Closed The Colony LEFT, RIGHT, GO / fight

[BRACKEN]

"Why can't you just let him grieve?"

Bracken's eyes turn towards the shrill cry of his kit, her panic piercing his soul even through the commotion of the skirmish turned outright battle. His heart skips a beat at the sight of blood smeared across Honeysuckle's features, at the vision of long fur fluffed up against Swaying Willow's claws. They'd both been part of the Colony for so long ... why, in all of the forest, would she turn her claws against another cat so willingly instead of working with them to hunt?

He grits his teeth and breaks into a run. Using the momentum he aims to slam his shoulder into the tuxedo molly with a grunt of - "You!" - to knock her off balance and away from his kit. He doesn't care if she fights back: as long as Honeysuckle is given the chance to escape, he would take anything Swaying Willow would give.

​

☼ WATCH ME BURN

• @Swaying Willow
  
• 
  
  BRACKEN ☼ penned by wren
  — — he/they, colony cat
  — — a broad, tufted blue-and-red tabby tom with white patches and amber eyes. often serious-looking, but kindly in demeanour.
  — — mate to hazel ; father to magnolia, honeysuckle, hyacinth
  
  

 

[Swaying Willow]

𖧧 It's a shame that the young one is so adamant on defending a cat too busy wallowing in his own loss to see all the cats he was dragging toward their doom in the process. She cries incredulously, why won't they let him grieve? Swaying Willow supposes it'd seem that simple to Honeysuckle, who hadn't seen enough to know what the price of inaction was. Her claws tear deftly into her face, and she's filled with that old friend, adrenaline, at the knowledge that this particular fight was looking to be an easy one.

The tuxedo molly intends to bowl her over, scratch her up a bit before the tortoiseshell decides she's had enough, and she doesn't see Bracken tearing toward them in her peripheral, despite his size.

She snarls in surprise, but the air is knocked out of her lungs as they hit the ground. Still, she fights, limbs pummeling toward his torso, anywhere she can find purchase. "He'll weaken the colony!" She hisses, and it's odd to seek the man's understanding even as she intends to beat him into submission. It might be something along the same line of reasoning as to why she doesn't seek out the dappled fur of his daughter again even if it streaks past her close enough for her to get another hit on her. They were doing it for their children, his naive Honeysuckle, and her own Tussle, too small to hunt for himself yet even if conditions were better.

Bracken was misguided, too trusting, too willing to wait for something better to happen. If he wanted to fight to prolong the inevitable, so be it, but she couldn't hesitate, she refused to let passivity dig her grave. She lunged to sink her teeth into his shoulder.

𖧧 NOTHING WRONG WHEN... A SONG ENDS... IN A MINOR KEY...

• ooc:
• 𖧧 swaying willow - founding colony member - fourty four moons - (amab) she/her - mated with towering oak, mother of tussle- a longhaired black and white cat with hazel eyes. athletic and hardy, but dwindling prey has taken a visible toll on her physicality.
  
  - brisk and bold as the first winds of leaf-fall, willow cares not for humming and hawing. a woman of action who doesn't mind getting her paws dirty, and respects anyone with a good head on their shoulders + the willingness to act accordingly.
• penned by eezy