Post by hati on Dec 15, 2023 20:01:08 GMT
Sunlight trickled across the horizon like rain running down rocks, and Tiger paused as the first weak rays glittered from a puddle and scattered its shards across her eyes, dazzling her. For a moment she stood still, blinking into the gloom that still shrouded much of the land around her, and then, slowly, she turned her muzzle skywards, a corner of her lip curling in bewildered disgust. Above her the dusky blues of night were streaked with pink and honeysuckle-yellow, joyfully telling the world that night had ended, and dawn had come.
Tiger was not happy to see it.
She growled softly to herself as she eyed the soft colours, tail tip twitching at the unwelcome revelation it brought. The she-cat had lost the entire night again, spending it in endless travel in her efforts to put a hostile rogue band behind her, and find suitable shelter. Only one of those goals had been achieved, and though the night-long journey would certainly have discouraged pursuit, she knew it wouldn't do her many other favours. Her body was already warning her of exactly that, sinking a subtle but growing weight into her paws and deepening the persistent ache in her twice-clawed shoulder.
It was the later that concerned her most. It had already been injured a half-moon before, split open by a 'lucky' swipe from a half-mad lone, and it had barely so much as begun to heal when the latest band had found her. In the past that wouldn't have mattered, but lean hard moons had made it all-too-easy for the group to out-maneuver her and rip the wounded flesh still further. Their numbers and fury had forced her to run, much to her chagrin, and though she'd slowed in the long hours since she knew that the strain of the trip and the doubled-up injury were bound to come back and bite her.
She should have stopped sooner. She needed to wash the still-oozing wound and rest her weary body, but as she eyed her brightening surroundings she found that she was still faced with the same problem that had, through the night, kept her moving. She couldn't see any cover that would properly guard her, and with pain and hunger and fatigue beginning to pile upon her broad back she knew it would be unwise for her to rest out in the open. She would fight and fight and fight again if she had to--as she always had--but it would be far better not to.
Grumbling again—a soft, frustrated sound—the she-cat cast one last betrayed look at the sun-tinted skies before forcing herself to tread ever onwards. She placed each weighted paw with care, forcing herself to set her pads firmly against the rough ground even despite her shoulder. It was a lesson from far back in her life—Claws did not limp, not ever—and though the effort sapped at her strength and sharpened the fiery tendrils flitting from her wound, it was a trained-in image from which she would not be shaken. Claws were strong, she was strong, and only the twitch of her tail tip and the slow drip of blood betrayed her.
Tiger was not happy to see it.
She growled softly to herself as she eyed the soft colours, tail tip twitching at the unwelcome revelation it brought. The she-cat had lost the entire night again, spending it in endless travel in her efforts to put a hostile rogue band behind her, and find suitable shelter. Only one of those goals had been achieved, and though the night-long journey would certainly have discouraged pursuit, she knew it wouldn't do her many other favours. Her body was already warning her of exactly that, sinking a subtle but growing weight into her paws and deepening the persistent ache in her twice-clawed shoulder.
It was the later that concerned her most. It had already been injured a half-moon before, split open by a 'lucky' swipe from a half-mad lone, and it had barely so much as begun to heal when the latest band had found her. In the past that wouldn't have mattered, but lean hard moons had made it all-too-easy for the group to out-maneuver her and rip the wounded flesh still further. Their numbers and fury had forced her to run, much to her chagrin, and though she'd slowed in the long hours since she knew that the strain of the trip and the doubled-up injury were bound to come back and bite her.
She should have stopped sooner. She needed to wash the still-oozing wound and rest her weary body, but as she eyed her brightening surroundings she found that she was still faced with the same problem that had, through the night, kept her moving. She couldn't see any cover that would properly guard her, and with pain and hunger and fatigue beginning to pile upon her broad back she knew it would be unwise for her to rest out in the open. She would fight and fight and fight again if she had to--as she always had--but it would be far better not to.
Grumbling again—a soft, frustrated sound—the she-cat cast one last betrayed look at the sun-tinted skies before forcing herself to tread ever onwards. She placed each weighted paw with care, forcing herself to set her pads firmly against the rough ground even despite her shoulder. It was a lesson from far back in her life—Claws did not limp, not ever—and though the effort sapped at her strength and sharpened the fiery tendrils flitting from her wound, it was a trained-in image from which she would not be shaken. Claws were strong, she was strong, and only the twitch of her tail tip and the slow drip of blood betrayed her.
