From below the wings of a bird circling high above, a single queen lay, panting in the sweet sun's rays. Next to her, a thin, squeaking kit nuzzles her fur, mewling weakly. The queen- Snowtalon- hisses into the open air, words heavy on her tounge. "Curse Starclan," She growls, her paw pulling her kit closer.
"They never did anything for us. The clans," She continues, ranting to the void of near-death. Her white fur is scarred, mottled by moons of war. Tail flicking, it covers the trembling kit.
"Never did what?" A tom asks, his pale paws mere whispers dancing over the sunburnt grass. Instantly, the weathed queen darts up, eyes trained onto the creamy tom, who simply settles into the ground, more interested in the kit than Snowtalon.
"Heal," She spits, "Create, Help- do anything to stop everything."
The tom studies the white queen, green eyes calmer than the tallest, immovable tree. "Do you want help?" He says, simply. Snowtalon glares, her paws firmly blocking the tom from the weeping kit. "What's his name?"
Snowtalon stares down at the tom- this strange creature, who somehow existed on this massive island; somewhere she was shipwrecked, torn away from the clans she previously knew. "Your name first." She settles on, voice harsh.
"Me?" The tom seems suprised, his eyes widening slightly. "Ah." He smiles, the faintest tabby markings on his pelt glittering to life when they catch the sun. "I'm Moththroat."
"..Throat?" She says, low. Confused.
Moththroat laughs, more of a melodic chuckle than the harsh bark she was used to. "For my songs, of course."
Isle of Insects, 12 Moons After Mothclan
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A curious case, a reckless infection
mod chosen glitcher
2016-2019 \\ 8568 stars
It's a statewide inspection