platinum blossom (c)

Silverpaw

Silverpaw had a new idea.

What prey survived the Thunderpath without being mashed under the heavy black paws of the roiling monsters-- it ran. Fled down the incline on either side of the black strip of earth. If he was lucky, if he waited with stillness and patience... something would spook into the marsh, near enough he could close distance to kill it before it got away. A low snarl in his gut echoed his determination. He was aware this was a venture that could leave him empty-pawed, even after an entire night and day at the Thunderpath's side... but there was a chance. He was clever, he was quick, and starving creatures were prone to foolishness.

So he settled in the dying bracken, watching as the dying sun bled its last light from the sky and the moon rose higher and higher, dragging the star-specked curtain of black in its wake. Nothing came; in fact, he caught no scent nor sound of prey in his hours of waiting, not even in passing. The forest really was gutted. Silverpaw was growing frustrated, nearly enough to abandon his mission, when the air grew bitter, and the ground under his paws trembled. There was no point in stalling... but the shiver froze his paws. Moments later, blinding light fell upon his back, and a monster came ripping across the Thunderpath, dragging black clouds of that acrid scent with it... and startling up a quiet sound of alarm. Silverpaw's ears flipped forward with immediate interest and a ripple of excitement went through his muscles.

Without hesitating, Silverpaw sank low into his weight and crept from beneath the cracking tangle sheltering him. The air was starting to rumble again, but he had a singular focus now: advancing on the yelp he'd heard, the thud of weight hitting the ground. Distantly, he was aware that the noises were from something much larger than mouse or squirrel. More presently, he couldn't find it in him to care. Silverpaw thought only that a larger animal would keep more cats fed, or keep them fed longer.

When he thought he was near to the point of contact, he gathered himself and propelled himself off the swampy ground, sending himself forward to connect. He rolled against the weight he crashed into, and when his jaw separated it was with intent to find the throat, but another cast of beaming light revealed the figure he'd tackled to be a cat. Immediately, Silverpaw scrambled back, spitting, "Sorry," alongside a piece of fur now caught in his teeth. His stomach turned at the realization he'd been made so mad by hunger he might have killed another cat without realizing his victim until it was too late. If that monster hadn't come nearly at the moment of impact...

Silverpaw shook himself out and took a moment to properly assess the cat in front of him. Muddied now, which he offered an apologetic frown for. No Clan scent stuck to her... she was just some passing rogue. Lifting his chin, Silverpaw filled his chest so he looked imposing, taller even than he was. Despite the height he tried to assume, he was kind in saying, "Sorry, again... I didn't realize you were- well, a cat. Silly me." He laughs a bit breathlessly and tilts his head. There's a smile slowly working its way onto his features, and he looks earnest, but there's sharpness to the glint in his eyes. "You're not a kittypet, are you? I can't see a collar on you. Just a loner, then? Do you have an idea where you are?"

Silverpaw

Fear scent rolled thickly off the she-cat, though relief washed through the air when she processed the immediate danger was no gone. Silverpaw's maw remained slightly parted so the scents washing over his tongue were fuller. Even as she began to calm, that sense of trepidation still lingered; he could taste it, bitter on his tongue. It gave him a little thrill, knowing he could strike such a chord in another. The thought of his mouth sticky with cat's blood was still making his stomach turn, but the swell in his chest worked to effectively combat it. At least, if he was to return to camp empty-pawed after all, he would get something rewarding out of his increasingly fruitless ventures.

"You know of the Clans?" Silverpaw asked as her shaken voice rose up. The surprise in his lilt was genuine, shown further in the slow pattern of blinks he expressed. "Well, consider me impressed." Did she really know anything about the Clans, or had she only heard of them in passing? Outsiders supposedly knew them as great, big beasts that sucked the marrow out of kit bones. Maybe that was all she knew of the Clans; maybe that had caused her fear of them. Or she knew far more than she should, knowing exactly who's territory she stood on, their intricacies. She could have been lying, making herself seem sheepish just as he was. Silverpaw was sure he'd notice someone reflecting his own acts though, like facing his reflection in a puddle, and the trembling heap of fur that had only just started to still was far from being comparable to him.

"Cars?" He echoed, angling his head back toward the Thunderpath. The black strip of earth was quiet now, no thunder signaling the gallop of oncoming beasts. Their acrid stench was fading quickly. Silverpaw looked back and forth across the length of it stretching onto opposite horizons before turning back to the loner. "I think you mean monsters," he corrected gently. "I don't blame you for running from them. I wouldn't want to be caught under their paws." Silverpaw stepped close again as he spoke and, without warning, bent down to gently bite into her scruff. Not hard, but with just enough pressure to pull her onto her paws. He pressed his shoulder against hers, steadying her if she wavered, and turned another broad smile on her.

"Well, you're already trespassing." Silverpaw said it plainly, like it was no bother. He didn't need to emphasize his point; it had been made with his introduction. "How about," he hummed, "you tell me your name and where you're trespassing, and I won't finish what I've started?" A laugh rippled through him, and the threat was quickly softened with, "Don't startle! My name is Silverpaw, and that was a joke."