I'LL BE [ fox attack ] YOUR LIGHT

[batwing]

.i'll be your calm, —————————

————————— before the storm!.

▵ ———————— ◮ ———————— ▵

Having to continue to press on, despite being the only weary paws that could hunt and navigate, was starting to burn on Batwing's energy. He had just collected a heap of prey the night before- one that even his clan would have congratulated him on- and yet, they were leading them through the brush ahead. It wasn't.. unfair, persay- after all, three of the five clans had already pulled their weight. It was Thunderclan's time to shine. But, oh was he tired, and oh was he distracted.

Green, gleaming eyes had tracked the group for a night and a day. And when the group of cats slowly came to close for the night, they became akin to sitting ducks- Thunderclanners slowly splitting off to hunt and feed the group, other clan cats huddling for safety. But the pair of eyes knew when it wanted to strike. The wind had been in it's favor, keeping it's scent hidden for over the length of the day.

And it waited during the night, picking out the smaller targets, licking it's lip in anticipation. When day slowly broke, the faintest inkling of light streaking across the sky, that's when it attacked.

Batwing's paws had hardly pushed him up for the morning before chaos broke out. A yip, a yowl- he didn't even know what noise that was splitting the air when fox's paws burst into camp. It charged at cats, snapping at them in the inches left after a cat would scramble away. "Scatter! Get up the trees if you can, hide under roots!" Batwing shouted, eyes wide as he watched the fox blaze through.

// hi all! all the cats are going to scatter, but the main group will be coming back together within minutes. only the cats i @ will be very scattered, and batwing will be retrieving those cats in another thread. feel free to have MINOR injuries, but the fox will be chased off, not killed.

please do not double post before all of the cats below have a chance to post! once i post again, y'all are okay to double post.
@bobbie @SHARPPAW. @dovethroat. @orangeblossom are all going to be lost (and will be pulled into another thread!)

"speech"​

​

 

[DOEBLAZE]

days of pain locked between claws of sky-scraping stone seem to have given her an inclination for paranoia. a solemn snow-swept night around a frozen grave, talon rakes shredded along her own shoulders, cherrypaw harlequined with blood. all of it leaves a shadowed bird across her back, a perpetual veil of foreboding that drapes heavier in this cave of rusting greenery. bobbie is unsure exactly what she fears, only a vague sense of cut-glass fragility in her ribs.

mortality, perhaps. the visions of each narrow dance on death's razor edge, of how little wolf had finally fallen. choking on water in the river, wandering maddened circles in the caves. a slipping paw and a broken back at the cliff, or her bones mouldering in this cavernous forest of bramble and vine. what mostly haunts her nightmares, though, is that bird. she pays the price for a lost collar in dreams and scars, and she's left to wonder: is it worth it? gazes slip along her back like scales, protected by a shield of scar tissue, leather traded for blood.

"fox!" she lends her voice to the yowls, fear electric in her veins, but it's almost as though she'd expected this. lacking the numb and motionless paws tragedy had wrought moons ago, bobbie responds as fast as the sun reaching tendrils through the canopy. in a moment she's sweeping sage-leaf eyes across the area, registering that the best move is indeed to scatter, and moving quick. she's stumbling over root and fern, tearing through vine and bramble. thorns tear tufts of lilac fur from her pelt and she leaves a trampled path behind, but she barely feels it—movemovemove.

in an instant she's launching herself against a tree trunk, blood hot and lightning-whipped with primal fear, clawing her way up. the bark is far too smooth for her tastes, but any den in a storm, and she manages her way onto a stout and leafy branch without injury. bobbie exhales relief, clinging with frantic claws to the lightly grooved bark, trying to peer through the dappled auburn leaves. green and orange explode beneath her, but she recognizes.....

nothing. the ginger-licked greenery below is unrecognizable, not a trace of their camp or the area surrounding it. the tabby's pupils flare wide with panic as she realizes—the fox is nowhere to be found, but.....neither are her journeymates.

only the sun has come this close ✿ ( only the sun )

• tl;dr bobbie ran off and climbed a tree, but is away from the group and lost!! she left a path of trampled leaves and is visible in the tree - to be retrieved by batwing >:))

• 

• 

  bobbie ; warrior of skyclan
  x. she/her ; 42 moons ; tags
  x. small, scarred lilac tabby and white she-cat with green eyes
  x. played by dejavu
  bobbie is a kittypet-born skyclan warrior who would die for her clan regardless of whose blood runs through her veins. perpetually self-assessing, she often finds herself short of who she wants to be. skyclan gossip, if it's to be believed, hints at something more than friendship between her and blazestar.

​

 

[Orangestar]

𝐵𝑈𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐴 𝑊𝑂𝑀𝐴𝑁, 𝐵𝑌 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝑁𝐷 ✧ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀

• orangeblossom has also been separated from the group but is within earshot of where bobbie is hiding :]
  
  
• 
  
  — orangeblossom | tags
  — she/her ; deputy of skyclan, mentoring eveningpaw.
  — scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes.
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — chibi by waluigipinball
  — penned by mercibun. @ me in any official tabbytales discord for plots.
  
