BUT TONIGHT WE DANCE [ ✦ ] lungwort discovery

Red ears perk at Little Wolf's call. Was it true? Had they really found the cure? She pushes her way to the front, and she feels her heart leap to her throat. We found it! There was so much of it...enough for every clan. The others pile in, and with Magpiepaw's instructions, they begin to pick the plants. She watches the other clan's begin to pick their own, and she feels herself growing anxious. This was the moment her clanmates back home had been the most nervous about. They had spoken their fears about the others attacking them, and taking the lungwort for themselves....but that didn't seem to be happening. I'm not letting my guard down. They had traveled this far together with little quarrels, but this moment would make or break everything.

The cure to fix their sick clanmates was right in front of them. Cloudyfur...Owlear...we're coming. she promised silently, leaning down to pick a plant. Her gaze lifts as she watches others continuing to harvest. What if Flycatcher is sick? Or Sunfreckle? Or Falconpaw? Her throat strains, imagining her mate or son laying in the medicine den. What if they returned home, and didn't bring enough back to their clanmates? What if [everyone was sick? Her pelt twitched anxiously, and she padded over to the closest clanmate of her's, Stormywing. "Pick as much as you can. We must bring back all we can carry." She knew the younger molly would, but she wanted to ensure Thunderclan had enough. She leaned down to pick another plant, setting it in a small pile protectively by her paws. ​
★ born to find that great unknown
  • talking to @STORMYWING​
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    FLAMEWHISKER of THUNDERCLAN
    LH red tabby with low white (masks black tabby, carries dilute, solid)
    — Lead Warrior of Thunderclan ; currently mentoring Acornpaw
    — she/her ; mated with Flycatcher
    — mother to Stormpaw & Falconpaw
    — 24 moons ; ages on the 20th
    — Smells like dirt, old leaves, tree sap, faint hint of flowers
    — will start a fight, will finish fights, will kill (case depending)
    — "speech" ; thoughts ; attacks
    — penned by Icey ! ; link to tags
    — link to toyhouse
    — funny guy art by waluigipinball​



 
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┌─────────────────── ☽【❖】☾ ───────────────────┐​
It's an endless, uphill battle, this journey is, and even though he's tried to stay determined, knowing they're long past the point of no easy return, this weather is proving to be a challenge all its own, sending constant shivers down his spine. This is no place for WindClanner, he thinks, not so high up and so bone-cold, and yet here he is, a WindClanner up here all the same, alongside cats from four other Clans. Even now, it amazes him that they'd all agreed to this, all set out together and remained relatively civil this whole time - that he'd grown to tolerate those around him, that they'd grown to become familiar to him in a way his clanmates might be familiar. It really had been a moon since they'd departed, he's reminded, a moon of such close proximity; at first, it had been nerve-wracking, but now? Now he sleeps soundly as ever no matter the bodies lying around him, and that should be startling, he thinks, but at this point he's grown accustomed enough to it that it hardly seems to matter. When they made it back, perhaps things would be different - perhaps they'd go back to normal, whatever that meant these days - but for now he's content enough to plod on in silence next to those from other Clans.

Another day of walking, and his sore, cold pawpads are still protesting, aching muscles ready for respite that never seems to come in long enough bursts these days, though a voice ringing out above them all quickly catches his attention. If his fur weren't already fluffed up to dissuade the cold, it would certainly be standing on end now as he recognizes only the call, not the words, and Luckypaw braces himself for the inevitable, already glancing about for Scorchpaw. Whatever new disaster has befallen them, he will not let himself lose her, not again; and yet, ruin never comes, as he recognizes Little Wolf's words for what they are. Hope, and now that holds him taut, scarcely daring to breathe even though his own sights aren't yet on the fabled plants. It's not until Magpiepaw announces that, indeed, they've found the lungwort, a whole field of it, even, that he moves again, as though the strings holding him up had been snapped. Had they...had they really done it? After everything they'd survived, the trails they'd blazed and the trials they'd faced, had they really done it? He hasn't even seen the plants for himself, and yet a wide grin ripples across his features, a trill of laughter escaping him. They'd found the lungwort!

