A sickly loner (o)

Tallpaw leapt over a rabbit burrow with practiced ease, golden pelt flashing through the moor-grass as he ran. The wind snagged in his whiskers and slicked his ears back, he was utterly and completely in his element, his very blood singing in exaltation to the open sky and the soft crumbling earth beneath his paws. His shadow stretched behind him in the afternoon glow, mirroring the long reach of his lanky legs and the practiced bend and release of his spine. Everything in him was built to run, from the narrow set of his shoulders to the strong steady rhythm of his heart. He was keyed in on the hare he was chasing, charging after it through the tall grass. Unfortunately the hare was just a tad quicker than him, and slipped unharmed, into its burrow. Growling the tom skidded to a stop, and noticed the rest of his patrol were far behind him now. He’d have to return to camp empty pawed, again.

Suddenly a new scent caught his attention, one large ear flicked towards the next rise. It was a cat scent, and definitely not WindClan. His hackles raised, as the apprentice flattened his ears and stalked silently across the open field, nothing more than a specter passing through. His golden pelt blended him into the rippling grass as he saw the dark shape of a she-cat crouched over her meal. A stolen meal. Tail lashing angrily, Tallpaw leapt from his cover and slammed into the dark molly, forcing her off her paws. His clanmates were working themselves to the bone to provide for the clan and it still wasn't enough. Who was this stranger to stride into their ancestral home and take what meager prey there was?  “Who are you? What business do you have here, besides stealing prey?” He hissed, amber eyes furious.

He wasn’t sure if he could take on a cat who was older and probably more experienced than he was, but was not going to let her steal prey from under his nose. He would defend WindClan and their territory no matter the odds. It was obvious he was starving, the ridges of his spine stuck out from beneath his pale pelt, and the shape of each delicate rib was clearly visible. Hunting rights were now more than just an issue of pride, they were an issue of survival.

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Tallpaw used Jumping Strike doing 9 damage and costing 7 stamina points

Tallpaw: 20hp//53sp

Ecilpse: 31hp//95sp -9

MoorRunner is active Tallpaw takes one less damage point

Tallpaw growled low in his throat. “Mean it or not, you are doing harm by hunting here. Prey is scarce enough as it is.” His claws sunk into the soil, every fiber of him steeled for another attack. The wind raked through his fur, but he couldn’t feel the chill over the stinging heat of his blood as it pounded past his ears. The molly didn’t make a move to attack him, and reluctantly the lanky apprentice relaxed his stance slightly. “I’ll let you leave the territory in one piece, but if another patrol finds you here again you won’t be so lucky.” The tom snarled. His teeth flashed sharp and white out of the pale golden fur around his face.

This close the smell of sickness hit him full force, sharp and prickly against his pelt. He knew intimately of the smell, it had clung to his empty nest in the nursery for days after Goldenpetal and his siblings left. Tallpaw stepped back almost reflexively. The black molly started coughing again and the tall apprentice flattened his ears. He wouldn’t let her get any farther into WindClan territory with death clinging to her fur. He couldn’t lose anyone in that quiet, helpless way again. Suddenly feeling small and more afraid than when he attacked her, Tallpaw just wanted to close his eyes against the swirl of fear-dark memories that pelted against the backs of his eyelids.

He watched, hackles still raised as the she-cat began to limp back to wherever she had some from. The relief was almost palpable as the distance between them increased. The light drizzled that had started beaded on his whiskers and chilled the tips of his ears. He would see if he could find a cozy spot under the grouse when he got back to camp and sleep off the cold. Sleep off whatever ugly, terror-shaped things were knocking around in his chest. He wondered if the ache of their empty places would ever go away. Her weak voice reached him over the wind and the splattering of rain against the wavering grass. Tallpaw sighed quietly, the noise lost to the gray sky and golden moors. “I’m no medicine cat, but find some catmint if you can. It might help.”

Tallpaw stood against the backdrop of the coming storm, the wind smoothing back his fur. He cut a lean silhouette against the sky, all hunger sharpened bones and dampened anger. His amber eyes glinted in equal sorrow and suspicion as he stood firm between the rest of the territory and her dark, slinking shape.

Hunting patrols didn't halt especially in harsh seasons. Everyone felt the lack of prey, not one kit, elder, queen or high position in the clan didn't understand the importance of food. The warrior slipped from the rest of the patrol and followed a weak scent of a rabbit down a small decline in the moor.

There! A flash of brown fur darting under a heather bush was easily spotted. Sleepyhollow's paws thudded on the cold earth as she chased after the rabbit before her. Her heart hammered in her chest - she wouldn't let this one go.

Sleepy is trying to catch a rabbit! Success!

And she didn't. The frail thing was no match for the seasoned warrior. It's death was quick, clean and painless. She envied the rabbit in this moment. It was no longer slowly starving to death. She shook her head, her mother would beat her senseless if she ever knew the thought had passed her mind. The warm taste of blood in her mouth was tempting her to take a bite but the thought of her clanmates' rumbling bellies kept her from doing so. As she made her way back to the group an unfamiliar scent crossed her nostrils and her trot turned into a gallop as she approached Tallpaw and Eclipse.

Catching the tail end of their conversation her nose wrinkled at the she-cat, "Tallpaw, step away from the thief. You'll catch the wretched disease and give it to everyone else. Whitecough is the last thing our clan needs. Better we give up the prey then kill our whole clan yes?" she inquired with a tilt of her head.