Love's Keen Sting

[Ki]

Phoenix trudged his way inside, his tail flicking in irritation. His ears were pressed tightly against his skull and his claws were unsheathed. A few other cats moved away as he settled into his usual nest. No one could really remember his name. Phoenix was like a ghost that padded silently through your mind and vanished into thin air the moment you tried to focus on him. All that was really known was that he was born in ThunderClan and that he left when he was only about twelve moons old.

Lying little piece of dung. Phoenix thought as he tucked his paws under himself. It had started out as a good day. And he could never stay away from the Clans on the night of a Gathering. But he'd ventured too far into WindClan territory and stumbled upon one of the spots where he and Graysong used to meet. Anger rose up inside of him at once. He'd spent the rest of the day killing prey. Phoenix hadn't eaten most of it. Instead he just left it until it became crowfood. A waste. But anger made cats do stupid things.

[Yoko]

((Invades thread))

[glow=orange,2,300]Still night. Blessed be the wind that does not blow, that does not stir his cursed fur. Black on white, or white on black? He remembered not, but his fur was patched. His rest was so deep, he seemed to die in dreamless sleep. Yet, even this was not eternal.

As his eyes grew restless, they flickered at shifts in the light as dawn called for him to wake. The rogue refused to lift his eyelids, yet now he was concious and there was no more empty peace. His chest throbbed with constant pain as his mind filled with scenes of death and his nose seemed to flood again with the smell of blood.

There was no end to this torture. It was time that he awakened, otherwise it would only grow worse. And so, with great reluctance, Lost rose to his paws and stumbled out of his makeshift nest. His head hanging low, he dragged his paws to a puddle of water collected in an old two-leg monster foot through the hole in the roof.

Another day of this suffering? Oh, how his soul wept! But his eyes were dry and dead.[/glow]

[glow=Blue,2,300]He padded in with a relaxed walk. His cool demeanor could have fooled any cat that he was dangerous despite his size. The silver bengal let his gaze wander casually around the Rogue Loft, but his ears were perked and twitched at the slightest sound.

The place had a musty smell, like old bedding and wet hay, but he didn't pay much mind to it. He had business to attend. He scented many rogues, but wasn't particular about any scent other than Lost's. He had met all these cats and the more he ignored them the less reason they had to attack him.

As he looked, he caught sight of a tom that looked fiercely irritated. Drake didn't have to see his paws to know his claws were out. He passed by without changing his pace but was excrutiatingly careful not to touch or make eye contact with the cat.

Finding the white and black tom at last, he paused and flicked his tail in amusement. Doesn't water taste awful coming from an old tire?

"What's up, Lost," Drake mewed smoothly, his voice naturally deep and husky. "I thought we were going on a trip today?"

The former forest cat looked at Drake with blank eyes. A flicker of recogntion crossed them. "Yeah, are you ready?"[/glow]

[Ki]

((Yayz, someone actually replied.))

I have to find them. Phoenix thought. He was virtually oblivious to all else around him. His kits should be about nine or ten moons by now. Well into their apprenticeship. Graysong was wrong if she thought she could keep a tom from his kits. They were his flesh and blood just as much as they were hers. Finally the tom pulled himself from his thoughts. There were two toms near him. Hm...what were their names again? Lone and Dash? Meh, whatever. The cat slowly rose to his feet. He'd have to get this tension in his muscles out somehow. Under the smell of musty bedding he could detect prey-scent. It wasn't long before he had his claws digging into an unfortunate fat mouse.

Phoenix's tail twitched. Some of the anger was gone, let out on this small piece of prey. The edge was taken away, at least. He no longer felt that he had to rip someone's pelt off or he'd go crazy.