Unstable

2- (Hawthorn)

The prisoner held the little guard down on the rough dirt floor. His teeth were bared, his filthy red pelt was bristling.
"Let him go!" The other guard hissed, pulling his newly-issued knife out of its sheath.
"You don't know how to use that!" The prisoner cackled, biting down on the little guard's ear.

Hawthorn yowled, trying to calm Thistle. The new prisoner had given him quite a scare. He could see why. They didn't look like much, just a filthy gray cat with really short fur and a few oddly-placed black stripes, but the insanity in those red eyes had been enough to send a shiver down even Hawthorn's spine. He rolled his eyes at Thistle all the same. The timid orange cat had run and hid in a corner like a kit, and refused to come out. His grungy orange pelt, which had brown stripes that only made it look grungier, was pricked up in fear, and his green eyes were clamped shut.Hawthorn frowned and sighed. His partner just hadn't been the same since the day he was attacked by a prisoner... The Crimson cannibal, the other guards had called him... Accurate title.., he thought, brooding. The prisoner had had an unruly and erratically-patterned blood-red pelt and a heavily broken tail. But the most noticeable thing was the insanity that shone in his piercing green eyes, not dissimilar to the way that the new prisoner's red eyes shone. This cannibal's "appetite" was the reason Thistle was missing his ear.

"Thistle, can you come out of the corner please? We have to finish our rounds." He said, trying to get his partner back to work. There was no response.

"THISTLE! COME OUT OF THERE ALREADY!!" He shouted, his anger getting the better of him. Thistle just slunk farther into the corner. Hawthorn hissed and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. He stomped over to Thistle's room, dragging him the whole way, tossed him inside, and blocked the door.

"I'LL LET YOU OUT WHEN YOU'RE READY TO THINK FOR ONCE!" He hissed.

He stormed over to his own room, and slammed the door. His brown-and-white splotched pelt was bristled, and his blue eyes were filled with rage. He turned and slashed his claws at the hardwood door, yowling and hissing with anger. He pulled his knife out of its sheath, gripping it in his mouth. He slashed at the door, the walls, the furniture, adding huge gashes to the already generous supply around his room. He slashed at his shelf, and it snapped in two, crashing to the floor. He hissed and dropped his knife to pick it up. He threw half of the shelf at the wall, causing it to explode into a pile of splinters. He stood there, panting. He had calmed down somewhat. He looked at the remains of his shelf and scowled. Stupid thing only lasted a week this time, he thought, glaring at the stuff he'd had on that shelf, which was now lying in a pile on the floor. I'll have to ask for another one tomorrow...

He picked up his knife and sheathed it, sighing. Perhaps he'd changed since Thistle was attacked too. His room had hardly looked lived in before, he'd kept it so clean. Now it was a train wreck of gashes and dents in the walls and furniture. He dragged a picture frame out from the pile of spilled stuff, pulling out the cracked glass so he could see the photo beneath. He looked at the old, gray photo, frowning. It was a picture he and Thistle had taken together before they had gotten their jobs as prison guards. He looked at Thistle's smiling face, and tears started welling in his eyes. Those days were never coming back... He and Thistle had been friends since childhood, they had done everything together... He had been the quiet, timid one at that point, too, instead of Thistle... Thistle had been absolutely fearless back then. But that was no more. The old them was gone. There was only his rage and Thistle's fear now. Hawthorn put the photo away, not able bear to looking at it any longer.

He padded out of his room slowly, and dragged his blockade away from Thistle's door. "H-hey... Thistle... I... I-I'm sorry..."

"It's okay Hawthorn... I just needed to calm down... I'll be alright." Thistle whispered, although Hawthorn could still hear the fear in his voice.

"Y-you ready to come out?" Hawthorn said, hopeful that everything would be okay.

"N-no... I don't think so... I'll just... stay... in here... for a while..." Thistle whispered, his voice trailing off. Hawthorn frowned and sighed, guiltily. He finished their rounds for the day in gloomy silence, leaving Thistle while he did both of their work. It was a long day, and when he finally finished he was exhausted. He guessed the sun had long set, though he couldn't tell within the dark walls of the prison. But before calling it a day, he made his way to Thistle's room and gently pushed some food inside. Hopefully he would eat it. Then, he finally padded over to his room, and fell asleep the moment he touched his bed.