history has its eyes on you (middy)

    He had spent his sunrise running. He had ducked and dipped and weaved past trees and undergrowth and tentacles of brambles that threatened to seize him in his race until his muscles burned in protest, until the breath left his black nose in harsh tearing sounds. The black and light stone-colored warrior broke stride only to rest for brief moments, and it would be quite the show to a passing Clanmate: him with his legs braced wide, panting as if he could not get enough air, tail deflated from exhaustion. And then, it was back to a full sprint within moments with the forest whipping around him in a blurry greens and browns.

    The way his heart felt like it had been liable to burst from his chest was all in all, quite exhilarating, and its beating had roared in his ears nonstop, making him effectively deaf to his surroundings. He could not count the amount of prey he had scared off in his tear through the woods, but there was something about the way the forest life seemed to part for his quickly advancing path that made him feel just a lick special. It was like StarClan parting the tall grass to reveal his ultimate destiny as—

    But it was then that he remembered his brother and that they had, had plans for that evening. And the sun was dipping, spilling colors of fire in shafts through the forest canopy as dusk was fast approaching. He had exclaimed in a half-wail, half-moan, “Mousedung!”

    And Silverantler had thought he could not get much faster than earlier, but determination could be a righteously powerful thing.

    He stops himself from bursting into the centre of camp, however, in some attempt to calm his near raucous breathing. A cat pauses briefly to see what his problem is, but with an almost desperate waving of his tail he flags them off not without a wheezing, “It’s all—hhhyack, good.”

    Once his breathing subsides to much airier puffs, he takes an enormous breath in and back out, steeling himself to face his no doubt furious sibling. Morningfrost had always been the much more grave of the two brothers, and though his words seem barbed with thorns, Silverantler knows better than to believe that he is prickly inside and out. “He may act like he’s always got burrs in his haunches but deep down he’s got a big heart”, he’d tell others, and it did not matter whether they believed him or not, given though it’s doubtful that they’d ever see that side of the ginger tabby.

    The latest stages of twilight wash ThunderClan’s centre in shadows, the surrounding trees stretching up in dark silhouettes. Silverantler is unsure if his paw pads are clammy from running so much or the fact that he comes eye to eye with his dreamsicle-furred brother almost immediately as he passes through the threshold of the camp entrance. He waves his tail in greeting before bounding over to him with a surprising amount of vigor given his strenuous day.

    “Hey, brother! What gives? Sittin’ by the fresh-kill not eating nothin’, huh?” Silverantler laughs, his voice a little winded to betray his earlier excursion but really trying to deflect the coming storm that is growing molten in Morningfrost’s gaze.

aurum

    A small, nervous ah-heh leaves his maw, averting his eyes sheepishly for a moment. The brief respite that comes with stilling to listen to Morningfrost brings a telltale ache in his muscles. Great flying hedgehogs, he hurt! He puffs after his brother when he pads past him, something like an attempt to catch his breath even still.

    He rounds to the ginger tom’s opposite flank, an inadvertently breathy laugh escaping him. “It was a pretty narrow escape, Morningfrost. I mean, I was like ducking through brambles and having to weave and dip like never before! And the badger, oh gosh, he was freaking huge! He may as well have been a black-and-white bear—”, another unimpressed look silences him, and Silverantler grins bashfully, “yeah, okay, maybe it wasn’t that big…” He trails off with a lingering mew.

    His brother continues to stare at him in a wildly unconvinced way.

    “ALRIGHT, alright, there was no badger. Sheesh, No-funwhisker reporting for duty...” Silverantler grumbles though in true jest.

    He brightens almost immediately after, the extra bound in his step a little harder than usual given his sore musculature. “Where we goin’ today, bro?” The black-striped warrior asks cheerily, nonetheless.

aurum
ooc: hope it's alright that i made morning be like : |  briefly. LOL, let me know if you want it changed <3

    Silverantler smiles in furthered good humor, his black-striped tail flickering in his amusement; he loves to see his brother like this, very much the opposite to how he is with most other cats. This is the Morningfrost he had grown up beside, that he had become an apprentice with and, in turn, a warrior beside. No matter how many layers of grumpiness the orange and cream tom chooses to bury himself in, for Silverantler he never really does that, at least, not for very long. He likes to think he helps bring out the fun side in his sibling.

    At the answer to his question, a silver and white head cocks curiously, almost nearly stopping in his tracks. “Uh?” Silverantler poses ineloquently, quirking his maw in a kind of bemusement. He restarts his pace beside his brother with a jerky movement, laughing on the edge of disbelief. “Kitty-pets? Pretty sure we don’t have, like, anything to worry about from them.”

    What in all of Silverpelt does Falconstar want them to actually do about it if they manage to find a stray kitty-pet in ThunderClan territory? Tell them to run back to their two-leg overlords? Muss up their fur a little to teach them a lesson? The whole thing feels a bit silly to him, honestly.

    Instead of keeping it to himself, Silverantler unintentionally releases a sigh/groan combo aloud.

    In realization, he glances at his brother. “It’s just—” he begins, a ripple running through his pelt as he struggles to come up with the right wording, “I dunno, Morningfrost, I feel like we could be doing something way cooler than—‘Kitty-pet Clean-up Patrol’.” Silverantler’s lips purse in a pout beneath the black of his nose, and his ears angle backward in his kittish disappointment. The last thing he wants to do is journey with tired muscles all the way to the two-leg place just to maybe see if some kitty-pets are still hanging around.

aurum