sensitive topics 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ╱ 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

[SUNSTAR]

[ all blurred content contains descriptive gore and major physical injury ]​

The taste of freedom is a lure greater than any other he might imagine. Sunstar is not so hare-lean as the rest of his clanmates, but he longs to run the moors once more. To take flight across golden grass and through the tangling of gorse and heather; to feel the wind for which their clan is named.

But this fire is strong, and its smoke chokes out all remnants of home. The patrol he leads walks a slow path, low to the ground near roaring flames. The way that they face leaves one side of his body warm as the sun-warmed pool, uncomfortable and tacky. He feels that if they got any closer, it might catch a singe. He guides them carefully away. Do his warriors know more about what this is like? He comes from the mountain. A dangerous place, yes, but only in its own way. He did not worry of these meddling twolegs and their pet flames, which they shadowed the way they did their leashed hounds. Some pass by in observation as WindClan hides from their sight. A few others cluster some distance behind this blazing orange wall and mew amongst themselves like wayward kittens.

Sunstar does not even bother to tell his patrol to quiet. Even Pinkpaw, who he once might have worried about, has seen enough of these strange creatures that she must understand by now. Silence is necessary. They cannot be caught by the ones that destroy their home so carelessly. What would they do? Haul them through the flames? Throw them to their monsters the way they would a kittypet? He had heard tales of SkyClan's escape from the shelter. Those that they had lost behind the wall of twoleg dens. But the longer they walk, the less frequent the sight of them becomes. Along the far border of their land, where the flames begin to peter out untended, with the gorge-water roaring nearby, they are nearly alone again.

He dares to speak, softly, "The river's sound nearly drowns the flames." Briefly, their territory is normal again. Briefly, the cool breeze across his face is enough to offset the heat.

And just briefly, it drowns out the sound of hot, heavy breaths, and paws drumming across the moor.

The beast that parts the flames with a yelp smells of ash, and looks like something from a feverish nightmare. Tall and lanky, looming above Sunstar, whose neck cranes up and fur begins to bristle. Heavy breaths bare ribs that rattle like a snake's tail and reverberate up its spine until the growl is louder than the gorge. It takes a tentative step forward, met with the leader's own backwards. Hissing and growling in tandem, nearly a dance. It lasts a handful of seconds but stretches on to an eternity — the wind gusts across withering grass and carries with it the scent of ash, and something sulfuric. Orange flames dart from the wall that touches the mutt's heels and up along its tail.

It lurches forward. "Back up," Sunstar snaps, urging his patrol to retreat.

A wall-eyed brown gaze, ringed with white like the eclipse, like the snow, draws attention before white fangs. And then neither are fully visible. Blood sprays the withered grass and the creature's muzzle and pearly white fangs, terrified eyes. It closes them against the warm wetness but doesn't let go, even as the flames start to burn an acrid stench from its limbs — the fire dances higher. Once it might have yipped. Instead, there is a pop! and a crunch, and whatever desperate, animal sound that Sunstar cannot contain.

His claws don't even make contact before it lifts its head, and and bites down harder to the leader's helpless pain, and swings its great, bloodied head. A golden pelt is sent through the flames, blood an arc through the air where it seems to linger for a moment, and Sunstar, uncomprehending– watches. Wide, glazed blue eyes trace its source to the dog's head. To the stump that remains in its maw, the gruesome red of roadkill and the burning sun and the fire that he is thrown through now.

The world is hazy and distant by the time that he lands, and the patrol is left with the remnants of who had once been there. A dog, slavering, wall-eyed; the flames, creeping closer around them; and the realization that they were now what stood between this creature and its irrational drive to survive.

⋆ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃  ╱╱ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝗕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 〚 02.11.2024 〛 𖤓ᨒ

• OOC. @SCORCHSTREAK @PINKPAW @gracklestep @Firefang
  
  

  Uh oh. . . looks like WindClan triggered a boss battle cutscene, and didn't stock up on potions beforehand! Sun's body has been flung past the wall of flames, and now the great beast stands with panicked eyes and slavering jaws between this patrol and the raging fire behind it.

