Hello and welcome to Purrgatory! We are an 18+ Warrior Cat Roleplay set in an AU where the clans were unable to leave the forest territories and perished!
It has been 100 or more years since then, the clans of the forest are but distant memories to any cats still alive, stories passed down to kits of strangely named wild warriors and leaders with nine lives but the time of the clans is upon us once more and the stars shine yet again.
Just the other day she sat in a circle among several of these cats, laughing and joking with one another with little awareness to the storm that was coming, the chaos brewing just on the edge of the horizon. It had taken only one defiant gesture to set things in motion when Fray died, Quell's bold attempt on Sable's life ignited a fire inside the tuxedo that would not calm. What had been a gradual burn was now a blaze, the cold sunk into bones but the heat of tempers kept them warm. It was a morbid thing, all of this, there was blood already on her paws, what was a little more stains to wash later then? "I believe you owe me a cinnamon pelt, darling." Halfy steps to the side, her bicolor frame effectively blocking Shasta's attempts to...what? She wasn't sure the other molly's intentions when she made a beeline for the edge of the forest, was she running or was she chasing someone? Had Halfy interrupted her in her efforts to save another or her own hide? No matter, she wasn't about to let the tides shift out of her favor and it seemed those who stood behind Sable were currently holding the advantage. Their attempt as subterfuge had failed, but their claws had not. With little hesitation or decorum she swung a paw, blue tabby striped and ebony moons curved as she flung it upward in a wide arc at the other's face.
This wasn't her fight, Shasta had thought while cats overwhelmed the frozen clearing. She wasn't built for territory disputes or subduing infighting. Her soul was free-spirited, meant to be untethered to places like these. This colony, a fancy display of rogues playing political games, was no longer the reoccurring home she once had. Maybe Fray's death had put that time to an end, too.
Shasta should have left for that new kittypet life when she had the chance, she thinks as her paws lead her wherever is farthest from the screeching of cats. She couldn't shake the scent of rage and blood from her senses, she's sure some mix of fear and flight come from her. How long until a coyote or fox takes its chance on her if she doesn't reach twolegplace first?
She's not expecting another cat to intercept her out here. Shasta gasped as Halfy broke her path, sending her stumbling back with her fur standing on end. "I dun' owe you a thing!" Shasta hissed, trying to move around the molly. Her detest for violence had bitten her right in the tail, Halfy's paw swept her off her paws with ease. She can taste iron where her teeth had bitten her tongue.
"You can't- you can't jus' go on like this. Where's yer' mind at, Halfy?" The rift between them felt like a thousand tail lengths now, but she wouldn't really go all the way, right?
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