sensitive topics ˙ ˖ ✶ too bold and bright a thing ┊ death.

[hazecloud]

They had traveled for so long, so far. Paws had met the grounds of soil and rock that had never been crossed before. Met the scents of air no one else here had done before. Seen different rivers, different forests, different fields. Sights that would be burned across her memories, sights she would share with her kits and all that came after. Stories of peril and triumph would echo in the quiet of the elders den and a white-capped muzzle incited pride and bravery in little minds.

StarClan must have truly blessed their path. For so many to make it through this long. Injuries were minimal, and thankfully Magpiepaw had been so helpful in those moments.

A paw tentatively reached a cobweb coated muzzle before quickly flinching away. It did not hurt to touch, the aching simmered only beneath poultices and dry webs, but it still shocked her. She could still feel the clutch of talons on her face, around her leg and her haunches. Such force held within its grasp. Hazecloud didn't want to see a creature with feathers for the rest of this trip.

A shriek broke her away, chillingly similar to what she had went through only a few sunrises before. She felt her heart sink as she initially ducked her head down, gaze frantically tearing across the sky in search for the beast- had it come back for her?

She would find to wish it had. It all happened quickly with little time to react. Cherrypaw was lifted off the ground and Little Wolf, bestowing the bravery of a Clans worth, sacrificed herself to save the apprentice's life.

Hazecloud did not get any closer, standing a few tail-lengths behind them. Death made her queasy, the entire ordeal was... unreal to watch. Mouseflight kept her head above the water. The scent of Little Wolf's blood would surely attract unwanted dangers beyond what lurked in the sky.

"If someone wishes to help we could have her buried by nightfall." Somewhere hidden and quiet, in view of the stars light.​

 

[GREENEYES]

Greeneyes remembers something, as the night sky turns into something gruesome before his eyes. As their tragedy-less journey moves closer in claiming a kill its so fervently sought after, as screams fill the air. He remembers, as he realizes someone is missing - flame-shaded snow nowhere to be found among their group - as his own shout is choked out, paws racing forward.

We’ll keep an eye on her, he had told Falconpaw, a shared worry for the youngest among SkyClan’s journey-goers. We’ll keep an eye on her. He should’ve been keeping an eye on her, should’ve double-checked that Cherrypaw was still with them, shouldn’t he? Though she had Slate and Orangeblossom, though she had her mentor and her mother, Greeneyes should’ve held more responsibility for his clanmates, should’ve kept his word to Falconpaw better than he had.

“Cherrypaw!” Paws slam against the cold, rocky terrain as he moves to meet the scene, as he fears the worst is upon him.

I’m sorry, he fears he’ll have to tell Falconpaw upon their return, a promise broken again, as avian talons seek to dig into tortoiseshell fur, seek to carry his clanmate off - to places unknown to Greeneyes, lost to the journey they’ve survived this far. He doesn’t realize until it’s too late that he won’t have to apologize to his apprentice - won’t have to apologize to his clan for Cherrypaw’s demise.

But to Fireflypaw, and Howlfire too, as dark fur lays at the center of the scene. A face he had met as a child, one who once frequented the pine forest with her kits - with Greeneyes’ best friend - now crimson-marred before him, as Cherrypaw is freed from her attacker, as she seeks solace in Figfeather. He wishes he had even an ounce of Fireflypaw’s knowledge, then, wishes he knew what herb would cure such harsh wounds now - which one would cure the grief later.

“L-Little Wolf..?” he finds himself croaking out, paws shuffling to step closer to the scene with tear-blurred eyes. This can’t be happening, this… this can’t. None of this - none of this should’ve happened.

Somewhere among the ringing in his ears, he can hear Magpiepaw’s words, can hear the ShadowClan healer’s prayers to the stars, and knows, despite how desperately he wants to deny it - what’s about to happen. Greeneyes is to watch another familiar face die to day. No matter which way this would’ve gone, this would’ve always been the outcome.

They’re so far from home - Greeneyes doesn’t think he could point it out from here, could he see the path they took. Could StarClan even see them from here? Could they hear their cries, feel their mourning, as they come to gather around the ThunderClan warrior - a life so intertwined in the journey, in the clans back home? Noble and brave, even before this sacrifice, she deserves to be among the stars in death.

Again, he finds himself thinking of Fireflypaw, of dreams void of his mother, all due to a death too far from home. He finds himself thinking of Howlfire, of her kits, of Little Wolf never being able to watch over them. He thinks of Burnstorm and Moonwhisper, of Morningpaw too, of a reunion in the forest never made, of one in the stars never made either.

StarClan has to hear them now, for her children’s sake at least.

Hot tears stream down his face as he observes the scene, as ThunderClan’s group says their goodbyes, as her final breaths are taken. A name sits in her last words, a call for a cat Greeneyes does not know. Had the stars been listening after all?

