sensitive topics 𝐂𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄 ╱ 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇

[SUNSTAR]

In the distant horizon, the sun breaks through the treeline.

A pale leafbare gleam lighting the nearest sky a grey-tinged white, inexorably swallowing the darkness. Their battle had begun under StarClan's fading vision, but ended with the dawn of something new. It is...quiet. Aside from the heaving breaths of his clanmates and the shuffling of wounded bodies, no longer do his ears ring with cries of war and agony. Those that followed Sootstar had fled or died in their attempt; he could think of no more fitting an end for the cowards than that. Yet he still stands before their leader's grey-furred body when her final wound, that gaping hole within the very river of life that sustained her —

began to knit closed.

He does not know what he felt in that moment.

It is not a part of him, separate from mourning and rage, grief and relief. It fills up his chest and his lungs. Sunstride exhales harshly at the sight, and the warriors that had fought nearest him turn to glance his way. They will see a wearied, hardened tom where he stands. A cold look to his eyes, and a tension to his shoulders, still gently weeping with their pain. So much blood had been spilled this night. He is not afraid of more. Why he hesitates, Sunstride could not put to words. It would be all too easy to end her completely. To free this clan unceremoniously from its tyrant and truly make this morning to a joyous fresh start.

He snarls his frustration, and snaps: "Help me take her to her den! Scorchstreak, Bluepool, you are to stand guard with myself until her wound has healed." The force of his voice brokers no argument. "The rest of you, secure this camp! Take the worst of the wounded to Wolfsong's den; drag them if you must." Without waiting for the reactions that would surely follow, he fixes his teeth to the fallen leader's scruff, and begins to pull.

𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓  ╱╱ 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 〚 11.22.2023 〛 —————«

• OOC. takes place immediately after the battle, and very shortly before this thread!
• 

  SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.

• "speech"

​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

༄༄ The sun rises, and with it Scorchstreak’s hopes plummet. Rumblepaw hadn’t listened, hadn’t stayed. Shouting, screaming, telling them of Sootstar’s lies—none of it had changed anything. Another of her kits is lost to her now, and there is nothing that Scorchstreak can do to change it.

At least they aren’t dead.

She bears only the lightest of wounds, having hardly participated in the fighting. A scratch here, a bruise there, from glancing blows by Sootstar’s loyalists. Sunstride has not been so lucky, but he has done what once seemed impossible. He has felled the bloody-fanged queen of the moors. But she is not dead, and the calico’s teeth sink into the inside of her cheek. The massive tom shouts her name, and she moves to stand at his side—she has followed him since he chose to return what was unjustly stolen, and she will follow him now.

The rosetted tom tells her to join him in standing guard over the leader, and Scorchstreak nods once, stiffly. She and Bluepool are a force to be reckoned with, she knows, and she will not fail her clan where it counts now. "Got it," she grits out between her teeth, golden eyes narrowed as she looks down at the not-quite-corpse of the leader. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it, to split her throat? To end her life here, as many times over as necessary? But Sunstride has chosen to keep her alive, and so Scorchstreak grasps at the she-cat’s haunch, lending her aid to the tom as he drags her along.​

​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

Sunlight, finally breaking through the darkness.

The pale glow that shown down from over the horizon was like heaven to Rattleheart, a soft and almost delirious spot of laughter leaving him. He wasn't exactly sure why - maybe just from the sheer rush of adrenaline leaving his body. Or perhaps the joy over the fact that their home was once again their own, no longer under the control of a cruel and unjust queen obsessed with war and brutality. Either way the laughter left him, cut off by a slight grimace of pain when his chest rudely reminded him of all that they had been through. He would need to go to Wolfsong's den himself before long, but the pink staining his chest fur was hardly the worst of what he had suffered in recent memory. There were other things to deal with, including the tunneler that he had stayed by the side of from the moment she had yielded.

Her wounds certainly seemed more significant than his own, the memory of her frantic swipes against his chest still crystal clear in his mind. He pushed through the pain to rise once more to his paws, clearing his throat to gain @BLUEFROST's attention. "C'mon, you'll need to see Wolfsong along with the rest. Hopefully there will still be more supplies here than in that barn." Rattleheart's tone didn't leave room for argument, even if he was sure Bluefrost would still disapprove of his treatment. She had wanted him to kill her, to put her down beside Sootstar for all that had transpired, and yet he hadn't. There were surely some in the clan who would call him a fool for accepting her yield, or for stubbornly insisting that she deserved a second chance, but he could - and would - deal with that problem as it came.

