Post by Phoenix on Nov 7, 2016 22:56:09 GMT -5
Ratfur knew that he should have stayed in his nest that morning. Ever since the colder weather had started to move into the valley, his desire to leave the den had decreased with the temperature, and whenever he woke up and could see his breath in the cool morning air, he knew that there would be nothing pleasant in store for him that day. That morning, he had rolled over and opened green eyes to find a very familiar brown tabby tom starring down at him with a smile entirely unbefitting of the situation. Even though many seasons had passed since Oakblaze had earned – well, he said earned – his warrior name, the younger cat still seemed to seek him out whenever possible and in a manner that involved an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm and adoration. The wiry warrior had taken one look at his former apprentice and closed his eyes again, barely managing to hold back a loud groan, before grudgingly pushing himself to his paws. He swore, if Redcloud had assigned him to a patrol with Oakblaze, he’d fill her nest with mud (they certainly had enough of it).
But no. It was worse. She had given him Bonetail.
With a look that could kill (and what he would have given so that it did), he glared at the cat walking beside him, thoroughly cursing Redcloud and Dimstar (for good measure – after all, he had picked her as his deputy) to the Dark Forest and back. Did no one in this clan have any sense? Why would anyone possibly think that giving Bonetail, of all cats, any modicum of responsibility would end well? Why would anyone think it acceptable to force him, he who had done nothing to deserve this torture, to spend the morning in the presence of such an entirely unpleasant cat? He was not happy. Kicking viciously at a stone and watching it skitter off to the side with some satisfaction, the warrior thought that perhaps mud ought to find itself into their leader’s nest as well. As of late, Dimstar was not the most popular figure in NightClan; surely, someone would volunteer for such an honor.
Although some of his clan mates were not nearly as unbothered as he, Ratfur himself was entirely indifferent to the breeding restrictions their leader had placed over the clan not long ago. Outrage appeared to have been the most common reaction, especially from a certain she-cat who had for some reason decided that a suitable mate would be an odd tom who never stopped rhyming (but then, he never pretended to understand what went on in the minds of those related to Blackwolf, for they were all strange). He had not even bothered to ask Dimtar where he fell on the spectrum of those who were and were not allowed to reproduce; he already knew, just as the rest of the clan already knew, and in any event, the likelihood of his finding a mate had already been nonexistent. NightClan’s leader need not have bothered. On the other hand, the rule had potential, and Ratfur found himself wondering idly how hard it would be to convince Dimstar that Blackwolf and Ghostlight ought to be added to that no-breeding list. They were competent warriors, certainly, but surely their overwhelming arrogance must cost them something, right?
Well, he could at least comfort himself with the idea that even if Blackwolf wasn’t on the list, his spawn most certainly was. He glanced at Bonetail again. No one with any sense would let him procreate, and if Dimstar had (an excess of) one thing, it was sense. He still found it amazing that the lazy idiot had managed to get his warrior name, and he had, admittedly, been mildly disappointed in the fact that he was now expected to share a den with him. It was bad enough with Blackwolf and Ghostlight and their daughter; their son did not need to be added to the mix as well. Besides, Ratfur could feel his intelligence level dropping with every minute he spent in the other tom’s presence.
Which was why he fully expected to be as dumb as Bonetail by the time they finally returned to camp.
The fog that had rolled in overnight was as thick and impenetrable as the skull of the cat who was walking beside him, and, as was expected when Redcloud put an entirely incompetent cat in charge, they were lost. It was rather pathetic, really, but all things considered, they were a rather pathetic pair. ”Hey Bonetail,” He raised his voice, breaking the uncomfortable silence. ”Feel free to lead us back to camp now. We’ve only been out here all day.”
Fawn
But no. It was worse. She had given him Bonetail.
With a look that could kill (and what he would have given so that it did), he glared at the cat walking beside him, thoroughly cursing Redcloud and Dimstar (for good measure – after all, he had picked her as his deputy) to the Dark Forest and back. Did no one in this clan have any sense? Why would anyone possibly think that giving Bonetail, of all cats, any modicum of responsibility would end well? Why would anyone think it acceptable to force him, he who had done nothing to deserve this torture, to spend the morning in the presence of such an entirely unpleasant cat? He was not happy. Kicking viciously at a stone and watching it skitter off to the side with some satisfaction, the warrior thought that perhaps mud ought to find itself into their leader’s nest as well. As of late, Dimstar was not the most popular figure in NightClan; surely, someone would volunteer for such an honor.
Although some of his clan mates were not nearly as unbothered as he, Ratfur himself was entirely indifferent to the breeding restrictions their leader had placed over the clan not long ago. Outrage appeared to have been the most common reaction, especially from a certain she-cat who had for some reason decided that a suitable mate would be an odd tom who never stopped rhyming (but then, he never pretended to understand what went on in the minds of those related to Blackwolf, for they were all strange). He had not even bothered to ask Dimtar where he fell on the spectrum of those who were and were not allowed to reproduce; he already knew, just as the rest of the clan already knew, and in any event, the likelihood of his finding a mate had already been nonexistent. NightClan’s leader need not have bothered. On the other hand, the rule had potential, and Ratfur found himself wondering idly how hard it would be to convince Dimstar that Blackwolf and Ghostlight ought to be added to that no-breeding list. They were competent warriors, certainly, but surely their overwhelming arrogance must cost them something, right?
Well, he could at least comfort himself with the idea that even if Blackwolf wasn’t on the list, his spawn most certainly was. He glanced at Bonetail again. No one with any sense would let him procreate, and if Dimstar had (an excess of) one thing, it was sense. He still found it amazing that the lazy idiot had managed to get his warrior name, and he had, admittedly, been mildly disappointed in the fact that he was now expected to share a den with him. It was bad enough with Blackwolf and Ghostlight and their daughter; their son did not need to be added to the mix as well. Besides, Ratfur could feel his intelligence level dropping with every minute he spent in the other tom’s presence.
Which was why he fully expected to be as dumb as Bonetail by the time they finally returned to camp.
The fog that had rolled in overnight was as thick and impenetrable as the skull of the cat who was walking beside him, and, as was expected when Redcloud put an entirely incompetent cat in charge, they were lost. It was rather pathetic, really, but all things considered, they were a rather pathetic pair. ”Hey Bonetail,” He raised his voice, breaking the uncomfortable silence. ”Feel free to lead us back to camp now. We’ve only been out here all day.”
Fawn