And then, she is gone. Greeneyes shifts, turns to look away as a cry threatens to wrack his form. Unknown territory becomes further uncharted, as their party loses a member.

They need to move her body, Mouseflight says. They need to keep moving. How can they? He briefly wonders, but knows they've got no choice. Hazecloud follows, words from the RiverClanner opening an opportunity to aid. Greeneyes sniffles, ginger ears bobbing as he nods his head.

“Let me… Let me know what to do,” he says. It’s the least he can do now, he thinks, to help bury his friends’ mother while they aren't here to do so.

✦ ABOUT

• 
  

  
  
  GREENKIT ‣ GREENPAW ‣ GREENEYES, Warrior of SkyClan
  — Daisyflight x Raven Ramble
  — AMAB; He/Him
  — A red tabby and white tom with bright green eyes.
  — Mentored by Sheepcurl; Currently mentoring Falconpaw
  — "Speech"; Attack
  
  ✦･ﾟ: * — Among SkyClan's first born, Greeneyes is a bright tom with an affinity for the world around him. Despite always seeking to be kind to others, the warrior believes he's cursed - a belief brought on by rhetoric that green is a deadly color.

​

 

[LUCKYPAW]

┌─────────────────── ☽【❖】☾ ───────────────────┐​

There's nothing particularly unordinary about this day, if you could call any day so far from home ordinary, snowdrifts slowing their progress just as much as the life-saving discovery had spurred them on. With stalks cradled oh-so gently between his teeth, Luckypaw mingles, and even if he were to find himself amongst his fellow WindClanners, it feels as though there is no great divide between them all anymore, not as much as there had been initially; mostly united for once, in their desire to return home as swiftly as possible, there's been precious few moments on this journey that have left him feeling this light inside. It's all so simple from here, he thinks - just turning back, retracing their steps. Anything they had to face - well, they'd already braved it once before, weathered enough storms that he feels sure they can make it through a few more. So long as they're not trapped belowground again, accosted on all sides by the earth itself...

It's a uniquely calming feeling, he thinks, brushing against @SCORCHPAW as if to share some of the warmth that's so fleeting, when everything seems to be going just right; it's an even more unique feeling when things suddenly go crashing down, yowls of warning splitting the air and freezing his blood more than any snowstorm ever could. Having Scorchpaw by his side is the only thing that keeps him from erupting in a full panic, memories of their separation during the rockslide arising unbidden, and it's made worse by a ripple in the crowd, cats breaking away and scattering to the winds - all in a single direction, though it's hardly a detail to be focused on in a situation like this. There are voices, voices ringing out, and through their alarm he registers no shout of warning about some crumbling peak; they're not even closed in by cliffs, not like last time, and -

And - panic runs rampant, but it's not for them, not for the crowd. Something else has happened, something away from them, and he feels his heart sting with equal measures of relief and fear of what's to come. They'd already had trouble along the way, creatures greater than anything back at home plaguing them, making as if to carry off a cat in one fell swoop, though he can already picture all kinds of other troubles, troubles that could have befallen anyone flagging away from the throng. Again, he's glad Scorchpaw is close by, close enough that he knows nothing's happened to her; selfish, he knows, since something has happened, happened to somebody else, and that finally thaws his ice-coat, draws life back into his limbs. It could be anyone - anyone but the few he'd just been listening to, the few around him, and suddenly he could hardly recall what they'd just been doing. He's moving, following the crowd as if there's nothing else in the world to do, and - where's Scorchstreak? Had she been at his side, too?

The crowning horror he feels is nothing but a pale shade compared to the sight that greets him - Little Wolf, a ThunderClanner, strewn out in the snow, dark body awkwardly positioned against the bright of the snow, and the smell of blood, and the stark contrast of black on white on red on white and -

This is bad, his mind supplies, and his mind is spinning so fast he can't think of anything else, no more complex of a thought. This is bad. Far from the first to arrive, Luckypaw only catches a glimpse before he's falling back into the crowd, falling back into the snow, but a glimpse is all he needs. What had happened? What had wounded the ThunderClanner so terribly, leaving her broken and bloody? And Cherrypaw, too, bears ugly gashes across her, oddly reminiscent of the scores left along Bobbie's neck - whether his suspicions are confirmed or not is the least of his worries right now, though, hollow gaze staring at the back of somebody's neck, the view of the unfolding scene blocked from him. This...this can't be happening, this can't be real; no dream has felt this vivid, no dream starring cats he hardly knows, and yet -

It creeps in slowly, at first, dawning horror at the situation (at what they're saying, StarClan, at what they're saying to her) clouding over his mind, but as Little Wolf breathes for the last time, it hits him all at once. All this, everything they've done together? Every trial they've shared, every burden spread out? All this, and he hardly knows them - had hardly known Little Wolf herself at all, hardly knows Hailstorm and the other ThunderClanners leaking grief, hardly knows any of the other Clans aside from their names, perhaps a few exchanged pleasantries. Even the ones that had helped him, like Duskpool, are still hardly more than a mystery - even when the Clans' scents are hardly distinctive anymore, no borders to be found aside from self-imposed ones. Little Wolf had shared stories with them, had fought and fought and fought beside them, but - that hardly matters anymore, does it? All that fighting, and for what? There's one less among them, now, no matter how surreal it feels, and he knows they're worse off for her loss.

