His Mind is Up to No Good [Closed]

The weasel finally shook the smaller cat off of it's back. It was a wonder how, with it being so out of breath and blood gushing from it's body and face. The weasel was tired, too tired to run away. It didn't have a choice but try to pull off a miracle and kill or scare these cats off. The smaller one came back for an attack and quite frankly, the weasel had had enough of it. Still... the larger tom hit much harder. The weasel turned it's attention back to the older one and lunged for a bite. It's teeth sank deep into his flesh, at least achieving a bit of damage to it's attackers before the inevitable end.

Weasel used Bite, dealing 20 damage and -30SP

Weasel
13HP / 170SP (-30SP)

Dawnhawk
55HP / 157SP (-20HP)

Sparkpaw
20HP / 57SP

---

Dawnhawk could have gotten out of the way of the weasel's jaws, but to do so he would miss an opportunity to deal the final blow. The snake-like mammal lunged for him, burying it's sharp teeth into Dawnhawk's shoulder flesh. Pain shot through the pale tom, followed by a fierce rage. His claws extended and he buried them into the top of the weasel's belly. With a sharp jerk downward, he opened the weasel up like a messy duffel bag and put it out of it's misery.

Dawnhawk used Belly Rake, dealing 14 damage and -10SP

Dawnhawk
55HP / 147SP (-10SP)

Weasel
Dead
-1HP / 170SP (-14HP)

Sparkpaw
20HP / 57SP

~Fight Over~

Dawnhawk waited for the weasel to finally be dead and it's jaw loosened it's grip. The weasel's teeth slid from the bloody puncture marks down Dawnhawk's foreleg, leaving a trail of increasingly lighter shades of red as it went. It eventually flopped to the ground with a soft thump and lie still.

"And that is how you kill a weasel... more or less." Dawnhawk said, but he wasn't looked at Sparkpaw. He was glowering at the puncture wounds in his shoulder. If that left scars he'd be furious. After a moment of grouchy skulking at his bloodied fur, he finally sighed and brought his eyes to his apprentice.

"You did well. Most apprentices can't hook their claws in deep enough for the first time. Well done on your part." His eyes flicked to the areas where the squirrel and the bird had been buried, delighted to not see any other predators trying to root them out during the chaos. "Let's gather up our kills for now. If you hold the bird's wing and the squirrel's tail in your mouth you can carry them both. I'll carry the weasel back since it might be a bit heavy for you..." He stared at the entrails of the animal that had soiled the ground around it. "And I don't need you tripping on those." He said with a smirk, gesturing at the spilled insides with a nod.

Sparkpaw pulled away from the weasel with a startled hiss, muzzle wrinkling in disgust as guts pooled onto the ground. His ears pinned back against his head as he wondered just how much strength it had taken for Dawnhawk to pull off such a move. Theoretically, would that work on a cat as well? He shook his head to clear it of the sudden, gruesome image that line of questioning produced. Bleh.

He nodded at the older tom's words and glanced over to where the prey was hidden. He'd get that in a moment, probably on the way back. The hiding places, while within sight, were a little far away. It would probably be best if he walked with Dawnhawk to get them. He winced, drawn from his musings, and lifted his foreleg, where there was a scattering of tiny, shallow claw marks. It was hardly bleeding, but the weasel must've grazed him before Dawnhawk got himself into the fray. Pale green eyes landed on the aforementioned cat and then on the messy bite on Dawnhawk's shoulder. Sparkpaw padded forward, mindful of the mess.

He stepped around the entrails, nose twitching at the sharp, coppery scent. "Gross...but thanks. I was mostly just trying not to die." He paused, eyeing the traitor's wound. It made him feel a tinge of satisfaction to see that he'd indirectly caused that. Not that he'd say that, let alone even let the emotion surface. "Sorry about your shoulder. That's probably my fault for slipping." And for choosing to fight some animal instead of doing literally anything else.

Dawnhawk was more observant than most cats, catching the faintest sign of satisfaction on Sparkpaw's face. The tiniest thing... even a look that lingers for too long... was enough of a clue for Dawnhawk to guess what was on the young tom's mind. He had played the deceit game far longer and gotten away with far more than the apprentice had. Saying nothing and not at all reacting, Dawnhawk logged that information away for later. At the comment of just trying not to die, the pale tom allowed a small smile on his face.

