[Insidious]

The air was crisp and cool, leaves rustling softly in a calm breeze. Winter’s cold fingers were beginning to lose their grip on the land at long last, sunlight peeking through the clouds and casting gold light onto the green grass, growing again, prospering. The woods always looked beautiful at this time of year. Birds would sing as early as dawn, and prey started to come out of hiding, fattening up on the fresh food and turning themselves into a fine meal. Above, a light pink tongue swiped across yellow teeth, saliva dripping from the corner of his lip and onto the floor like morning dew. A young rabbit was feasting on vibrant flora, its large ears twisting on top of its pretty, brown-splotched head. It barely took a sizeable chunk out of the leaf it was chewing before its spine cracked with a loud, deafening, pulsating ring. There, on the ground, it began to twitch, and the predator watched, enjoying its pain, until it inhaled its last painful breath, its chest no longer heaving.

He wasn’t particularly hungry. He just saw it there, feeding on the grass, enjoying the first warm weather TreeClan’s forest had to offer, and because nothing irked him quite as much as TreeClan’s joy and hospitality, he figured it’d look much better lying there, dead, bloody – and it did.

Grayowl sunk his teeth into the flesh of its hind leg, pulling back the fur so he could dislocate the bone. He would tear it into pieces until it was no longer discernably rabbit, and then it would be a scavenger hunt for the first unlucky TreeClan cat to happen upon the nub of its tail or a ripped ear.

It had been a long time since he hunted on TreeClan land, let alone approached it. So long that some of his old Clanmates likely thought him dead. It wouldn’t be surprising if one of their new rituals was to thank StarClan for his demise and the peace of mind it brought them. Truthfully, he wanted them to think he was gone, he wanted them to make thanks to their ancestors for their happiness. It was difficult to stay away, but he kept himself occupied by playing with other loners and, eventually, he secured himself a worthwhile chunk of territory. He didn’t even have to fight for it. Other cats simply knew to stay away because he didn’t fight fair. However, that quickly became boring for him, and when Grayowl got bored it meant trouble for anyone and everyone around him.

He was blatantly trespassing, no care in the world, and certainly no concern for his well-being. He knew TreeClan territory just as well as any other long-lived warrior, and his exile however many moons ago wasn’t going to keep him from doing as he pleased. Sooner or later someone would find him or, more suitably, the aftermath of his scent. Lionstar would be warned. What he’d do, who he’d kill, all just to see the look on his face when he found out that his friend was back, waiting for him, taunting him yet again.

The rabbit’s leg finally came away from the rest of the body with the grisly, unkind sound of bone rubbing against bone. He would begin working on the other leg shortly.

Tag: @poptart
Words: 551
Date: Newleaf 5