[nyme]

HE'S GOT A TEMPERATURE OF NEGATIVE DEGREES AGAIN

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✪ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

PEACHPAW . 10 MOONS . HE/HIM . THUNDERCLAN

So, things had been bad—awful—for a time. For the longest time, it felt like. The ragged state of that first patrol back. The waiting. More waiting. Screaming from Wolfhawk and Hollowpaw's den. That den becoming Treetiger and Hollowpaw's.

The otters.

The feast.

And now this. So it doesn't feel right to say that things are bad anymore, not when the enemy's been slain and their leader walks among them again, but it...this...It's not bad. Can't be. But Peachpaw's never seen a good day look like this one and he's really not sure that he ever will, again. Whatever Bumblestar has planned for Wolfpaw will surely be worse than what Spiderthroat had done to him, and Peachpaw can't imagine anything worse than that.

Will she just kill him? He couldn't blame her if she did. He's sure few cats could. Let the punishment fit the crime, and all. Cold blue eyes flick toward his clanmates. Not a peep out of anyone so far. Wide eyes pointing at the horror show. What is there to say? Would it be gauche to sneak a wager under his breath to somebody? Place bets on whether Wolfpaw will try to run? It's what Peachpaw would do, were he somehow in the disgraced cat's position. Maybe there's some noble, hard-earned way out of this mess and toward redemption, but there's also a clear path toward the exit and the odds are one three-legged cat versus someone who looks like she's still actively rising from the grave (provided nobody tried to follow the pair, which...seems unlikely).

Ultimately, he decides against it. But he also decides against taking any more bites of otter meat. Better things to focus on at the moment.