But To Hunt & Kill (Open)

[fierce]

[bg=595959][atrb=border,0,true] It was the end of the day and things were getting ready to settle down. The clan's kits were scuffling near the nursery, a few elders were gossiping over fresh kill, and the sun began to move toward the western horizon behind the colossal, evening clouds. As per the usual, a blackened silhouette eclipsed the light on the other end of the camp's tunnel. Silent paws carried him through the darkness, precise and proud, with hard muscles rippling beneath a shineless and grizzled pelt. Fierceclaw always arrived back at around this time. And, as always, a lifeless squirrel hung limply from his jaws: the first round trip of hauling in his catch for the day. He seemed to fancy himself bringing in things like that; it was always a rabbit or a squirrel, never a mouse or a vole. Maybe he just liked squirrels and rabbits. Or maybe he just liked the fact they were harder to catch. But if he were holding true to his usual schedule he would be going back for more once he'd dropped this mouthful off. But even so, there was something very different about this day. Slightly, but still...it was a difference none the less. The young tom carried himself with a little more pride than usual (if that were even possible for this phool), a bit more of a spring in his step, loftiness in his eyes. It was enough that it caught the attention of the elders. And they muttered suspiciously in responce to whatever this controversial warrior may've been doing. Yep, he was definetly plotting to kill Dawnstar and overthrow the clan. Blood seeped from his wounds into a freshly groomed coat. They were pretty darn new, within the last hour or so, and seemed to be reopened because of rigorous cleaning. Three perfect slashes were carved diagonally over his satisfied face: claw marks, right? They had to be. What kind of prey could do all that to someone like him? That must've been one crack-driven squirrel! Though, if that were the case, Fierceclaw wouldn't look like such a high-stakes gambler who'd just won the big one. He placed the squirrel on the fresh-kill pile and stretched his sore muscles. Sore from...whatever the heck he did all day. He was always tired when he came back and usually shot straight for his little nest in the camp's wall of thorns as soon as he had all his huntings gathered up. He didn't usually come back looking like he'd had an argument with a meat-grinder though. He turned to give his coat a last, quick once-over, oblivious to any pain that rough tongue may or may not be causing as it raked over his wounds, removing the blood and the last traces of rogue scent that one could still ever-so-faintly detect in the trap of his fur. If they got close enough, that is. But let's not talk suicide, ladies and gents.

[briarhide]

[bg=000000] he hadn't done anything in particular for the whole day. perhaps he needed to stop moping and get over than fact that his father wasn't coming back, but that was a hard task in itself. it had only been a couple of days since the ceremony, when danwstar had gotten up on highrock and announced the news that emberstar was gone. forever. but to briarpaw it felt like that had happened hours ago. like he had just began this very long day of the rest of his life. he should have been excited to be an apprentice. happy even, but how was that possible? but the thing that he was most upset about was that he really hadn't been able to cry since it had happened. sure his eyes had watered, but no tears had spilled over. so he was angry at himself for not being able to think of any really reasons for him to miss his father. he was angry at himself for not spending more time with his father when he could have. he was angry at scoutpaw, for being able to recover as fast as anything. for being able to stay strong. he was angry at jasperpaw for ignoring him at the ceremony. he was angry at applepaw for stealing all of emberstar's attention. and he was angry at dawnstar for appointing sandstream, his den mother, as his mentor. his unspoken feelings were making him act different. not himself. he rasped his tongue over his muzzle, getting to his paws, and padding slowly out of the apprentice's den. his stomach growled, and he lazily made his way to the fresh-kill pile. eyes narrowed, he picked out the smallest piece of fresh-kill he could find even though his belly rumbling protested against it. he hadn't done anything today to deserve any bigger, unless you counted sitting in the den all day. he'd been purposefully avoiding sandstream due to the fact that he didn't want her as a mentor. it wasn't the most mature thing to do, but he needed his time. he grabbed the mouse and began to scan the clearing for somewhere to eat. so he didn't notice the black pelt until he crashed into it dropping the mouse. he blinked, taking a step back. whoops he thought, staring up at the cat he had just bumped into for a moment. he cleared his throat before speaking. er, sorry about that, he mewed politely, dipping his head to go with his apology. he didn't excavate know fierceclaw at all, but he did know that he was one of the youngest warriors ever. now that was something to admire. muse: poo. word count:457 tags: fierceclaw comments: well...this sucks.

