The storm had hit suddenly and brashly, almost as if it had come over the mountains. The once-blue sky turned a sickly gray-green and the clouds that loomed over ShadowClan territory were heavy with rain. The downpour began nearly as soon as the storm clouds were spotted, unleashing torrents of water. Lightning split the sky, and created thunderous crackles that sent vibrations through Briarstar's paws. Everyone in camp had taken cover in their dens and Briarstar had gone to the nursery to be with her kits, lest they grow scared of the violent crying of the skies above. She had her tail wrapped around her seven little ones - though, they were only a moon from becoming apprentices so they were not exactly little anymore. Still, she was there for their comfort, and for the comfort of all kits who were there.

Briarstar peaked her head out of the nursery from time to time, watching as the patrols rushed into camp and split off to take cover in their dens. She was glad to see them all arrive safely but she could not help but notice that one patrol had not made its way back. Her son had taken out a patrol just before the skies had turned dark with Flickerfire, Geckoscreech, Hailpaw, and Sagepaw in tow. She had yet to see them come back. The storm was at the height of its fury. She tried to remain unbothered for the kits, but she had a bad, sinking feeling in her chest, worried that something had happened to that patrol. She tried to assure herself that Pitchsun knew what he was doing - that is why she had made him deputy. Likely, they had gotten caught in the torrential downpour and she could only hope they had found safety.

Oh, but they had found anything but. And danger was on the stormy horizon....

/ Just tagging @PITCHSUN @FLICKERFIRE @GECKOSCREECH @Sagepaw @hailpaw. & @BONEJAW who are vital to this thread, but ANYONE is allowed to post! The Clan will begin evacuation in this thread. HERE is the patrol thread where the tree is struck for anyone who wants to read!
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The roar of thunder and the crash of the rain overhead has silt crouched low in her nest, eyes wide in terror. She's never seen so much water before, so much rain. She'd been playing in camp before it'd hit, and before she'd been able to react she'd been drenched. A shudder wracks her skinny frame, her damp pelt fluffed up in an attempt to regain warmth. As the adults bustle around, she can't help but notice the worry in Briarstar's eyes. She wonders absently if the molly is scared of the rain too, but can't find her voice to ask. Instead she simply curls up tighter, anxiety clawing at her chest like an animal trying to escape.


──⠀ ﹙†﹚⠀MORTIS ⠀: ⠀ it had been raining for a real long while by the time marrowkit pokes his head from his mothers midnight fur, shooting upright at the sound of violent, clapping thunder overhead. his white - flared features shape into trepidation, little skull pivoting upward to watch his mother glance anxiously from the nursery entrance, the fur along his spine bristling with nervous energy. marrowkit had thought he liked storms — the rain made big, muddy puddles to jump in, and brought all sorts of wormy - worms up from their hidden spots underground to play. tiny paws come to knead uncertainly at his mothers tail before he aims to push himself forward, leaning just under the molly’s chin to peek one fiery eye from the split in the wind - rocked thorn bush. rain drenches his muzzle and he shakes his head, taking a stumbling step back to plop right on his rear end, “ i never seen it rain like that ‘fore — ” within seconds, thunder strikes again, cutting the young tom off and sending him scrabbling back into the bundle of siblings pressed nervously into their mothers side with a quiet yelp.

the sky was angry. the sky was very angry,is pitchsun gonna be okay? “ the boy mumbles out loud, sunburst eyes wide and ears slanted back in fear. could his brother get back in all this muck? could any of them?

  • − marrowkit ; he / him. kit of shadowclan, son of briarstar and amber
    − longhaired spiky black tom w low white & sunburst orange eyes
    − three months old, penned by antlers

  • There is little warning before the sky opens. It isn't a typical storm; it doesn't start with a patter and build into a crescendo, but rather it seems to creep with the same silence of a snake and strike with the same force of an ambush. Betonyfrost ducks into cover, everyone does, and watches as the rain collects into divots in the already muddy ground. Puddles of slurry form with a speed previously unseen by Betonyfrost, and rivulets of water drip at an ever-increasing rate from the bramble-topped warrior's den.

