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prompt: break the warrior code rule 4: prey is killed only to be eaten. give thanks to starclan for its life.
“It bit me!” he muttered to himself in disbelief, a droplet of blood dripping down Willowmyth’s nose from a set of distinctively squirrel-shaped teethmarks as he glared down at the offending rodent. Why couldn’t the prey just come quietly for once? Was a life of sniffing around for acorns everyday just to bury them again really that important? “Well, I’m not giving thanks to StarClan for your life,” he said.
Softpelt head jerked up from where she'd been hunting. "Oh dear, it bit you?" She went over to Willowmyth wincing when she saw the teethmarks on his nose. "Well, you shouldn't dishonor StarClan, but let me have a look at your nose."
Though she wasn't working with Fawnheart as medicine cat anymore. Softpelt's training remained and the fluffy white she cat moved to try and inspect Willowmyth's wound.
Under the impression that he had been alone, Willowmyth jumped slightly as Softpelt's voice carried over to him. "Yes, I wasn't under the impression that the squirrels in SpringClan were going to be quite this vicious," he said, obligingly sitting still so the former medicine cat could examine his injury. "Otherwise I would have been more careful." He made no move to retract his statement about StarClan, mentally hoping that the squirrel's soul was well on its way to whatever the prey version of the Dark Forest was.
Softpelt hummed, "It's not common, but sometimes prey can lash out a bit violently which is why we practice swift and clean kills. Not only as clean kills are better for eating, but swift kills limit the risk of injury to ourselves." She said.
She considered the wound. "It doesn't look too deep, and it was a squirrel not a rat but for safety's sake we should grab you some marigold to put on that bite." She got to her paws. "But do be careful, StarClan doesn't take favorably to not valuing the prey we have running in our territory. AT the very least don't speak such things out loud."
StarClan gaining any reason to look down on SpringClan made Softpelt uneasy. Given her decision to turn away from the destiny they'd chosen for her, she was very paranoid of crossing StarClan any more.
Willowmyth at least had the grace to look slightly abashed at Softpelt's admonishment. "My apologies," he said. "We didn't have such strict customs where I come from. I guess I'm still adjusting in some ways," he said, grimacing as the movement of his jaw sent a brief pang of pain running through his cut - perhaps it would end up as an addition to the ever-growing collection of small scars that lined his pelt. Although, if it did, it would have to pick up a slightly more heroic story than a singular angry squirrel. Perhaps an army of vicious rats. "I'll try and keep my grievances with the prey to myself next time."