  

​

Stealth has never been Orangeblossom's strong suit: white fur is good in the snow, but her ginger patches make it easy to spot her among the flakes. Ginger fur is good among copper foliage like this forest has to offer, but her fur is too pale for the most part. Likewise, speed hasn't been her friend for about three seasons. Every time her weakened leg gives out from underneath her or aches when it's too cold, she sends a curse skyward praying for Badgermoon's continued suffering, facing any lifelong challenge like she would.

Despite these shortcomings in skill, luck often is on her side, and as the fox takes off in a different direction she thanks StarClan for their grace. It gives her enough leeway to find and scale a tree, her claws digging into too-smooth bark with a grunt of discomfort, hauling herself skyward to a branch that's too low for her liking but high enough that she thinks a jumping fox couldn't clear her. She crouches there panting, nose wrinkled with overwhelm, claws digging into the branch beneath her and kneading slivers of bark from its surface.

"Fox-dung." She hisses, her ears flicking backwards. She's lost the fox ... but she's lost the others, too. For a moment, she sits quietly, ears turning back and forth as she tries to catch the noise of any of the cats in the area, suddenly acutely aware of the slightly muffled hearing from her right side. Weird. Did she have something in her ear?

"Hey!" She calls out to the near vicinity, straining to hear any response. "Anyone there?"​

 

[Mouseflight]

Foxes were something Mouseflight knew about, they dealt with them in the moors at times, but he didn't realize they'd be out this far - or that they made home in the forests as well. The loud yip that could be heard caused the tunneler's fur to stand on end and the call from Batwing having them scatter made the WindClanner run immediately. He could barely move in the forest, let alone fight off a fox, and he wasn't going to try to be a hero today. There had already been one too many deaths on this journey, and Mouseflight was going to make sure he wasn't the second.

Breath stuck in his throat, quickly the small feline looked around for somewhere to hide. Those who could were climbing trees, but in his scramble Mouse had found a bush beside a tree to dive into. The roots from the tree covered in loose dirt he found himself frantically digging for a moment, careful to not kick dirt out from his hiding spot before sinking into the new hole that he had made. It wasn't much, but he was able to hide a little bit better than before. His ears swiveled as he listened for where the fox was, holding his breath as he waited - and hoped - for it to rush past him and pay him no mind.

⋆｡°✩ threw my voice into the dark

•  
• 
  ⋆ mousekit - mousepaw - mouseflight
  ⋆ ftm - he/him - 12 moons
  ⋆ bisexual - open to relationship
  ⋆ tunneler of windclan
  ⋆ attack - speech - thought
  ⋆ penned by tikki

​

​

 

[dovethroat.]

He is not a fighter. He could be; especially with other cats, he's got enough weight to throw around comfortably in a one-on-one—but even then, he still is not a fighter. Every time he had been in battle, he had wound up doing very little of note. He came away with more cuts than he had dealt out every time.

Except for, perhaps, the spat he had with Ravensong way back. That was one that, in basically every sense, he "won". However, it was hard to not tack that one up as a hollow victory. He certainly had not felt good about it.

Regardless, all that meant was that running away was something that came as very logical and reasonable to Dovethroat. At the first howl, he freezes in a stupefied confusion. Fox? Foxes? Dovethroat had never seen a fox—unless the terror was making him forget. It feels like his heart stops for a moment, and the next screech is the only point when it starts back up again. He begins to hear rustling, crackling: it's impossible to tell what is his fellow journeyer and what is a foe. Another moment passes before his terror is broken through, and Dovethroat turns on a dime and rockets himself toward a far-away tree.

He can't climb, Dovethroat thrinks dreadfully. He may be unusually adept at land-hunting for a RiverClanner, but that has not made him a good climber. Faced with this dilemma, Dovethroat does the first thing he can think of, and dives straight under an arching, gnarled root of a big tree—

and several moments pass. Silence overtakes him.

Several more moments pass, perhaps several minutes, of silence before Dovethroat feels comfortable to venture movement. Pulling himself back by his haunches, he tries to carefully pull himself out of cage of the root. It isn't long before he realizes that he can't.

He's stuck.

His stomach drops.

"...Anyone?"

[⋆]​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

Sharppaw is eager, maybe more eager than she has ever been. Talons have scrapped at pelts more than once. A journey-mate lays dead in the snow, now; burried somewhere where her family would not be able to visit, and Sharppaw is left unperturbed, locked into an ever-present, numb sort of buzz. Dark pawpads tingle, even while she is unknowing of the threat that lurks not far behind. A small lapse in judgement— that she does not flinch at every odd breeze and rustle of dense undergrowth.

And then, commotion clips the quiet morning.

