new person, same old mistakes [S]

Dayquill

Oh, it all happened so fast.

The nearly-joint conversations with Mottlestar and Comfreyheart had exhausted Dayquill– mentally, at least –and when he had the chance, he slipped out of the hollow they were sheltering in, shaking loose sand from his paws as he stepped off into the snow. He just... needed a little while, to feel the soft powder under his paws and not be surrounded by voices or feel like every breath he took was a personal denouncement of StarClan. Just... just him, and the air that should have been quiet but was polluted by however-distant twoleg chatter, even when the sounds of his Clanmates were drowned out.

Pressing onward, a sigh passed Dayquill's teeth, and hot air billowed in the wake of his breath. Right... it was leaf-bare. Like his body had forgotten the season and only just remembered it, a chill went through him. Last time snow had come for the forest, it had nearly starved ThunderClan out.

So, he would hunt. Occupy his mind and his paws.

Dayquill attempted to catch a mouse... Catch was unsuccessful, and triggered an encounter with a twoleg! -5 SP.

Dayquill

The scent of mouse caught his attention quickly enough, and Dayquill's legs bent, body lowering into that well-practiced crouch. Though he couldn't see the rodent, he knew it had to be there. Creeping along, the golden tom moved slowly and carefully over the shallow drifts. Then he heard it: the soft chuffing and squeaking of a mouse. It was accompanied by a small, twitching pair of ears too. His muscles were tensing, preparing to spring and close his paws around it; then a little shock went through the ground, sending a tremor through his paws and his catch fleeing.

Frowning, Dayquill started to straighten up, ready to either pursue the mouse or search for different for different prey when he caught onto what had disturbed the earth and scared the mouse. A shadow stretched across the ground in front of him, and when he looked up, a stout twoleg was cutting his way through the brush. If he hadn't been seen before, the yelp Dayquill let out as he dashed away would have gotten unwanted attention. Not looking back to see whether or not he was being pursued, he raced over the snow, rushing between trees to get away.

He'd run nearly back to camp before he stopped, stopping to catch his stuttering breath. He'd torn through a thick swath of brambles in his furry, charging headlong into them. His legs had gotten tangled, but they weren't too damaged; some minor scrapes, the tiniest pricks of blood trying to eek through the surface of his skin. What he was really concerned for was his face; he could feel the dozens of little scratches across his features, but more concerningly, his eyes hurt. Dayquill could almost convince himself his vision was blurry from exertion, but his eyes remained watery even after he'd caught his breath. It wasn't permanent, though: with enough pained blinking, his sight finally cleared.

Now, he wanted to hunt out of spite. He'd gotten chased off and scraped up in pursuit of a mouse; after that, he refused to return to ThunderClan without even the thinnest, saddest squirrel between his teeth. And, as luck would have it, he spotted a squirrel. He hadn't even scented it: but nuzzling between the roots of a tree, in search of hidden nuts, was a little brown squirrel. Without hesitation, Dayquill pounced, snapping its neck with a quick nip to the neck.

Dayquill attempted to catch a squirrel... catch successful! -5 SP.

Dayquill

And then it was just ironic, really. Dayquill picked up the still-warm squirrel, fleetingly pleased with the catch. He was wavering between burying it and just returning to their current 'camp,' even if it was just to settle uncomfortably on the outskirts of the hollow. He had decided half-heartedly on returning, and had started to pad in that direction, squirrel in jaw and blinking against the stinging in his eyes.

It should have been a quiet walk, really, it should have. But as he followed a small slope downhill, that same small rumbling came, that same twoleg still lumbering through the woods, like it was made to stalk him and only him. Frightened, Dayquill had dropped his squirrel and raced, again, in the opposite direction of the lumbering beast's approach. But this time, he'd been clumsy. Hidden in the brittle ferns he'd ducked into to hide was one of those silver boxes that had been hauling cats away, and he'd slammed right into it. His head smacked against the opposite barred wall, and another flash of pain went through his face.

Groaning, he pushed himself upright just in time to hear the grate behind him snap down. Whirling around, he saw that he was trapped in here; he started up a yowl, panic bubbling hot in his chest. Someone has to hear me, someone has to let me out! He couldn't afford to be taken. Not after the talks he'd had today, not when Blazefang was waiting on him– Blazefang, and the kits they would be raising together. Dayquill threw himself against the wall, ignoring the shocks the impact sent through his head.

And then, that same shadow fell again. Immediately, he ceased his thrashing and instead shrank against the bars. A pair of large, furless paws stretched towards him, lifting the box in its mighty hold and cooing to him in that senseless babble. Dayquill hissed, and started up his flailing again, but it was no use. No matter how much the box swung in the twoleg's grip, he was caught. "Comfreyheart! Darkspirit! Mottlestar!" He yowled, desperate for anyone to hear him. But his wails were getting further and further from the sandy hollow as he was taken out of the bounds of the woods and loaded, surprisingly carefully, into the belly of a monster.

Head and heart hurting, Dayquill curled against the floor of his cage. If the stars were kind to him at all, he would escape this beast now. He refused to leave his family behind.