- Sep 20, 2022
- 124
- 27
- 28
☁ //CW: minor injury detail, mention of blood.
Exhaustion and pain pulled the tom down as he sluggishly staggered through the alleyway that he called home. As he neared the familiar stack of crates he found himself longing to call out to Siltcloud for help, but the words failed to even leave his tongue. Sharpeye was too weary now and he failed to even reach the crates before he collapsed to the ground before them. Deep, desperate breaths echoed out from his battered form. His fur had clumped into sharp sticky peaks from the dried blood that had come from his injuries, and the lingering scent of ShadowClan remained upon him. Ultimately he had been the one who had messed up, driven by good intentions. Now he was left to suffer the consequences.
The sandy coloured tom's left ear was missing, and he was left with deep claw marks across his sides and shoulders, as well as a painful looking bite to his neck. He didn't know what luck had permitted him to have survived the ordeal, but it had. Though would that luck keep him alive in the days to come? What if infection found him again? How would he sustain himself and the others in the alley if he could not hunt? The worry ate away at him as he laid there until a low whimper finally broke from him.
What am I going to do?
Exhaustion and pain pulled the tom down as he sluggishly staggered through the alleyway that he called home. As he neared the familiar stack of crates he found himself longing to call out to Siltcloud for help, but the words failed to even leave his tongue. Sharpeye was too weary now and he failed to even reach the crates before he collapsed to the ground before them. Deep, desperate breaths echoed out from his battered form. His fur had clumped into sharp sticky peaks from the dried blood that had come from his injuries, and the lingering scent of ShadowClan remained upon him. Ultimately he had been the one who had messed up, driven by good intentions. Now he was left to suffer the consequences.
The sandy coloured tom's left ear was missing, and he was left with deep claw marks across his sides and shoulders, as well as a painful looking bite to his neck. He didn't know what luck had permitted him to have survived the ordeal, but it had. Though would that luck keep him alive in the days to come? What if infection found him again? How would he sustain himself and the others in the alley if he could not hunt? The worry ate away at him as he laid there until a low whimper finally broke from him.
What am I going to do?