• 

  SUNSTAR. LEADER OF WINDCLAN.  ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS, AMAB ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD.

  NPC x NPC, GONE. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING RIVEPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ A LARGE, SCARRED CHOCOLATE AND WHITE ROSETTE TABBY TOM WITH SEAGLASS BLUE EYES AND A PERSISTENT THOUGHTFUL YET WARY EXPRESSION

• "speech"

​

 

[Firefang]

Her lungs ache and her strides aren't as swift as they normally are, every movement she makes is cautious and she stifles raspy breaths between gritted teeth. Her other clanmates wouldn't be fairing any better, the smoke was thick and heavy filling their lungs with it's plague it threatens to drown them but Firefang's head isn't one that can be pushed under. She sticks closer to the fire her body shielding that of Pinkpaw's she doesn't like the idea of the apprentice being to close, as if like a fly to a zapper she'd be distracted by it's beauty only to be swallowed up by it. Keeping track of it's ferocity was important and they aren't the only creatures flanking it, the twolegs trail it unafraid of it's lashing heat while they duck and weave to avoid it's anger. It's crackle is all she hears mixed with the breaths of those close to her, they move quickly and silently there are no barbs that hiss off her tongue, she's morose and silent all she can stare out at is the flames.

The gorge's roar does indeed compete with the crackle and thrum of burning foliage but it does not water down the stench of smoke, she hadn't been able to get a whiff of anything lately the only other thing she could pick up was the taste of death in the air. She is unaware that death itself is looming closer, that the fire held a hidden danger there is little time to react, nothing they can do but feel their hearts pound in their chest when a mongrel emerges from the flames. It's coming at Sunstar, shining teeth glowing in the firelight, there's a unmistakable glazed look of frenzied terror in it's eyes. It smells of singed fur and burnt flesh, it's acrid and makes her gag her claws unsheathe and she's about to move - disobeying his command to get back but she doesn't get the chance to come to his protection. Fresh blood is spraying - she can hear a disgusting crunch of sinews and thin muscle destroyed betwixt the jaws of a rabid beast, he is no king hanging at it's mercy screaming to the stars that shan't protect him. She's moving flinging herself forward a terrified frenzied yowl screaming out of achey lungs "SUNSTAR!"

He's thrown like he's nothing like he wasn't gifted power and lives by their ancestors, like he wasn't the man who inspired a revolution. Wasn't the knight who slayed a suffering dragon. There is so much blood, how many lives would he lose over and over as the fire swallowed him whole - gluttonous as it was. Their strife doesn't matter, there would be nothing good to come of a wretched fate like that. Destiny had chosen him for a reason! If he died the everything was for naught. She wants to throw herself at the hound, to drag it into the depths of hellfire it came sprinting out of but time was ticking by and the fire was crawling closer. She has so little time to make a decision, she dives forward running beneath its legs, briefly slashing her claws upwards at it's hindlegs as she tries to speed past. "GET OUT OF IT'S WAY! RUN!" she screams behind her shoulder, unsure if she can even be heard. She leaves the patrol to deal with the hound praying they'd flee.

She runs to the fire, runs to where the cinders land on her ashen pelt like hellish raindrops - she follows a blood trail to the battered body of Sunstar. She finds him and she curses him for not being thin and small for not being like his predecessor. She ducks down sharp fangs digging into the toms scruff as she tries to back up and drag him forcibly, it's unbearably hot she feels the natural urge to flee to get away from this danger but she's not leaving him to die all his deaths. "Get up damnit!" she hisses through a mouth of fur, her eyes are watering pain is lancing through her body where cinders rest for too long. She doesn't want to feel the licks of stronger flames, they need to get out. "please"

---

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  text
  

• "speech"

• 

  Firefang ✩ She/Her, Warrior of Windclan, 22 moons
  ⭃ Black tabby she-cat with amber eyes. former-loyalist of Sootstar, Moorunner.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots. ​