    But rain is rain, and a storm is a storm. As unusual as it is, as loud as the growl-to-roar thunder is, this isn't the first time Betonyfrost has been snuck up upon by a sudden change in the weather. This isn't her first time finding herself rain-drenched and chilled despite the humid air. There is a comfort in leaning into what is familiar. With this in mind, Betonyfrost rasps her tongue over the fur on her flank and knows it to be a fruitless endeavor.​
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shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | tags

❝ holding it together with one loose string. ❝

just barely escaping the thickening cloud of smoke and unbearable heat produced by the burning sycamore, geckoscreech found herself braving the harsh downpour as she made a dash for the camp behind what she hoped was the other patrol members but the constant droplets of water streaking over her face made it difficult to really make out who was infront or lagging behind.

the sky above the territory felt like it was growing darker and darker with every passing second, the swirling clouds had brief flashes of light pass through them covering the territory in this blue sheen before a deafning clap of thunder rang out across the entire marsh letting everyone know that it's far from done. muddied paws soon found familar ground in the small path that led towards the entrance of camp where she'd hurriedly push herself through, ignoring the small pinches of pain of the throny brambles catching onto her pelt as she did so.

geckoscreech whipped her head around in search for briarstar and managed to catch the wisps of her ebony fur peeking from the nursery which she made a quick beeline towards. "the sycamore— in the territory— it's engulfed in flames!" words were spoken between heavy breaths, ears planing towards the sides of her skull.

She'd been right behind Geckoscreech and Sagepaw, had been poised to run with them. But the bars of fire falling from the tree had surrounded her apprentice, and Hailpaw had lost her voice in her terror, attempting to screech around clouds of thick smoke infiltrating her lungs. She had run to her protege, and Pitchsun had followed.

Flickerfire's whiskers are singed, she can feel them and she's wobbly, off-balance. A bit of fur has been scorched from her haunch, just in one black spot. Her paw pads are blistered from the heat. Her lungs are heaving and dirty, and her every movement is an exertion.

Teeth are clenched carefully in a smoky scruff, though she shares that burden with the ShadowClan deputy. Hailpaw smells of the fire. She's breathing -- but it's ragged, damaged, as Flickerfire's is -- and she's dead weight. The tortoiseshell has dragged her through the bogwater, and her black and silver pelt is coated in mud.

The two of them stumble into camp behind Geckoscreech. The moment they are safe -- as safe as they can be -- Flickerfire lets Hailpaw's scruff go and she tumbles onto the ground. Her flanks heave painfully as she attempts to catch her breath. She gives Pitchsun a weary look, apologizing and explaining simultaneously.

She speaks, but the words are whistly and smothered by asthmatic wheezing. "I--the fire... 's'coming." She gasps and coughs. Her throat feels like a piece of bark a bunch of kits had sharpened their claws on.

She nods to her apprentice. "...Passed out." She hopes the smoke will wake back up soon -- like hell can Flickerfire carry her anywhere else!

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Fire. Its one of those things that Siltkit can only know in the vaguest of senses as a kit who has yet to have any life experiences. She knows absently that it's hot and dangerous and flickers like a sunset; but she's never felt the heat of smelled smoke before now. Now, the smoke is all she can smell, clogging her senses and sending her coughing as the missing patrol runs into camp, the scent and heat clinging heavily to their fur. Dull gaze blows wide at the fear she see's in their faces - in the adults she's so used to seeing calm and collected and fierce. A quiet whimper slips past her lips and she looks for her mother - she's scared, and she doesn't want to be alone.
Pitchsun stumbles into the camp alongside Flickerfire, the dead weight of Hailpaw carried between the two. He couldn't breathe, not with his mouth stuffed with fur and his nose clogged with smoke. It takes everything in him not to collapse alongside Hailpaw, a gasp shuddering in his tight chest. "The sycamore- Lightning- Fire-" The deputy wheezes between rasped words, his wild expression locking onto his mother. "We need- to leave." The fire... It could reach the camp. He doesn't know how the downpour doesn't smother out the flames, but it is spreading quickly. Pitchsun's words are punctuated by a coughing fit, which aggravates his sore throat further, eyes blown wide and flanks heaving.