For now he just kept his head down, silent and deep in thought as he nudged her along towards Wolfsong's den, his head against her shoulder. The tunneler's pale gaze focused intently on his sister for a moment, as if sharing in her thoughts. Wouldn't it be easier for them all if Sootstar was put to rest for a final time, and made to face the judgement of whoever greeted her on the other side? Yet he didn't protest, at least not for now. Rattleheart had trusted Sunstride to get them this far, and he didn't intend to yank that trust away now.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[SNAKEHISS]

Everything had been a blur after Harrierstripe had downed him. His cheeks stung minimally in comparison to the gaping gashes across the base of his throat, delicate skin once untouched now splattered with warm crimson and leaking more by the moment. Had Harrierstripe's claws aimed any higher, perhaps Snakehiss would already be dead.

The events of the battle had ebbed in and out of his focus as Snakehiss had found it difficult to concentrate. His body felt weak as more blood pooled into the snow around his neck, barely staining his inky pelt. Sootstar had lost, or at least he thinks so. He doesn't really know. He can't think about much else besides giving into the darkness that began to cave in on his vision.

His gaze shakily lifts, at least as much as he can manage, to the dark figure leaning above him. "Sp- Sp..." Snakehiss trembles, emotions far too powerful for his heart to handle screaming to express themselves. Only pure fear glazes his eyes; they well, threatening to spill over. "I'm-" Sorry. I'm scared. I'm gonna die, aren't I? Was his mother watching over him now? Would StarClan even accept him or was it too late? Snakehiss just wanted to wake up as if this were all a dream — maybe he was just dreaming, still young Snakepaw sharing a den with pesky Sedgepaw and that pathetic Milkpaw, soon to rise and head out on a patrol with Badgermoon. Maybe things were still simple.

Snakehiss can make out familiar voices; Sunstride, Scorchstreak, Rattleheart. They lived; they had power over him now, every ounce of authority Sootstar had bestowed upon him stripped away. Would they exterminate him? Maybe they would just leave him to the buzzards. Sparkspirit remained by his side now, but without the help of Wolfsong or—StarClan forbid—Cottonfang, he would surely perish anyway. "I... don't..." Wanna die. Oh, death is coming for him now. His vision is getting blurrier by the moment.

With heavy emotional distress, stinging pain, and the jarring sight of his own blood crashing down onto him all at once, Snakehiss' eyelids shut and failed to open. Despite what he may have thought would happen, his heart was too determined to give out just yet.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙛𝙞𝙩

• interacting with @sparkspirit briefly before fainting from shock

• 

• 

  ✰ SNAKEHISS
  —— he/him; deputy of windclan
  —— bisexual; mates with berrysnap
  —— long-limbed black tom with green eyes, a small white chest patch, bite mark on right foreleg & thin scar across chest
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

The sun blinded Featherpaw even more than the pain, and the pain was blinding. Once the relief of the battle being over had struck, Featherpaw had immediately found himself woozy, his blinks blurring vision one after the other. Bile stirred in his throat, and white paws wandered forward, somewhere. Adrenaline ebbed and ebbed away, and though they stood victorious, the true WindClan was battered, bruised, bloody. His tongue tasted metallic, and it hurt, and had he lost or won?

The worst of the wounded. How bad was it? She had felt Nightmareface's claws tear across the length of her body, splitting her spine open. Chest painfully heaving, she began to shuffle toward the sound, trying to keep her vision sharp. Sharp as owl's eyes. Ice was hard and cold and sharp, and brittle all the same, and Featherpaw felt the rime over his blood begin to crack, and relent beneath the agony...

"Www- Wolfsong," she murmured, refusing to address him by any other name, for- for even now, he could not be childish. A shuddering breath fell from her maw, tumbling out. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. And yet, she dragged herself forward still- diligent, tireless, perfect. Even injured, she would be the perfect patient... unattended, finding the medicine cat at once...

