The Unsuspecting Victim. [Swanfeather] Dec 21, 2015 9:58:10 GMT -5
Post by Insidious on Dec 21, 2015 9:58:10 GMT -5
One life. It was almost funny how quickly his lifespan had fallen from its brief immortality. Almost, but not quite. Nobody knew what little of him remained. He didn't have the heart to tell Roselight, or Russethawk, because he knew it would only hurt them, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Someone, however, needed to know, and that would be Swanfeather. He could trust the medicine cat to keep word of his final life to herself. The two didn't always see eye to eye, but she was dedicated to her charge, and this was of the utmost importance; their differences could be put aside if only for a conversation.
Razorstar had meant to catch her before she left camp but, as was to be expected, something had come up that needed his attention and he had missed her. His stride was quick, purposeful - looking about with an edge of wariness because something, though at the moment, he didn't know what felt off - and he wanted to make sure that Swanfeather wasn't in any kind of trouble. He could blame his caution, his skepticism, on the fact that eight lives had been taken from him so untimely, but at the end of the day there was no right or wrong period of time to spend on each life. As long as he'd lost all of them defending RainClan, and fighting with his dying breath to at long last prove himself to his doubtful clan mates, then he had succeeded.
Swanfeather's scent grew stronger, as did the sickly sweet aroma of herbs; now, so near, he could better discern the faint scent that hung over them in the air, foreboding, suffocating, as none other than fox. Immediately, Razorstar's ears pulled forward, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt the need to call out for the medicine cat, but he wouldn't be so mouse-brained - any noise, no matter how minuscule, was too much.
From the corner of his eye he spotted her familiar pelt; he hadn't known himself to ever hold his breath above water, to feel his throat constrict painfully when nothing was harming him, but things had changed for him as a leader with one life remaining. When he saw the flash of orange, sprinting forward, a predator on the hunt with eyes for the medicine cat alone, he knew that there was a chance he would never return to RainClan camp alive.
Roselight would never hear that he loved her a final time. That, against all odds, she had broken through his rough exterior and found something worth knowing. Russethawk would never hear how thankful he was to have him in his life. Their moons as mentor-apprentice hadn't been easy, but it brought them closer, to the point of being brothers despite their blood, and he wouldn't trade that bond for anything in the world. There was, of course, his beautiful kittens, well into their apprenticeships and just beginning to truly get a feel for the life of a warrior. No child should have to grow up without a mother or father, and it physically pained him to imagine their faces when they heard the news.
It wasn't too late. Not yet. What mattered in this moment was that Swanfeather was in danger - and he could save her life. "Swanfeather, get out of the way!" His voice was loud, urgent, bellowing through the bushes and straight into the fox's ears. Its attention wavered briefly, only for mere seconds, but that was enough time for Razorstar to wedge himself between its path to Swanfeather, and to lash out with claws unsheathed and slice across its right shoulder. The fox yowled, drawing back, but it was far from over and, now, it had a new target.
Hellion & Fawntastic (because Rook needs those teeth poor Razor)