Still dumbfounded, talk of moving her, of burying her, floods his ears, and it feels intensely wrong, that they should have to leave her up here alone. StarClan, this isn't fair - none of this had been fair, nothing since even before they'd left, but this? This wasn't right. The thought of shifting her cooling body, of digging through the snow with the dirt far beneath their paws, is sickening, and yet it's what must be done, isn't it?

Had it always been this cold, he wonders? Since they'd broached the mountains, it felt like Luckypaw hadn't felt true warmth in ages, but he can't quite remember shivering and shaking this badly from the cold alone, not even in the dead of night. His legs tremble, his paws tremble - everything trembles, and suddenly the lungwort they'd toiled to find doesn't seem so uplifting, not if this is the trade for it.​

i'm falling into place, but still the timing's not right (☘) yeah that's a fire i just can't seem to light

• OOC: --​
• 
• 
  - Luckykit Luckypaw
  - He/him (AFAB)
  - 6 moons (Ages on the 1st)
  - Kit Apprentice of WindClan
  - Small blue tortoiseshell with white spotting & green eyes
  - Art by myself & meghan respectively! <33
  - Minor powerplay allowed!
  - Penned by Hijinks​

 

[STORMYWING]

☁︎

Stormywing hadn't been nearby - she had been a little ways ahead, scouting and hunting what she could but the shouts quickly drew her attention before she could find anything of value. She had hurried as quickly as her paws could carry her through the snow as her journey-mates rush up a slope. "Wait up! Guys!" She calls to them, clueless about the tragedy that has befallen.

When she finally reaches them, she is panting and shouldering her way curiously through the crowd. "What's going on? What-" She freezes. A slumped ebony form stands out starkly against blood-stained snow. Hailstorm and Lakemoon and Flamewhisker crouch over the body, soft sobs heard from many of her surrounding companions. Her legs seem to lock up as the icy realization hits her. It's Little Wolf. A shaky breath leaves the young warrior as she staggers backwards in disbelief, horror painting her features. She's already dead. "No....no, no, no." Her rump sinks to the ground as her eyes already overflow with salty tears.

They'd known this journey would be dangerous. They'd been told countless times, and had faced peril countless more. But every time, they'd come out on top, another obstacle cleared by their teamwork and drive. Stormywing had grown arrogant to think they'd all become invincible. "No one was s-supposed to die," She cries softly, ears pinned and face distorted in grief. Not anyone, but especially not her clanmate. Fernpaw is right - she was too good to leave them all behind. It isn't fair.

I WANNA TASTE LOVE AND PAIN ☁︎​

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[batwing]

.i'll be your calm, —————————

————————— before the storm!.

▵ ———————— ◮ ———————— ▵

Batwing wanted to snap at any cat that dare get too close. Ones that he judged worthy and unworthy- selfish ones, who wanted to mourn a cat they no longer lived with, or knew. His teeth pressed against his bottom lip, anger bubbling like viscous viscera, digging it's talons into his heart. His silent mourning was over- Hailstorm would carry that torch well enough for the both of them. He inhaled sharply, pushing to his paws. Green eyes swept across the crowd, and he took a step back. The red just barely touched his paws.

Quietly, his vision touched Mouseflight, then Hazecloud. He lingered there for a long moment, grief crossing his face before he presented with another mask of his own. Flamewhisker was overwhelmed with grief, and Nightbird looked akin to checking out. But if he knew anything, he knew that she'd be ready to help as well. His eyes dropped away from Hazecloud, turning towards Magpiepaw. His anger simmered, and the cooler exterior he wore when he was serious took over. He spoke so his voice carried, but with enough tenderness to not spook any grieving cat. "We should have her buried." He agreed softly.

They couldn't take her body back with them. It was too far, and no cat was equipped to drag a dead body around. How callous was he to refer to her body as such? "It's getting dark. We should make camp nearby, and have a small vigil. It's the least we could do." His final words cracked. His vision shifted back towards Hailstorm, lingering for a long moment. He let his eyes rest there while he recollected himself. Finally, he turned back towards Hazecloud with a solid nod. "Let's get to it."

"speech"​

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