The excitement and relief bouncing through the crowd must be contagious, and uncharacteristically, Luckypaw finds himself clamoring forwards, too, needing to see the plants in all their glory. Even as cats are beginning to harvest the herbs, it's - well, it's not quite as brilliant of a sight as he'd pictured when they first set off, but that only barely dampens the excitement that chases away the cold from his limbs. It had all been worth it, he hopes, all for this; Rattleheart will be okay, and so will everybody else back at home, all thanks to this one field, nestled among the peaks. In his excitement, it's easy enough to forget about what lies back at home in this moment - or, perhaps, what doesn't lie back at home, a once-empty spot beneath the Tallrock now filled by another. No, for now, his focus is entirely on the present, on the plants resting right in front of his paws. Though he's as anxious as the rest to start plucking the herbs, he's also worried about Magpiepaw's warning of being careful with them, and the thought of harvesting the life-bearing plants incorrectly is almost too much to bear. His services are probably better-spent on collecting leaves to carry the lungwort in like some of the other cats, as even if he were to mess that up, there would always be more regular old leaves to collect. "I'll get something to carry this all in," he announces amidst the WindClanners, and then he's off, step lighter than it's been in a moon.​
i'm falling into place, but still the timing's not right (☘) yeah that's a fire i just can't seem to light
  • OOC: --​
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  • 69355684_l8Wl3AJb3zHJeza.png
    - Luckykit Luckypaw
    - He/him (AFAB)
    - 6 moons (Ages on the 1st)
    - Kit Apprentice of WindClan
    - Small blue tortoiseshell with white spotting & green eyes
    - Art by myself & meghan respectively! <33
    - Minor powerplay allowed!
    - Penned by Hijinks​
 

little wolf's burst of excitement has her ears pressing forward, limbs pushing themselves to reach the same spot the dark warrior stood. her gaze beheld a sea of green and purple, and although it had yet to be confirmed that this was the herb they so desperately searched for her heart lurched in her chest. this had to be it, they had been gone for nearly a moon, spent every waking moment searching.

hailstorm found his place by little wolf, opposite pelts brushing as he spoke quiet assurances of duskpaw's health. nightbird's ears twitch, tail subtly straightening out. very rarely did she reminisce, spend her down time dwelling on those left behind. how could she have had the time? predators, dangerous trials, she had been so focused on keeping the lives in front of her safe that the ones they were doing this for had slipped to the back of her mind.

an icy pang of guilt ran down her spine, claws flexing into the ground underfoot. nearly a whole moon had come and gone, how many others had gotten sick and joined starclan in their absence? it wasn't beneficial to think about who all they could have lost with no way of verifying until they returned, it would drive anyone mad. but still, a pair of rich chocolate eyes flashed in her mind. one of the only cats she trusted enough to call a friend, nightbird hoped the world would not be so cruel as to take him from her.

as soon as magpiepaw shared that this was the lungwort they searched for, cats spread like wildfire to make sure their home got it's claim. nightbird was not immune to the mistrust most of them held. she followed near flamewhisker, spreading away as soon as they all began picking the plant. gently, she pulled them from their spots in the ground, eyes flitting around near constantly to make sure nobody was deranged enough to try anything at a time like this. she began to create a small pile and wouldn't stop adding to it until they had enough for two doses for every thunderclanner.
‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎
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  • NIGHTBIRD ✩ she/her, lead warrior of thunderclan, twenty-six moons
    ⭃ nightbird is a small black smoke molly with pale silver eyes. a loner turned thunderclanner, her loyalty and drive to provide for her clan is unwavering. however, she is not known for harboring a bleeding heart, instead equipped with sarcastically fueled wit, brutal honesty, and a sharply edged tongue.
    ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ see battle info here
    ⭃ penned by vayle ↛ @vayl3 on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​
 

Figfeather's own yowl of triumph echoes in the mountain air. They've found the lungwort, StarClan was right! Their mission was a success, though it was long and hard, it was all worth it. SkyClan's sick would be saved! The ill of the other clans cured as well! A tremendous amount of pride swells up inside of her as she begins to help pluck lungwort from the ground, following Magpiepaw's instructions with cautious percision.

'Tallulahwing- I did it. Do you see me now? Do you walk these skies…? Or does my success here ring loud enough for you to hear me back in the forest?' Her innervoice echoes, reaching out to communicate with her fallen mentor. Figfeather hopes the torbie can hear her thoughts, or that they echo back to her all the way to the forest they once trained and hunted in together.

Meanwhile- this lungwort is being stubborn. She tugs and tugs but it will not come out from the ground, her struggle can be heard with a grunt. "Why- why won't it just-" She glances up aimlessly for help, surely this plant was not stronger than her.​

♡ INFO BATTLE
  • (anyone is free to help her! strong roots lol)
  • » Figfeather
    » SkyClan Warrior
    » She/her . AMAB
    » A red tabby she-cat with a mangled leg.
    » "Speech"․ thoughts ․ attack
  • » A foe in battle whose ability to strategize can shift tides.
    » Excels in strategizing and pre-planning her battles.
    » Fights defensively and aid her clan to victory.
    » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing
​
 
They've made it.

