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Description
The forest at night is not quiet. The whirr of insects, the rustle of hidden creatures. Peaceful, but not quiet. Lonesome, but not alone.

The rhythmic padding of paws, nearly undetectable to untrained ears. Step. Step. Step. The rustle of fur, changing direction, repeating the process. Eyes in the darkness. Two gold, two mismatched. A silent pair, protecting their tribe from danger.

Something moves in the darkness, far too large to be harmless prey. A glance exchanged, unspoken words, and the mismatched eyes turn to the darkness of the forest. Wait here. The younger takes up position before the entrance, gold eyes watching the dark tip of a tail blend into shadow.

He waits.

How long has it been? Should he worry yet?

No. Best to wait.

There, in the distance, was that a cry? His paranoid mind must playing tricks on him. Should he investigate anyway? Could be a trap. Is it worth the risk?

He waits. But not for very long.

The warriors sleeping just inside the entrance will wake if anyone passes them, and they know a tribe-mate from a foe. He follows the trail of the older Guard, his pawsteps light, eyes and ears alert.

The smell of blood is the first thing he notices. Overpowering, blocking out even the scent trail. Not that he needs it anymore. But who's blood is it? A question soon answered, as the trees open up to reveal two figures, one familiar, one oddly misshapen. And blood. A disturbing amount.

The forest is silent. The two standing figures contemplate each other. The stranger blinks a single eye that glints through tears, internal pain showing clearly.

"Why...?" A query that breaks the silence, left unanswered as the stranger turns, fleeing into the dark forest. Confusion and shock mingle in the air as the gold-eyed one hesitates, unsure. Should he give chase? A wet, choking sound is the answer to this question. He turns his attention to the fallen Guard, who's chest heaves, trying to breathe, but inhaling only blood. Drowning on his own life.

Swallowing back bile, the younger cat crouches down, trying to see the extent of the damage without drawing too close. He knows instinctively without looking, this is a fatal wound. Still, is there no way to help?

The words of a healer come to mind. 'Sometimes... there's nothing you can do...'

A memory warped by the moment's pain and shock. He knows what it means, but now all he can do is wonder...

"Only sometimes?"

Description
The forest at night is not quiet. The whirr of insects, the rustle of hidden creatures. Peaceful, but not quiet. Lonesome, but not alone.

The rhythmic padding of paws, nearly undetectable to untrained ears. Step. Step. Step. The rustle of fur, changing direction, repeating the process. Eyes in the darkness. Two gold, two mismatched. A silent pair, protecting their tribe from danger.

Something moves in the darkness, far too large to be harmless prey. A glance exchanged, unspoken words, and the mismatched eyes turn to the darkness of the forest. Wait here. The younger takes up position before the entrance, gold eyes watching the dark tip of a tail blend into shadow.

He waits.

How long has it been? Should he worry yet?

No. Best to wait.

There, in the distance, was that a cry? His paranoid mind must playing tricks on him. Should he investigate anyway? Could be a trap. Is it worth the risk?

He waits. But not for very long.

The warriors sleeping just inside the entrance will wake if anyone passes them, and they know a tribe-mate from a foe. He follows the trail of the older Guard, his pawsteps light, eyes and ears alert.

The smell of blood is the first thing he notices. Overpowering, blocking out even the scent trail. Not that he needs it anymore. But who's blood is it? A question soon answered, as the trees open up to reveal two figures, one familiar, one oddly misshapen. And blood. A disturbing amount.

The forest is silent. The two standing figures contemplate each other. The stranger blinks a single eye that glints through tears, internal pain showing clearly.

"Why...?" A query that breaks the silence, left unanswered as the stranger turns, fleeing into the dark forest. Confusion and shock mingle in the air as the gold-eyed one hesitates, unsure. Should he give chase? A wet, choking sound is the answer to this question. He turns his attention to the fallen Guard, who's chest heaves, trying to breathe, but inhaling only blood. Drowning on his own life.

Swallowing back bile, the younger cat crouches down, trying to see the extent of the damage without drawing too close. He knows instinctively without looking, this is a fatal wound. Still, is there no way to help?

The words of a healer come to mind. 'Sometimes... there's nothing you can do...'

A memory warped by the moment's pain and shock. He knows what it means, but now all he can do is wonder...

"Only sometimes?"