It's the Fear [o]

[Willow]

Creamy white fur rippled beneath the afternoon sun. The air was frigid and still but the shining sun proved some much needed warmth and comfort. Lilypelt flicked her ears and trotted onward. She needed this alone time, she always had. Being coped up in camp was so boring, so constricting. The cream-hued she-cat made her way out of the swamplands to higher ground near the Thunderpath. Here, her feet didn't sink into a mouse-length of mud.

Pale green eyes scanned her surroundings. She saw nothing. But she felt something. The cold air made her nose too chilled to accurately scent. She was blind. Something was there. She didn't know what, but it was there. Lurking in the shadows of the pine trees that dotted the landscape beside the burnt sycamore. Lilypelt's fur puffed up in anxiety. Eyes followed her. Deep green eyes. She looked frantically around for the source of her paranoia.

Suddenly something orange caught her gaze. Something orange and fluffy. A gasp came to her throat before it constricted with fear. Her pale eyes darted around, looking for more, looking for an escape. Emerald eyes stared her down. Oh StarClan what did it want? What did it want from her? Was it the same one. Mudkit... Whitekit... her heart cried out as she watched the twitching orange furry thing in the foliage.

There was no way out.

Fear. Choking her. Rooting her there.

It approached. Curious... malicious. Evil gleamed in its eyes. Ivory fangs gleamed from its opened mouth. A long, pink tongue lolled out. This is the end! her thoughts screamed in panic. It was only fitting that she would die the same way her brother had. Her brothers that she had led to the fox's lair.

It was ready to take care of her now.

"NO!" Lilypelt yowled out as the fox came towards her. Maybe someone heard her. Maybe.

If not...

The fear gripped her as her adversary grew ever closer.

words: 317
tags: anyone
notes: random, I know xD

[/justify]

[charlie]

Mothpaw

It really was a lovely day, despite the infringing cold that threatened to make leaf-bare a time of hardship for the Clans. Cold though it might be, the way the sunlight danced against the pines of ShadowClan territory, hitting to earth below in dappled patterns was simply dazzling, and everything sparkled with a layer of frost, catching Mothpaw's emerald eyes as he drifted dreamily through the forest, lazily paced, with no apparent destination in his wanderings. The sharp smell of pine mixed with the musty odor of damp earth and the piercing flavor of cold and winter was a source of great fascination for the apprentice, and though he knew he had originally had some intention for leaving camp, he found he could not quite remember what it was, and that was just fine.

The svelte-limbed tom lowered his head to sniff at a feather-leafed fern, recognizing the scent from one of his forays into the medicine-cat's den, and attempted to remember its name. He recalled that Lizardtail had mixed it into a poultice to treat the cut pad he had received from a thorn of poison ivy, but it's title and purpose eluded him, at least for the moment.

"NO!" Dusky ears swiveled forward, and a brown-masked face rose sharply to examine the nearby brush, startled by the cry. That voice, it was unmistakable! Peridot eyes widening slightly in concern and worry, Mothpaw darted off into the brush, slender paws flying silently over the earth, soft as a ghost. He was near the Great Sycamore now, he knew, and he wondered just what his mother could be doing here, and just what had disturbed her so. His pace faltered only slightly when the pungent stench of fox met his nostrils, though his heart seemed to skip a beat. Lilypelt was afraid of foxes; there was no way she was thinking clearly enough to escape!

Already formulating a strategy in his mind, Mothpaw kept low to the ground, making haste toward the source of the repulsive scent, mixed with the comfortingly familiar one of his mother. He slid to a halt, barely moving the brush as he slowed, peering through the underbrush at the scene before him; the creamy fur of Lilypelt stood out against the dark forest backdrop, but what drew his dark green eyes was the ruddy red and black of the fox. It was not large, for a vulpine; a gangly vixen with a hollow look about its face. It was obvious that she was weak, but from what he had learned so far as an apprentice, and from the elders' stories, a desperate fox was a dangerous fox. He couldn't take her on with a frontal assault; he had not learned the fighting skills necessary this early in his training, but a back-handed tactic or two might allow his mother the opportunity of escape.

