Time passes; their wound stems, then scabs, then slowly begins to scar. Under the burning sun of shame, Vampire had heeded Cicada's instructions; and the herbs they'd planted had come to fruition, in that their injury no longer flames an angry red around its edges. Nor does their heart—or at least that's what he tells himself, separated from Ashmoon by vast tracts of forest and time and difference.
" Has anyone else taken a stab at eating one of those skinks? "
She pitches the question to no one in particular, lobbing the conversational ball carelessly into the center of camp. A jut of the chin indicates the smattering of scaly little bodies dotting their meager fresh-kill pile. Less meager than it had been in the Colony, though, they must admit—a matter of less than a moon and they've put on some admirable, much-needed weight.
" If you haven't, I don't recommend it. I think one of them must have put my stomach off. "
A wrinkled muzzle marks this last; they've been nursing a decidedly unhappy stomach since dawn. Something they ate the previous evening, they can only presume. Something that must have been quite disagreeable with being eaten, guessing by how it appears to be trying to climb back out postmortem. Vampire grimaces as another wave of nausea crawls unappealingly up their spine. Open-ended, thoughtfully, they muse affectlessly,
" I wonder if it might be something in the water here. "
Flame watched Vampire for a moment, his eyes widening almost comically as he lifted a paw to his muzzle. " WUh-oh... looks like your stomach didn't get the memo about not biting the hand that feeds it! " he meowed, a chirpy laugh escaping him as his tail flicked with amusement.
Stretching leisurely, he glanced toward the pile of prey and batted the offending skink off it with a decisive paw. " Right, so maybe skinks aren't exactly fine dining, huh? " He nodded solemnly as if arriving at a profound conclusion, then turned back to Vampire with a curious tilt of his head.
" On a scale of 1 to 'I'm never eating again,' how bad is it? " he asked, his tone light but laced with genuine concern. " If it's bad, we can check if the medicine cat has something for you... or... " he added with a mischievous grin. " I could just declare you officially banned from hunting skinks. Save you the trouble. "
"Tiny creatures are like that," Karst soothes in his mind-fogging balm of a voice, intruding delicately into Vampire's troubles with their belly. Assuming, of course, if such a thing as intruding exists in this context. The snow-and-soot tom laid their suffering bare for the entire clan to inspect, and invited a million questions. As a cat with a personal penchant for experimentation, he found it endearing nonetheless. "They're all bitter bits and giblets, nary a satisfying crunch to be had. Too little to chew, too quick to swallow."
His enthused tone dapples a mote of cheer to Vampire's theatrics. A tilted glance sent Flame's way provides a brief gesture of intrigue and whimsy, just before attention properly rounds back on the cramping feline. "However," a clarification comes in tandem with a swift pivot, "it's hardly the time to go picky on prey, stomach aches notwithstanding." Particularly when a particularly bloody uprising - that had so quickly sent their lives all topsy-turvy - was hinged on the very threat of starvation. That much he doesn't bother elaborating on; it hangs unsaid between the trio, quiet and inevitable.
Throughout the whole exchange, the changes that have come, the news of death she has been silent. Quietly watching and gauging the other felines that have also decided to make this place their home. For her she does not know yet if she deems them competent enough, trustworthy enough but only time will tell. Her maw parts on a slow and even yawn, gaze half open before ears prick up at a familiar voice. Vampire, she complains. He lists an illness in themself. One that shakes the stomach and a frown pulls at her muzzle then. With calm clarity the woman gets up from where she is sitting and she makes her way over after a short moment. Her tail shifts casually back and forth as her heated orbs focus on the other. A skink? Her muzzle parts with words that do not leave as others speak up about the situation. Oh. It would be a good idea to talk to the medicine cat. That much is certain and she sighs before shaking her head. "No more skinks, Vampire. You might be sensitive...." Is that the right word for it? Something that just doesn't agree?
Either way she feels the need to say as much. Though one speaks up not having the luxury to be picky at the moment. She very well will be herself. She can not fathom eating anything that crawls or meanders in the muck around here. Not if she can help it that is. That will be her last resort.
Vampires voice is a ring around camp, green eyes sliding from the puddle she had been staring in to. Something about the skinks, and the fact that it might be them giving her a stomach ache. Vampire almost frowns, her face shifting ever so slightly. Could they afford to avoid eating, would they, if they could?
Food is a luxury not everyone got... She learned that much from her colony days.
Everyone seems inclined to chime in with their thoughts as Vampire speaks of displeasure. First Flame, ever... exuberant, and talkative, and if she were not watching her facial expressions in the puddle at the moment, her lips would have peeled back in an annoyed grimace. Lucky for her, she can catch it. Then Karst speaks, sharing almost the same thoughts as she did. Bone seems more worried about Vampire than anyone else, something she blinks at the she-cat for. Whether it was out of sheer curiosity, or something else, she cannot decide. She would show the same level of concern, well in all actuality more then, if it were her siblings.
She guesses its time to add her own thing in to the pile of voices. "Might be." Vanilla murmurs towards Vampires sentiment about the water and makes a quick mental note not to drink stagnant water. She had heard one of the elders, once, saying something about it... And what it was, she can't quite remember, but its been a superstition in her mind regardless. Her paws itch to move away. She does not. There is not much left out there for her today, and shes sure Gingerpaw and Fennelpaw were busy anyways. She turns back to her puddle, her own face stares right back at her.
This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.
