It was the heat of the moment (p, Scorchedface)

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    The tom glares down at the body of the NPC DarKClanner’s form. He didn’t care that this was Fourtrees, the sacred gathering place for all the clans.


    WindClan was no longer what it used to be, forced to be under BloodClan’s paws as servants, willingly giving up prey as if it were tax commanded by the tyrannical King over his subjects.


    A low growl rumbles in his chest, and he tosses the body a few pawsteps away from him as he licks the blood from his claws.


    Scorchedface   Baelfire




    Scorchedface



    //retro blindness


    The body of a dead Darkclanner tumbled and came to a stop right in front of the scarred flame point, his blue eye fell upon it as he nudged it to see the damage. "Not bad." Scorchedface mused as his gaze dragged towards the tom, the scent of Windclan reached him and he cocked his head to the side curiously. Weren't they normally peaceful cats? "Had they wronged you or was this just a release of frustration?" He inquired.