\ slowly dragging herself to wolfsong but might need some help :')​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[PINKSHINE]

Fighting... fighting hadn't been as cool or as fun as she'd thought it would be... there'd been too much to pay attention to, and she could hardly give any in return. She aches all over, even if it isn't like the big swipes warriors better than her had taken... She only had little cuts, and where she didn't have them, she was just tired. She wanted to sleep for a thousand moons, maybe the only time she's ever wanted to go to sleep ever. At least, now she could do it at home... Would her nest even smell like hers anymore?

Secure this camp. Pinkpaw thinks about bringing feathers, and flowers, and wool, and other fuzzy - soft things to make camp pretty and theirs again. It's probably not what Sunstride means, but she likes her version better. She glances around. Secure. Securing.

Featherpaw is hobbling from where he stands. And he looks awful, awful. Why is he walking, when he looked so awful? Ooh, Pinkpaw felt awful. " Featherpaw! " Mewling in distress, Pinkpaw would come to offer him her shoulder. No, more than offer, she insisted, pressing her side against him. Featherpaw was bigger than her... but it had to be better than nothing. " I'm helping you to – to Wolfsong, " she says decisively. She doesn't care if Featherpaw called her dirty or her paws grubby... She was gonna help her friend.

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

• ooc: helping @FEATHERPAW ...

• NOTE: SHE IS A FEVER COAT BABY!!
  

  

• ( 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 6 MOONS OLD. AGES EVERY 16TH
  
  A tiny, longhaired calico she - kit with sunburst eyes ringed blue around her pupils (central heterochromia). While you can clearly see her flame markings on her face, the rest of her body is currently covered by a grey fever - coating. Though the whites of her are still very much visible. 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!​

​

 

[Azaleafrost]

At long last, the bloodbath she had dreamed of ever since she was a kit had come to pass. She has done it. Azaleafrost had survived all the scorn and resentment, the bullying and hatred, and come out on top. It had all been worth it. She won.

Every night she dreamed of ripping into the throats of her enemies she was supposed to call clanmates believing it would only be just that, a dream. Now she stands over the bodies of the fallen, her pelt stained with their blood and her mouth still dripping with it. Oh, how she wished she could see their faces in death, she hopes they're seething. Even the ones who got away.

She won. She is free.

And it feels amazing. All the hatred and murderous intent that festered inside for moons and moons has been cured, and peace claims her mind. Some say revenge isn't worth it and that it leaves you feeling emptier than before, but she has to disagree. Wiping the excess blood from her mouth, she looks to her own wounds. Nothing too severe, not that they mattered to her right now. With the rising of the morning sun, a new chapter of her life begins.

One where she is happy.

At Sunstride voice does she turn her head. Sootstar wasn't dead it seems. Not that it matters, she is surrounded by enemies now. Instead, she chooses to help secure the camp. She makes for the entrance to ensure that none of the snakes got lost on their way out.​

 

[rivewhisper]

—————————————————————⊰⋅ ☽ ⋅⊱—————————————————————​

Rivepaw was not supposed to be here.

That was the initial thought that came to mind as she stared out over the camp soaked in enemies blood, soaked in their blood. The moors would run red this morning, she briefly though. Soft cries of pain lifted, ones of worry and sharp agony weaving their way through camp. Moor grasses, dead from winter and covered in pockets of snow, continued to wave outside of camp regardless of the events within. Her head lowered, eyes squeezing shut.

Breathing in, breathing out. Breathing in, breathing out.

Slowly, her breath settled, and vision turned towards where her friend lay, soaked in the color of his namesake. "Redpaw." She said weakly, her nose lowering to nudge at his jaw. He couldn't be dead- his flank was still moving. "Redpaw, say something." Rivepaw begged softly. Sunstride's words wash over her, owl eyes lifting and swinging towards her father. Her breathing slowly became ragged with minute panic.

