A rake of claws against a mirror - grazing pelts we all once wore.
Night blankets the sky in a bisque streak of black to red, he has never seen these colors before but he has also never slept out in the open beneath the stars - even now he is sure he had settled in his nest in the warrior's den. To suddenly be thrust out into the cold open rouses him more quickly than anything else might have. Mousefang stands swiftly, shoulders raised and back arched as he tenses and gazes around. This is not SkyClan camp. This is not even SkyClan territory. The ground slopes unevenly, trees without leaves rise upward in tall spires, their naked branches twist to fold around one another and block out the view above say for slivers and gaps where he only sees darkness. In every direction the world fades and ends in shadows, the foliage thick and unyielding, cloaked in thorns and briars to make traversing them a deadly affair. How she slips through them so easily without her white pelt catching on nature's blades he does not know, but the chocolate tabby stands rigid as he watches her move closer.
Her limbs drip black ichor, he can not tell where grime begins and cat ends and she paces loosely like she knows she has her prey; a languid sway of motion circling around him. He spins to keep facing her direction, teeth barred, hackles raised.
"Who are you? Where am I?" She doesn't answer, his ears pin back to his head as he flexes his claws into the ground - he's preparing for a fight when her voice blossoms like spilled ink across the small clearing, cold and enveloping.
She brings mockery to your mother's name, your battle sung heart agrees but you know this is a path that leads to all the warmth you once nestled against growing cold - you were named for the blades in your maw. Use them. Fight. Protect what she made.
Mousefang shudders, the dark thoughts at the back of his mind brought to life, voiced in a sweet and sultry tone that promises the future he wants, the place he deserves. It terrifies him, he lashes out, lunges with his teeth, snaps the air and feels a sharp pain of retaliation as she writhes like a shadow and dances away to sling hooked claws back into his cheek.
You know what must be done.
Mousefang woke up with a start, a leg kicked in his panic throes to waken and his head snapped up as he glanced around with wide eyes. A dream? A nightmare rather. A slow trickle along the side of his face made his fur rise on end and he lifted a paw to draw away and inspect; crimson against the dark pads of his foot, sticky. Fresh. He'd been cut. The logical part of his mind told him he must have had another fool apprentice leaving thorns in nests and been cut by one, but another part of him whispered its truth with a biting chill that made him give a shaky inhale. It was real. The voice lingers like an echo as he closes his eyes, wincing at the sting to his face. As he'd woken he'd heard it one last time in a voice that seemed muffled beneath water and only caught two words but the two were enough.
Kill. Hawkstar.
Ooc- Anyone can be the cat he kicked!
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Mousefang
— SkyClan Warrior (Scout)
— He/Him
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
— A black rosette tabby with high white & mint green eyes.
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