STRINGS OF FATE 〘 RETURN 〙ˊˎ﹤

[SUNNVAR]

He had not allowed his patrol to slow, not until the moorland scent had wrapped thoroughly around them and their borders will little more than a distant memory. Though the pain is greater than he had thought likely, coming into this war of theirs, they could not rest. If others were to follow, they would have had the advantage of their home yet not much else. Wounded and isolated on these moors, all they could do was run. The crunch of freshly-fallen snow beneath their paws, digging between the toes. Biting, as the kittypet warriors had done. Anger still simmers hot beneath his skin. That they would seek out another's help rather than testing their own mettle– a dirty, filthy thing to him. This had been a challenge of one to another, and they had broken the arena's wall.

Not all were so birthed to war as he. Certainly not the pets.

As they near camp, his pace has slowed. Each stride takes great effort, but he carves the path for the others as best he can. They are smaller than him, meant more for sneaking than might, and they carry precious prizes in their maws or medals of their sacrifices across their hides. Badgermoon's patrol was not far behind, he could both hear and smell them– he does not slow. As much as he may crave the company, as much as he may wish to take stock of their wounded and lost, mechanical rage carries the tin soldier ever forward. It is only once he presses himself into the hollow of their camp that Sunstride's shoulders finally slump. He lets out a sigh that he was not aware he'd held inside, around the stems of herbs he delicately holds against every instinct of clenching teeth.

With one last jerk of his head, he guides the patrol ever closer towards the center of camp, and to yet another uncertain fate.

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• ooc: the herb raid patrol is back, just slightly ahead of the distraction patrol!
• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, uses he - him. thirty-four moons old. warrior of windclan and former rogue.
  —— cautious of clan life, but an apt learner. encourages close bonds between clanmates.
  —— loyalty uncertain, cares for those surrounding him. undoubtedly closest to wolfsong.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
• "speech"

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[slatepaw]

ooc; mobile, will add format later. tagging @GRAVELPAW and @LYNXTOOTH. as mentioned in post!

slatepaw had been awake all night, head lulling from side to side as he fought sleep's embrace. he sat guard with his father, loathing his presence but finding some strange comfort in him at the same time. though he wished his father went to war instead of his brother, he was glad that he wasn't entirely alone to worry about his familys' fate.

when he spotted shapes moving in the horizon, the fur stood on his shoulders. did skyclan send their warriors to windclan's camp? to his relief, and alarm, it was their raid patrol returning home.

the scent of blood lay thick in the air as the tired apprentice moved towards the crowd, counting their heads. he wasn't counting their injured, or looking to see who was lost. he was looking for one cat in specific. "gravelpaw? is my brother here?" he questioned one of the cats, looking over their grave faces. sunstride carried the herbs they searched for, albeit probably not enough to cure the numbers. yet, something seemed off, tense - something went wrong, he knew. what really happened out in the battlefield?

 

[Coyotecrest]

I won't apologize for being who I am

The cold bites and burns just as harsh as the wounds inflicted upon his pelt. His paws and muscles ache from the strenuous push to get back to camp. With the sight of frosted heather up ahead Coyotepaw was finally able to relax if even by a small margin. A heavy sigh left his maw, leaving a cloud of silvery breath in his wake. The events of the raid replayed over and over again in his mind, the disappointment laced upon Amanita's face, the endless sound of battle, and more. All for a few leaves that more than likely wouldn't be enough to cure most of the sick here in windclan. They'd left out weak and came back weaker.

The cream tabby glanced in the direction of his cousin, listening as he wearily inquired about Gravelpaw's whereabouts. Tired eyes flash in the direction of the monochromatic boy, his head turning to look in the general direction behind him. "He should be coming up soon. His patrol was a little behind this one..." Coyotepaw muttered before lowering himself into a seated position.​

Tryna throw shade on me say a lot 'bout you​

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[Irispath]

Yewberry could finally stop pacing.....He was free.... He hopped through the snow to the patrol to greet them. He had worried about them all night, to see them come home brought him enough relief that he thought he would pass out.

