Post by ♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 on Mar 21, 2020 5:48:29 GMT -5
T.w Depictions of animal suffering, slight gore, blood.
Leaf-bare 24: The wind howls overnight, relentless, but by dawn it is nothing more than a light breeze. The day is clear and sunny, cold, but not unbearably so.
Leaf-bare 24: The wind howls overnight, relentless, but by dawn it is nothing more than a light breeze. The day is clear and sunny, cold, but not unbearably so.
when the fox hears the rabbit scream
he comes a-runnin'
[smear:455450]Timothy had found the winter unbearably difficult. The night winds had begun to howl in protest as he hauled himself out of his makeshift den in an attempt to find prey. Normally, he wouldn't have risked hunting in such turbulent weather, but his stomach strained against the aches of hunger and he was afraid to fall asleep in case he never opened his eyes again. Those same blue eyes squinted against the wind, it was clearly going to mount into a storm of some sort within a few hours. How the hell was he meant to find prey in these conditions? Shuddering, the black and white tom heaved himself through the snow, his toes quickly growing numb with the cold. Perhaps this would be his last night in this miserable wilderness. I wonder if this is how you felt, Gracie. He thought to himself, remembering the stench of death and disease that had clung to the deteriorating feline's body. He wondered if it would simply be easier to curl up in the snow and accept his fate, surrender himself to the encroaching darkness. But no, Tim was a survivor. He always had been.
Feeling his paws plunge through a deeper section of snow, he let out a yowl of surprise and flailed his paws for grip. Scrambling back out of the collapsing snowy surface, he turned his eyes to peer into the shadows below him and realised he had come across a small burrow whose entrance had been concealed by the white blanket. Excited, he wondered if it was a burrow. It would be risky to go down after rabbits underground, they could be viciously defensive when cornered, but he was so hungry that he didn't care. The darkness of the intertwining tunnels below was so inviting, it practically tugged him onward. The scent of rabbit made his mouth pool with saliva, and all he could imagine was the prospect of sinking his fangs into soft, delicate flesh. His ears flicked as he heard a scuttle in the darkness, and without a second thought, he dove forward as quickly as he dared underground. The feet scrambled ahead of him through the ever-tightening walls of the tunnel, but still he drove forward, white paws scrambling against earth and stone. He smacked abruptly into a wall, letting out a shriek of pain. He should have known this would happen, he was going too fast underground, his whiskers didn't have time to feel the way. He grunted in pain, lifting a pink paw pad to his dark head. He could smell blood, he must have sliced a cut in his face.
Frustrated, the injured tom scooted backwards until he could turn to go down another side tunnel. This time he moved slowly, tentatively. His long white whiskers guided him through the odd twists and turns of the immense little burrow. He placed his paws down slowly, moving with the distinctive noiselessness of a feline hunter. This time, when he heard a scuffle ahead, he did not lose his composure. He eased himself as close as he could until he heard a high-pitched shriek of alarm only a few tail-lengths ahead as the rabbits realised what was happening. He hurtled forward, bringing his claws down on a brown lump of fur that momentarily froze in terror. That was all he needed, a single moment of misjudgement for him to dig his teeth as deep as he could into whatever part of the animal he could grab. The blood was fresh heat on his tongue, and the rabbit kicked and squealed but could not quite angle itself to fight against the bigger predator. Timothy was so hungry that he did not even bother with a killing bite. He immediately began to eat the creature alive, desperately tearing at it within the tight space that had given this warren safety and comfort for generations. Pinned beneath Timothy's chest as he continued to tear the smaller creature apart, there was little the rabbit could do to escape or to defend itself. Eventually, the terrified squealing died down as the rabbit lost too much blood to continue struggling, but still Timothy ate with the same urgency as before. After a few more mouthfuls, he decided to leave the cramped space and to carry his food elsewhere.
