Changing Paths *Open*

[brackengaze]

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[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][bg=3d759a] Was this what his parents had thought when it came to the future for their kit? This malicious, blood thirsty cat? He could not even remember them, not their names, pelt colors, not even their scent. The clan never mentioned them, never gave him a poor kit, growing up with no family attitude. No, he was left to his own devices, this clan that claims to be his family gave him nothing. Not even training. What the hell was he even there for? The Dark forest had given him everything he had ever desired, cats to rely on and a mentor. Someone to teach him, and with that he would become leader, become a cat to lead all four clans. That sorry-excuse for a cat Raggedclaws was nothing to him, they had no relationship like a typical warrior and apprentice, they never would. That idiotic tom who had no respect for the clan, Scarredstar or even training his apprentice should be exiled or better yet, murdered. Seapaw would be glad to do the honors, to feel his claws slice through the oaf of a tom's throat and to leave his body for the crows like the crow-food he was. Feeling his claws slide out he dug them into the dirt, feeling the roots of the grass curl under them, as he yanked them out. Narrowing his gaze he imagined the large tom infront of him, crouching into a stalk and noticing in the distance a raccoon, a young one, probably just old enough and large enough to leave its mother, since he scented neither mother nor father. Small enough to kill, but large enough to put up a fight, perfect. Creeping forth he lunged once close enough. Feeling his muscular body hit the still developing muscles of the raccoon he relished in the fact the creature was actually fighting back. His claws hit the creature's chest, ripping into it and feeling the flesh tear like wrapping paper beneath him, and then the shooting pain began in his own body, feeling the creature's teeth rip into his own foreleg. Hissing in annoyance he reached up, aiming a blow of claws at the thing's throat, but missing as it ducked and instead scratching an eye, probably blinding it to an extent. Growling in frustration he felt a claw scratch into his chest, more warm liquid flowing onto his fur. Another blow was aimed at the throat, this time succeeding. The creature bled out rather slowly, its grip loosening on Seapaw as he was able to stagger back, sitting with an almost eerie calm, as he watched the life fade from the masked bandit's eyes. As it died he felt nothing, nothing but the fire still within his belly, that death satisfied nothing, gave nothing, only made him ache for the feeling of that kill against a cat he despised. Lifting a paw he examined himself not even feeling a need to bury the thing, it was not food for clan cats, it might attract some other predator, fine with him. Perhaps something to actually put up a fight. A thin gash on his foreleg bled slowly, it would stop soon, the mark on his chest was more worrisome. Nothing to stop his training, he had woken up with worse after a training session with Shriekingvoice, but it was deep enough he might have to visit the medicine cat. Leaning his head down he began to clean the wound, wincing as his tongue stung the area, but accepted it. Better to get the foul raccoon saliva out now. Once he felt the wounds were clean he laid down, watching the dead body with mild interesting, uncaring to move, only knowing if any cat finds him no gratitude will come, only scolding for doing something so reckless. The cats of Aspenclan, of all the clans had no idea what he was capable of. What he would do to them, what he would show them. Grumbling to himself he cared little if he returned to the Aspenclan camp, preferring this area. As he looked around he noticed he had arrived at the Reflection Pool, a place most cats came for calm or a meeting, but instead he had caused death there. And it felt good, he felt alive. Inhaling deeply he even ignore the disgusting scent of the raccoon, none of it mattered. Finally he was calm, or at least calm for the moment. Doing Speaking Thinking "Your cat talking"

[Juniper]

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[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][bg=5f4e4a] A young kit stomped through the forest, a livid expression twisting her beautiful face. Her footfalls were heavy and tromping though yielded little sound. She was simply too small and weak to create much noise and havoc. Furious, she halted abruptly and nearly trod all over her tender hind paws. She stared around at the surrounding clouds of murky brown, a darker shade than her own mottled fur, and gave a shriek. Well, she attempted to at least. Still a helpless little kit, the best she could manage was a mew of desperation. It was pitiful really. Dark shadows swept over her head, which was tilted back to allow maximum scream capacity. It indeed seemed to magnify her tiny voice, even if ever so slightly. And another benefit of this maneuver was that it enabled her to stretch out her aching neck. It had been another hard journey sneaking out of the SoulClan camp and zigzagging across still-unfamiliar territory (she had sensed a presence stalking her). And now that she had arrived at her intended destination, she could relax. Or rant, whichever struck her fancy. But before she could select one of the other, a reciprocal screech echoed through the woods. Mothkit’s ears twitched, and she swiped her paw at them. While miniature in stature, her ears were abnormally large, allowing any sound to penetrate them. In situations like this, that wasn’t a good thing. Staring around she only saw more dark bronze and hazy shapes. So who had screamed? And where? From her right, a sudden pool of blood flowed like a waterfall, splashing over the nearby slab of rock. It was bright and fresh though little. Attracted to its scent, she crept closer to investigate. Quite soon she found herself in the midst of a fierce battle. A thick-furred, ivory-ginger, burly tom was locked in combat with a dark, slate-gray creature. The creature had coarse furs running along its oddly shaped body. It had pale, pointed ears, vague tabby-like markings, and thick rings around its tail. Raccoon, she noted. And the other cat appeared to be Seapaw. Seapaw, an apprentice, in battle with a raccoon? Mothkit’s previous, tentative admiration for the bronzed tom suddenly swelled. A gleam came into her dark eyes as she watched him rake his powerfully incisor-like claws along the poor raccoon’s body. She was even more impressed when the raccoon glared and struck back, acting as if Seapaw were its equal. In the frenzy of this battle, Mothkit wanted desperately to join in and put her two cents in, but she restrained herself. Seapaw had more pressing concerns than the eager wishes of a stupid kit such as her. Besides, supposed he stumbled upon noticing her? And so, she waited, her eyes never wavering from the scene. The raccoon extended a bloody claw and scratched Seapaw’s face. He seemed to flinch then retaliated with a death blow to the other’s throat. Slowly, Mothkit witnessed the raccoon’s very life, will, and spirit flow out and evaporate. Within heartbeats (and she had to try not to blink), it was dead. A grim feeling seemed to surround Seapaw as he stared at the lifeless creature. No compassion, no pity, no regret. A shiver struck Mothkit as she saw in cold silence. “Seapaw?” she mewed in an unintended whisper. The ebony-oak fur of the kit trembled with fear and excitement as she approached cautiously. “That was amazing! How did you- You killed- But it’s a rac- Just wow! You have to teach me that!” Mothkit’s words came in a garbled rush as she attempted to voice a dozen thoughts at once. She padded to his side and saw the dark stains of blood all over his chest. Most of it was gone though, as he had begun licking it off. Quietly, she nudged him, admiration and envy still evident in her dark eyes. Recently, she had tried friendship with as many cats as she could get her paws on; Seapaw seemed to be her best ally. He had everything: a sense of power, pride, and killer battle skills. “Mothkit lies” Mothkit plots revenge… hehe Mothkit does Word Count; 681 Tags; Seapaw + dead raccoon OoC; Last of my muse!