So You Think You're Tough [SOLO]

Ashfall had trudged through the cold, having left camp alone. A part of her wanted to find her father, to tell him to get off Windclan territory, to fight him. He could've never made the lie, he could've even told herwho he was... what he was, when she was just a kit. She would've stayed with him 'till the ends of the land if he had just trusted her. Just trusted his family. Instead, she had to learn the truth from his dead brother up in Starclan. He was only the first family member she lost. She had lost her mother here, and she had never even found her body. Just found a scent trail leading to nothing. Just found ungrateful Riverclan cats who thought she wasn't good enough. So the gorge thought it was so tough to just kill cats? To make others think she was weak? She'd show it. A part of her mind, far in the back, pleaded with her, said it was a terrible idea to hunt here. Windclan needed food. Ashfall needed to prove herself. It was a win-win, at least that's how she convinced herself to hunt here, alone. If she fell off, at least maybe she could find her mom, find Hentooth.

So she began scenting the air, tail lashing against the strong breeze that swept the moors. Her nose scented too much water for her liking, coming from the bottom of the gorge. She could hear the deafening rush of the river beneath her. If she wasn't so angry, she'd be terrified. To the dark forest with anyone who thought she couldn't hunt here. She scented a hare, and she could see it too amongst the rocks. It tried to hide, but it couldn't hide from the molly. The scent of the river would cover her own, and she began to stalk closer and closer. Then the hare shot its head up and made a run for it. Ashfall gave chase immediately, dashing along on three legs rather than four, keeping her bad paw close to her chest.

The hare was fast, but Ashfall was faster. She was gaining ground, and the hare wouldn't last long. A triumphant feeling bubbled up in her chest, the feeling of inadequacy beginning to vanish. At least, until the rocks caught her paw, tripping her hard. Her chin hit the hard earth with a thud, and the scarred molly saw stars. With a groan, she lifted her head, watching the hare vanish into the distance. Looking down, she saw blood on the rock, and felt it coming from her chin. She must've hit herself harder than she thought. Feelings came. Disappointment, sadness, anger. She got up sharply, yanking her paw free from the rock below. It hurt, she must've scraped it too. Ashfall didn't care. All she did was yowl after the hare, shouting curses upon it, upon its kin for as long as it lived its wretched little life. She yowled down into the gorge, cursing it for taking her mother, Hentooth, blaming it, as if the cats hadn't ventured too close themselves.

It was a long time before she calmed down. The bomb that had been ticking in her heart had finally, at least partially, detonated. It hurt, inside, and out. The blood on her chin was dried, and her head thundered with an ache like a thousand rabbits were trodding across it. She looked down into the gorge, realizing that could be her someday. Gone, without a trace. She couldn't leave Daystar though, her light. Her mate was her reason to keep going, the light that lit her darkness, that made her want to keep fighting for something. She was enough. Someday, her mother and brother, and even Hentooth, would be terrible memories that would also someday fade into stories she told as an elder. The kind warrior who didn't know who her mate truly was, the impulsive warrior who was ambitious and angry at circumstance, the daring medicine cat who wanted the best for her clan and siblings. It just... was what it would be. So she began limping back to camp, tired, and trying to figure out how she would explain her injuries to Berrypaw and Daystar. Maybe she'd just be truthful about her feelings for once... maybe.

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

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'Hunting Dice' : 8