A Starclan dream? When he heard such a ludicrous idea, believing the ancestors were just fodder for kithood tales, he almost told one of the Dark Forest cats. Were his brother not involved, he probably would have, just to see their reaction. Snakepaw would have laughed with them. He crawled after Fuzzypaw, belly low to the ground and limbs tucked neatly underneath. The apprentice was a snake in more than just name, a fit more appropriate than his parents could have realized. Aside from being a lowly creature in a physical sense, his mannerisms followed closely to that of his namesake - quick to strike, sharp, unpleasant. Oddly enough, he relished in this.
"How do you expect me to resist when you make it smell so tempting?" Smell had never been an enticing thing, the tom enjoyed the sensation and satisfaction of sinking fangs. Crunching, snapping, tearing, all were as fun as the next. He settled down in the nest, eyes rolling at the ordeal as his brother turned his back. There had been chatter of these dreams being empty, nothing but a normal nap. The idea that some cats believed in Starclan when such magnificently chaotic creatures were already before them made him want to snort. After a brief pause, he piped up again, "You know it might make me dream better if you gave me a herb or two to get the imagination going."
The snide remark left a smirk on his maw as he closed his eyes. It took a while but eventually the slender tom's greasy black flank rose and fell in the normal signs of sleep. All that was before his eyes was an inky emptiness. Comforting. Snakepaw slept, deeply so, contented with this limitless reality of nothing. When he finally woke, he blinked a few times, eyes mere slits as he stretched with a casual yawn. Unsure if Fuzzypaw was still nearby, and not particularly looking, the tom meowed to himself, "That was some fantastic sleep."
