Post by Fawn on Jul 11, 2020 9:38:13 GMT -5
The kid has got a dark side
Push too far you'll see
He hadn't realized he'd been whimpering until Marshflower nudged him awake, gently pulling him closer to her soft, muted tortoiseshell body as if she could ease his pain that way.
Roachkit's whole body ached. None of the stories talked about what happened after a fight. They didn't mention how sore he could be, how his cheek still burned like fire, how badly he would want to jump into the ambush pond to soothe the stinging scratches beneath his fur.
Roachkit glared hatefully from the all encompassing tail of his mother, dark copper eyes zeroing in on the sleeping form of Hollowkit and Bramblekit at Thornscar's belly. Shadowchaser had been summoned, and the dark-furred healer gently ordered him to hold still while he smeared some kind of gross herbal mess across his cheek.
The sting made him hiss, and he clambered out of his mother’s hold, tail lashing, the fur along his spine as prickly and uncooperative as he felt. Quiet words were exchanged with Marshflower, instructions given to bring him right to Smokefur’s den if his paw-pads felt warm or he was acting strangely.
Shadowchaser moved on to Hollowkit next, and Roachkit angrily marched out of the makeshift nursery. That stupid no-voice. And Bramblekit too. He was willing to bet that he wouldn’t hurt nearly as much if Hollowkit’s dumb sister had jumped in to throw the fight in her brother’s favor. He was pretty sure his claws had scoured her pelt just as hers scoured his, but with the heat of the moment long over, Roachkit couldn’t remember every blow. Every scratch.
He’d felt like a warrior of TigerClan, trying to claw his way out of danger. Now, Roachkit felt like a piece of prey. One of the nursery guards spoke to him as he stomped his way into the moonlight, and he instinctively flinched, guilty as his father’s words found his ears. ”Do not wander far, Roachkit.”
”I won’t,” he retorted, resisting the mounting impulse to sneeze at the herbscent tickling his nose. ”Next time, I’ll win.”
Sablefoot snorted beneath his breath. ”Next time, you’ll fight opponents that aren’t your own denmates.”
”But--”
”But nothing.”
Roachkit caught the dark flicker of his father’s tail gesturing to something behind him. He turned, spotting the familiar tortoiseshell pelt of Breezekit. She was a pathetic little ball of soggy moss, as far as he was concerned. Just as weak, too. Of course she’d be sitting there staring at the moon.
”Learn to get along, Roachkit.”
The dark-eyed kitten’s gaze pivoted onto his father once he realized what Sablefoot wanted him to do. Protests tried to push their way past his fangs, but familial piety kept them from slipping out. Instead, Roachkit grouchily stalked the tortoiseshell kitten, sorely tempted (and just plain sore) to pounce on her like a TigerClan warrior attacking deer.
With a noncommittal grunt, Roachkit sat down a harelength away, watching her from the corners of his eyes. Why did Sablefoot want him to waste his time trying to make friends? It was stupid.
Roachkit's whole body ached. None of the stories talked about what happened after a fight. They didn't mention how sore he could be, how his cheek still burned like fire, how badly he would want to jump into the ambush pond to soothe the stinging scratches beneath his fur.
Roachkit glared hatefully from the all encompassing tail of his mother, dark copper eyes zeroing in on the sleeping form of Hollowkit and Bramblekit at Thornscar's belly. Shadowchaser had been summoned, and the dark-furred healer gently ordered him to hold still while he smeared some kind of gross herbal mess across his cheek.
The sting made him hiss, and he clambered out of his mother’s hold, tail lashing, the fur along his spine as prickly and uncooperative as he felt. Quiet words were exchanged with Marshflower, instructions given to bring him right to Smokefur’s den if his paw-pads felt warm or he was acting strangely.
Shadowchaser moved on to Hollowkit next, and Roachkit angrily marched out of the makeshift nursery. That stupid no-voice. And Bramblekit too. He was willing to bet that he wouldn’t hurt nearly as much if Hollowkit’s dumb sister had jumped in to throw the fight in her brother’s favor. He was pretty sure his claws had scoured her pelt just as hers scoured his, but with the heat of the moment long over, Roachkit couldn’t remember every blow. Every scratch.
He’d felt like a warrior of TigerClan, trying to claw his way out of danger. Now, Roachkit felt like a piece of prey. One of the nursery guards spoke to him as he stomped his way into the moonlight, and he instinctively flinched, guilty as his father’s words found his ears. ”Do not wander far, Roachkit.”
”I won’t,” he retorted, resisting the mounting impulse to sneeze at the herbscent tickling his nose. ”Next time, I’ll win.”
Sablefoot snorted beneath his breath. ”Next time, you’ll fight opponents that aren’t your own denmates.”
”But--”
”But nothing.”
Roachkit caught the dark flicker of his father’s tail gesturing to something behind him. He turned, spotting the familiar tortoiseshell pelt of Breezekit. She was a pathetic little ball of soggy moss, as far as he was concerned. Just as weak, too. Of course she’d be sitting there staring at the moon.
”Learn to get along, Roachkit.”
The dark-eyed kitten’s gaze pivoted onto his father once he realized what Sablefoot wanted him to do. Protests tried to push their way past his fangs, but familial piety kept them from slipping out. Instead, Roachkit grouchily stalked the tortoiseshell kitten, sorely tempted (and just plain sore) to pounce on her like a TigerClan warrior attacking deer.
With a noncommittal grunt, Roachkit sat down a harelength away, watching her from the corners of his eyes. Why did Sablefoot want him to waste his time trying to make friends? It was stupid.
Roachkit
This thread takes place just after Bad Blood!
Greenleaf 21st, Year 6.
Wanted to establish a timeline for BreezeRoach leading up to Greenleaf #7!
Every time we want to change the scene, we simply say so and add a new date. I hope that's okay!
