Notes

Foxy raced out into the territory. He didn't fully notice his fur being caught on thorns and being torn out. It didn't matter. He couldn't feel anything past his own anger and sadness. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered except for her. But she-- his *mother*-- was gone. He had *hated* finding out that they were kin, but now he *hated* that she wasn't going to be in his life anymore. He wasn't a medicine cat. He wouldn't be able to meet her in StarClan, not until he went there himself. And that wouldn't be for seasons. How would he last that long?
The molly skidded to a halt in front of a towering tree. He craned his neck to look up at the top of it, following its dark trunk all the way to the sky. The gaps in the leaves above let in sunlight all around him, not touching his fur. It was like nature itself was scared to come near him. Leaves that fell around him always whisked themselves away at the last moment, every spot he placed his paw seemed to have no grass or nettles, and even the sky was afraid of what might happen if it made contact with him. And maybe it was right to. He was emotional and reckless. But he wouldn't make the same mistake he had those moons ago, with Widowbite. No, he needed a better way to express himself.
Foxy slid his claws out. He let his gaze travel back down the tree slowly. Then, he spotted the perfect spot. He crouched, then shot forward. His paws clutched the strip of bark, claws digging into it and immediately splintering the wood. He tore at it, tore it off with a satisfying crunch. He tore at another strip, and then another. He didn't stop, didn't let up on the poor tree until it was bare on the side he was on.
With a loud hiss, Foxy turned his attention to the torn off bark. He ripped at it more, tearing into shreds. Each piece he threw to the side once it was too small to keep ripping. His hisses turned to groans as he worked, and his groans turned to yowls. He picked up the last chunk of bark in his teeth and violently shook his head, growling like an angry dog. His bobbed tail flicked back and forth and he pinned his ears flat to his head. Foxy spit out the bark and slumped down, anger dissolving into depressed sobs. His claws gripped the dirt desperately, as if holding himself to the ground.
He flicked his head, causing a few tears to fly off. He couldn't show weakness. He needed to be strong, for his family. With a quick shake of his pelt to flatten it and a few deep breaths, Foxy started to make his way back home.