{$title} tw : animal attack, injury, head trauma
Cicadabuzz moves along the edge of the pocosin like a wraith, paws carrying it along with unhurried grace. Its nose twitches once, the sharp scent of borage cutting through the heavy air. Its path shifts with a smooth change of direction, following the trail of it. Such an herb is very useful in the coming cold of leafbare, especially as they consider the dozen or so kits that fill the nursery. A blessing in some ways, that they will have so many paws to provide for the clan—in other ways, a curse, as they hold no use yet beyond mouths to feed in the harshest months. Already the Clan hungers, and the hunger is sure to only grow heavier as the cold creeps in and hangs off their bones.
It finds the little sprout in the shade of a tree near the thunderpath—a struggling thing, battered by frost and the lessening sun. The healer leans forward and nips the stems cleanly, weaving the small sprigs into the dense fur of its tail with a practiced movement—but even as it does so, there is a tension to its frame, a lingering scent in the air that it does not quite recognize. The smell laces the patch of land beside the dark stone that the monsters travel down. It lifts its head, hollow eyes scanning from one side to the other. It does not intend to be caught unaware by a creature lurking in the shadows. And yet fate, as always, has a way of reaching for those it seeks, regardless of their attempts to deceive it.
What emerges from the trees at its back is a creature not unlike it and the other cats that make up the Clans—yet, it is nothing alike. The feline arch of its muzzle and point of its ears is deceptive, speaking of a relation that should not be. It stands taller than seems right, a lankly facsimile of Cicada's own kind—it could stand shoulder to shoulder with creatures like the coyotes that attacked its clanmates not so long ago. Its tail lashes once, taking a single step backwards, an attempt to put distance between itself and this… simulacrum. It has heard of them before, bobcats, and yet it is another thing entirely to see one up close. The heavy paws; the thick, dense fur. The way it carries itself, with the hunger of winter a visible fire in its eyes. Cicadabuzz's muscles are tense, ready to carry it away, and yet it knows deep down that to run is to be prey. It would chase it down, its paws eating the earth between them, and tear it apart without a second thought. Its legs are longer, its muscles more defined beneath its pelt. It would be a death wish. But to stand and wait for it to make its move is a death all its own.
It has known the jaws of death once. The fangs of that snake, beautiful and deadly, sinking deep into the flesh of its throat as claws curled into its shoulders, keeping it still. It remembers the blood that stained the soil beneath it, the heat of it leaving them. It still feels the cold of it, the life draining from its body. It has no desire to feel that again, especially not so soon. It takes another step back, then another; a back paw feels the harsh roughness of the black stone that makes up the thunderpath. It dare not retreat further, lest a monster barrel past and crush it beneath its paws. It thinks of Sablestar, of his sureness. It thinks of Magpiepaw, his desire to learn. It thinks of Serpent, before the battle set them on opposite sides of a battle it never sought to be a part of. It thinks of three faces that care not for it; Hemlock, Mistletoe, Cloudberry. It thinks of Wisteriastrike, of her sharp tongue. It thinks of six tiny lives, of its promise to ensure their mother and them stay fed through the winter. None of it matters now; its only choice is between two terrible options. The bobcat, or the monsters. And it finds it does not wish to repeat Coalstrike's fate.
Before it can think any further, the creature moves. Fast, moreso than Cicadabuzz expected. A sharp inhale escapes its throat as it shifts its weight, just barely avoiding its fangs. But before it can process the near-miss, a large, heavy paw lashes out in a kick, claws digging into the flesh above its muscle. A startled, pained sound jolts out as the claws tear across its face, over its crown. The force sends it flying; suddenly, all it knows is a crack as its skull smashes into the thunderpath, the warmth of blood, and the distinct feeling of fear. Its eyes are blurry as it blinks blearily up at the creature, waiting for the bite that will end its life.
[ wait for @SABLESTAR and @Magpiepaw !! ]
It finds the little sprout in the shade of a tree near the thunderpath—a struggling thing, battered by frost and the lessening sun. The healer leans forward and nips the stems cleanly, weaving the small sprigs into the dense fur of its tail with a practiced movement—but even as it does so, there is a tension to its frame, a lingering scent in the air that it does not quite recognize. The smell laces the patch of land beside the dark stone that the monsters travel down. It lifts its head, hollow eyes scanning from one side to the other. It does not intend to be caught unaware by a creature lurking in the shadows. And yet fate, as always, has a way of reaching for those it seeks, regardless of their attempts to deceive it.
What emerges from the trees at its back is a creature not unlike it and the other cats that make up the Clans—yet, it is nothing alike. The feline arch of its muzzle and point of its ears is deceptive, speaking of a relation that should not be. It stands taller than seems right, a lankly facsimile of Cicada's own kind—it could stand shoulder to shoulder with creatures like the coyotes that attacked its clanmates not so long ago. Its tail lashes once, taking a single step backwards, an attempt to put distance between itself and this… simulacrum. It has heard of them before, bobcats, and yet it is another thing entirely to see one up close. The heavy paws; the thick, dense fur. The way it carries itself, with the hunger of winter a visible fire in its eyes. Cicadabuzz's muscles are tense, ready to carry it away, and yet it knows deep down that to run is to be prey. It would chase it down, its paws eating the earth between them, and tear it apart without a second thought. Its legs are longer, its muscles more defined beneath its pelt. It would be a death wish. But to stand and wait for it to make its move is a death all its own.
It has known the jaws of death once. The fangs of that snake, beautiful and deadly, sinking deep into the flesh of its throat as claws curled into its shoulders, keeping it still. It remembers the blood that stained the soil beneath it, the heat of it leaving them. It still feels the cold of it, the life draining from its body. It has no desire to feel that again, especially not so soon. It takes another step back, then another; a back paw feels the harsh roughness of the black stone that makes up the thunderpath. It dare not retreat further, lest a monster barrel past and crush it beneath its paws. It thinks of Sablestar, of his sureness. It thinks of Magpiepaw, his desire to learn. It thinks of Serpent, before the battle set them on opposite sides of a battle it never sought to be a part of. It thinks of three faces that care not for it; Hemlock, Mistletoe, Cloudberry. It thinks of Wisteriastrike, of her sharp tongue. It thinks of six tiny lives, of its promise to ensure their mother and them stay fed through the winter. None of it matters now; its only choice is between two terrible options. The bobcat, or the monsters. And it finds it does not wish to repeat Coalstrike's fate.
Before it can think any further, the creature moves. Fast, moreso than Cicadabuzz expected. A sharp inhale escapes its throat as it shifts its weight, just barely avoiding its fangs. But before it can process the near-miss, a large, heavy paw lashes out in a kick, claws digging into the flesh above its muscle. A startled, pained sound jolts out as the claws tear across its face, over its crown. The force sends it flying; suddenly, all it knows is a crack as its skull smashes into the thunderpath, the warmth of blood, and the distinct feeling of fear. Its eyes are blurry as it blinks blearily up at the creature, waiting for the bite that will end its life.
[ wait for @SABLESTAR and @Magpiepaw !! ]
