| [fancypost bgcolor= translarent; bordercolor= transparent; borderwidth= 0px; font-family: script; font-style: STYLE; font-size: 36px; margin-bottom: -5px; letter-spacing: -5px; text-align: center; color: black;]Asterpaw I.[/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor= transparent; width: 300px; height: 250px; border: 0px transparent; color: transparent; background:url(https://41.media.tumblr.com/e3…o93io8YP1saq3peo1_500.jpg); background-size: 100% 100%;][/fancypost] |
| [fancypost bgcolor= transparent; overflow: auto; width: 300px; height: 100px; border: 0px transparent; color: white;]((Trigger warning for GORE)) Aster awoke with a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Ugh, what did I do last night? he mentally groaned--then he remembered. All he did was go on a trip to ThunderClan to give Razzi's clan a short visit, and then he came back home to RiverClan. So why did it feel like something was wrong? I guess I'm just tired...I should go on a walk to clear my head before I have to get started on stuff today. The Belgian Shepherd climbed groggily to his paws, his maw stretched wide in a yawn. Shaking his head as if to clear it, the apprentice slowly made his way out of his den, taking a moment to really admire and appreciate the beauty of the steamboat and its surroundings. He headed straight for the river, which had sort of become his "thinking place", and settled onto his ebony-furred haunches, watching the water placidly. He loved simply watching the water rush past--since the day he rescued Summerkit, his once-crippling hydrophobia had faded to faint static in the background of his mind. Too bad it didn't last long. A yelp sounded loudly throughout the trees of the forest, scaring a few crows, who immediately flew over the RiverClanner's head. The feeling of dread returned, stronger this time, and Ast couldn't help but feel like the victim in a horror movie. Should he stay put? No, he was a sitting duck right beside the river like he was. Should he go check it out? It probably wasn't wise to go towards the supposed danger. But, being the extremely unwise and inexperienced apprentice he was, Aster walked towards the sound. His paws were surprisingly silent as he trod through the undergrowth. A few thickets of holly bushes blocked his path, but he pushed through them with ease, his coat surprisingly not sticking in their prickly leaves. But as he pushed past the last few bushes, the food in his stomach threatened to make a dramatic reappearance. It was a motherf*cking body. And a very dead one at that. There, on the forest floor before him, laid the corpse of a Belgian Malinois. Around its head was a torn and bloodied red bandana, and around its left front ankle was a matching one. Moving closer, to the other side of the body, he saw its face. Four long gashes ran down the dog's chest, and from them spilled tons of irony red liquid. It had just been killed. This must be what made that noise, he thought, then did a double take. Wait, a Belgian Malinois?! Red bandanas?! Is this some kind of threat to me?! They must not have been able to find a Belgian Shepherd--we're pretty rare. Wait, what am I thinking? This could be a warning or a threat, and I'm criticizing the murderer for using a Belgian Malinois instead of a Belgian Shepherd?! Shaking his head, he shifted his gaze to its mangled facial features. The canine's eyes were gone, clawed out and shoved into its mouth, the jaw of which was broken clean in half. It's ears were ripped off and sewn to its chin, and its tail was ripped clean off as well. A large cut split its nose in two, and a cleaver was stuck through its skull. On its stomach were five long cuts, intestines and other organs spilling out through the still-bleeding openings. The killer worked fast, whoever it was. It sickened and terrified Aster. Was someone out to get him? What did this mean? Thy had killed a most likely innocent animal for what seemed like no reason, and though he knew feeling sorry wouldn't bring their life back, he still did. It wasn't often that the Belgian Shepherd was left speechless, but this was one of those rare times. Little did he know, the killer was still out there, its emerald gaze locked on him. ((I bet I scared you with the title!)) ((I'm sorry this is bad; I'm writing it from the bathroom of a restaurant that has wifi. I'm almost certain my grandma doesn't have wifi.)) [/fancypost] |