​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

༄༄ The flames may as well sear her hide, for how close the patrol creeps to its wrath. The destruction of their territory seems not only to be ignored, but perhaps caused by the twolegs who linger at each scorched border. They seem to follow the fire’s dancing movements across the moorland, and though Scorchstreak does not understand why, she understands clearly that it is unnatural. Wildfires are not like this. She has lived on the moorland for quite some time, but never in her life has she seen such a fire. Fires on the prairie are raging, roaring things that begin at one point and spread outward—this line of fire seems intentionally placed. She thought they had done the right thing, that StarClan had forgiven them, but have their starbound clanmates truly forsaken their clan? Or is it simply that something else has placed the fire, and StarClan can do nothing to halt it?

The patrol trails toward the gorge, where a breeze grants a breath of fresh air, a brief reprieve from smoke and soot. "I think this is the only time I’ve been grateful for that sound," she mutters in response to Sunstar’s comment, casting her gaze to the gorge. If only the water itself could drown the fire in the same way that its sound makes the flames unheard.

Unfortunately, the rushing of water does not drown out only the hissing of flame. Through the fire comes a face like a demon, something singed and looking straight from a nightmare. Its attention falls squarely upon the rosetted leader—and before his order to back up lands, the beast is upon him. "SUNSTAR!" Her voice is lost in the ensuing chaos, in the snarling and snapping of teeth and the crackling of fire. So, too, is the form of Sunstar. Through fire and smoke, too close now, she cannot make out where the leader has been tossed to. But what she can make out… it’s enough to put a crack in the lead warrior’s carefully crafted mask of stoicism.

In the great scorched beast’s jaws is something familiar. Something golden and brown, touched with the light of the sun itself. But here in this hell, the sun itself seems snuffed out just as it had been days ago. Had it been a warning—an omen? Is Sunstar…

No, she reasons. He has nine lives. He cannot be dead yet. This is, as far as she knows, the first life-ending event that Sunstar has met. He can survive, if the smoke and fire does not kill him again (and again, and again). The reflections of flame dance in rounded golden eyes; she cannot see a way to reach the leader without risking a repeat of his own circumstances. The calico looks around to the others around her. Firefang, Pinkpaw, Gracklestep. They could all be lost so easily. They do not have the leader’s shield of eight extra lives. "He’ll—he’ll be fine, we’ll come back for him!" The words that fall from her mouth are stuttered in a way that does not often occur, panic setting golden eyes alight.

"Get away—run!" They cannot die here. As she turns, she does not see Firefang any longer, but she attempts to urge Pinkpaw away with a nudge of her shoulder. They cannot lead the slobbering, bloodstained hound back to camp, but they cannot remain here, either.​

​

 

[gracklestep]

˚₊⋅───────── /ᐠ - ˕ -マ ─────────⋅ ˚₊

The tides of howling flames rise so high above them it is no small wonder they are not considered canyon walls themselves... The heat far more blistering than any miserably hot green-leaf day and far more deadly. Spindly limbs that grant a normally imposing, leggy silhouette are now bound to hunkered, jutting positions that tell of threat and caution. What freedom that had been promised in heather-freckled moors quickly snuffed out in the blustering whorl of inferno.

He'd seen first hand the jagged, wretched scars that had been gouged into the plains by impossibly large Twoleg beasts... Had hummed in nervous speculation with his patrol-mates as to what their greater purpose was. This wasn't some annual behavior of theirs, no semi-typical ritual that could be explained away with wisdom; understanding eludes them and now, traps them.

At the very least, they can be grateful that their access to the tumbling rapids is not completely lost... Even if RiverClan were not their most friendly choice of neighbor. It'd be heinous... maliciously cruel to deny them a drink and without thinking, Gracklestep licks his lips in thoughtless recollection of his burning thirst. The ambiance here is far less intimidating... imitating a safety they'd soon find to be falsehood.

The company they keep this day is not a foe to be reasoned with, they cannot appeal to the nature of survival to a monster such as this. It is a lumbering thing... haggard and whale-eyed as it sizes up its opponents. For once... he comes up blank on a means to soften the tension-tight air, his tongue as dry as the scorched earth they barely remain separate from.