Pitchsun wants nothing more than to bury his face into Briarstar's fur, drown out the acrid tang of smoke with her comforting scent and let her groom away the soot clinging to his fur. But he couldn't. He is the deputy of ShadowClan, and he could not show such vulnerability to his clan.

He would lead them one day; what kind of a leader crawls to his mother, mewling like a frightened kitten?
Fits of coughing, injured apprentices. Briarstar's fur bristled when her son's patrol came back with news of the fire that had struck a tree and now posed a thread. Surely the rain would put out the fire, but a bout of fear wormed its way under the leader's skin. Moving everyone would be difficult, but never in good conscience could she make them stay. Not until she knew that fire was not a threat. Lives were potentially on the line and her decision could destroy her Clan or save it. There was really only one valid choice.

"We'll move. Get Bonejaw. I want her to look at all of you," she said before turning to any warriors nearby. "Everyone! Grab what you can travel with and let's go. We'll take refuge in the tunnels beneath the Thunderpath until we're sure we're out of harms way! That way we can escape to Fourtrees if the fire blazes out of control." She couldn't help but wonder what this would do to their territory if the rain did not smother the flames. Leafbare would be harsher than she was already expecting if the territory was destroyed...
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She can't stop seeing it. In her mind's eye she sees the raging story, she sees the rain battering against shriveled sides. The flash of light that brings searing heat and then flames. It keeps stealing her breath away every time she opens her eyes and now it comes to pass. Forcing herself to move she peers from her den at the patrol that has returned. The rising and heavy falling of flanks, the smell of fear. The woman knows what has happened before her nephew can get it out of his maw. The Sycamore has even struck with a flash of light that blazes hotter than anything they know. "It's real. It happened " It is a pitiful mutter of a woman who thinks she may be crazy but sue forces herself to stand tall as she finally leaves her den. "The Sycamore was struck with lightning and fire rages. I saw this in a dream and it's come to pass. You are right to move the clan away..." And she is to look at those who have been too close for comfort.

Then it sparks in her mind. Her supplies. She's worked so hard on stocking them and she holds a troubled expression upon her maw. "Someone needs to help me with my herbs. I need some of them to treat others." Then she looks back at the others, eyes focusing on Hailpaw. "Sokeone makes sure Hailpaw is breathing, get her some water." With that she disappears into her den to start collecting things in leaves.

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The sudden commotion that arrives to ShadowClan's camp is enough to summon Ribbitpaw, the brown tom searching the crowd. A patrol had returned, one his mother went on. It's not Geckoscreech he sees first, however.

No, it's Flickerfire dragging Hailpaw. It's coughing apprentices. The smell of smoke is thick on the patrol as their news rings through the camp.

Fire, they say. Fire is coming, and they need to leave.

Green eyes search frantically for his mother through the crowd. There. He pushes his way to her, weaves between those around him. The brown tabby bounds over to her, worry washing over him.

"Are you okay?" he asks her, concern for his mother evident. Had she inhaled the smoke, like those who went on the patrol with her? He can't lose his mother too, he just can't.

Briarstar says they need to evacuate. She says they need to take what they can. The only thing that holds much importance to him Ribbitpaw fears he can't carry, as he knows it wouldn't be important to bring, in the event of a fire - Leaping Toad's nest. It's the last thing he has of him, scraps of old moss that he tries to keep within his own nest. The tom's ears fold back, anxiety rising within him as he silently begs the stars to keep the fire away from the camp, to keep ShadowClan safe.
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Firedawn had been resting in her nest, her wound from the rats now healed and nothing but a faint scar now. The Somali mix would be jolted away by a loud crash of thunder and flash of lightning and turned her head around quickly to see her other clanmates huddled together out of the horrible storm.

