- Dec 15, 2022
- 88
- 53
- 8
// cw for flashback (skip to the line break to avoid this bit) and canon-typical violence
She doesn't know where she wakes up.
She can't quite see reality. She's under his claws again, in the dream, and she feels him still when her eyes snap open. It's dark, nearly dawn. She stumbles out of the nest, out of the den, into the clearing lit by early morning stars.
She can feel him.
She runs without thinking, flinching at shadows, splashing through flooded hunting grounds — all she knows is that she has to get away. She doesn't end up far from their temporary camp; there isn't far to go, without tumbling down the gorge or into floodwaters. The thing crouches in a patch of a reeds, hiding her face in her paws, shaking. Piece of prey, creature to be hurt and hunted. (He's going to find her. He always finds her.)
She doesn't know how long she stays like that.
Eventually, the fear recedes. She comes back to herself, blinking bleary green eyes awake, shifting in her cold wet hiding spot. A little spark of panic flares in Ashpaw's chest — where is she? Where is Willowroot, where are the kittens — where is her clan?
Oh no. Ohhhh, no. "I did it again," Ashpaw whispers to herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Damn it. It's been ages since she last messed up like this. It's still dark, at least — maybe she can find her way back to their shelter, slip back into her nest, no one the wiser. Maybe she hasn't been gone too long? She hopes she doesn't run into Smokethroat. He always walks around at night, right? Or Cicadastar — Ashpaw cringes at the memory of the flood's first morning — "Why are in you in here?" he'd asked, incredulous, as she'd carried Antlerkit from the nursery. She hadn't known how to say "there's nowhere else I can fall asleep. " She hadn't known how to tell him that she still thinks about Spiderfall — that she still dreams about him, sees his eyes in the dark —
What would Cicadastar say, if he saw her out here? He'd be mad, she thinks. He'd be disappointed.
Ashpaw couldn't stand to disappoint either of them.
Okay. Don't cry, she tells herself, sitting up properly. The residue of terror clings to her skin; she takes a few deep breaths, tries to shake it off. Popping up from the reeds, her red tabby fur is bathed in moonlight, perfect target utterly unknowing.
The creature is older than she is, though not by much — nearly-grown cub learning to hunt for itself, hungry, painfully sick — a weak predator, but a predator nonetheless.
It catches her by surprise.
Ashpaw chokes out a gasp as a weight slams into her body — it pins her, and she recognizes the scent. Fox. Shit. Shit.
Ashpaw howls, twisting and slashing — her claws catch on something, and the fox leaps back with a yelp. Ashpaw forces herself to her feet, gasping for breath, as it lunges once more. It's going to kill me, she thinks, I'm going to die.
She darts to one side, escaping the brunt of the blow, but isn't quite fast enough to dodge entirely — Ashpaw screams as its claws make contact, raking across her flank — an old injury reawakened, a twoleg's knife in her side. It's shallow but it hurts — blood sprays over the muddy ground, into nearby floodwaters lapping at the reeds.
"H — help," she shouts hoarsely. Someone hear her — please, please, someone hear her —
She doesn't want to die. (She knows who waits in the stars for her, pitch-black coat and eyes gleaming orange.)
Another hit that just barely connects, and another scream, choked off by pain — "help — HELP! Willowro— agh!" The cry doesn't make any sense, because she knows her mentor must safe at home, ensconsced in the walls of a makeshift nursery. It slips out of her without thinking. She just — wants her mom.
The fox lunges again, teeth bared for her throat. Again she dodges, and they snap closed over her shoulder; the skin there explodes with blood and pain, and she realizes in the next second that if she doesn't do something she — she really is going to die.
She starts to bunny-kick at the fox's exposed belly — claws out, teeth bared, she kicks and scratches and bites and — "get off, " she screeches, and with another kick it does, taking fur and skin with it —
She's in so much pain now, blinding pain, but Ashpaw has felt worse. She stands, gasping for breath — and lunges back at the fox, with hackles raised, teeth bared, claws extended. This will not kill her. Damn it, this won't.
And it bolts.