She caught sight of her sibling, hoisted and held straight by Pinkpaw. Rivepaw couldn't be bothered to be bothered by that- Featherpaw was getting help. Rivepaw would be grateful to Pinkpaw later. Another body- blackened fur, dark against the night. Rivepaw shifted with recognition, ears laying backwards. Snakehiss? Rivepaw's mouth hung open for a moment, staring at the slowly dying body of her former mentor. Rivepaw couldn't carry them both. She couldn't. No-

Rivepaw bit down on her tongue, refocusing herself with a moment of sharp, aching pain. When her mouth split open again, she called. "I can't carry Redpaw on my own. Somebody please." Rivepaw was doing her best to nose under Redpaw's scruff, biting down and trying to drag him towards Wolfsong's den.

@redpaw

"text"
thoughts​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

There is red in her mouth. There is red on her muzzle; down her chest; it is caked into her, and she can't stop tasting it. It catches the pallid light; stains her lilac snow-shadow in ruby glow. She carries herself through camp now as if she didn't even taste the cherry tang on her tongue — Honeybadger had fallen, and she'd killed him, and she'd done it for her Clan. That was all there was to it, so she shouldn't waste her grief. Even as she remembers him in passing, sees his flame-burnished pelt in the ruby splashes that litter their camp, hears the blood-choked gasping through the wind, she steels her resolve. He'd picked the wrong side. Many cats had.

Scorchpaw glimpses Sunstride in his weariness. She wonders if she looks that way, too; if she'd weathered battle in the same way, or better, or worse. Sootstar was not an easy opponent. The rivers of red that cut through her mentor's pelt now are proof enough of that. But Sunstride had been victorious — he stands over the fallen monarch now, and a surge of pride rushes through her heart for her mentor; for their shared cause. It would be nice if that rush did not immediately hollow upon seeing so many of their own injured. Scorchpaw holds the feeling in her paws and swears to tend to it later.

Her hind leg seeps blood into the snow, but aside from a stilted gait Scorchpaw suffers little pain from it. Instead of seeking out Wolfsong immediately (there are many more injured than she, anyway, who need his care now) she seeks her mother. Scorchstreak had been called to guard the prison-den that Sootstar will be kept in, but Scorchpaw doesn't want to put off seeing her mother, both to make sure that she was okay (and thank StarClan, she looks okay at the very least) but also because one question bobs to the roiling surface of her conscience: Where is Rumblepaw?

They'd joined the wrong side, sure, but surely Scorchstreak could have convinced them back to Sunstride's WindClan? Scorchpaw lingers until Sootstar is safely sealed in her den, then addresses her mother: "Did you find Rumblera- Rumblepaw?" she asks, eyes imploring, blood still smeared across her mouth. "I haven't seen them yet."

/ speaking to @SCORCHSTREAK

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 ✧ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌

• 

• 
  
  — scorchkit . scorchpaw
  — she/they ; apprentice of windclan
  — short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — signature by dreamydoggo, template art by sixbane
  — penned by meghan

​

 

[Sunnyday]

☀ - WHILST MY HEART STILL BEATS
Sunnyday had never been so relieved to see the dawn again. He had survived the battle, and after a sweeping glance across those around him he came to realise that he had come through it all in a fairly favourable condition. His shoulder and belly bled lazily from the cuts he had received, though he did not deem his own injuries as a priority. The WindClanners came first, in his view, it was their home after all and he was just a helpful stranger in the grand scheme of things.

Stiffly he began to move, fighting back against the protest of his joints and muscles that longed for rest, in search of anyone needing help. It didn't take him long to train his focus on Rivepaw, and by extension Redpaw's limp form. Dread filled him and Rivepaw's call made his gut tighten with potential sadness. Though as he strayed closer he came to realise that they weren't trying to move a corpse. Life remained, clinging on and needing help. "Allow me to help." He mewed as he lowered his head before aiming to grab a hold of Redpaw's flank so he could help carry the apprentice so they wouldn't be dragged. Though he had to trust Rivepaw to lead the way because in truth he had no idea where he was going.

//Attempting to help @rivepaw with @redpaw
​

 

[BLUEFROST]

Bluefrost is bleeding and torn, but she does not feel it. She lingers somewhere outside of herself, green eyes fastened on Sunstride’s teeth in her mother’s pelt, on Scorchstreak shoving her body like it’s dead weight. Like she’s a corpse to be disposed of. She feels Rattleheart shift beside her, and remarkably, when he speaks to her, it’s with kindness, tone brisk and businesslike. “You need to see Wolfsong along with the rest,” she tells Bluefrost. She blinks up at him, feeling her own animosity sizzle like spit against asphalt on a smoldering greenleaf day. Would she be shoved into the den with Sootstar? Would they treat her mother’s wounds, too?

