Her friend's presence is typically a balm, one unable to be used in excess, no matter how much she talked about getting sick of this and that. What little of any plans Wolfwind had always adjusted to her easily. Despite her hulking paws, that thick - pelt made in her late fathers image, the two of them slotted together just fine.
Tonight was different, though. Tonight was not spurred by easy whims or a warrior's duties, but by her duty, and hers alone. By that same thing that had lost her her eye and given about a dozen nicks across the front of her paws. Sun - blot panic has brought her here, and it feels some sort of omen, to be faced with someone when she'd wanted nothin' more but be left with nothin'. Her eye screws somewhat in her skull. Guilty ears fly backward. And for a Lead Warrior— for someone who deemed herself assigned hunter of the forest's dangers, she's awfully slow to track to track Freckleflame with her sole eye. A neck cranes sideward, to make her out in the gloom; cranes again when she comes to her side like she would on any normal day. " Nothin's wrong with my nest, " she finally says, a little humorlessly, and she feels bad for it.
Freckleflame doesn't stop her though. She keeps on walkin' without even knowing where Wolfwind's paws were leading them both. It's sweet, and its dangerous. Wolfwind's heart gives a little flutter, things both good and bad. She huffs somethin' like a laugh. " ...I wish. " We is taken on naturally... and Wolfwind shouldn't let that happen.
She parts her jaw, and out almost comes something bold and vague: " Lead Warrior Matters, " a rank held above her head to keep her nose out of no - cats business, but what kinda friend would that make her? And she's almost certain the girl wouldn't listen, anyways. Wolfwind figures... she can tell her, and still shoo her away in the end. Maybe if she was straight with it, she wouldn't have to plead with her to leave.
" Lotta bad is happenin' lately, " with dry lips, she says. Theres a thousand things she could prattle on about, but she didn't need to tell Freckleflame, of all cats, that bad things were happenin'. " Y-you saw it, didn't you? when the sun was... gone? Yanked away, for just a moment? I think that means— It has to mean... It's just gonna get worse, Frecks. "
A few leaves are pressed to the ground by their collective pawsteps, unlike the crunch they'd give when they were shriveled and brown in Leaf - bare, but still noisemakers, nonetheless. The shift reminds her to keep her eyes ahead, not on Freckleflame— not on her, as much as she'd like them to be. Her gaze anywhere else kept her just that little bit safer. The idle brush of their pelts dares to lure her into comfort, but that eye she left behind sees Sunfreckle. It sees Batwing and Flycatcher, dead to threats before anyone could blink. " I'm worried, " she admits, eye focused ahead. " And— It's good that I'm worried, 'cause when I'm not worried, I'm... Not as useful. " That eye she left behind sees Morningpaw. It sees the moons Wolfwind had spent as a glorified stick in the mud, slouched in the middle of camp.
" A quick lap— I just need a quick lap 'round the territory, and I'll be happy knowing nothing else will get the jump on us. Roeflame n' Burnstorm n' Raccoonstripe n'... everyone. " she breathes. She remembers Berryheart before he went. Before he went somewhere. Somewhere she understands, and has understood for some time now, especially as they blotted the sun, called forth attention worldwide to say something terrible is coming. Before Berryheart had been in that same sky, he'd told her he's proud of her. She'd keep makin' him proud. And this... This was a part of that.
She looks at Freckleflame, eyes like something at the bottom of RiverClan's waters, or maybe springing between the cracks of stones in Newleaf. They're shaded, in nothin' but moonlight, but Wolfwind has seen them plenty of times to have her bearings by now, to not let her gaze waver, when she says. " And... I'd be happiest knowing you're okay, Freckleflame. "
Her tail flicks against a coat the color of fire, smolders and flames. A distracted gaze peels away to glimpse the hill of rocks they've ended up at, as they wandered. He saw no foxes in their dens; no adders in their burrows. " You should go back to camp, " She says.
And a loose step sends her paw smashing down onto the back of a serpent.
She startles, a small gasp peeping from a pale maw. Her head is angling to glimpse it proper, and though she'd never wanted to crush that thing, though she lifts that paw as quickly as she can, beady eyes and a whip - tongue cannot see all that she can; it can't know that much, when it sinks twin fangs into the meat of her leg. Pain strikes as quickly as the adder had, shooting white - hot fire up her nerves. She holds back a scream, wrapping jaws around snakeskin instead of the animal noise that wanted to claw its way from her throat. Pearly fangs are stubborn, lodged until they can finally be ripped away in inglorious fashion. A sudden weakness threatens to make her drop her prey— but she sees Freckleflame, and she refuses. Teeth clang against scales, gnashing together with the intent to kill, and in a heap, they both collapse.
The adder is dead. It's taste is bitter. Her breathing comes out in short bursts, too short to just be adrenaline from killing that skinny thing. " ...Why? " Muscles around that same leg begin to spasm strangely, doin' things she would never have it do— things she didn't know how to have it do. Simply keeping herself upright is suddenly a struggle and she strains to roll herself over, to hold out her leg to Freckleflame, who she knows is no Medicine Cat, but she has to ask: " S'look bad? " Thin fangs hardly provide a thing to look at, but it feels—
" I'm okay, I–I'm okay, " It's for both Freckleflame and herself. Death doesn't scare her, but she hadn't gotten her lap. Her lap is all she had wanted. She would finish that at least. " A mo-moment, " she mumbles, she just needs a moment and she can calm herself. That's what she says, but her breaths are heavy and too - fast, bile swells in her throat quicker than it has. Her leg is shaking, shaking. A moment. And yet as the moments tick by, she only manages to feel worse.
Venom. She'd let herself wander Snakerocks. One of the very first places any ThunderClan apprentice was taught about. Named with such clarity that even a fool would know the danger. She should've seen it. She shouldn't have been so... distracted. Everything that has happened lately. She shouldn't have been so distracted. It was her. it was practically always her.
" F-Freckleflame, " she stutters, not like herself. Her eyes are wide as what had swallowed the sun that day, when she looks at her dearest friend, and she says. " Don't f-feel bad, " only because she knew she would.
Wolfwind slumps across the ground. As she waits to regain her strength, she only finds herself growing weaker. She finds her sole eye narrowing, And what's long - gone flashes back to each and every one of her mistakes, each and every clanmate she's lost, every missed opportunity, every thing she never got to tell, before they were gone. She waits and she waits for herself to get up again. She never quite does.
If she were to go to StarClan, she'd never thought it'd be like this. She had always pictured Great Battles; the final push against WindClan. A sacrifice, like Batwing had done. To grapple with a fox, a badger, a bear... She had never pictured an adder, small and thin. For a moment, she's disappointed. Just for a moment.
She wants to look at her without thinking about anything else. " ...I'm just glad... " She didn't sound like herself. And who knows if that's good or bad, anymore. " J-just glad it wasn't you... " To do good for someone... That's all she's ever wanted. Glossed eyes glimpse Freckleflame beneath their lids. Her panting is ugly — more akin to a mutt's than any warriors. She just hopes Freckleflame didn't see her as one. " 'Care about you "