Dashing forward, he let out a yowl to catch the vixen's attention, making her turn her yellow eyes on him, wide in surprise. Perfect. Skidding once again, he kicked up as much dirt as he could, spraying it into the fox's eyes and mouth, causing it to recoil, then turned on Lilypelt.

"Climb a tree!" He cried, knowing the distraction would not last long. "Don't run; she'll catch you! Climb!"

[Willow]

She was frozen. Immobile. The fox was coming closer. It's jade eyes burned with hunger and hatred. This was the end, she was going to die just as her brothers had. The stench filled her nostrils and the sound of its panting filled her ears. Then...

Lilypelt's fear was fractured by a high yowl, a feline yowl. The fox turned away from her, as startled as the she-cat was. Lilypelt caught a glimpse of white and brown fur. Oh no... it couldn't be...

But it was. Mothpaw. He yelled at her to climb a tree as the fox turned towards her again. She ran to the nearest tree and scurried up its trunk as fast as she could. Her claws snagged in the rough bark but she held on tight. Lilypelt watched the fox snap up the tree at her but she knew it couldn't climb.

Her own fear was masked by the anxiety she now felt for her son. If the vixen turned on him she would not hesitate to attack no matter how afraid she was. Green eyes narrowed dangerous as she watched the flame-colored animal, waiting to see its next move. She would not lose her son as she had lost her brothers all those moons before.

[charlie]

Mothpaw felt the knot in his chest loosen slightly when his mother summoned the sense to bolt, though he could see that the vixen was regaining her composure, and was more furious than ever, gaunt jaws slavering in rage. He darted forward as the fox attempted to give chase to Lilypelt, not quite sure what he would do now that his original farce was done, knowing only that he had to give his mother time to get out of reach, and then do so himself.

Lilypelt was up the tree, and the vixen was clawing at the bark in frustration and ire; he needed to get up into the boughs as well, but he wasn't sure he could get around the fox unscathed. He needed to do something, to get the blasted creature to go away. He wasn't an imposing beast by any means, so fear was obviously out of the question.

Mind racing even as the distance between them closed, he decided upon the most sensible course of action he could. With a rolling of muscle and bone, he jumped into the air, landing on the fox's back. Using the vixen's back as a brace, he took the second leg of the leap, and was soon clawing his way up the tree, leaving a disoriented and very angry vulpine snarling below him. He felt something sharp snag the end of his tail, and hissed as he detected the warm stickiness of blood, but he was soon far out of reach, with little more than the petty cut to show for it.

"Mother..." The apprentice mewed as he pulled himself up on the branch next to her, ignoring the stinging in his tail, glancing warily at the slavering beast below. She would give up soon enough to find easier prey. "Are you alright? You weren't hurt, were you?"

[Willow]

Her claws dug into the soft bark of the tree as she watched her son anxiously. He was maneuvering quickly to get past the vicious vixen. But he was so small, such easy prey for a fox. Lilypelt braced herself to leap into the fray as she watched her son and saw the unsure glimmer in his eyes. He didn't know what to do after saving her. The fox came towards him and Lilypelt's muscles bunched, preparing her to jump at that which she feared most in life.

But her movement was halted as Mothpaw did something unexpected. His muscles rippled under white and brown fur and he jumped. Lilypelt let out a soft gasp as she watched her young son leap first upon the fox then onto the solid trunk of the tree. She relaxed as Mothpaw began climbing to safety.

A ripping sound and a hiss brought the motherly protectiveness back to the forefront of her emotions, but Mothpaw had scurried to the branch beside her before she could strike the vixen. Even as his own tail bled, he asked if she was alright. "Of course I am," she replied hurriedly and began fussing over the cut on his tail. "But you're not, that could be infected. You don't know where its teeth have been..." Her leaf-green gaze traveled to the fox again. It seemed to have finally given up and was beginning to pad away, tail dragging in the dust.

Lilypelt turned shining eyes to her son's face. "And, thank you, Mothpaw. It it weren't for you I would have been its next meal." She radiated equal parts pride and worry for her son as they sat side-by-side on the low-hanging tree branch.