"Welcome back!! Is everyone alright- how did it go??" He asked, voice shaking from the cold.

He was more happy that everyone came home than about however the mission went.

Little did he know he would be devastated when the other patrol came home, carrying Sunsetbreeze.
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[Periwinklebreeze.]

IS IT OVER YET - CAN I OPEN MY EYES?
periwinklepaw | 05 months | demi-boy | he/they | physically easy (pacifist) | mentally easy | attack in bold #ccccff

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The scent of blood is unmistakable, the sight of it more so. Weary head snaps to attention as the first of the patrols returns - the herb patrol! The most important of the two in the boys eyes, he watches attentively, worriedly - had they succeeded? Taught figure uncoils as she scrambles to his paws, wobbly, skittering over and out of the way, wanting to be close enough to sooth his nerves and worries. He's spent ail night praying that the patrols will succeed, that they will come home safe. He hopes at least one of those comes true.

"W-w-well-come b-ack," he says softly.
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[snowspark.]

In his eyes, the entire mission was a bust. All of that, waging war against two clans, and for what? A few mouthfuls of herbs. Snowspark limped along the hurried trek back home, chest heaving and his ragged breath coming out in puffs. He stopped feeling the pain since they crossed the border, too cold to care about the bites and scratches decorating his blood-stained sides. But he couldn't stop moving, not permitted to sit down and catch his breath in fear of being abandoned by Sunstride's demanding march back to camp. It might have been the first time he was ever truly relieved to see the gorse and heather walls on the horizon, to see the vague shapes shifting in the divot in the ground from afar.

The moor-runner plodded into camp behind Coyotepaw, defeated. Exhausted. He practically toppled into a sprawl on the ground, only barely managing to keep himself sitting upright. Pale eyes squeezed shut, trying to erase the hate-filled face of the elder responsible for the tenderness around his throat, his ears still ringing and heart still racing. The words welcoming the patrol back slurred together into a muddled haze for him, too unfocused and tired to take notice of individual speech. Snowspark opened his eyes once more if only to glance downward at his red-soaked front. The blood had dried, or rather, froze by now. Giving a huff of effort, he craned his neck to begin the arduous process of licking his chest fur clean, cringing at the coppery taste with every swipe.​

 

[TIGERFROST]

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Oh he is bitter, eyes as frosty as the falling snow. His chest is marred and bloodied, and his muscles ache from exertion. Puffed breath and hasty inhales, Tigerfrost carries slowly onward, doing all he can to assist in shouldering the weight of the dead WindClanner, fallen in the midst of a gruesome battle. Sunsetbreeze was little more than a cooling corpse, but nonetheless, he would be honored for his sacrifice at home, where he belonged. Camp was close, and Tigerfrost soon realizes that the herb thieving patrol had returned first. Overwhelming curiosity burns like fire throughout his mind. Had they managed to secure the catmint before RiverClan had arrived? Oh, he hoped so. For the sake of them all.​

 

[crowpaw]

crowpaw had idly watched the patrols re-enter camp. almost anxiously she waited. them returning empty handed was not her main concern, although the humility of being beaten by skyclan irked her. rather, she waited to see the return of her mentor, hopefully in one piece. another reassignment would look awfully bad considering her age.

green eyes scanned the returning crown, eventually falling onto snowspark. much to her dismay, the remnants of blood dappled frivolously along his pale coat. her teeth grinded together. how was this going to affect her? just how long would she remain an apprentice. a striped tail flicked once, her gaze swimming with unreadable emotions.

darkly capped ears angled towards her back as she moved to sit on the outskirts of the group, face morphing into one of worry. ​

[ 𓆩⟡𓆪 ]​

 

[MORNINGMINT]

"They return," Hazeldash murmurs to herself and rises to her paws. Exhaustion tugs at her fur, hardly used to the night guard and even less willing to do so in the snow, but WindClan has been on tenterhooks the entire time their patrols have been gone. How could she sleep when their bravest and most foolish were fighting for their very livelihoods? And fighting they had done, from the looks of it - delicate ears pin back, nose wrinkling briefly at the stench of blood that wreathes their brave warriors like a cloud or prey-scent.

