Post by ravenstep on Jun 28, 2014 15:01:10 GMT -6
Wind rushed in his ears, flattening the fur along his sides, like a steady current that pushed ever harder and ever faster. The rumbling pounding that built beneath his paws and within his ribs sounded as though it were thunder, as though the skies were about to split and the heavens themselves would pour forth into him and bless him with the speed of his ancestors. Every fanciful thought of his came to a skidding halt, just like the lithe black tom, as his prey went bounding over the Thunderpath and out of sight into the marsh that led to Riverclan territory. Ravenstep nearly turned head over paws to avoid stepping on the warm concrete, gravel spitting from beneath his claws as he unsheathed them in frustration and hissed at the empty air, air that was empty when there should've been the scent of fresh-kill ripe and delicious. He bared his teeth in a show of frustration and turned a tight circle, long tail whipping above him before dropping low with the disappointment of letting a large juicy rabbit escape his clutches. Thanks, ancestors. Ravenstep thought, rudeness providing insight into his annoyance, though it was all self-directed. A moment later, however, he was subsiding, the current of disgust cresting and falling back once more, receding to the depths, where his temper brewed and broiled, a constant pit that never rose to the surface.
Here was not a place for rage. Ravenstep knew where he was in and he breathed deep, inhaling the smell of the Thunderpath, burning rubber and wet concrete, soaked in twoleg trash and the distant scent of Riverclan. It had occurred to him that he ought to despise this place; he ought to hold it highest in regards to every cause of pain and suffering he'd ever known. But.. Ravenstep didn't know where his brother had been hit. It could've been at the very end of Windclan territory, so many foxlengths from here that he could run until his lungs burst and no safe harbor from his fraught soul would be found. But Ravenstep doubted it. Blackfire hadn't been one for wandering where he wasn't needed. Blackfire had been a cat of his clan. Dedicated, loyal, honorable, noble, strongest when he was needed for a patrol when another clan overstepped and gentlest when a kit cried over a stubbed toe. Blackfire had had no reason to stray so far as to leave his clan behind, where Windclan's scent markers could barely be smelled over the raging stench of Thunderpath and the acrid aftertaste of monsters and two-legs. Blackfire had absolutely no reason to be here and he shouldn't have been here. Ravenstep, on the other hand, was a very different cat. Not the perfect Windclanner, nor the perfect gentleman; he was here, unneeded and unwary of the dangers lurking in the distant roar of the Thunderpath.
Ravenstep crouched, wondering in the back of his mind what it'd be like to touch his nose to the concrete like it was something holy, like he would once he'd slid deep into Mothermouth. Some days, it felt as though he'd slipped deep into something else, something much more claustrophobic. The long black tom rested his head on his paws, pulling his tail in tight, and stared quietly at the other side of the Thunderpath. It was like hell, to sit here knowing that this could've been the very spot that Blackfire had drawn his last breath, and it was also so peaceful. This moment of stillness where none intruded. Ravenstep was not a solitary creature, but it was moments like these that he sought. He wouldn't mourn in the camp, where he was surrounded by pitying faces. Here was much better.
The Windclan warrior distantly recognized the sound of an approaching monster, but he didn't twitch from the road, his long spidery tail curling closer to himself and his chin pressing harder into his paws, eyes squeezing shut as though he could lock himself down and hold tight until the hurricane had passed. But the rumbling grew nearer, an earthquake of metal and two-leg inventions, causing the ground to tremble as though a thousand horses would stampeding, running from their own demons. It was the vicious wail that woke him from whatever held him in place with an iron grip, and Ravenstep cursed, throwing himself back from the Thunderpath and watching with his wide gold eyes as a monster careened over the concrete, spitting grit against his paws as it plowed onward, paying little mind to the gasping black warrior. "Foxdung," Ravenstep breathed, letting his haunches fall to the ground, legs trembling a little with the close call. Even though no one was around, he tried to cover up the vivid flash of terror by licking at the fur on his chest, pretending for all the world like memories of his brother hadn't flared up the instant the gleam of steel had hit his eyes, its flash temporarily blinding him and slamming him with the sight of his brother's body, out-stretched in flight. "Damn it all," he sighed, not quite ready to come to his paws again. Ravenstep had to swallow against the bile that rose in his throat, the bad taste that came with such reminders of his brother's death, and thought to himself to leave this place. He didn't need this kind of pain.
OOC :: 932 words / open to anyone!