"Always a solid plan." He said simply. Dawnhawk grabbed the weasel by the back of the head, but had no time to even lift it from the ground before Sparkpaw was speaking again. He took his teeth off of the weasel and Dawnhawk tilted his head to one side.

"You think I expected to get out of the fight without injury, whether it was to you or to me? No. I'll be fine. The Asylum is far more advanced in their understanding of medicine than any medicine cat in the clans. These wounds will be nearly gone in just a few days." At least I hope so. He had thus far avoided any damage bad enough to scar. It would be a shame if a mere weasel bite ruined his perfect pelt and would probably sour his mood for moons. "I gutted a raccoon when I went out on my first day with my mentor too. I basically ran under it, latched onto it's belly and kicked with all of my might until the skin gave way. The raccoon died, fell on me, and when I emerged from underneath the beast I was dyed completely red, kicking entrails off of my paws as I staggered forward. I was more upset about being covered in so much filth that I would have to wash off in the creek than I was concerned about anything else." He wrinkled his nose and his shoulders shuddered at the memory. The smell of the weasel's innards brought the scene to life in his head all over again. "That was vile."

He bent his head down to pick up the weasel again, closing his jaws around it's head. That was when he realized that Sparkpaw hadn't even started in the direction of the other prey items and it caused Dawnhawk to raise an eyebrow.

"...Oo you... 'ave 'uestions or 'ant oo kee' 'unting or...?" If he needed to spit the weasel out his mouth he would... but this would be the second time he tried to pick it up.

Sparkpaw shrugged. Yeah, it not dying was on the top of his to-do-list. Most cats weren't too keen on that. He cocked his head at the mention of the Asylum having more advanced medicine. Usually, it was the opposite. Outsiders didn't often have a good grasp of herbs and things of the like (from what he'd heard anyway) so he was surprised to hear otherwise. "Well, that's good to hear. Maybe they won't mind sharing what they know with the clans." He trailed off to listen to Dawnhawk as he recounted his experience with a raccoon. He shivered, more revolted with the description rather than the actual killing of the animal. "That's nasty." He lifted his paw to gesture to the pile of innards, tail curled in disgust. "Some of these smell pretty rancid. I can only imagine how you smelled after that."

Sparkpaw paused as Dawnhawk bent his head to retrieve the weasel. What would his family think when they saw him and Dawnhawk come back with a weasel and some prey? Would they be impressed that he'd helped fend off a weasel on his first day out of the camp? Maybe they would be disappointed in him...for complying with Dawnhawk enough to battle side by side with him. Would they think he's betrayed them in favor of learning how to fight and hunt? He stood there for a moment, lost in thought until his mentor spoke once more. It took the apprentice a solid couple of seconds to process what the tom had said, given the animal clutched in his jaws. He started and shook his head, "No, I'm fine. Sorry, I was just spacing out for a second there." Spinning on his heel, Sparkpaw trotted to go grab the bird and squirrel. "I'll...I'll go grab our prey."

It only took a few moments for Sparkpaw to reach where the prey had been hidden. Within a minute, he'd uncovered both prey items and had then tucked mostly securely in his jaws just how Dawnhawk had recommended him to hold them. It had taken a bit of struggling and the bird's feathers were...a bit rough looking by the end of it, but no harm no foul, right?

The fluffy apprentice staggered a bit on his way back to Dawnhawk, the weight of the bird and squirrel more than he was accustomed to. He'd not held much more than the occasional stick, which to be honest, was never really that heavy anyhow. Sparkpaw flexed his jaw so the prey wouldn't slip from his grasp, but remained careful not to damage the skin. Well, more than they had been already.

"I smelled like a field of new-leaf wildflowers..." He said through a mouthful of weasel skull. At the mention of Sparkpaw spacing out, Dawnhawk shrugged, then winced a bit when he remembered his injured shoulder. As Sparkpaw grabbed up the prey, Dawnhawk lead the way back to camp. He wondered if himself being injured and not Sparkpaw would help make situations better with his clan. If not... well... it certainly wouldn't make the situation any worse. He had plans in the works that would hopefully sway those who were on the fence about the asylum being here. The ones who were dead-set against the asylum cats there was no changing their mind, but if their voices were drown out by their own clanmates then it wouldn't matter.

Dawnhawk was silent for the trip back to camp, dragging the weasel across the ground and leaving a blood trail. The nightstrikers were already quick at work covering it up and dispersing it so as not to attract more predators.