Water Water Everywhere, but not a Drop to Drink (closed)

Okay so, ShadowClan territory wasn't his first choice of somewhere to be. It wasn't where he'd intended to be. Wasn't really where any sane cat who didn't have frog-webbing sprouting between their toes would want to be.

But of course Flamethrower found himself right there, chased half into a bog by a loose little demon of a dog that had taken one splash into the mud and run out yelping again. Lucky him, he got to watch, panting — attached with a death-grip to some kind of twisted version of some tree SkyClanners would have droned on and on about because they were insane — as the poofy-furred mutt whined at the edges of the bog, sniffing the water and whining some more.

He glared at it, wrinkling his muzzle and hissing. "Foxing leave you stupid foxing mutt!"

It'd be just his luck if a ShadowClan patrol came by and decided to laugh at him for a few minutes. Knowing them, they'd probably claw the dog up, peel him off, then murder him and bury his corpse in the middle of the marsh as a final insult.

"Hgh, why did it have to be a dog?" He tried to ignore the mud clinging to his paws, flicking the end of his tail murderously and glaring at the little hellion some more. Why him? Had his luck broken somewhere in the city? Or did StarClan just hate him? He'd definitely done better before coming back to their lands. Probably because half his siblings were up there and they all hated him. "Dreampaw, one day, I'm going to foxing kill you. I'm going to come up there and I'm going to kill you again. Starry-pelted meddler...."