Their rosetted leader is a reassurance, someone reliable. He is built with a musculature that suggests more strength than the lithe shadow that accompanies him... And with that in mind, he doesn't think to fear this situation. He trusts the capability of someone who had overthrown a blighted star. Assumes that StarClan would have learned from their mistake, would put their faith in a shining beacon rather than a dark anchor.

Then it rains...

But it smells tangy, of mineral... feels warm.... Does not douse the torrent, only seems to feed its selfish hunger.

He blinks and Firefang has already shot off into the blaze, as if her namesake might be some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy of protection and success. The inky tom doesn't recognize that he's been left gawking... as if too stunned by the absurdity of the moment to register it as reality. It isn't until Scorchstreak starts telling them to leave that he remembers his paws.

"I'll lead it away," (Why did I say that?) Bewildered by the betrayal of his own mouth, Gracklestep turns to stare down the dog with a healthy level of fear. If he could just drag it away... everyone else stood a good chance and he was fast right? That was his whole job.. it was in the name... He could make for the brush, try to hide in it... or search for a collapsed tunnel to cower at the back of until it got bored. He had options... right?

The fur along his spine bristles like a row of thorns and with a menacing hiss, claws outstretched to tear at its muzzle that still clings to severed flesh like it is a toy rather than the living thing it really belonged to. He hopes... hopes that's enough to steal its attention from the others that hare off like panicked rabbits into the flames looking for safety... and with a small, shaky exhale, rushing past the canine in hopes of leading it back through the wall of flames.​

 

[PINKSHINE]

She had known as soon as she saw it that it was dangerous, even if she hadn't realized just how much. It flickered and burned... It was fire, apparently, and it was really close to being pretty — but it made her pelt prickle just a little too much for her to fully call it that. She listened to what the older cats had said. She'd listened hard, but she still hadn't imagined that the same fire that had her worrying for the horseplace cats now had her worrying for all of WindClan. The fire moved; it grew, she's learned. It gobbled up their grass, leaving behind an ash - grey that reminded her of Sootstar's scowl. She thought most things that ate grass were big and friendly, like the animals at horseplace... but the first was proving her wrong.

She was being the bravest she could be today, for Sunstar and Scorchstreak. Brave enough not to squeal and run back home the second she felt heat on her pelt. She's thankful for the moor - runners being there to keep most of it off of her. Even mean Firefang. When she feels too close to the fire, she feels like it might leap out and grab her, drag her into the heat she so desperately wanted to avoid. She'd like to close her eyes— but up here, there were no walls to feel with her whiskers instead. She focuses on other things... nicer things... Like what she'd do when she's back home. When Sunstar speaks, she listens. She nods along.

And then she knows she's doing the right thing, cause she turns and looks at the same time everyone else does. Her ears pin to her head. Her eyes flare wide. It was like — the monster that she thought would get her, if she stayed down there for too long. It seems to hate the fire as much as they do, but...

When Sunstar speaks, she listens. She takes a step backward.

" SUNSTAR! " she shrieks along with the rest of them. Being eaten by a monster isn't what she thought it would be. Something with the power to swallow you in one bite. That had always scared her the most, but it isn't as simple as that. Sunstar doesn't simply disappear to them— he's thrown around, tossed and bloodied, the monster rips and tears, and Pinkpaw is still screaming as Firefang streaks into the fire.

And then she's yelling, " STOP IT! STOP IT! " like the monster what realize what it's doing and go home. When that doesn't work, she looks at Scorchstreak. What are we gonna do? And the answer is... nothing. Nothing?

Pinkpaw balks. "We— we can't leave Sunstride! " she tells her. And she slips back into her old habits, when she was a kit, squeaking the deputy's name that she definitely had to remember, Sunstride! " I don't wanna! " she cries, shaking her head, even though she really did. She hated the fire and she hated the monster and she wanted to go home with everyone! But if they left now, she— she wouldn't be going with everyone.