[brackie]

Gentle tortoiseshell she-cat pranced through the woods. It had been only a moon since she was a warrior, and she hardly remembered when she sat in the crowd for the gathering and her name was announced. She couldn't get the lonely feeling inside of her. It had been only a moon since her father had died. Had she been saddened? Sure. She too, she didn't cry, but she realized that she hadn't talked to many other cats since her mother died and she stayed close to her father more than anything. This was her chance to finally become friends with her clanmates, all she basically did was her job, and sleeping. She usually ate prey in front of the warriors den, where only a few cats could see her chewing on a lifeless carcass and looking very lonely.

As the feline came into the camp, she noticed that a lot of cats had eaten prey already, and some still were. So she picked her way through all the cats, a plump mouse hanging roughly from her jaws, its mouth wide open as if the last few seconds of his life were constructed of terror and fear. Like the mouse was trying to scream a warning, or just in terror and nothing came out. Brackentail's head hung low as she strode forward. She wasn't the one to sulk, but she wasn't good at making friends... at all. It didn't come naturally to her. It was almost like .. like she was in a box, only she could open it, and she was afraid to do that. Her paws nimbly touched the ground. Her sleek, thin, tortoiseshell pelt reflected the sunlight naturally. She almost seemed happy.

When she finally fought through the crowd of cats she hadn't exactly known, she reached the fresh-kill pile. She tightened her grip on the mouse, but then dropped his limp body onto the fresh-kill pile. She then picked up a scrawny shrew. She picked it up and realized she had no appetite. She quickly stepped forward and decided she couldn't go on without anyone to talk to. She graced over to two cats, an apprentice and a warrior. She remembered the newly named warrior Fierceclaw. She was named a warrior only a moon earlier than him. Then she looked to Briarpaw and smiled softly. The twinkle in her eyes surprisingly came back, and she seemed flustered for words. "Hello, I'm Brackentail." she shyly said to them. She noticed how that others looked at Fierceclaw, some she-cats mooning over him, and other warriors casting suspicious glances at him. Did he have a dark secret?

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[fierce]

