Smallpines

[BEAR.]

Wolfhive hadn't been planning anything particular, he'd just been out monitoring the territory (read: avoiding the other sick cats) when a commotion caught his attention. Yelling near Smallpines.. yet the voices weren't immediately recognizable.

As he approached the border, it became clear very quickly there was a reason why he didn't know who was making the ruckus. The smell of fish wasn't easily missed.. and to make matters worse, they were STILL THERE. In his land. And one appeared to have been trying to hunt, given how she was gawking up a tree like a fish out of water. ...Which was fitting, actually.

His focus wasn't on the wannabe hunter though, but her companion. Because he recognized the hunter seemed to be an apprentice, but the warrior..

The Stars must be smiling on him today, why else would Larkwing be on his territory?

She hadn't noticed him yet, he had waited until her gaze returned to Salamanderpaw before he crept forward. Then he lunged.

It'd be easy to catch her by the shoulder, pin her down, kill her. Wolfhive wasn't interested in outright slaying her - he wasn't here to terrorize a child more than necessary, but he did want to make Larkwing hurt. For the poison, for the ambush... For every crime RiverClan committed under her watch, when she cared little and did nothing to stop it. So instead, he grabbed hold of her tail and yanked her whole body backward - the force causing it to audibly CRACK.

The second she turned to lash at him, to get him to release - he'd do so, at the cost of grabbing hold of her front leg and twisting it hard in the wrong direction. Breaking it was clean and quick, and would leave her collapsed in pain but not entirely incapable of walking. "You don't understand how lucky you are," each word dripped more venom than the toxins that destroyed him. "How I've longed to make you bleed and cry for what you've done to my Clan, me. Be grateful you have your life and your tail - the next time we meet I plan to take both, and.." His nose wrinkled now that he was close to her, and the scent was more distinguishable than the general fishiness. ".. you better pray to your ancestors those kits of yours aren't around to see it." Seriously, who the hell would have kits with her? She couldn't handle a Clan, why would anyone entrust her with children. He'd be amazed if they survived kithood or grew into respectable cats, as to him Larkwing was worth less than dung.

"Now get the hell out of my territory Larkstar!" He'd aim a swat toward her to send her rolling away from him, before his sharp and unwavering gaze rested on the apprentice. He didn't plan on attacking Salamanderpaw, but if she didn't kick into gear he would make her. The fact he hurt Larkwing with no visible blood should be ominous enough to make her think twice before crossing into ThunderClan again.

[ @Neptune. @nyme ]

[nyme]

WE'LL BUILD A FIRE IN YOUR EYES

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ! ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

SALAMANDERPAW . 7 MOONS . SHE/HER . RIVERCLAN

It's Larkwing's audible panic that finally clears her tunnel vision. Salamanderpaw had expected her to be mad, to storm in and chew her out for being a rascal, a pawful. Salamanderpaw knows how to handle that; she's been a pawful all her life. Larkwing's frustration would have rolled right off her back, water off duck feathers. Her fear, though...Salamanderpaw has no idea what to make of that. Warriors don't get scared. Fear is the first thing strength cauterizes.

But Larkwing is scared right now.

Salamanderpaw pulls her claws out of the pine, blinking as the world comes properly into focus. She can hear the squirrel high above barking its strange little warning cry, smell the pine forest and something else that doesn't register immediately because she's still trying to wrap her head around Larkwing's reaction.

"Killed?" She echoes, sounding smaller than she means to. That's...that's not right, is it? Sure, cats get killed. Cats are always getting killed, she's heard plenty of that. But it's always been cats somewhere else: cats outside the nursery's walls. Cats outside the camp. Traitors executed because there was no other option. Warriors felled in battle. Nebulous whoevers lost to vague whatevers. Someone else, in some other world leagues away from hers. Not her, though, right? Salamanderpaw can't die. She's...she's tough! And impressive! And she has grit! And, she's...cool! She's supposed to be a great hunter someday, and the best fighter! And Tinymama would miss her if she died, and Seapaw, and—andandand...and not once had Salamanderpaw ever stopped to consider that any of those nebulous whoevers lost to vague whatevers were missed by somebody. Were skilled in their own ways. Had potential just like hers. Had been killed, all the same.

Imagine that.