Sage-coloured eyes rest on @snowspark. , brief sadness gracing her features, and she makes a beeline towards the young moor-runner. In a rare maternal show towards a cat who is not her own, she offers a shoulder for him to lean against and gets to work cleaning around the back of his head and his ears. There's burrs in the back of his pelt, and from what she can see these are the least of his worries, but it would do some good to have those taken care of as well.

// if you saw me post on the wrong acct no you didnt​

 

[Galeforce]

↞ RACE THE WINDS

Galeforce had a vacant expression as he made his way back towards the camp, battered and broken as he assisted with carrying Sunsetbreeze home. The battle had been brutal and he honestly felt as though he was a dead cat walking. Almost wished that he was dead. Had the battle all been worth it? Had the herb patrol brought back enough to save the lives of the sick? Had the blood that had been spilled been enough?

At that moment he truly longed to have the chance to give the likes of Sootstar and Dandelionwish a piece of his mind. To make them feel his pain! To see their blood spilled needlessly across the snow covered ground.

"Set him down here." He instructed as a clear patch came into view, somewhere that Sunsetbreeze could be displayed. He wanted to show the other WindClanners the reality of the cost that had been taken from them. For now he intended to stand guard over his fallen friend... his love... He no longer cared about tending to his own injuries, as savage as they were. His throat, shoulders, and his belly were torn apart, his muscles burned from the strain of the fight.
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[Firefang]

The adrenaline pumping into her bloodstream had subsided the thrill of a good fight had died the moment they disengaged and she spotted the bleeding form a deceased clanmate balanced heavily on the backs of Tigerfrost and Galeforce. Sunsetbreeze had been murdered whilst she was spitting insults and having the time of her life squaring off against two skyclan apprentices while he lay bleeding out in the snow as his companion screamed with fury and burned for justice that'd never bring him back. A weight sits in her chest, she can't bare to look at Sunsetbreeze but more so she can't look at the tom he left behind, those vacant eyes of Galeforce's they disturbed her she's never seen a cat look that way before not so closely and certainly not with the blood of a beloved clanmate staining his brown pelt. She walks towards the tail end of the group her legs aching with every step, it was a long trek home and she could feel every pull and push of her muscles making the slashes on her skin sting all the more. Her wounds pale in comparison to those of the others who fought not just for their lives but for the sake of others, she may have yowled windclans name but could she say now she fought for it with her life on the line like Sunsetbreeze did? She was... just playing in comparison to them, having fun forgetting the desperation of their mission.

She wasn't proud now, not anymore a sense of shame rolls over her as she treads over the larger paw steps her clanmates leave in the snow trying to avoid looking at the tail of blood left left in the wake of Sunsetbreeze. She looks up finally to look at the others to try and see the state of the herb patrol and she grimaces when her gaze rests on Snowspark ragged with wounds a walking meatloaf compared to their clanmates. Her breath catches in her throat and she looks around for the apprentices, Coyotepaw looks fine enough no worse for wear the she was but i wasn't him she was worried about, if Snowspark was torn apart then what became of Icepaw? Her heart beats in her chest thinking of the weakling and her pace picks up as she trounces in the snow despite the protests of her bruised body (that stupid Skyclanner who tried to squash her was heavier then they looked!). What if like Sunsetbreeze she'd already made her trip to Starclan, there was no way she could've died she wouldn't know what to do!

❝Icepaw! Where are you at mousebrain?!❞ her pulse beats like a wardrum her eyes still frantically searching. The other apprentices were accounted for, sure damaged but fine but they'd live. The minute she found the little pretty annoyance in her life she'd be fine! She would, then she could just... stop thinking stop worrying try to erase the smell of her clanmates blood from her nostrils, the limp form of Sunsetbreeze a husk of the warrior he once was and the memory of Galeforce's eyes - she could just forget and try to remember the feelings that stirred within her when she was fighting. If only she could just remember that and nothing else she'd manage through this she'd stay strong. Just please don't let her be dead!​

( PLACE ME IN MY CASKET TONIGHT ; BECAUSE IM ALREADY DYING INSIDE )

 

[rainpaw.]