[bg=595959][atrb=border,0,true] The fire in his wounds was an utmost welcomed trophy. He could still taste the faintest rust, of what he was sure was rogue blood interlaced in the down of his fur, mixing with his own. The dark tom scowled faintly, continuing to run his tongue over his fur, but it wasn‘t so severe. Oh sure, that disgusting thing no more deserved to bleed on him then half these clan cats deserved to breath his air; just because Fierceclaw’d gone around slicing cats open didn’t give them the right to get all iky, folks. But oh...it was no big deal. Just because no one liked to see paper plates and trash everywhere didn't mean they stopped having parties...or even considered it. Poor, ignorant fool, he'd crossed into the very wrong border this day. A dark ear turned toward the apprentice den as a set of paws grazed through the worn down grass. It was a mental catch, documented then dismissed as Fierceclaw returned to his thoughts. It was around meal time, cats were crawling out from under every rock in this camp to get a piece of food so it was nothing to waste time thinking about. And that’s only if they hadn’t already. Fierceclaw wasn’t the only cat wired to a schedule. He was just more ridiculous about his. He lifted a paw, nodding with mesmerizing slowness as his rough tongue brushed through his fur. He was about to swipe it over the slashes on his face when something rammed into him. His lips parted, cunning canines glistening in a reflexive snarl before he locked his stare on the apprentice. “er, sorry about that.” This was exactly why he hated kits. Though, now that he thought about it, wasn’t this one of Emberstar’s? Briarpaw…. That was his name. He was recently apprenticed at the last ceremony. And…recently fatherless. How sad. But for a cat who never spent one second more than he had to in this wretched camp Fierceclaw knew a lot more than what you‘d expect about the unimportant things that he really…did not care to know about. It was a result of unintentional ease-dropping, most likely. It isn’t like you could TUNE OUT obnoxious elders who felt it necessary to speak twice their maximum volume. Word was, Briarpaw hadn’t been on a single training session since his promotion to trainee. Grief stricken, or whatever. THAT, my friends, was what was heartbreaking. But also not his problem. Fierceclaw’s head tilted, demeaning eyes narrowed with the faintest of smirks. ”Don‘t sweat it.” He said, gruff tone laced with condescending loftiness. …Wha? Oh, well…apparently something about Briarpaw (or his situation) had caught Fierceclaw’s interest… Not that that was cool or anything. A snarl from Fierceclaw was probably much safer than a smirk. ”You’ve had a rough few days, after all. Must be hard…losing your father.” Similar memories poured before the eyes of his mind. But Fierceclaw was, by now, a master at keeping his deeper thoughts from ever reaching his face - or his voice. The means may’ve been a bit…deconstructive. But eh…we don’t worry about that. Mental race-horse blinders are good to have. A small rivulet of blood navigated closer to his eye. He sat, closing them while a large paw swiped over his face. Briarpaw wasn’t much smaller than him. Being a big large for his age he probably only had an inch to go in height. Fierceclaw was much more muscular, both from training and maturity, but it seemed the poor guy’s body’d had a blond moment when it came time to have that final growth spurt. Onto more important things though…why was Fierceclaw being so…dare we say…social? It obviously wasn’t COMPLETELY genuine. But still, it was much better than Fierceclaw’s usual ways of…“dealing” with cats. Certainly Fierceclaw would’ve, on an average day, taken this sterling opportunity to instigate a good excuse for him to make fun of Briarpaw’s situation or just dismiss it altogether. Maybe the former is what he was getting around to. Or maybe he’d just found the motherload of catnip that morning. You and I know he was going somewhere with his words, but…the catnip thing is a pretty entertaining thought, eh? But once again, the presence of another cat approaching did not escape his senses, long before she got close enough to open her mouth. "Hello, I'm Brackentail." The she-cat was basically ignored by him, though, a smug smile did tug at one corner of his mouth as he cleaned the blood from his paw, eyes closed contently. Everything about him radiated a subtle warning. Every little movement, every little smile. Though, what he was smiling about now was anyone’s guess. The uncertainty in her voice, perhaps. It was so…preyable. So he would let Briarpaw handle this.

[briarhide]

[bg=000000] he dropped his gaze, shutting his blind eye before looking back up at the cat before him. he didn't know if it was anger that momentarily flashed in his gaze, but it subsided rather quickly, whatever it was. his head went to the side ever so much, and briarpaw snapped his eye open. no one but his mother and father knew about his blindness in an eye, and he'd like to keep it that way. a small, knowing smirk appeared on the young warrior's face leaving briarpaw clueless. about to voice his unease in a rather mean way, briarpaw opened his mouth to speak. fierceclaw beat him to it. his voice was gruff. ”Don‘t sweat it.”