Gripping the tattered corpse in his jaws, Tim squeezed through the cramped warren until he finally poked his head out into the open air. The wind was still picking up. It was almost pitch-black outside, the carpet of snow forming an eerie contrast to the night. The loner still felt blood trickling down his face, and wondered if it was from his fresh gash or the small rabbit he had just killed. It didn't matter, he would have to take shelter soon and see to his own injuries. The smell of blood attracted Demon and other blood-thirsty creatures, and he couldn't afford to let himself become prey, too.
His nose caught a scent, feline, and he stopped dead in his tracks, trying to identify its source. If was the lynx, he'd have to drop his prey and make a run for the nearest tree. But would he be strong enough to climb out of reach of the massive predator? His nose wrinkled. This wasn't Demon he was smelling. He turned his head and made out a feline shape in the shadows, and immediately his entire body tensed. "Who's there?" He snarled, blue eyes wild. No random rogue was going to be stealing his food today. The cat stepped calmly forward, a curious glint in its eyes. "That's no way to greet a stranger." He purred, his voice warm.
It struck Timothy that the voice sounded like that of a tom-cat, but this cat was a tortoiseshell. His cream and grey fur was dappled so distinctively that it was unmistakable. He had never seen a male tortoiseshell before, he'd always assumed that they were all she-cats. Shaking his head to clear his confusion, he dropped the rabbit corpse to the ground so he could speak more clearly and use his fangs if he had to. Positioning his body over the rabbit as the blood seeped into the snow, Timothy bristled up his fur and bared his teeth in a challenge. "If yer stupid enough to think I'm gonna share this rabbit with ye, y'half-witted piece of fox-dung, ye can think again." His claws unsheathed, digging into the snow. "Anyone who's too weak ta catch their own prey deserves ta die." His blue eyes glinted proudly. "So if ye want this rabbit, ye'll have to prove ye deserve it and fight me, tom to tom, claw ta claw." The other tom's gaze never left him, there was a long pause. "I'm not interested in your rabbit." The voice spoke quietly. Timothy knew the stranger was lying. No loner didn't feel the bite of hunger come Leaf-bare. It was a fact of reality that most cats died during the colder moons, from disease and starvation and all sorts of other horrors. "I only came because I smelled feline blood. I assumed someone was injured." This only annoyed Timothy more. He was not some helpless kit who needed someone to come running to save him at the slightest whiff of cat blood. "Yer an even bigger fool then, mate. Cats stupid enough ta 'elp other cats only get themselves and others killed. Now clear off." Tim spat, still bristling. The other cat paused a moment longer, those golden eyes staring at him unblinkingly for another minute before he turned and disappeared in among the trees.
Satisfied, Timothy dragged his rabbit away from that small clearing, back in the direction of his temporary den. He was eager to disappear back underground into something more spacious. His muscles were slowly regaining energy after devouring that rabbit, and the blood was slowly drying on his face, creating a matted effect that was oddly satisfying after suffering through his hunger for so long. It took him a long time to reach where he knew his den to be. The crisp cold preserved his scent trail and snow had not yet begun falling to obscure his snow-trail. He felt disconcerted. He was so easy to track, vulnerable and weakened with hunger. If Demon found him now, he feared he would be easy prey for the monster. Gripping the rabbit flesh in his jaws, he readied himself to scramble down the short slope to get to his den. He knew he was close, for he could see the small rock that jutted out from beneath the snow at the pinnacle of the slope.
