do what you won't regret | p

[val]

hand-warmed coins dropped under couches. it smelled like those. blood, anyway. it was blood. tangy. irritating because it was faintly sweet, yet it still seeped underneath his claws. the tackiness is hard to wash away. a creek would do better, if he knew where he was going to find one.

well. he did.

he got his answer after all. covered in blood, compass rusted and map yellowed with poor choices, in perfect hindsight.

i'm justified. just this once.

(hello i'm right here.)

a dry tone to match the dry grass. no rivers here, nope.

well.

there's this scent.

what - seems familiar -

Vulturefang.

not exactly the ugly tom he grappled with once? twice? and glared at too many times to count, but he knew the scent best off of him, moons later and earths away. which meant...

ShadowClan.

ugh. those guys?? he'd have preferred to stumble across RiverClan - if just to wash his damn paws. besides, he never fought Gingerfrost. just Vulturefang. and anyways, Dawnstar was practically a nightmare come true. she could pick him up by the scruff and hurl him halfway across the clans, if he didn't get killed from being in close proximity to her first.

however, judging by the lack of impending doom he'd felt at the Surge, he assumed the titan wasn't there.

(so you'll stand there like an idiot, then?)

his gaze swept over the shadows cast by the coniferous pines, needles like raven feathers blocking out the sunlight. what a desolate place to live, he mused with little pity. it looked no different than the many times he'd patrolled along Herondive Hollow in the past, across the ravine and atop the tree trunk bridge.

the shadows warped and grew, rising in ocean tides and flickering like flames licking at the soft bark. they danced a haunting dance, and sent numb chills creeping up his extremities. crawling ivy quivered as his russet, grungy pelt brushed it. dew from the underside of the broad leaves slicked onto his fur when he halted and settled back uneasily on his scarred haunches.

(this again?)

like i can help it.

(hear that?)

hear what? ears stood up on alert and swiveled around to catch the sounds in the wells of cartilage. the whistle wind. chittering finches.

hear what?

eyes narrowed. i swear to that holier-than-thou council, if there's patrol out there bumbling over right now... he grumbled unhappily under his raspy breath.

(get going, would you?

@alec / rookfire