There’s no room for argument. She nods, hesitant. “Very well.” With the black feline’s support, she heaves herself to her paws; her limbs tremble from exertion, exhaustion. “What will happen now, I wonder?” She speaks to him, but also to herself, to the world at large. She catches a glimpse of Snakehiss’ body, slumped to the ground—is he dead? Will be be imprisoned, too?

Bluefrost exhales, fighting against the wave of fear that crashes into her. It’s a fear of the unknown—she has no idea what to expect from Sunstride and his followers, now, but she lets herself be guided by Rattleheart to the mouth of Wolfsong’s den.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 13 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan warrior. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue and white she-cat with emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

​

 

[sparkspirit]

This is the last dream of a dying cat. One final nightmare to put a bow on his miserable life. Harrierstripe's blow must have laid true, because everything that stands before him now could not be farther from the truth. That Sootstar lost was — inconceivable. That Snakehiss had taken a blow for him, even more so. He's frozen as the adrenaline dies down to shaky breaths and a queasy stomach. At least the disbelief staves off the panic. Any moment now this will fade away. StarClan would leave their judgment upon his soul and things would go back to the way that they were when he was a kitten. Safe. Certain. He'd been so proud. He'd wanted to be Sootpaw, wanted to impress Sootstar. Being named Weaselclaw's apprentice was the proudest day of his life.

What was it now?
Who was he now?

He's this. It's this. The world doesn't fade away. Snakehiss is glassy-eyed and fearful, and that doesn't stop. His clumsy paws are going towards his blood-soaked throat before he can recognize the motion. They're numb to the warmth and the thick-heavy syrupy sensation of it, which is all the more bizarre when he feels that he should know it. "No no no," he whispers. He's already gone, grass-venom eyes closed, but Sparkspirit shouts, "Hey! Hey, no– Snake." One bloody paw shakes viciously at the tom's shoulder. "He needs help!" Panicked eyes sweep the clan. There are other injuries. A viscous blood-scent upon the air. Would they know Snakehiss as anything but the cat that Sootstar had trusted? "He saved my life, please!"

𝘛𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘓𝘌𝘋 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘋𝘚 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐  ･｡ﾟ  🗲  ╱╱ 11.07.2023 𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘚𝘈𝘠 ˊˎ＜

• OOC. —
• 🗲　　. 　 ˚　.  SPARKSPIRIT. HE - HIM - HIS. 14 MOON OLD MOOR RUNNER OF WINDCLAN. VERY LOYAL TO HIS CLAN. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  ————
  
  
  ——  a trim mock tortoiseshell tom with mostly black fur splashed with the occasional patch orange. he has a singular white mark on the back of his neck shaped similarly to a lightning strike, and a small scar across the bridge of his nose. his eyes are a shocking electric blue.
  

  ✦ ECHOLIGHT x ELMBREEZE. ADOPTED BY YEWBERRY. BRIGHTFAM, BUT SOMEWHAT ESTRANGED DUE TO HIS LOYALTY TO WINDCLAN. ————————

• "speech"

​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

༄༄ When Sootstar has been moved to her new resting place, Scorchstreak finds herself staring at the fallen leader for a few moments longer. No matter what Sunstride intends to do with Sootstar, she will be in favor of ending the snake where she lies. No more-than-justified suffering, no long, drawn-out months of starvation or confinement. No, another moment alive is too good for a cat like Sootstar, she thinks. Distantly, she hears someone calling for help, Sparkspirit, she thinks, but she has her orders. She will not leave until she is dismissed by Sunstride.

