pelted - much bigger than a normal cat. Smokestar clambered over a fallen tree through the twisted branches and then immediately regretted the decision, at the midst of the pile of clumped wood and broken logs was the makings of some kind of nest lined in gray and matted fur with bracken - the scent the same as the tracks he'd been staring at before. In the middle two mewling kits, much larger than a normal kitten, lay curled together and then he feels the eyes on the back of his neck seconds before the claws followed. The dark tom is knocked from his perch and sent rolling across the snow, red drops from wound now scoring the back of his neck trailing in his wake like the tail of a comet. He staggers back upright to all fours as he finally catches sight of the cat. It was not a normal cat by any means, large and spotted and in the shadows he sees what his eyes had tricked him into seeing; the imposing black, gray and white figure of his mate - but this was not even close once in the light. A stocky but formidable body build for crushing, long tufted ears and a short tail. The not-cat yowls at him and he takes a step back slowly.
He was stupid, he was an idiot, chasing ghosts in foolish desperation. He should know better, he should have not given into the folly of heartache but for a brief moment he had been so convinced that StarClan was wrong, that he was wrong, that Cicadastar was still alive somehow or at least his spirit was still present in some way and he could see him, talk to him...
Smokestar struggled to let go and he'd pay for it.
-
PAFP Patrol - @Aspenhaze & @PIKESPLASH
Please let one of them reply first! -
Smokestar
—⊰⋅ Leader of RiverClan
—⊰⋅ He/Him
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
—⊰⋅ Black tom w/vitiligo & one orange eye.
