[ti]Private[/ti]All Around Me Are Familiar Faces

[pants]

He was finally home. Surrounded by the waterfall and his former friends, the mist giving the air a crisp and refreshing mood as it hung over the mass of cats.

He should be happy, right?

Well, not quite. The tom's hind end was burnt and his legs had been crushed due to a tree landing on him as he escaped MothClan's fire. Now he was pretty much stuck in the Medicine Cat's den as he was doted on by multiple cats, giving him herbs, adding poultices to his wounds, and keeping him confined to the den, or at least nearby when higher priority cats needed to be in the immediate premises of the medicine cats. Thankfully, however, today was a day where he got to lay outside of the den, splint applied to his deformed leg and his scars showing the slightest signs of subtle healing. At least he got to enjoy the constant flow of the waterfall as it rumbled in front of the camp. Aah, how it felt good to be home, stuck or otherwise.

Though, he wasn't satisfied with his position. The lilac spotted tom twitched his whiskers before using his wide yellow eyes to scan the crowd for both medicine cats and his siblings alike, as both would force him to stay in place. Once he saw the coast was clear, he held his breath and braced himself to stand. His muscles were still sore from his escape. Ocelotjaw tried to apply pressure to his back legs, attempting to stand, but failed and was forced to hold back a yowl as his hind flared up with pain. Refusing to give up, the warrior huffed and started to drag himself away from the entrance of the den, making his way to the fresh kill pile. One front paw in front of the other, the tom made slow progress, wincing every so often as his hind legs ached, protesting his movement. And every so often, he would paused and do another scan, only to move forward once the coast was clear of those who would stop him.

After what seemed like forever, the tom had managed to reach his destination. Ocelotjaw flopped down with a great huff. "Finally..." he whispered to himself, observing what the fresh-kill pile had to offer. A few fish, some squirrels, a water shrew or two... The usual for MistClan. The tom licked his lips, eyes glimmering as he browsed his selection. Before he could decide, his neck fur bristled as he felt as if he were being watched. Ocelotjaw closed his mouth and looked up, brows furrowed as he tried to find the eyes burning his skin.


-----
kogiketsu smith

[kogiketsu]

((Ahh, I totally forgot about this! Sorry for the wait, I've been busy with commissions and it totally slipped my mind ;w;
Also, sorry if I mess some things up, I'm on mobile and it's being a bit of a pain.))

------

Brookflight sat perched on a stone near the entrance of the camp, listening to the steady thrumming of the waterfall. It was the only sense of normalcy she'd had for the past few days, considering all that was going on. However, not even the towering waterfall concealing their camp could drown out the other clans' scents. It's not like she didn't sympathize with them of course. Half of them were practically burnt alive or were rat-dinner, but it was definitely different to one day be sharing a nest with 2 different clans.

She raked her eyes over the camp, watching as cats padded in and out from behind the waterfall, some with jaws full of prey. She eyed a particularly plump mouse being deposited onto the kill pile, the sight of it making her mouth water. She'd been out hunting for the other clans practically all day, and their was no doubt that she would be called out again shortly, so she decided to grab a bite to eat before she left.

Lifting herself to her paws, Brookflight started in the direction of the kill pile, weary as to not step on any other cats in the cramped camp. As she was approaching the pile, she noticed a mangled looking cat dragging himself to the same place. Brookflight came to a halt and simply stared at the cat, feeling a rush of pity for the tom. Part of her wanted to help him reach the kill pile, but decided against it, imagining herself in his paws. The last thing she'd want was an enemy warrior helping her with such a simple task. She had to admit that he looked pretty pitiful though. She was interrupted from her thoughts by a loud, slightly embarrassing grumble from her stomach, and shaking her head, she padded the last few steps to the kill pile and the tom.

Upon arriving, she settled down and grabbed the mouse that she had been craving so badly, and attempted to start a conversation with the disfigured looking cat. "Hey there!" She meowed, trying to sound somewhat enthusiastic. "Oh, you must be from Mothclan, huh? Sorry about your camp, and your," Brookflight stared at the tom's mangled hindquarters, "Um, leg. Y'know?" She smiled weakly and licked her chest awkwardly, staring at the tom.