In My Head [Closed - Solo]

The tabby warrior often defaulted to burying himself into patrols and any other clans needs as a means to escape the moons of emotional weight that seemed to settled on his shoulders at any given moment. Yet again he found himself in that place. His nest was no longer a place of warmth and comfort. Everything that he had found alongside Ridgelight had disappeared in the last couple sunsets. Now he was left with little more than his own mind and the burden of a kit he did not know how to approach. After the morning border patrol, there was a short time where he had been left to his own devices. Another cat's presence seemed unappealing and words seemed to be something that had escaped his mind. Marshstorm was given little more than a formal nod when assigning patrols. Beartooth was certain that other cats had noticed his lack of desire for interaction. They likely understood as well, or were wrought with mixtures of pity or disdain. Regardless, the bulky tom hardly thought much of it. He had more important things to do than to dwell on the thoughts of others, or even his own thoughts. Like ignoring the world and protecting the clan. Seeing Flintfang at the previous gathering with Stagclan only furthered his desire to withdraw. So many things pounded through his head like a relentless thud of massive paw step against the forest floor. Above, the sun shone like it normally did on most greenleaf days. And yet he did not find himself delighting in the sunlight as much as he would have in younger days. How long had it been since he had appreciated something for simply being? It did not occur to him how little he engaged with the world around him, and currently, his clanmates were the same way. Considering little more than the code righteous task of the hunt, he set off on a solo patrol into the forest.

Not long after he had embarked, the tom's eyes glanced up at the trees to scan for prey as he raised his maw to check for scents as well. Neither seemed to bring much luck. But as he stared upwards at the sky, it was as if the burden placed up his shoulders become smaller, if only for a second. He became smaller. The world was much larger than one particularly grotesque and scarred warrior. Beartooth seldom allowed himself to think these things. His was mind was simple and driven. Almost as soon as the moment has started, it had also ended. Although he found the sensation of staring up into the sky to be somewhat freeing, it did not matter. Nothing was changed by some hopeless and despaired eyes peering up into the ancestors that did little more than watch the clans and occasionally meddle in the lives of the living. There was nothing to consider about Starclan, as they hardly cared for the living. While the strange Shadowclan calico had spoken of an unbelievable reality, the one thing he had to admit he agreed with was not following Starclan. They proved to be distant and unreliable. So why should his kin rely on them? But old habits died hard with the clan dedicated tom. The warrior code was something he firmly believed in, and could not be shaken from his blood crusted claws with a few simple words. He would die in the name of the code, and he would die for the sake of his clan that followed it.

That was a given. There wasn't anything else to consider. It was simply a fact of live. Beartooth was purely driven by his sense of duty. Blizzardshine had died to protect the clan. He would live to honor her name and eventually, he would welcome death by the claws of an enemy. Death was a favorable prospect these days. It could allow him to truly leave this life, these thoughts, behind. But what would be left here? Helplessness seemed to clutch the tom's already numbed chest for a brief moment. The thought of not being able to be here for the clan, to care for the cats here, it was something harder to swallow than the lump of ice that constantly stuck in his throat. Even if there were few cats here he spoke to now. They were what he cared for, they were his sworn duty.

A slight rustle in the foliage ahead snapped him from his thoughts. Immediately, his many claws glistened in the light as they slid into the dirt, prepared for a fight. Adrenaline fired through his veins and seemed to temporarily melt away at the numbness that had swept through each limb. After a second, his breathing slowed and he scented the vole. It was then he remembered the purpose of his trip. The hunt. Retracting his claws slightly, the tabby warrior crept forward slightly before the moment was right to pounce. His claws just barely seemed to catch it as he leaped forward. There was a moment of soft and panicked squeaks before his teeth buried into its neck and the life drained slowly away from the prey's frame. Most cats would have been tempted by the savory taste of a plump, freshly caught vole. For him, it tasted about as fulfilling as bark. Swallowing back some of the dust caught in his throat, Beartooth sought a place to bury the tiny creature. As small as he had realized himself to be, this thing was even more insignificant. He did not spare the thought much of his consciousness before piling dirt over it. Hopefully some creature would not come back and dig it up. He thought of the fox from days earlier and the torn apart little pelts, swallowing. Hopefully.

Beartooth attempted to catch a vole. It was a success! You win an award: -3 SP.

Beartooth
HP: 60/60
SP: 197/200

The member 'Ripped' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 6