[Zero]

Cicadapaw
| He/him | ThunderClan Apprentice (38/100) | @Starfall #BugFamily |

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Cicadapaw stood at the edge of the clearing, amber eyes wide as they tracked Spiderthroat’s every limping step. His heart pounded in his chest, a hint of fear, but mostly pulsing with awe. The body of the dead otter, scarred and bloody, was dragged behind him like some gruesome trophy. And Spiderthroat - he looked like he’d crawled straight out of the nightmare himself, blood-painted and waterlogged. He almost didn’t recognize his father. Almost.

Cicadapaw swallowed hard, ears twitching as he watched his battered deputy scale the Stormcrest after dropping the otter's body.

"Feast."

That was all that was said. All that was needed to be said, he guessed. Cicadapaw felt his spine straighten, his claws flexing against the ground. This was victory. They had done it. They'd gotten rid of the otters.

He looked from the otters to the other battered warriors in the returning patrol, and then back up at Spiderthroat’s slumped form, his gaze more worried than relieved. He couldn't tell where his father was hurt, what blood was his or the otter's, which wounds were from the first fight and which were new.

The young tom gave an aggravated lash of his tail. "You’re going to Treetiger. Or Sparrowpelt. Right now. Even if I have to drag you like you dragged that otter." There would be no celebrating for Cicadapaw until Spiderthroat was good, until he was cleaned up and his wounds fully tended to.

The apprentice climbed to Spiderthroat's side, ready to make good on that threat if his father refused. Cicadapaw had been patient; now he was just plain tired.