Briarstep - Thunderclan Deputy
Branches rattled violently, whipped by leaf-bare winds as Briarstep ducked into the warrior's den. It was late morning, but the darkened skies provided little light within the warrior's den. "Elmstrike," Briarstep called for his brother. "Err, I'll be needing your aid. A warrior twisted a paw, and I'm one short for the evening patrol. If you haven't yet, grab a bite to eat. There's a few small prey left from the dawn hunt." Briarstep was ragged, looking as tired as he felt. Hawkstar was indisposed, and he was handling all camp duties while his leader rested. The hairless scar on his shoulder from Hawkstar's strike a moon ago ached from the cold. He felt strange. The whole clan felt strange -- still haunted by the unsettling events of the past moons. Knowing that evil spirits walked among the clans, looking for vengeance through possession, left everyone feeling a little wary.
His eyes adjusted to the dimness of the den, and he saw his brother's scrutinizing amber gaze. It was a familiar look, tinged with disdain. He held no warm feelings for his brother either. He discovered the tom was his brother, from the same litter, after Hollystar resolved to confess her relationship with Dawnpelt. Elmstrike lived his kithood within the clan. He had the life Briarstep wanted, and the tom couldn't help but feel some envy. He doubted Hollystar was a good mother, but she was there.
"I hope that won't be a problem?" he mewed tersely. Speaking from a position of authority felt strange, especially to his brother. He wanted out of here, away from Elmstrike. His familial matters would need to be addressed someday. But, the tom was stretched thin.
The long russet tom had been in the middle of a pleasant dream, chasing a plump mouse through the forest, when he had been woken up by his brother asking him to join a patrol. Elmtrike grunted as he pushed himself to his paws, staring down Briarstep silently as if holding back his tongue. The deputy looked exhausted, but Elmstrike made no note as he snorted and stretched in preparation to leave his nest, letting out a purposefully loud yawn. "Oh yes, mighty deputy. No problem at all." The warrior mumbled, tail flicking from side to side, slightly annoyed that out of everyone, he was chosen. Unlike Briarstep, he had known the identity of their mother and father since kithood and had been left to deal with the clan gossip and scrutiny by himself. What a sheltered life you've lived. You've never had to see the look of disappointment on your own mother's face. Pushing past the tom, Elmstrike headed towards the fresh-kill pile and grabbed himself a mouse, not as big as the one from his dream, but it would do for now. Silently, he ate his meal in the presence of his brother, the awkward tension making his fur prickle with discomfort. Eating at a quick pace to move on from the silence, Elmstrike eventually pushed himself up and glanced at Briarstep, one brow raised. "Lead the way." He motioned for the camp exit, hoping the patrol could end quickly so the two could go back to avoiding each other like always.