And she's standing here, about to run away when Gracklestep is running to try and distract the monster. " Maybe w-we can get him while it's distracted? " she mews to Scorchstreak, words tripping over each other " Firefang cant get him by herself! " Firefang might die, she realizes. She might die.

staring at the mirror gotta smile, smile 🌸🌷🦄🦩 don't be late, we got plans!

• 

• 

• 
  ( IT'S TIME TO START A FUCKING RIOT, RIOT! ) PINKPAW: APPRENTICE OF WINDCLAN. DAUGHTER TO BRIGHTSHINE & HEAVY SNOW. SISTER TO HEATHPAW, DOWNYPAW, & FINCHPAW.
  

  SHE / HER; UNOPPOSED TO THE USE OF OTHERS
  CURRENTLY 8 MOONS OLD. AGES EVERY 16TH

  
  Pinkpaw bounces around WindClan without a care in the world! Her emotions are big, and she makes little effort to regulate them, resulting in both her usually cheerful disposition, as well as making her prone to sudden bouts of extreme anger or sadness. Rarely seen without a smile!
  
  HEAVY IC OPINIONS! Pinkpaw is a very irrational and childish character!​

​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

༄༄ The world crashes down around the patrol, billowing smoke burning at her lungs. The land that has supported their clan for so many seasons is dying—and it is intent on taking them all with it, lashing out with smoke and flame, clawing at their pelts like it wants to drag them down with it. The massive beast is not unlike the fire itself, driven by a desire to raze everything in its path, and Gracklestep bravely takes the duty of leading it away from them, from camp. "Be safe," she wishes him, but he is already gone. At her side, Pinkpaw protests loudly—and Scorchstreak understands, she does, but…

She has not needed to be the bad guy with Pinkpaw yet. She has been rather lenient with the younger calico, she thinks. Now, there is no time for sparing Pinkpaw’s feelings. The calico can face Wolfsong, can face the clan as a whole, can say I allowed Sunstar to die so that the rest of us could live. But she cannot face a mother and tell her that she had failed at her most important job as a mentor. She straightens, golden eyes going sharp. Her claws sink into the dirt and then retract, and she gives her apprentice a choice. "There is nothing we can do. Sunstar would not want you to die trying to save him. Stay right here, or get to a tunnel and stay there," she hisses, and then turns to search for one of the two shadowy warriors who make up the rest of the patrol. Gracklestep is in the process of leading the dog away, too bold for his own good, and she cannot see him anywhere. But-

She spots a figure standing over Sunstar’s still form, charcoal-striped and singed with flame. Firefang’s voice cannot be heard over the roaring of fire (or is that the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears?) but it is clear that she is trying to forcibly drag the leader’s larger form away from the pool of blood that has become his temporary resting place. The sight is, in a way, both shocking and entirely unsurprising. It seems the moor runner does possess a sense of loyalty beneath all the porcupine quills she calls a personality. But her efforts are futile, especially with fire ravaging the land around them—and a dog attempting to ravage Gracklestep at this very moment.

"Firefang! Leave him," she calls out to the other she-cat. "That is an order." It feels like betrayal, vile and foul-tasting upon her tongue. She avoids looking directly at the tom as she speaks the words that doom him. Hang in there, please. Don’t let this rip everything from you. Her silent prayer likely does not reach him, wherever he is, but it is worth a try. His clan, his mate, his children need him to come out of this alive, even if not in one piece; already Scorchstreak dreads what she will have to say to them. But it is a lost cause, attempting to pull the leader through fire and smoke now. Until the dog is gone, until the fire has dwindled to embers, there is little they can do except return to camp for now, and prepare a patrol to retrieve their dear leader’s body.​

​

 

[Firefang]

He won't wake up, she can't drag him fast enough - he's going to die. She's going to die. The heat swells around her, it encroaches them she's trapped with the husk of her leader a unmovable weight who carried their fate in his paws moons before he stole the crown of stars. Starclan's favor does not save him - maybe they never had it and they were just hounds fighting over scraps and power they never deserved to swallow. He'd wanted this, had ascended and doomed his predecessor to only walk in nightmares but he'd not wished to suffer - she did not wish for him to suffer. She can hardly think, terror sinks it's claws into her and it doesn't allow for anything but action her entire body is lit up with fear every muscle is tensed and her tail wraps around her ankle. She can't feel the pain that should flare with every cinder and licking flame that burns it's way through her pelt - she's saved from the agony of feeling the brunt of it but there's a lingering agony that can't fully be kept at bay. It feels like her blood is boiling in her veins, she tries so desperately not to breathe but every rasp leaves her choking on smoking air.