Scorchpaw stands in purple Elysium, blooms sprouted all around her, persistent in the mountain cold in the same way that the journey cats themselves are persistent. They've faced so much (and there is more still to face), but it is all made worth it by the violet gold that flows around them. The young molly's eyes shine with well-earned relief. Their ill could be cured– Rattleheart, Weaselclaw, Moorpaw, anyone else who had gotten sick while they were gone (though she loathes to imagine that the yellowcough still spreads) –and they would have lungwort for many moons to come. Wolfsong and Cottonpaw would always have a cure on hand. She wouldn't have to worry about Rumblepaw or Frostpaw anymore, or about the clowders of kittens that had been born into the illness, or even about Sootstar, who though indomitable as she was, could certainly fall to the illness herself (only StarClan knew how many times over).

Luckypaw's crooked tail flags his position and Scorchpaw wastes no time making her way to his side. She headbutts his shoulder with a great purr, savoring their victory for as long she could. "We did it," she rumbles, muzzle split into a smile as warm and soft as a hearth. And he is quick to make himself busy, so Scorchpaw is inclined to follow– until Figfeather's bright yellow pelt draws her attention.

She steps over to the golden molly instead, something she never would have thought about doing before they'd all set off together, and examines the SkyClanner's trouble. So the lungwort was stubborn– she wouldn't have that. Not after they'd come all this way to retrieve it. "Let me help," the tortoiseshell molly offers, craning to grip the lungwort in tandem with Figfeather. Together, they heave it, and it pops out of the ground with an ease that she did not know was possible. She has to catch herself in order to not fall backwards– but the embarrassment is quickly forgotten. Scorchpaw beams a smile at her. "We got it!"
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𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐈 𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐆𝐄 ✧ 𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙇𝙊𝙊𝘿
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    — scorchkit . scorchpaw
    — she/they ; apprentice of windclan
    — short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
    — "speech" ; thoughts
    — chibi by giinya, signature by raphaelion
    — penned by meghan
 
❀​❀ OH HOME, LET ME COME HOME ❀❀​
periwinklebreeze & 15 moons & demi-boy & he/they & windclan moor runner ​
Honestly, for a moment peri is frozen in stunned disbelief. They'd... they'd done it, found the herbs at last. The others seem just as eager, just as excited - though he does not join the scramble to plunk the plants. To many paws, he'd only get in the way. Honestly, periwinklebreeze had thought he'd be more excited, but all he feels is an empty sort of numbness - as though now that this task has been fulfilled, he's once again lost his purpose. Head shakes as he tries to clear his mind, blue eyes blinking - Magpiepaw's words catch his attention at last, and while slower on his paws, he's quick to echo batwings sentiments - "I'll go look for some as well," the more they can get to help carry the lungwort the better - stars only know how much they'll need; how many more cats have grown sick in their absence.

— home is wherever I&#039;m with you ❀
  • Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '

    ooc: —
    tw/cw: —
  • — a lithe figured black and white tom with a false-pointed pattern and clear blue eyes that gleam periwinkle in the right lighting. he seems perpetually worn and exhausted, with heavy bags beneath his eyes and a slouched posture. he has a speech impediment which leaves him with a stutter and sometimes even completely non-verbal, and his fluffy tail is adorned with carefully woven daisies.

    — physically medium && mentally easy && pacifist
    — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay allowed
    — please attack using [b][color=#ccccff]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

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With how long they've been traveling now, hope had begun to wane in Greeneyes' stride.

Though it's small, the higher they go up this mountain with no lungwort in sight, the more he fears there isn't actually any up here, that somehow - he prays this isn't so - the Stars got it wrong. That Daisyflight, that Snowpath, that Sheepcurl had been thinking of elsewhere, perhaps, that there'd been a miscommunication to the clans' healers. Something, he fears. Maybe they had gotten lost on their journey. Would that be a surprise, with everything that had crossed their path already?

Little Wolf's voice grabs his attention, a viridescent gaze lifting. Look! she cries out, and Greeneyes follows her gaze toward a foliage-filled field. Of course, they have seen plants atop the mountain already, but these were different to the small wildflowers that have dotted their trail. These are —

"Is… Is that it?" he asks, eyes going wide as he turns to look at Magpiepaw for confirmation. The purple flowers and strange leaves - Greeneyes wishes he could remember for sure, but this feels like they've come across their objective, even before the ShadowClan healer assesses the plants before them, a shout in declaration that brings a wave of relief over him.

It's lungwort. They've done it.