"But. But," Salamanderpaw fumbles. Her first instinct is, of course, to argue, but it's not Larkwing that she's protesting so much as it is the very real truth of this situation. The one she caused. The one they're both in. The one Larkwing seems sure can kill them. Her fear is catching, and Salamanderpaw's stomach does a queasy flip. "There's nobody here, can't we just—"

She's right about that until she isn't. The stranger might as well have been a shadow cast by one of the trees, lashing out and growing teeth to snatch Larkwing back by the tail. It's fast, what he does to her, but Salamanderpaw's eyes are stuck wide open through it all. Intuitively, she expects blood. It's somehow worse that there isn't any. How I've longed to make you bleed and cry for what you've done to my Clan, me. Bad blood from before her time, then. Of all the Thunderclan cats they could have bumped into out here, it's one who's been waiting ages to rearrange Larkwing's skeleton. Salamanderpaw wonders whose bad luck is to blame and then she wonders how Larkwing's leg is ever going to be put back into the right shape and then she wonders, what did he mean, those kits of yours? Larkwing doesn't—does she?—no, she doesn't...oh. Ohh.

Salamanderpaw wishes she'd slipped and cracked her head on those stupid rocks. It's that overwhelming guilt that keeps her from bailing entirely, though by the time Wolfhive turns his eyes to her she's crept back to the water's edge, leapt onto that first stone to safety, and flattened herself as best she can as if she could grow small enough to disappear completely through sheer force of will. She doesn't want this cat anywhere near her or her as-of-yet perfectly functional legs and tail but she won't leave until she sees Larkwing get up. She can't. She owes the older she-cat more than she knows, now, and the only way she can think to even begin paying it back is this one, meager courtesy.

"I'm going. I promise," Salamanderpaw croaks quickly, holding his gaze because it's the best she can do right now. "With her." In her mind's eye she pictures herself unloading on this guy. Just tearing into him. Verbally, physically, you name it and you've got it. In reality, though, the bravest thing Salamanderpaw can manage to do is not run back home immediately. Is cower on that slippery stepping stone, watch the Thunderclan tom, wait for Larkwing to move, and hope that she moves soon because Salamanderpaw's courage is drying up fast.

"Larkwing," Salamanderpaw knows damn well that it'd be insensitive and insane of her to tack a hurry up onto that, but the sentiment is implied.

@Neptune ; LARKWING
@Bear ; WOLFHIVE

[Neptune.]

Larkwing
~<>~
27 moons || she/her || RC Warrior || Kitty Softpaws, Mind Reader, Killer Aptitude T2
scarred, scrawny dilute tortoiseshell; green eyes

It's the will of that Dark Forest tom she met during her 'leader ceremony', or it's simply bad luck, but Larkwing is inclined to believe the former. Surely her luck can't truly be this poor? But, all at once, her tail is grabbed and pulled backward. Hard. Hard enough that she hears the S N A P before she feels the pain, before she even turns to see who or what her attacker is.

She does turn, though, maw contorted into a snarl even as tears prick the corners of her eyes from the pain, paw lashing out to slice whoever this is on the nose. And... she vaguely recognizes this cat from the sea of ThunderClanners who invaded her camp twice. She does not know his name, but he clearly knows her. And the vitriol in his gaze and his snarl as he grabs hold of the paw she lashed out to swipe at him with isn't a joke.

He grabs her leg, and he T W I S T S. The snap is audible and excruciating, and Larkwing growls deep in her throat from the pain of it, but, try as she might to stay standing, her vision dances in front of her and, for just a minute, she goes light headed and collapses to the floor, blinking the spots from her vision and thinking to herself 'I'm at his mercy, now.'

His words are a buzz in her ears. She hears them, but they don't register properly. Still, she knows when she's been beaten, caught entirely off guard and in enemy territory. Salamanderpaw is urging her onward, and Larkwing has half a mind to shout at her, but she doesn't.

It isn't easy, rising again to her paws, but adrenalin is her aid in keeping forward, and she makes it after Salamanderpaw and across the stepping stones, glancing back only once to see Wolfhive, his person flanked by uncountable eyes, open wide, bloodshot, drilling into her very being. She feels her blood turn cold.

"Go- back, back to camp," she urges, letting the apprentice lead. But- crap, she still has a chipmunk to collect. It's stupid, it's probably not very smart, but her brain is a little frazzled at the moment. She limps over, half hopping, sides heaving from the effort as each movement causes another shock of pain to rocket through her. She manages to uncover and grab the prey. And then she and Salamander are on their way again.

[ will make a post in the clearing right after this - ty both for this plot teehee ]
[ @nyme || @BEAR. ]