Something closed around his scruff, and he barely had time to register the pin-prick of teeth as he felt himself thrown off balance, his paws skidding in the snow. The rabbit dropped from his mouth and tumbled down the hill, leaving a small spatter of blood against the white. He barely had time to yelp his surprise as he felt his head smash into the rock to his right. His legs went rigid with shock, and the burst of pain of confusion was so immense that he had no time to react, to move, to do anything. Dazed, he could only let out a confused groan of pain. The sharp flash of agony across his throat was what brought him out of his dazed state. As blood trickled down his throat, he managed a roar of fury as he began to batter at his attacker, determined to overpower him. But starvation had robbed him of much of his strength, and he felt like a kit trying to fight off a fox. His thoughts were a blur of confusion as darkness began to crawl around the edges of his vision. Am I dying? He wondered, feeling a flare of fear surge up in his chest. Had he hit his head too hard? Was the bite to his throat too deep? He kicked and writhed desperately against the feline shape that pinned him down, his consciousness slipping away like melting snow. "Oh, no." He heard a gentle voice murmur as a white paw at the end of a tortoiseshell leg pressed down hard on his face. "I'd rather you stay awake for this."[/smear:5c0000]
Feeling his paws plunge through a deeper section of snow, he let out a yowl of surprise and flailed his paws for grip. Scrambling back out of the collapsing snowy surface, he turned his eyes to peer into the shadows below him and realised he had come across a small burrow whose entrance had been concealed by the white blanket. Excited, he wondered if it was a burrow. It would be risky to go down after rabbits underground, they could be viciously defensive when cornered, but he was so hungry that he didn't care. The darkness of the intertwining tunnels below was so inviting, it practically tugged him onward. The scent of rabbit made his mouth pool with saliva, and all he could imagine was the prospect of sinking his fangs into soft, delicate flesh. His ears flicked as he heard a scuttle in the darkness, and without a second thought, he dove forward as quickly as he dared underground. The feet scrambled ahead of him through the ever-tightening walls of the tunnel, but still he drove forward, white paws scrambling against earth and stone. He smacked abruptly into a wall, letting out a shriek of pain. He should have known this would happen, he was going too fast underground, his whiskers didn't have time to feel the way. He grunted in pain, lifting a pink paw pad to his dark head. He could smell blood, he must have sliced a cut in his face.
Frustrated, the injured tom scooted backwards until he could turn to go down another side tunnel. This time he moved slowly, tentatively. His long white whiskers guided him through the odd twists and turns of the immense little burrow. He placed his paws down slowly, moving with the distinctive noiselessness of a feline hunter. This time, when he heard a scuffle ahead, he did not lose his composure. He eased himself as close as he could until he heard a high-pitched shriek of alarm only a few tail-lengths ahead as the rabbits realised what was happening. He hurtled forward, bringing his claws down on a brown lump of fur that momentarily froze in terror. That was all he needed, a single moment of misjudgement for him to dig his teeth as deep as he could into whatever part of the animal he could grab. The blood was fresh heat on his tongue, and the rabbit kicked and squealed but could not quite angle itself to fight against the bigger predator. Timothy was so hungry that he did not even bother with a killing bite. He immediately began to eat the creature alive, desperately tearing at it within the tight space that had given this warren safety and comfort for generations. Pinned beneath Timothy's chest as he continued to tear the smaller creature apart, there was little the rabbit could do to escape or to defend itself. Eventually, the terrified squealing died down as the rabbit lost too much blood to continue struggling, but still Timothy ate with the same urgency as before. After a few more mouthfuls, he decided to leave the cramped space and to carry his food elsewhere.
Gripping the tattered corpse in his jaws, Tim squeezed through the cramped warren until he finally poked his head out into the open air. The wind was still picking up. It was almost pitch-black outside, the carpet of snow forming an eerie contrast to the night. The loner still felt blood trickling down his face, and wondered if it was from his fresh gash or the small rabbit he had just killed. It didn't matter, he would have to take shelter soon and see to his own injuries. The smell of blood attracted Demon and other blood-thirsty creatures, and he couldn't afford to let himself become prey, too.
