10-26-2019, 06:53 AM
[align=center][align=center]
Nearing a land mark, Blackmuzzle turned to his son forcing him to stop in his tracks, "A[b]re you sure you don't want the kit to join us? If she gets harmed or lost, you know your neck is on the line." As he spoke, he turned to look for the molly, worried for a second as she wasn't spotted, but sighed in relief as her white pelt stood out as she appeared from tall grass. She was determined on staying with them.
The younger tom, scoffed, lip curling "If you worry for her safety, then fall back and join her. Be her personal guard for all I care. I--no we-- weren't ordered to be kit-sitting. We were ordered to look for the rouge that attacked and killed a cat near our camp." his voice came as a gruel hiss.
Seeing a flash of anger in his father's eyes at the disrespect, he didn't let his stare falter as he raised his chin, "We are to finish this patrol, with you here next to me, or behind with the kit. Better yet, just trail behind, we need to make sure our backs are covered." Continuing to walk, he signaled to Vinetail and Scorchfrost to keep walking as they had paused to listen.
With their patrol going smoothly without any signs of the rouge actually trespassing and checking out any rustling bushes or branches from above their heads, the five cats looked about as they stepped over unfamiliar land.
The stench of Heron and her family were strong, and if they had had their doubts of this being a home, despite the worn down ground made as pathways, the dead molly confirmed it. Skin crawling, Russetpelt's fur began to stand. While he was used to seeing dead cats and was comfortable with the concept of death, it never got easier seeing a lifeless body. Especially not when their dull eyes stared into your soul and their maw were frozen in an eternal shriek.
Setting out to scan the area, the warriors each took a direction as they all searched for signs to where Swiftclaw could potentially jump them from. Each taking turns to watch each others back, before moving on to checking out the damage done around the small camp. Blackmuzzle looking over his shoulder in time to see Heron kick dirt onto the dead she-cat's face. He stayed silent and passed it over, softly reminding himself that he knew nothing of their relationship, hence it was none of his business.
But on the other side of the camp, Russetpelt had turned to walk over, to see the white kit move to the water. His paws forcing his body to approach the corpse, his nose wrinkling in distaste as he leaned down to give it a sniff. "Poor one, this one. She reeks of sickness." he announced to the patrol, "Wouldn't have stood a chance to defend herself, less her kits." he dipped his head momentarily as a sign of respect.
Signaling for Vinetail and Scorchfrost, he ordered them to look for a place with soft enough soil to dig a grave for the body. Then moving to Blackmuzzle to tell him to stay alert and keep guard, just in case, before moving to Heron next. "Would you like to find something to mark the grave with once it is taken cared of? Or would you rather return with your brother once he is well enough to pay respects?"
Settling himself to look over the slow moving water, he raised his chin in time for a soft breeze to pass. His mane ruffled, ears twitched, and his massive head tilted to the side. "You know, living in the Clan won't be too bad. Now that your mother is dead, you don't have your primary source of protection or food. Of course, not everyone will accept you at first, or even after they've gotten used to you being around, they may not like you still." He looked down at her, eyes turning cold "But if you want to live in a space that allows you to sleep with a full belly, you must learn to accept it. For now, you are still a stranger, someone that cannot be trusted. You said you stood no chance to be a threat, but even the smallest apprentice can do damage to a skilled warrior, given they are caught off-guard or at a weakened state."
Not everyone got along. Most cats were hated for the majority of their lives, the only relief they received being when their life drained from their body. Others were loved beyond comparison, the ground they walked on being treated as holy. Either was fine. They all died and went to the same place. Most of the time.
[b]crow
The patrol had been reasonably quiet, the toms' ears respectfully pointed in different directions as they combed the territory. Their pace always consistant, never slowing or picking up. They would speak in hushed voices, their eyes all trained on a set of trees or bushes that would provide cover or shelter for an intruder. Nearing a land mark, Blackmuzzle turned to his son forcing him to stop in his tracks, "A[b]re you sure you don't want the kit to join us? If she gets harmed or lost, you know your neck is on the line." As he spoke, he turned to look for the molly, worried for a second as she wasn't spotted, but sighed in relief as her white pelt stood out as she appeared from tall grass. She was determined on staying with them.
The younger tom, scoffed, lip curling "If you worry for her safety, then fall back and join her. Be her personal guard for all I care. I--no we-- weren't ordered to be kit-sitting. We were ordered to look for the rouge that attacked and killed a cat near our camp." his voice came as a gruel hiss.
Seeing a flash of anger in his father's eyes at the disrespect, he didn't let his stare falter as he raised his chin, "We are to finish this patrol, with you here next to me, or behind with the kit. Better yet, just trail behind, we need to make sure our backs are covered." Continuing to walk, he signaled to Vinetail and Scorchfrost to keep walking as they had paused to listen.
With their patrol going smoothly without any signs of the rouge actually trespassing and checking out any rustling bushes or branches from above their heads, the five cats looked about as they stepped over unfamiliar land.
The stench of Heron and her family were strong, and if they had had their doubts of this being a home, despite the worn down ground made as pathways, the dead molly confirmed it. Skin crawling, Russetpelt's fur began to stand. While he was used to seeing dead cats and was comfortable with the concept of death, it never got easier seeing a lifeless body. Especially not when their dull eyes stared into your soul and their maw were frozen in an eternal shriek.
Setting out to scan the area, the warriors each took a direction as they all searched for signs to where Swiftclaw could potentially jump them from. Each taking turns to watch each others back, before moving on to checking out the damage done around the small camp. Blackmuzzle looking over his shoulder in time to see Heron kick dirt onto the dead she-cat's face. He stayed silent and passed it over, softly reminding himself that he knew nothing of their relationship, hence it was none of his business.
But on the other side of the camp, Russetpelt had turned to walk over, to see the white kit move to the water. His paws forcing his body to approach the corpse, his nose wrinkling in distaste as he leaned down to give it a sniff. "Poor one, this one. She reeks of sickness." he announced to the patrol, "Wouldn't have stood a chance to defend herself, less her kits." he dipped his head momentarily as a sign of respect.
Signaling for Vinetail and Scorchfrost, he ordered them to look for a place with soft enough soil to dig a grave for the body. Then moving to Blackmuzzle to tell him to stay alert and keep guard, just in case, before moving to Heron next. "Would you like to find something to mark the grave with once it is taken cared of? Or would you rather return with your brother once he is well enough to pay respects?"
Settling himself to look over the slow moving water, he raised his chin in time for a soft breeze to pass. His mane ruffled, ears twitched, and his massive head tilted to the side. "You know, living in the Clan won't be too bad. Now that your mother is dead, you don't have your primary source of protection or food. Of course, not everyone will accept you at first, or even after they've gotten used to you being around, they may not like you still." He looked down at her, eyes turning cold "But if you want to live in a space that allows you to sleep with a full belly, you must learn to accept it. For now, you are still a stranger, someone that cannot be trusted. You said you stood no chance to be a threat, but even the smallest apprentice can do damage to a skilled warrior, given they are caught off-guard or at a weakened state."
Not everyone got along. Most cats were hated for the majority of their lives, the only relief they received being when their life drained from their body. Others were loved beyond comparison, the ground they walked on being treated as holy. Either was fine. They all died and went to the same place. Most of the time.