[/i] he mewed. ”You’ve had a rough few days, after all. Must be hard…losing your father.” something flashed in his eyes after saying this, but briarpaw didn't see it for long enough to recognize it, nor did he care. he had his own problems to deal with. he hated people feeling bad for him. i'm...i'm over it, he lied, his ear twitching. i think i already wasted too much time,[/b] he set his gaze on the black warrior waiting for a response.

his gaze was torn away by a cat who'd approached on the other side of him. in haste he turned his head to see who was approaching. it scared him, though he'd never admit it when people came up on that side of his face. it left him leaving clueless, and in the dark. he blinked, heart racing and stared at the she-cat for a moment before she spoke.

her voice was uncertain, but still rang strongly. "Hello, I'm Brackentail[/b][/color] he glanced at fierceclaw for a moment(to do that he needed to swing his head all the way around) and when he realized he wasn't speaking, spoke for himself. hey brackentail. im briarpaw,
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muse: LOL really?
word count: 322
tags: fierceclaw
comments: well...this sucks, again.
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[brackie]

She refused to meet their eyes, probably because she momentarily became uncomfortable. Why was Fierceclaw so amused with her? Being a moon older and all she expected to be the one that... wasn't exactly being picked on, but apparently not. She wanted to wipe the grin off of Fierceclaw's face. How could they find this amusing? At that moment she really wished her father had come back, the lonely feeling in her stomach was eating her out. Suicide. She had thought about it, but she was torn apart from many memories. Of her mother's death. She remembered being an apprentice with Fierceclaw, at the time Fiercepaw. She was the one who had to keep in all the gossip that she didn't want to know.

Her deceased friend Snowpaw had liked him and always mooned over him, even if he didn't notice. She would explain to her how many other cats liked him and all. Fierceclaw? She never thought of him. Never. She had other worries than a mate, or a crush, or anything similar. It always slipped her mind, all she wanted to do is remain loyal to Dawnstar, or any other leader, even though she had always thought of plotting against her, maybe to become deputy or leader. Yet.. something made her feel like she owed her clan, and she owed it to her mother and father to remain alive. Brackentail looked towards Fierceclaw, her gaze challenging.

"And what is so interesting, Fierceclaw? I would like to get to know my clan mates."[/font]

She couldn't help but sigh. She looked towards the other cat, and spoke in a friendly manner. "Its nice to meet you, Briarpaw. Now that I mention it, your name does sound familiar."[/font][/color] Ahh. Emberstar's and Dawnstar's kit. Now she was starting to feel bad that she had been trying to plot against Dawnstar. His father had just passed away from sickness. She refused to meet Briarpaw's eyes. Then she studied Fierceclaw. She wasn't one to become attracted to a cat just because of their figure. It was more of their attitude and their personality.

Then Brackentail realized that she was slightly attracted to him.

She looked away.

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[fierce]

[bg=595959][atrb=border,0,true] And speaking of preyable tones... "I'm...I'm over it." Nice try, pup. Fierceclaw had to give him some credit though. At least it was a try. And Briarpaw wasn't falling to pieces and yowling "woe is me" like he'd expect from half the cats in these clans. "i think i already wasted too much time," Whoa, someone was on a role this afternoon. Fierceclaw was touched. He lowered his paw, the three slices in his face still stubbornly refusing to clot.. "That's one way to put it..." He straightened, tongue flashing over his maw. "Another is to say you've been sidestepping a perfectly good remedy on account of your disease." Perhaps that was true. If you were training you certainly weren't thinking about anything other than dodging a blow or catching prey. And the pain in your mind didn't seem as severe when your body ached. Or perhaps Fierceclaw was a bit more...extreme...then most cats. He had had his fair share of suffering. And he'd found ways to make it all go numb. Watching Briarpaw's movements, they seemed a bit...strange. Though Fierceclaw couldn't explain why. A brow lowered slightly (if cats have brows :/), but it was faint and he continued. "If your mentor is foolish enough to content with days of doing nothing you should find someone else to take you out." Ah, there was a bit of the usual Fierceclaw showing his face. It was probably because they were no longer one on one; Brackentail was there. But there was something about this little apprentice that he couldn't quite put his paw on....a spark of potential, perhaps, that he hadn't glimpsed before. And Fierceclaw was curious to see if it'd grow. "And what is so interesting, Fierceclaw? I would like to get to know my clan mates." Fierceclaw shifted his gaze to the pretty tortoiseshell she-cat, entertained. "Here's one now.." He said to Briarpaw, smirking as he rose to his feet. "Opportunities are just so prevalent aren't they?." Half sarcasm, the small tom started toward the camp entrance to go retrieve the rest of his buried prey and leave them to their “bonding”. Gruesome scars in the pads of his feet were visible each time he lifted a paw. It wasn’t uncommon for the young tom to turn his back. Ever since he’d first arrived there four moons prior, Fierceclaw had always been separate from the rest. It wasn’t that they didn’t try to make him feel welcomed. He just…didn’t accept it. The wall would never come down, the ice would never break. Especially when he’d nearly killed Valleypaw…the distance between he and them could only increase. It was hard to imagine what may go through Fierceclaw’s head. But things like “love” and “mates” were hardly two words one would associate. Perhaps it was for the very reason he nearly killed Valleypaw that he never let anyone get too close.