His nose caught a scent, feline, and he stopped dead in his tracks, trying to identify its source. If was the lynx, he'd have to drop his prey and make a run for the nearest tree. But would he be strong enough to climb out of reach of the massive predator? His nose wrinkled. This wasn't Demon he was smelling. He turned his head and made out a feline shape in the shadows, and immediately his entire body tensed. "Who's there?" He snarled, blue eyes wild. No random rogue was going to be stealing his food today. The cat stepped calmly forward, a curious glint in its eyes. "That's no way to greet a stranger." He purred, his voice warm.
It struck Timothy that the voice sounded like that of a tom-cat, but this cat was a tortoiseshell. His cream and grey fur was dappled so distinctively that it was unmistakable. He had never seen a male tortoiseshell before, he'd always assumed that they were all she-cats. Shaking his head to clear his confusion, he dropped the rabbit corpse to the ground so he could speak more clearly and use his fangs if he had to. Positioning his body over the rabbit as the blood seeped into the snow, Timothy bristled up his fur and bared his teeth in a challenge. "If yer stupid enough to think I'm gonna share this rabbit with ye, y'half-witted piece of fox-dung, ye can think again." His claws unsheathed, digging into the snow. "Anyone who's too weak ta catch their own prey deserves ta die." His blue eyes glinted proudly. "So if ye want this rabbit, ye'll have to prove ye deserve it and fight me, tom to tom, claw ta claw." The other tom's gaze never left him, there was a long pause. "I'm not interested in your rabbit." The voice spoke quietly. Timothy knew the stranger was lying. No loner didn't feel the bite of hunger come Leaf-bare. It was a fact of reality that most cats died during the colder moons, from disease and starvation and all sorts of other horrors. "I only came because I smelled feline blood. I assumed someone was injured." This only annoyed Timothy more. He was not some helpless kit who needed someone to come running to save him at the slightest whiff of cat blood. "Yer an even bigger fool then, mate. Cats stupid enough ta 'elp other cats only get themselves and others killed. Now clear off." Tim spat, still bristling. The other cat paused a moment longer, those golden eyes staring at him unblinkingly for another minute before he turned and disappeared in among the trees.
Satisfied, Timothy dragged his rabbit away from that small clearing, back in the direction of his temporary den. He was eager to disappear back underground into something more spacious. His muscles were slowly regaining energy after devouring that rabbit, and the blood was slowly drying on his face, creating a matted effect that was oddly satisfying after suffering through his hunger for so long. It took him a long time to reach where he knew his den to be. The crisp cold preserved his scent trail and snow had not yet begun falling to obscure his snow-trail. He felt disconcerted. He was so easy to track, vulnerable and weakened with hunger. If Demon found him now, he feared he would be easy prey for the monster. Gripping the rabbit flesh in his jaws, he readied himself to scramble down the short slope to get to his den. He knew he was close, for he could see the small rock that jutted out from beneath the snow at the pinnacle of the slope.
Something closed around his scruff, and he barely had time to register the pin-prick of teeth as he felt himself thrown off balance, his paws skidding in the snow. The rabbit dropped from his mouth and tumbled down the hill, leaving a small spatter of blood against the white. He barely had time to yelp his surprise as he felt his head smash into the rock to his right. His legs went rigid with shock, and the burst of pain of confusion was so immense that he had no time to react, to move, to do anything. Dazed, he could only let out a confused groan of pain. The sharp flash of agony across his throat was what brought him out of his dazed state. As blood trickled down his throat, he managed a roar of fury as he began to batter at his attacker, determined to overpower him. But starvation had robbed him of much of his strength, and he felt like a kit trying to fight off a fox. His thoughts were a blur of confusion as darkness began to crawl around the edges of his vision. Am I dying? He wondered, feeling a flare of fear surge up in his chest. Had he hit his head too hard? Was the bite to his throat too deep? He kicked and writhed desperately against the feline shape that pinned him down, his consciousness slipping away like melting snow. "Oh, no." He heard a gentle voice murmur as a white paw at the end of a tortoiseshell leg pressed down hard on his face. "I'd rather you stay awake for this."[/smear:5c0000]
but not to help
Oleander
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