“I hope-sho. Affer all, you are qween of da forest,” his murmur was teasing, muffled by the mouse tails that dangled from his maw. He looked at her, eyes glittering with laughter. “One shquirrel doesn’t make you qween, but chewing off a fox-sh ear might.”

His face grew more serious at her mention of the camp. They were approaching the perimeter of the trees now, tall pines shrouded in darkness. It brought the chill that ran down his spine back again. “Da camp did have an ominous feeling tonight,” he agreed. "It reminded me of dis cweepy sh-tory sh-ome rogues used to tell. Curse of da Rat King.” The sound of mice scurrying up and down the crevices hadn’t been unlike the big rats that used to scurry in the gutters and sewers of the city, yellow fangs dripping with malice.

[ don't sweat it ]

Hyenaprowl smirked at her searing pride but replied "there's no use getting worked up about it now. Save your energy for healing that leg." He wasn't one to console, and he had the feeling that pity would only sharpen the sting to Snakeshiver's ego regardless. He felt the creep of fatigue in his paws and was glad to see that they weren't far from camp now. Sleep would be sweet relief from the passions of this night. 


[ wanna do a time skip to when she's more healed? ]

He’d taken to calling her queen of the forest in jest, but as the days rolled by it seemed she’d become queen of his mind in truth. The events of that night had lingered in his dreams and waking hours, and she with them. He couldn’t explain it, but that night he’d felt more alive than he had in moons. Now he gravitated towards the prideful she-cat as if she were a reminder.

Yes, he had moved his nest next to hers, but he insisted he’d only done so to get as far away from the snorer as he could. The tom was trying his best not to seem too captivated by the she-cat, but it was getting harder. Especially after she asked him to help her with exercises.

“Quit fussing and focus on your exercise,” he grunted, adding a teasing “your highness.” He acted like the exercises were a hassle to him, but he showed up to each of them all the same. “How long until you’re good as new, again?”

[ idk why but i wanna rp them doing an exercise lol ]

“That was probably music to your ears,” Hyenaprowl ventured. “Being locked up in camp all day isn’t good for any cat.” His nose wrinkled when he remembered the strange musty scents of the Medicine Cat’s den the night he had delivered Snakeshiver. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were in her paws. Knowing himself, he’d probably reopen the wound trying to hunt the night afterward.

“Let me know when you’re ready to go. We can take it slow.”

Hyenaprowl stood by as she did her stretches, waiting to be prompted for his assistance. To his eyes she looked ready for action, but Ahava Vairocana had insisted that she was dealing with wounds that stretched below the surface. He was still bewildered by the vast knowledge of these clan cats. If you got a wound you couldn’t see back in the city, you were certain to die from it.

He tsked at her suggestion. “We still have to finish our little competition. Or have you conceded?” His whiskers twitched sardonically. “If you have, please repeat after me. ‘I Snakeshiver admit Hyenaprowl is faster than me, a better hunter, and from here on out, the new King of the Forest.” His amber gaze flickered with levity, but the idea of Snakeshiver surrendering to the Elder’s den played to the darkest of his worries.

[ Sorry for the late reply, I've had a busy weekend! ]

He’d done this a dozen times before but still felt uncertain as he placed his paws on the she-cat’s thigh. “Like this?” He applied light pressure, stretching her leg further. He liked to tease her from time to time, just to gauge her morale. As long as Snakeshiver’s steely pride was intact, he knew she was doing ok.

Hyenaprowl gave a satisfied grunt as Snakeshiver's worked the last of the stiffness out of her leg. He flexed his claws into the earth, almost feeling the pleasing stretch in his own legs. He had no expectation for her to actually catch prey with her injury, but going on a walk would do her (and him too, for that matter) some good. He nodded silently at her prompt and led the way out of camp.

The rumble of her purr came as a surprise to him. His ears swiveled, and his angular head with them, to give the she-cat a searching stare. He was aware of his own growing feelings towards her, badly obscured by his impassive grunts and ribbing teases. But he had no sense of whether or not she was reciprocating — partly because her steely demeanor was hard to read, and partly because he just hadn’t spent enough time around other felines to understand their moods.

He felt an unusual softness when he was with her. He felt vulnerable and exposed — it inspired the image of his mother’s imperceptible face in his mind, and the sensation of bathing in her scent again. The feeling was scary, only because he felt it could be snatched away at any moment. But it was also comforting.

Despite the heat of emotion boiling within him, Hyenaprowl was still ‘bad with words’ after all. He looked away to respond, “No problem. I like... it’s fine.” His face flushed.

Hyenaprowl followed after her quickening pace, relieved the flustering moment was over, and even more relieved to see her moving almost effortlessly. He had to pick up his own gait to keep up with her, the trees whirring past and wild grasses grasping at his long legs as he sped past. He stopped when she did, just a pace away. “Neither can I,” he rumbled behind her, the lived knowledge of struggle and starvation deepening his tone. “I used to think all you Nightclanners had burrs for brains.” He smiled wryly. “But you’re not all bad.”