TW: Sensitive Content Closed Territory ShadowClan coyote that waits in the dark ☾.⭒ — coyote attack

[Fleapaw]

TRIGGER WARNING

Intense descriptions of a coyote attack.

-

The dark hush of the pocosin swaddled her like a wet blanket, muffling even the usual rustle of birds. She should've turned back a while ago. Her limbs were still sore from training, and Cicadabuzz probably wouldn't even use half the weeds she gathered.

The marsh gave way to firmer ground, moss clinging to bark and slick stones. A few ragged dandelions peeked through the leaf litter. "Gotcha!" She muttered trumphantly, reaching down to pluck the stem between her teeth. Fleapaw shuffled along like that for a while, collecting a small bouquet, oblivious to the stillness until she lifted her head.

The silence that settled in made her fur crawl.

No warning was given when a blur of movement rushed in from the corner of her eye. Pain exploded along her flank as her paws skidded, muddy water sloshing beneath her yowl of surprise. Jaws tore through her fur, puncturing skin, pulling tufts of dirty red fur away with it. The dandelions fell, crushed underfoot as she twisted, claws unsheathing before even a single thought could catch up.

There wasn't a moment to process. The scent hit—a pungent bitterness that permeated the air. Fleapaw recognized it instantly, reminded of when she and Mothbite had to track down Sealpaw.

She slashed the nearest one's muzzle, and it recoiled. A snarl snapped beside her ear but missed. She whirled on the defensive, eyes wild as she scrambled back. "Fuck!" She spat, breath sputtering in her throat. Fleapaw searched for a path of escape, frantic eyes, heart battering against her small ribs. Then she realized, there were not just one but two of the damn things! Two nasty fucking hounds snapping at her heels with hunger in their eyes. Fleapaw did the only thing she could do, presented with those odds—she tried to run.

Puddles sloshed as she darted for safety, but they were faster. Jaws snapped at her heels but missed. Another set dove toward her side, but she twisted, claws scoring down its snout. The coyote gargled, teeth clattering as it coiled back.

An agonized sound burst from her throat as jaws clamped down on her hind leg. Her claws scrabbling as it dragged her through the muck. She twisted, kicked, howled, spat—anything to get free. Her vision blurred with panic. Another pair of teeth snapped toward her face, and she lashed out, barely keeping it at bay but not for long. It reared back, head bobbing as it waited for another opening.

"Help! Help me dammit!" She shrieked, pride giving way to desperation. "Someone!" These damn hounds were going to tear her apart if she couldn't get away.

The coyote hauled back with her leg locked tight in its jaws. Fleapaw clawed and shrieked and fought for her life with everything she had. If her life was going to end, then she would not go quietly...

// Fluid time in effect, this thread takes place 6/7/25.

Both coyotes will flee when their HP drops below 50%. I will roll damage for them.

Fleapaw: 33/60 HP
- Undersized
- Rolls a 1d15

Rolled a 1d15 → 5 and 10

Male Coyote: 95/100 HP
- Undersized
- Rolls a 1d15

Female Coyote: 90/100 HP
- Undersized
- Rolls a 1d15

Rolled a 1d20 → 13 and 14

Coyote, I'm treading water

FLEAPAW

8 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

Don't lead me straight to the slaughter

 

[Sealpaw Sealpaw]

You Say That You Are Close

Is Close The Closest Star?

x

Her paws make messy tracks in the mud long before Sealpaw processes just who it was that screamed for help, breath caught in her throat at the desperation in the scream she'd heard. What had Fleapaw gotten into that made her scream like that? The squirrel in her jaws is dropped, forgotten entirely as the apprentice arrives on the scene.

Coyotes. The scent is foul and familiar and for a split second she wonders if one of them is the same coyote that chased her across the thunderpath and into Skyclan territory.

"Flea-!" It's all she can bring herself to say. The coyote that doesn't have Fleapaw in its disgusting mouth turns with burning eyes towards her and she freezes, eyes wide with panic and fear before scrambling to the side as the canine lunges forward with teeth snapping. Rotten smelling teeth barely graze her shoulder and the tabby nearly gags at the smell, twisting down and darting between the canine's legs to rush towards Fleapaw.

What would Smogmaw do? Wolfpack? Any cat with some semblance of backbone? Sealpaw knew.

"LET GO OF HER!" The snarl catches even herself off guard but there was no time to even process that it was her own voice making that horrid sound. Sealpaw launches herself at the coyote's face, fear and fury coiling her muscles like a tightly wound spring in equal measure and she lands squarely on its head with claws searching for the eyes- she still remembers that first training session with Smogmaw where they discussed weak points- with a yowl.

'Don't die, Fleapaw! Hang on..!'

You Just Feel Twice As Far

SEALPAW

— Shadowclan Apprentice
— She/They
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
— Grey Rosetted Tabby With Blue Eyes And A Bobbed Tail.
#4c66bf

Sealpaw: 98/100 hp
Rolled 1d20 -> 19!