Ever since the patrols had left, anxiety had been running through Rainpaw's veins and tangling itself in knots in her mind and her stomach. Only the prayer circle had eased her nerves, serving as a brief refuge from her thoughts- but also reminding herself that there was nothing that she could do but wait. And then, finally, the waiting was over. It was the harsh tang of blood on the air that brought Rainpaw bounding over, practically throwing herself through the snow to reach the arriving cats. Her gaze flickered over them rapidly, skimming over wounds and dried blood caught under claws that made her fur bristle. Sunstride, Coyotepaw, Snowspark, Tigerfrost, Galeforce- none of them had the telltale white-and-gray fur she was looking for. Sunstride had a mouthful of herbs, thank StarClan, but the only other thing they had was a body, carried by the latter two.

Her heart dropped, and it suddenly felt like it was more bird than organ, fluttering and slamming around her ribcage. Sunsetbreeze was dead. She hadn't known the warrior well at all, but he still was- had been- a clanmate. Now his body was limp, surely cut down by some SkyClanner's claws or teeth. Any thought of following her clanmates' lead and welcoming the patrols home, with either words or help cleaning their wounds, fell right out of her head. She needed to make sure that StarClan had listened to her prayers- that there wasn't another body, a smaller one, being carried- she skittered to the side, trying to look around her taller clanmates. Unfortunately, the most obvious apprentice in view was Firepaw. There was a newfound stiffness to her walk, and Rainpaw felt a stab of sympathy for her despite herself. Nonetheless, she wasn't who Rainpaw was looking for, so she turned, only to immediately whip back around when Firepaw called Icepaw's name. Disappointment felt like it was crushing her flat when she realized Firepaw was looking for the lynx point, too.

But at least that suggested Firepaw hadn't seen her lifeless form being carried. Rainpaw bolted over to her, shoving their mutual dislike aside for the time being. "Have you seen Icepaw at all? Like, when you were coming back?" She kept looking around, ears flat and eyes wide.​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 They did their part, but whether the other group successfully left with the needed herbs is a question at the end of the trail Wolfsong follows. The winds have yet to swipe the indents of paws from the snow plains, and some of them are riddled with drying rubies spilled by open wounds. He recognizes one of the sets as Sunstride's and fills them with his own steps, grateful for the trail blazed to make his trek a little easier. He used to do the same in the land of their birth when the sky's fleece was too thick and tall for Wolfsong's shorter legs, and the worry he has carried as a slab of ice in his chest melts into cool relief.

Sunstride may be wounded, but there's strength still in the gait Wolfsong follows. He knows he cannot say the same for all of their people, and when they finally reach camp, he watches with dark eyes as Galeforce lowers Sunsetbreeze to the ground. He stood bravely at our sides. I doubt it will comfort Galeforce, but we should all be so lucky to die with our loved ones near.

He hears Firepaw calling for her fellow apprentice, though he has eyes only for the flame-burnished figure with precious herbs in his mouth. "It is good to be back," he says mildly to Periwinklepaw along the way, but to Yewberry, he says nothing— merely glances pointedly at the still form of Sunsetbreeze.

And then he is close enough to see the dimples in Sunstride's face where his whiskers sprout. "Sunnvar," he murmurs, leaning up to press their foreheads together. "Still too bone-headed to die. We could fell a tree with one swing of your neck."
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[Spiderbloom]

She remained expressionless as she returned, bearing nary a scratch to her pelt and still coated in blood. She held a small sense of pride for her accomplishment, but in the end, it was just another kill. She felt nothing. She moved on.

Plus, he came back anyway! Did she really succeed?

Oh well. She sat to the side and began grooming. This blood was probably frozen on her.

She felt nothing. Not even for Sunsetbreeze.