Never before, has she been so fiercely struck with the will to live. The screech of fox splinters the air, and Sharppaw is slipping away at once. Light steps; as if she were wreathed in night, and not sharp and obvious upon the sun's backdrop. There are no shadows to hide in. She slips away, and keeps slipping. The howls peter into nothing. Hisses and clicking stifled. She watches, and she waits. Nothing comes. No fox, nor soul. Sharppaw is left blinking to herself, realizing that she is lost.

Was she too much a coward? No, she did not think so. One less corpse to bury was certainly better, wasn't it? Nevermind that he might be found a bit later— if he is found at all: unhelpfully supplied. A little bit was all he needed, for his heart to stop its aggravated slam into his chest. He tries desperately to cram himself into any shadow he can find, dipping betwixt dense undergrowth.

Beast— bears, he's seen it all. And then, only his injuries had kept him from running away to never return to that swamp. ( This is what he tells himself, and this is not true )

OOC † LOOK SEE, ISN'T IT INTERESTING? NO, YOU'RE NOT EVEN LISTENING

• 
  

• 

• ( IS THAT NOT BRAVE ENOUGH FOR YOU? ) SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 15 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Recently, she has realized it can still function, though she has wholly believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  — Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this.
  heavy ic opinions! he sucks.

​

 

[FERNGILL]

One of the few battles Fernpaw had been involved in had taught him an important lesson- the blistering, white-hot pain of fox claws. They weren't like the strikes of felines- bolstered by canid muscles, a fox's blow had ripped half his vision away from him. Hearing the desperate yowls of horror, Fernpaw's bright eye blew wide- fox. Deja-vu, but he wasn't going to be so stupid this time. Wasn't going to embarrass RiverClan or get himself killed- he would keep the promise he'd made to both his sisters. To live, and to return with a tale.

Panic cauterised to fear, and Fernpaw did not rush forward, knowing at the very least his remaining sight depended on it, if not his life itself. Scatter, and Fernpaw would- he backed away, drawing distance between he and the beast. It wasn't a creature he- or any warrior- could face alone. And it wouldn't be noble to die here, it would just be sad and horrible and violent.

Traversing the undergrowth was difficult, but hiding in it actually proved simpler to grasp. Despite his blazing bright pelt, Fernpaw was small and could squeeze into crannies bigger cats couldn't. It left him with a good hiding spot- one not-too far away, keeping him in earshot of the rest of the group, ready to fight with help if the situation called for it. ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ OH HOME, LET ME COME HOME ❀❀​

---

periwinklebreeze & 15 moons & demi-boy & he/they & windclan moor runner ​

---

The scent that reaches ken nose is all to familiar, every hair upon his pelt raising as phantom pangs of pain spread through his scars. Fox - he's moving before the others even manage to speak. Fear takes his wits within seconds - he doesn't stop, doesn't think, doesn't care. The others can handle themselves, certainly. Ashen paws move swiftly in spite of his frail figure, carrying him with all the swiftness of a true windclanner. He does not know where he is going, not in the mess of tangled undergrowth and reaching roots. He only knows that he must get far, far away from here. By the time he draws to a stop, the scent gone and only his racing heartbeat lingering in his ears, he is alone. Eyes blink, rolling wildly as his head swings about to take in his surroundings - he's tucked himself up beneath some roots without even noticing. "H-hello? Is it s-safe yet?" he whispers, because certainly, at least one of them must have ran this way... right? Ears flatten while he waits, holding his breath.

— home is wherever I'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

 

[batwing]

.i'll be your calm, —————————

————————— before the storm!.

▵ ———————— ◮ ———————— ▵

The fox passes through without much heartache- well, besides the literal life-threatening scare they just had. Cats would emerge, check upon one another. It wouldn't be until later that night that Hailstorm would question where Batwing was. It wasn't until later, nearly nighttime, that the journey group would realize five souls were missing from the group.

// feel free to continue posting unless you're the missing cat group >:)
here is where the alarm is raised!

"speech"​

​

 

[hazecloud]

It felt like there was always some sort of creature lurking about, waiting for its turn to strike against the clowder as they trailed through countless forests and mountain paths. If it wasn't the peril of their trails it was an eagle, if not that than a badger. She might start taking bets on what would snap at their tails next if she wasn't so optimistic that their last encounter would truly be their last encounter.

A blaze of russet fur burst through the hedges and Hazecloud's fur fluffed to three times its size. She leapt as jaws snapped at the air behind her, tearing across the forest floor as it took interest one someone else. A familiar fiery pelt caught her eye- Fernpaw- and it reeled her back to think of the safety on her other Clanmates. She had one head accounted for, but where was Mosspaw? Or Dovethroat?

Hazecloud buried herself beneath a thick shrub dotted with berries and took her moment to see if anyone familiar had followed her. Her nose twitched, trying to find even the faintest scent but nothing was there... No scent of blood yet, that must count for something?! It doesn't help the feeling of dread that still lurked in her mind.​