//Blood\\ in the Night [OPEN]

[Blood]

>> It had been roughly a week since the tom made his reappearance from the dead. He had appeared suddenly, without warning. He hadn't wanted to return to NightClan, not what happened after the raid that took the life of his own mate and close friends. It had been his fault his mate died; he'd been too caught up in the glory of striking down yet another rogue that had tried to kill him and his beloved. But he did because his consicous wouldn't let him rest until he did so. The reappearance of the well-known Bloodclaw had been a shocker and it still was in the clan. The Bengal tom had really come back to make amends with his beloved daughter, Nightrunner, but she had convinced him to stay. He had told her that the clan would not accept him with open arms, that it would take him a while to regain his title as one of the clan's best. And he was right. The warriors found it hard to look at him. He had been gone a nearly three moons, thought dead, and suddenly he reappears as though nothing happened? Bloodclaw found it still incredibly hard to make it through each day, the stares everyone sent him still hit home and reminded him of his abandonment of his clan. They still found it hard to believe he was finally back, that Bloodclaw, the cat holding the title of fastest and tallest cat in all four clans, was alive and had returned.

>> Bloodclaw shoved the thoughts aside as he limped up to the river. His moonsilver coat shined like stardust under the moon, his black Bengal spots like dark blood spots on his body. He was still as long and lanky as ever, but now the past three moons had taken their hold on him. His ribs, spine, and hip bones showed painfully through his skin, gliding under a rugged, unkempt pelt. His scars were painful, as was the heavy limp originating from the crooked, weak looking right foreleg. The black streak markings that whisked from his eyes's far corner to his cheek and the black tear markings known as 'Cheetah Tears,' seemed oddly dull and lifeless tonight. His sharp, cold eyes were normally yellow, but tonight, as with every time he stepped into shadow, they shined a dull, blood red, almost giving the scars on his face a bloody look to them. His silver claws, like always, were unsheathed, his secret weapons in his blinding speed, for they were like cleets. His eyes were cold and calculating like always. He was the mysterious lone wolf, and after the loss of his mate, he once more found himself hidden behind the thick walls of his inner shell. Bloodclaw stopped at the river's bank, listening to the whisper of the wind in the trees. When he had last been here, this had been a great, raging river, swollen from recent rains, but now it was a shadow of its former self. He sighed heavily, and limped down to the river's edge, bending to slowly lap at the water. His leg was paining him greatly tonight and his temper and patience was running short. He had spent nearly two moons under the twolegs' care while he adjusted to the metal plate in his leg. Even now, the tom was still adjusting. His fascinating speed was still there, though only Nightrunner, who had been the only one closest to rivalling his speed, could note he was slower than normal.