[nightwhisper]

Just as Fierceclaw walked out, Nightwhisper walked into camp meeting him face to face. The beautiful silver tabby’s coat had a different scent to it…just as his did as well…though her eyes were not fierce nor frightening…though only calm and neutral. Her bodice longer and slimmer than most although holding much muscle making her lean and appear stronger compared to other she-cats. Eh, which didn’t really apply to her benefit since she was reluctant to harm a fly until it was absolutely necessary. Nightwhisper knew about the were-about of the clan and what went on…especially the little incident that happened a while back with Feircepaw & Vallypaw, though the foreign she-cat choose not to judge the black tom because of it. Maybe this was what differed the tribe cat from them all- the certain thought that she will never truly be a clan cat after all unable to understand certain things. It didn’t mean she didn’t try…because she did. Deep down of course.

Her even discolored gaze looked at Fierceclaw’s as she stood in his way…the entrance didn’t seem big enough for them both at the most…even though Nightwhisper did it in a almost testing way. She stood with a huge feathered creature held in her dainty muzzle. Which was actually 3 fat gray birds tightly held together up against one another. All the way through the damn forest she had been dragging these three birds, simply for the fact she promised the young kits at the nursery each one of their own. She didn’t seem to struggle with her vast catch as gray-blue gaze lightly dared trap the harsh tainted blue eyes of the midnight tom walking swiftly past him.

He was simply misunderstood…or maybe didn’t really care if he was understood or not. As he spent most of his time alone and out of camp returning with a plain expression of determination of his face as he groomed his fur clean of any evidence of where he has been. Nightwhisper acknowledged though didn’t step into the conversation of the clan upon him…because so far she had been the closet soul to ever wonder and touch the defensive black rose. Perhaps this being the reason why the tom ignored her…never wanting to place any contact with her. She didn’t mind it really. Though she was certain he knew that she will always be there.

Nightwhisper didn’t fear Fierceclaw alike many did. She only kept her distance letting he be the one who approached her instead of the opposite. Rarely did he seem to speak to her anymore…as they were named warriors together and did have a few memories to warm up too. He didn’t give her much to fear from, but only she knew to keep her distance since he didn’t seem to want her around him period. Both felines crossed each other closely another testing action coming across the she-cat as her stripped tail lightly tapped his shoulder in a playful, casual manner as she padded across the clearing to where Brakentail & Briarpaw sat close to the pile of fresh-kill. Dropping her 3 plump birds she lightly walked over to them both and blinked a light hello to them both, sitting down to join in conversation. “Greetings.” She mewed quietly, brining her tail over her paws neatly. She looked over at Briarpaw lightly, looking up to the sky. “Hmm…doesn’t day seem like a nice adventure day, Briarpaw?” she mewed to the young apprentice, turning to look at him once more with a questioning look though those eyes held another mystery to them. While waiting for the apprentice to answer, tranquil eyes feathered back towards the clan entrance at Fierceclaw.

[occ; man! i know im late but i do hope this isnt dead...lol]