She ignores every natural instinct, stubbornly presses on with a impossible task. She's strong hardened from moons of being used as nothing but a battering ram, a grunt in a army of matching faces, she blazed her path since she was a kit she'd always been an inferno one that was impossible to stop. She'd promised to follow Sootstar till her dying gasp - to follow her into the hells and how funny it is that it's not the leader she'd pledged too since before she could do much but toddle she stands with getting licked by the hellfire she'd been too afraid to face moons ago.

The roar of the flame blocks out most of the chaos outside the wall of flames but she faintly hears the beckoning command of Scorchstreak - she doesn't come crashing to assist with a rescue. There would be no salvation. After everything, after strife and war - Scorchstreak put her lot in with him only to betray him now? To leave him to a seemingly unavoidable death[/i]. Would they be collecting ash and blood when the fire was nothing more then a horrific memory burnt onto her flesh? That ash wouldn't be on just her paws. Once again she's left with a all too similar situation, a mirror of the past she wishes to shatter. It's her life or his, she has nothing to shield herself from the fire she didn't have extra lives to spare, it was just her own fragile life. Her teeth still clench into his scruff, an honorable death here would still be wasted. She wants to yowl to screech at the unfairness of it all. she never asked for this!

She drops him and with one last look back she sprints forward, there was no safe place for her paws to go nothing to save her from the fire that scorches her fur and singes deeply into her flesh as she throws herself shoulder first through the flames and back into the unassured safety that lay beyond it. Horrific pain lashes her, flames cling to her body and even in spite of that for the second she lands on her paws a bitter eye meets Scorchstreak's. She collapses and rolls on soot and dirt extinguishing what clung to her the damage is done - it would be marked forevermore in the patchwork of scars that had slowly acclimated onto her body.

Shock allows her to continue to move, to wobbily get onto her paws and storm closer to the lead warrior who's demand she had no choice but to follow. "We could've saved him! We can save him!" her teeth snap together with force, one of her forelegs is shaking horribly, it smells of char it wants to buckle but she won't let it. She's on a warpath "After everything you're just going to leave him? To save your own skin!" a wracking cough interrupts her rage, she can hardly breath her trachea feels like it's closing in on itself like it wishes to choke her. Stubbornly she presses on, her body hangs low and pained she's vulnerable and hurt the worst she's been in all her moons yet she's on all four of her paws. A luxury Sunstar wasn't granted.

"Coward" she chokes out.

---

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  IC opinions always!
  

• "speech"

• 

  Firefang ✩ She/Her, Warrior of Windclan, 22 moons
  ⭃ Black tabby she-cat with amber eyes. former-loyalist of Sootstar, Moorunner.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots. ​

​

 

[gracklestep]

˚₊⋅───────── /ᐠ - ˕ -マ ─────────⋅ ˚₊

Somewhere behind him he swears he can hear a prayer. A wish for good fortune and good luck- the will of self preservation screeches at him that he has made a fatal mistake. That his swiftness would abandon him in the form of anxiety-tangled legs and the attempt at foolish bravery would leave him an unrecoverable mess whom StarClan would not happily stitch back together.

Don't abandon us again, he beseeches aster-dappled ancestors, eyes of liquid gold flicking towards the smoke-obscured skies. Can they even see us, comes the echoing question that rattles his core... and that is enough to strike a lightning bolt of fear down his spine. Could they even see Sunstar, to know he needs them? A furrowed pinch of long, gaunt features burn under the hungry touch of a flame that licks its lips at his face. They would not have much time... he could only run with ash-coated lungs for so long.