The warrior wants to cry. They can go home! They can cure the forest's sickness, can get rid of the plague. No longer will he have to worry about his sisters getting sick, about his best friend succumbing to the illness he tries to keep at bay, of losing his apprentice. They all will be safe, soon. Silently, he apologizes to his brother, to his mother, and any other StarClanner that may be able to hear him for ever doubting them on this journey.

He is sure to listen closely as Magpiepaw explains how to collect the herb - Greeneyes doesn't want to ruin any of it, after all, wants to keep as much of it safe as he can. The flower, the leaf, the stem. The SkyClanner nods his head at that, and he moves toward an empty patch of the field to get to work. Magpiepaw said it would be fuzzy, but still, he doesn't expect the texture it brings to his mouth - like holding a cloud in his mouth for too long, he thinks.

He places what he can carry into their makeshift pile, and when he turns to collect more, golden fur catches his attention. His sister struggles to pull out a particularly stubborn lungwort, but before Greeneyes can move to help her, flame-patched fur is already there to help. For a moment, he watches Figfeather and Scorchpaw, watches Sky and Wind, work together. This would never happen back home, he briefly thinks. The thought is amusing, though he too finds himself turning to work with another, as he glances toward Periwinklebreeze, who opts to help find something to carry their prize in.

"I'll go too," Greeneyes says with an affirmative nod, padding over to stand beside moor-walker.
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✦ ABOUT

  • 70927026_mk0oT2Gc8QoWlIu.png

    GREENKIT ‣ GREENPAW ‣ GREENEYES, Warrior of SkyClan
    — Daisyflight x Raven Ramble
    — AMAB; He/Him
    — A red tabby and white tom with bright green eyes.
    — Mentored by Sheepcurl; Currently mentoring Falconpaw
    — "Speech"; Attack

    ✦･ﾟ: * — Among SkyClan's first born, Greeneyes is a bright tom with an affinity for the world around him. Despite always seeking to be kind to others, the warrior believes he's cursed - a belief brought on by rhetoric that green is a deadly color.
​
 


Dovethroat is a bit embarrassed to admit that he had been losing hope. He is an idealist at heart, but that so often clashes with his ability to be quite pessimistic—quite negative. The fact that they had gone so long, been through so many challenges, and nothing yet had arrived... it worried him, to say the least. And he knows that, in doubting the veracity of there even being lungwort, he is calling Ravensong a liar. And he knows that he has committed himself to never doing that again.

Which is why the word for how he felt about it was embarrassed; and it's why he did not say anything on the matter. Anyone who asked him on his opinion would receive, at the very least, a vague expression of hope. They said it was there—then surely, it must be there.

That is why, when he finally does see it, his heart soars. Ravensong—Ravensong, you were right. You were right—I knew you must have been. You would never have told me something like that otherwise. The overwhelming feeling of finding the lungwort compounds into these feelings of reverence he has toward his dear healer, and Dovethroat quickly begins to blubber and look as if he is on the verge of sobbing.

"I'll—I'll h-help," he croaks, shakily making his way in the direction of the others.

 
Stormpaw shoved roughly into Dovethroat from behind—the dusky brown RiverClan warrior had been blocking her line of sight from their salvation. Only a mutter of apology left the apprentice's lips, soon forgetting her transgression easily. Blue eyes widen with triumph as the recognition from the ShadowClan medicine cat apprentice confirmed what they all so desperately hoped.

She had never thought they would be wrong. StarClan had led them here for a reason. Giddily, the tricolor cat lifted her eyes to the heavens and murmured a prayer of thanks to her warrior ancestors. A warmth bloomed in her chest. They were being looked after. They had never forgotten them.

She would be able to save Owlear.

Stormpaw bounds over to Flamewhisker and Stormywing to help them gather the precious plants for ThunderClan—and ThunderClan only.

​
 


It could've been a dream. Climbing the flat rocks, and the threat of death seemingly at every corner, even his own head lifted in confusion as they were summoned to look at what was there.

It wasn't something with a chance to kill them, it seemed quickly identified above murmurs of curiosity that indeed this was the cure. And he expected blood to be spilled over it. But there was enough for them all to have some. And there was no conflict thus far. So the apprentice would follow instruction to pick them as far down as possible and bring it to the growing pile. Others were going to find something to carry them, and he would continue to remain, biting the odd feeling of the stems that brushed his tongue and rubbed his cheeks.

Throughout the entire journey it would seem each clan would help another, and wondered now when they continued back if there would be bloodshed over it. Who can get the most so others suffer, or if they'll continue working together to assure that everything was going to be okay.

A small sigh of relief spread through the boy. Because for now, everyone at home, kits all the way to elders, would be able to be cured and the forest would be rid of this sickness.

​
 
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