Her gaze is wrenched from the leader—former leader—when her daughter speaks up, and she jerks her head to look up at Scorchpaw. Blood coats her maw, her leg… but she is alive. A smile, shaky at best, tugs at her muzzle. Relief floods her; her daughter is still here with her, even if she is asking after her sibling who is not. Scarred shoulders slump, posture shifting to defeat. "Scorchpaw," she says, and her voice cracks. At last, her carefully-maintained mask slips away. Her face is laid bare, golden eyes shimmering with grief. "I’m so sorry." There is nothing else that she can say, is there? She’d misstepped somewhere, she must have, for another of her kits to turn against her so blatantly. "I’m sorry. I tried to talk to them, to convince them. They wouldn’t… they wouldn’t stay." She doesn’t repeat any of the words they’d said—part of their blame had fallen upon Scorchpaw and Luckypaw. She cannot pass that onto her daughter. She will carry it alone.​

​

 

[cottonsprig]

Cottonfang had not done much in the battle, admittedly - she needs to hone in her skills before the next civil war (the thought is fearful, sour, yet bubbles a soft 'ha' from her throat.) She has, at most, superficial scrapes from eagerly chasing cat after cat out the gorse wall and being skimmed along the way. She returns to camp, ready to work in her role alongside Wolfsong once more. White paws thrum gently against snow scattered flooring when she hears a shout.

Her gait slows, and just like many others, she sees Snakehiss - unmoving, bleeding, and with Sparkspirit poised over him. He saved my life! A piece of her tremors, a piece of her breaks. Months ago she would've eagerly given the tom the fur off her hide if it meant he'd have a warmer nest, and today she's stuck. Snakehiss... her mother's favorite lackey - until she declared a new deputy amidst the battle. Had that been the cause? Taking whatever blow caused this wound, for Sparkspirit?

Cottonfang moves away. She heads towards the medicine den despite the commotion - only to reemerge with similar quickness and surge towards the two toms. Moss and cobwebs spill forth from her mouth, and she instructs, "Press these as firmly as you can to his neck, Sparkspirit. And whatever you do, do not let up." She swallows, pressing her lips together, "Give me a few minutes, okay? I'll have a spot ready for him, and we can move him together. Breathe," she says, but panic is rising like bile in her throat, "Breathe, Sparkspirit - be his calm, just for now." Before the mottled tom can reply, she's off again.

[ interacting w @sparkspirit and @SNAKEHISS <3 ]​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

A weight pressed on her side, and usually-sharp eyes softened, flicking toward a blurring of shapes at her side. Every cell in her body was screaming at her to refuse help in the name of strength, in the name of pride-an ill thought out reaction that thankfully did not burst out of Featherpaw's mouth. No- no, if he was to live, then help would have to be taken. When he was a warrior he would be expected to hold himself up, he was sure- but for now, an apprentice, he could lean on...

A shuddering breath left her, and she met Pinkpaw's weight, exhaustion weighing heavy on her, the numbing power of battle fading fast. Fire that should not have been there screeched from within- she'd always been an icy soul, not made to be melted. Featherpaw did not have the strengh to say anything more, but as ever he let himself be filed down by Pinkpaw's presence. He relented to her aid, and- for once, he was grateful she was by his side. ​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[Bluepool]

It is not her place for her to say what she is actually thinking. When she lays her eyes on her sister, conflict wages war in her mind. She remembers the good times in equal measure with the bad. She remembers things about Soot that others could not. She was her sister, her denmate, they had been kits together tumbling about in a camp they no longer slept in, under the watchful eye of a father they no longer had. When had her sister become a monster? She wonders. Because she had not been one then but she most certainly was one now. When she looks upon that familiar smoky pelt she thinks we should end her now and get it over with. What was the use of wasting herbs on her? On wasting prey? If there were a way for Bluepool to slit her throat now she would, but when she looks upon Sunstride she knows she cannot betray him like that. He had saved her in more ways than just in battle. She would not - no - she could not disobey his orders like that.

So instead she nods quietly, she follows Scorchstreak to the den where her sister was to be held and she doesn't say a word as she does. Not to Sootstar, not to to Scorchstreak or Sunstride. She has nothing to say to any of them in this moment where thoughts and memories collide. "Do you think father would be proud of you?" she spits quietly at her sister before exiting the den.

When she emerges, she has to blink hard against the sun but at least she was alive to see it again. At least she was here and Scorchstreak and Featherpaw and everyone else she cared for had made it. She sees Scorchstreak talking to her daughter, she sees Featherpaw be supported while she walks to her father for healing, but Bluepool does not go to any of them. She takes a seat outside of the prison her sister now resided in and she just takes it all in.

// open to interaction!

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