She would relax upon seeing them, but then she heard shouting from outside the den and hurried up to see what the commotion was all about. Her ears would quickly catch the words, fire before she slipped out of the den and looked to Briarstar as her leader ordered the clan to evacuate.

What could she do? How could she help? Her dark pine green eyes flickered around the clearing for Dawnpaw as the camp came to life around her, cats rushing to obey the order of their leader. It would be Bonejaw's voice that caught her attention and the warrior was quick to bound over to the meddie as she meowed above the winds of the storm, "I'm here! Tell me what needs to be carried!"

It was the least she could do as thanks for the molly healing her last injuries.

❝ holding it together with one loose string. ❝
with the clan fully alerted to the danger of the fires, the evacution to head to the tunnels beneath the thunderpath was now in tow.

geckoscreech had since moved away from the nursery and into the fray of cats who have now since roused from their sleep, some clearly looking disoriented and frantic at the news being spread around. the older molly would briefly look over the crowd towards the rest of her patrol, they were in rough shape and only assumed they had stayed back a little longer at the scene and had gotten choked up my the smog. thankfully, bonejaw was already on the case.

weaving through the crowd and catching her attention at the last second amongst the mild chaos was her son, ribbitpaw, who seemed panicked about learning about the fire that broke out. the rosetted warrior pressed her head against his own in a brief moment, stars, he must've been terrified. her poor baby. "i'm okay, darling. i'm okay. we need to focus on evacutating to the tunnels underneath the thunderpath like briarstar said and hope the fire gets smothered out soon."
  • Perhaps it is some grand flaw of hers, but when Betonyfrost hears news of the fire she hesitates to leave the relative dry of the warrior's den. She steps slow out into the rain, ears folded to her neck and tail poofed in trepidation. Betonyfrost cannot help herself-- she stands on her hindlegs, neck craned, in an attempt to see the flames through the visual din of the rain. Is it that she can see black plumes in the distance? The bright red licks of flame?


    Betonyfrost doesn't see a thing through the downpour. She drops onto all fours, and doesn't flinch at the familiar feeling of mud settling between her toes. Her nostrils twitch, mouth open ever so slightly, and there is the confirmation Betonyfrost had sought. Smoke-scent, unmistakable and strong, finds a home in the back of Betonyfrost's throat.

    It occurs to Betonyfrost then, that she is in danger.

    Moments later, it occurs to Betonyfrost that everyone is in danger.

    Who is she to not think of her clanmates second in such a time--? Who is she to start wallowing under the weight of her flaws in such a time! Betonyfrost startles as if she is coming awake, hyper aware that she should act like she cares, and then harshly reminding herself that she does care. Hailpaw still needed water; surely more clanmates would be in need of water after.

    Betonyfrost slips into the warrior's den and emerges a moment later with the moss of her nest bundled in her mouth. It was already rain dampened, no use to Betonyfrost. For a lack of a better place to set it down, she drops it directly near Hailpaw's head. There Betonyfrost lingers, uncertain of what she should do next.​
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shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | tags

Fear sets in as the shadow-furred tom watches on. The state of the patrol before him, fur laden with a charred odor, lungs tightened by smoke - it terrifies Batpaw.

And yet, he knows he can't stay frozen within the fiery situation. Brown eyes look from ShadowClanner to ShadowClanner, assessing the situation, making sure everyone's still standing.

It is Hailpaw that seems to have taken the most damage. But, the rest of the patrol has been harmed as well. Betonyfrost collects some moss upon Bonejaw's word, and Firedawn rushes off too. He isn't sure if two cats will be enough to aid the patrol's injuries, to collect the supplies the medicine cat needed.

Dark paws step forward towards the medicine cat, towards Firedawn. "I'll go too. What do we need?"
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would you do anything for me?
Ravinkit watched the happenings silently, eyes wide. Her gaze traced every detail of her clanmate's injuries, burning them into her brain. This was her first encounter with real violence, and she was not about to forget a moment of it. There was a smell that hung about them, charred and smokey, that made her feel liker her stomach was going to turn itself inside out.

The rain seemed to compliment the violence, hurtling toward the ground with hateful force. It's presence too, inked itself into her memory.