She wouldn't say so, of course. But she couldn't bring herself to feel.
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[WEASELCLAW]

He hates that he'd been kept at home for this battle; even as the snow storm raged on, Weaselclaw had sank his claws into the frosty moorland beneath him and imagined it was kittypet fur. He's been restless, nothing but confident in their success -- after all, what was SkyClan, with their Twoleg collars and their soft bellies, going to do against a patrol of real warriors?

He'd not expected casualties.

Weaselclaw's jaw falls at the procession carrying Sunsetbreeze's body. His dark red fur disguises the blood -- but not the scent of well-preserved death, frozen and stiff.

"What happened?" He says, his lower jaw trembling as he approaches the fallen warrior. He addresses Galeforce, the cat's closest confidante in life.

Sunsetbreeze! He remembers the cat he'd been, young and eager and loyal to Sootstar's cause. He remembers Sunsetpaw, and how proud Weaselclaw had felt when the young cat had earned their warrior name.

The tabby bows his head, expression clouded with grief. "Are there... are there others?" He says, lifting dull blue eyes towards Sunstride. His co-lead warrior had led only part of the patrol back... where were the others? "Did you get the herbs?" His voice rises above the wind in a steely demand. Surely Sunsetbreeze had not died for nothing...?​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

As much as Gravelpaw tries to tell themself that it isn't defeat, it sure feels like it is. And if it not defeat, then what is it? Loss? Failure, independent of winning or losing? It's shit either way, and WindClan returns home with one of their own, now a wind-chilled corpse.

Of course, the patrol isn't much better. Gravelpaw's whiskers are frozen, stuck to their cheek fur with frost, and across the others who still walk there are many patches of snow-frozen blood. The black and white apprentice got off easy, they think—a few scratches, the faintest trace of a limp, but nothing worse. No gaping, oozing wounds, no missing limbs or eyes, and greatest of all, they've returned with their life. One of their clanmates hasn't been so lucky.

The weight in their chest sinks ever deeper; they'd done well in the battle, they know that. They'd driven their opponent back time after time, enough so that the coward had decided to play dirty and run for help from one of her own clanmates. It was worth it, too; Sunstride got at least a couple leaves of the catmint they need. But was it worth a life, just to attempt to save another? Something in their chest gives a miserable twist.

Hazel eyes lift from the snow-covered ground, and across the crowd of clanmates, he spots a familiar figure. "Slatepaw…" he says, barely opening his mouth to speak. It feels odd to do so, mouth feeling like it's been stuffed with cotton after Gravelpaw has spent so long being battered by wind. He steps toward his brother on painful, frostbitten paws; he's so tired, he just wants to lie down and sleep for ages. But he can't appear weak before his brother or his father or his uncle or the leader or-

Or anyone.

Gravelpaw moves closer, attempts to drop his nose into inky black fur, seeking comfort in a silent way. "I'm sorry," he mutters, drawing back a half-step. He's failed, he owes apologies to more than just Slatepaw. They couldn't bring Sunsetbreeze home, despite everything. They watched a warrior die, slain on a snowy battlefield that they were ill-prepared to set foot upon.


// interacting with @slatepaw !!
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[ DEATH OF A DREAM ]​

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[TIGERFROST]

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Where Galeforce directs the body, Tigerfrost silently complies, assisting the other warrior as they lower the dead WindClanner to the bitter cold ground. He himself is only lightly wounded, but he knows that many are not so lucky. At the very least, he can feel the poisonous satisfaction of knowing he had struck a brutal blow against his opponent, Thistleback. In the chaos, he hadn't known that Blazestar had perished, losing one of his precious lives, but in that there was at least a small victory.