With a final glance back to be sure he is being pursued, he can hear the undecipherable shouting amongst the roar of flames and thundering paw-steps...

What a miserable day to choose to be brave.

Hopefully the auburn speckles of his leader's pelt did not become alike kindling. Did not ascend as new embers on their journey to take his soul to the stars. They'd just... have to come back for him. He would hold on. He'd been stubborn enough to dethrone Sootstar... surely that determination wouldn't die out now.

The sun always sets... and yet it rises the next morning.

Sunstar would have to do the same.

//bailing out as a distraction! catch ya on the flip side sunstar... try not to die ?​

 

[PINKSHINE]

She looks at Scorchstreak, and she thinks— if she looks hard enough, if she asks nicely enough with her eyes, Scorchstreak will let them get Sunstar, and the flames will part so that they can, and Firefang will be there with not a scratch on her, and Wolfsong will patch Sunstar up, good as new, and it'll be like none of this ever happened...

But Scorchstreak just says, there's nothing we can do, and Pinkpaw can do nothing but let her shoulders slump. Her fur continues to prickle the hotter that it gets, but she doesn't move. She sags by Scorchstreaks side, an ugly frown stretching its way across her maw. If Sunstar wouldn't want us to die, then... they just wouldn't. They could find a way if they tried hard enough... Even though she looks up at the flames, and the smoke - cloud that was Firefang fighting past it, and it looked nothing but scary, nothing but impossible... " ...Everyone's gon' be mad at us, Scorchstreak... " she sniffs. Her friend was gonna be mad at her...

Firefang comes tumbling from the fire, and she looks terrible. She looks hurt in a way Pinkpaw wouldn't like to be hurt. Pinkpaw's too worried about Sunstar to gasp the way she wants to. Instead, she stays perfectly still at Scorchstreak's side, the way she told her to...

Coward, says Firefang, and it's not true...

But she doesn't know how to say that right now, so instead, she just bumps against Firefang, offering her shoulder, even though she totally didn't like her at all... " Y-you gotta see Wolfsong, " she mews, and she forces a wobbly smile, cause her being sad and stuff... would just bring everyone else down. " Be careful Gracklestep... " and when she looks at Scorchstreak, she asks, Are we really leaving?​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

༄༄ When she was assigned an unruly, gray-patched apprentice, Scorchstreak never would have thought that she would end up actually caring for the little pipsqueak. She’d heard tales from other mentors, of course, how the relationship between mentor and apprentice could bloom into something of care and protection—but she had never truly believed that she would or could feel like that toward Pinkpaw. The girl is loud and obnoxious at times… but she is caring and determined as well, a spark enough to set the lead warrior’s chest aflame with emotion. And with Pinkpaw’s dejected, disappointed expression as her entire figure seems to wilt, the warrior cannot scold her for her comment. "They will deal with it," she bites out through gritted teeth. Her ire is not directed toward the younger calico, but keeping her tone neutral is easier said than done when two clanmates are out of her sight now, blocked by flame.

Firefang eventually does reemerge from the wall of flame that separates them from Sunstar, and she looks rough. Her gait is distinctly off, and even as she roars her rage and pain into Scorchstreak’s face, she breaks out into a fit of coughs. "Call me what you like, Firefang. I don’t like leaving him here, either." He’s my friend. He has worked so hard to turn this clan back into something that StarClan blesses. This is still his sunrise—this cannot be the end of him. Her voice is a bit less sharp when she continues, "Pinkpaw is right, you need to see Wolfsong. If we all went in there, we’d end the day seeing StarClan themselves."

The bite that took Sunstar’s leg would have taken Pinkpaw’s very life. The smoke that’s surely curled its way into Firefang’s lungs likely would have choked Scorchstreak into a state not unlike Sunstar’s, currently.

Golden eyes glaze with sorrow, with regret, as she turns her back on Sunstar. This isn’t how his tale of redemption ends. "Let’s go. We’ll send a patrol out to keep an eye on the fire, and bring him home when it’s safe."​

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