The moment her mother spoke the words, she leapt to her paws hurrying to follow them out of harms way. She would not fall victim to whatever this patrol had, she would make sure of it. A fear she dared not express had crept into her heart at the sight of all of them, and she did not wish to see it realized.

I've no time for confession
Wolverinefang is snoozing in a hovel outside of camp, having crammed himself in there when the storm began brewing. It was too much trouble to walk (or ancestors forbid, run) back to camp. Being a thick lug has many ups, like not being scared of some stray causing trouble with him or a raccoon trying to push him out of his hole. Doesn't mean that he has to look like a potbelly the way he's sleeping without a care but it doesn't last long. He's too far off to hear all of the cries and panic in the camp but there is something that reaches him: the smoke.

The tom screws up his face against the smog and grinds his teeth in his sleep, trying to ignore the funny smell. Wolve hasn't seen or smelled fire since he was a kit and even then, it was just from some twoleg monster on the thunderpath. It was terrifying, sure, but he never expected to see it just be able to appear in their land. That smoke was different too. It was acidic, oily and rotten, but this smells like ginger, pine, and caramelizing sap. It almost makes his sleepy body hungry until suddenly it sours. The smoke becomes denser, heavy, and it forces his eyes open. "What the hell?" The tom coughs and squirms his way upright before poking his head out of the tree. His sleep squinted eyes suddenly becomes as large as a bird's and he swallows as the encroaching inferno lights up his features.

Suddenly being so big and fluffy doesn't feel like a blessing anymore. It just feels like he's made of fine kindling waiting for any stray ember to grab onto a tuft and run with it. The viscous flames spit out splinters of wood at him through the downpour with a few narrowly missing him. Wolverinefang abandons his resting place and takes off in a sprint that's surprisingly fast for a cat as big as he is only to yowl as he steps right on one of the wood pieces he'd just avoided.
"Ouch, ouch! Dammit! Stupid idiot!" Wolverinefang curses himself as he shakes his front paw, hopping into the outskirts of the territory. Better his paw than his face, he supposes. By the time he reaches the hoard of cats, it's clear that they're gearing up to leave.

He frowns at the sight of Hailpaw and watches Betony apply the moss, claws poking out at the stress at seeing everyone looking so worried. "Is she gonna be okay?" He turns his darkened eyes toward the wheezing Flickerfire who he attempts to nose to make sure she's okay. Wolverinefang then puts his aching paw down to not look weak and, after a hasty check into the elder's den, he puffs his chest out to his clanmates. "Someone fill me in later. I can carry whoever or whatever." It'll suck. A lot. But he can play pack mule as well. The cold mud and rain should soothe his paw enough for him to manage.

✦ ★ ✦
A million voices ring out — “It’s come to pass”, “what should we bring?” Bonejaw had foreseen this, confirming that she was making the right choice in getting them all out of here. “Grab herbs for Bonejaw. Help carry the wounded and kits who cannot keep up. Let’s go,” Briarstar barked, striding for the entrance. She wanted no time wasted. If the fire reached camp while they were still in it, things would be more disastrous than it already was.

“If you get separated, head for the tunnels. You’ll find us there,” she said as she hurried her pace. “Nobody goes on the Thunderpath. It’s too dangerous. We use the tunnels and the tunnels only if we need to escape. I want frequent patrols monitoring the fire. Don’t get too close, just make sure it isn’t getting close to camp. We’ll stay beneath the Thunderpath until it dies out.”

The rain soaked her pelt as she left the cover of the trees. Her fur bristled and she shivered, looking behind her to see if anyone was following.

/ Any posts after this can assume they reached the tunnels!

Awakening in the tunnels was quiet a confusing and rather fearful thing for Hailpaw. Glancing around wildly, she would search for Bonejaw, or even better, Flickerfire. There had to be some sort of explanation for what the hell had happened and where they were. “What happened? Flickerfire?” Coughing, the molly would hope that someone was close by enough to hear and fill her in on the missing details.

// major apologies for the delay in responding to this!!
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