"Sunsetbreeze is dead." Tigerfrost's thunderous vocals rip across the clearing for all to hear, before his blazing eyes find Weaselclaw. The chimera would allow Galeforce to explain just how he had died to the lead warrior. "The kittypets ran to RiverClan for help. We were overrun." A bitterness twists his muzzle into a vengeful snarl, before his vision dances across the faces of his clan-mates, finding those who had been sent to steal the catmint. With a stone-faced expression, he awaits for their answers to Weaselclaw's questions.​

 

[ELKSKULL]

The crunching of many paws made the young apprentice stop burrowing in the snow. His pale icicle colored orbs turning to look at the returning patrol from the path that led from Skyclan. His muzzle parted as he thinks and thinks. They are alive it seems. Blood staining their coats and carrying the items that Windclan deserved. He can smell the iron tang among the freezing winds and he sniffs a little as he finally decides to make his way a bit closer to them. Sunstride is with them. As well as the rest. But he has no one he waited up for to come back home. Doesn't much think about it. Really he is just here because everyone else was here. Amusement twinkles in his gaze at the thought as he just tags alone. Going through the motions as he places himself near the group. One tells that Sunsetbreeze died. Who? He blinks once before slowly shrugging his shoulders.

Maybe he needs to pay attention to names, to other cats. Despite that he is observing and looking at their pelts and he smiles slightly carefully. "Welcome back. You all faced death and won...well, some of you." He says it thoughtfully. But the news that Riverclan had showed up to help doesn't seem to phase him.​

 

[bunnywhisker]

Bunnywhisker's voice is non-existent on the long trek home. Prior to the trip to SkyClan, she had figured that in the very least she would be trading stories with the other warriors, listening to the apprentices brag about how well their skills have improved - however aside from the wind and the crunching of the snow, silence befalls them instead. Was it all for naught? With the herb patrol several fox lengths ahead of them, she couldn't tell. A part of her has a feeling that even if they'd gotten all the catmint in the land, losing a comrade such as Sunsetbreeze would still make the whole excursion into a loss. The brown tabby doesn't voice her thoughts - not now and possibly not ever. They're all hurting, physically, emotionally, and she won't be the one to pluck the hairthin trigger.

Their patrol treds in shortly after Sunstride's does, and she watches as the two parties disperse. Some sought out by family who was left home, others mourning the friend they all lost. Bunnywhisker's sides feel remarkably cold as even Firepaw and Rainpaw set aside their differences to discuss where Icepaw might be. She's tried in days prior to be indifferent of the friends she's lost most recently. But it's impossibly difficult to be ignorant in the moment - blood crusted to her nose, her body bruised and battered, and a clear example of what any of them could've been lain across the ground in the shape of Sunsetbreeze - and no one runs to greet her. She swallows her selfishness, steadies herself, and lets out a deep, unsteady breath. She'll be okay. She has to be.

Still unsure of how much catmint is secured, Bunnywhisker simply hopes it happens to be enough for Dandelionwish to work with. The tom will have his paws full after this mess, after all. Her gaze trickles over Elkpaw as the feline speaks and she lets out a half-hearted chuff, "You could try to be more sympathetic, Elkpaw." Exhaustion is laden in her voice, no real malice held behind any one of her words. She simply seats herself away from the bustling crowd, using her paw to clean the bridge of her now crusted up nose. StarClan be fair, and not give her a nasty scar from that kittypet.
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[ELKSKULL]

His attention turns, pulls him towards Bunnywhisker. He blinks and stares at the other as if just realizing. She had went on the raid? He thought differently, and a feeling so vile wells up in him. If he had known perhaps he would have gone to. "Sympathetic...?" He tastes the word on his tongue, strange thing that it is before he shakes his head and makes his way over to the other. His white pelt shifts and blends well but his steps are unsteady. His understanding of being sympathetic means to care and he does care. He does. He knows it. Yet perhaps he doesn't express it well. It's different he thinks. So he closes the gap between them and eyes her nose, eyes the crusting wound with freezing blues before he sits down beside her. To just share his warmth. Sympathetic.

"Okay. Are you okay? I hear fighting really leaves a scar on the mind." Was she okay? He tilts his head a little, the ivory tom curious in his gaze now. After all Bunny had been fighting, daring others to challenge her and make it out alive. "Your nose looks like it could use some cleaning. I can clean it."​