Cuts its losses, rather than face any more injury at the claws of unruly prey. Ashpaw's lunge connects with the ground, and she slips across the flood-soaked earth, colliding hard. A lone thing, survivor of the flood, the predator flees in the direction of the beech copse ... away from either camp, Ashpaw realizes, toward the border. Away from RiverClan territory entirely.
She did it.
Her head drops, ginger fur slowly soaking red, breathing hard and fast. She just lies there for a moment, muddy and exhausted, basking in the fact that she's alive. She did it — she did it, the fox is gone. Pride swells in her chest, and she rolls over to stare up at the sky.
Colors bleed over the horizon. The sun is rising.
For the first time in her short life, Ashpaw has saved herself.
She doesn't know where she wakes up.
She can't quite see reality. She's under his claws again, in the dream, and she feels him still when her eyes snap open. It's dark, nearly dawn. She stumbles out of the nest, out of the den, into the clearing lit by early morning stars.
She can feel him.
She runs without thinking, flinching at shadows, splashing through flooded hunting grounds — all she knows is that she has to get away. She doesn't end up far from their temporary camp; there isn't far to go, without tumbling down the gorge or into floodwaters. The thing crouches in a patch of a reeds, hiding her face in her paws, shaking. Piece of prey, creature to be hurt and hunted. (He's going to find her. He always finds her.)
She doesn't know how long she stays like that.
Eventually, the fear recedes. She comes back to herself, blinking bleary green eyes awake, shifting in her cold wet hiding spot. A little spark of panic flares in Ashpaw's chest — where is she? Where is Willowroot, where are the kittens — where is her clan?
Oh no. Ohhhh, no. "I did it again," Ashpaw whispers to herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Damn it. It's been ages since she last messed up like this. It's still dark, at least — maybe she can find her way back to their shelter, slip back into her nest, no one the wiser. Maybe she hasn't been gone too long? She hopes she doesn't run into Smokethroat. He always walks around at night, right? Or Cicadastar — Ashpaw cringes at the memory of the flood's first morning — "Why are in you in here?" he'd asked, incredulous, as she'd carried Antlerkit from the nursery. She hadn't known how to say "there's nowhere else I can fall asleep. " She hadn't known how to tell him that she still thinks about Spiderfall — that she still dreams about him, sees his eyes in the dark —
What would Cicadastar say, if he saw her out here? He'd be mad, she thinks. He'd be disappointed.
Ashpaw couldn't stand to disappoint either of them.
Okay. Don't cry, she tells herself, sitting up properly. The residue of terror clings to her skin; she takes a few deep breaths, tries to shake it off. Popping up from the reeds, her red tabby fur is bathed in moonlight, perfect target utterly unknowing.
The creature is older than she is, though not by much — nearly-grown cub learning to hunt for itself, hungry, painfully sick — a weak predator, but a predator nonetheless.
It catches her by surprise.
Ashpaw chokes out a gasp as a weight slams into her body — it pins her, and she recognizes the scent. Fox. Shit. Shit.
Ashpaw howls, twisting and slashing — her claws catch on something, and the fox leaps back with a yelp. Ashpaw forces herself to her feet, gasping for breath, as it lunges once more. It's going to kill me, she thinks, I'm going to die.
She darts to one side, escaping the brunt of the blow, but isn't quite fast enough to dodge entirely — Ashpaw screams as its claws make contact, raking across her flank — an old injury reawakened, a twoleg's knife in her side. It's shallow but it hurts — blood sprays over the muddy ground, into nearby floodwaters lapping at the reeds.
"H — help," she shouts hoarsely. Someone hear her — please, please, someone hear her —
She doesn't want to die. (She knows who waits in the stars for her, pitch-black coat and eyes gleaming orange.)
Another hit that just barely connects, and another scream, choked off by pain — "help — HELP! Willowro— agh!" The cry doesn't make any sense, because she knows her mentor must safe at home, ensconsced in the walls of a makeshift nursery. It slips out of her without thinking. She just — wants her mom.
The fox lunges again, teeth bared for her throat. Again she dodges, and they snap closed over her shoulder; the skin there explodes with blood and pain, and she realizes in the next second that if she doesn't do something she — she really is going to die.
She starts to bunny-kick at the fox's exposed belly — claws out, teeth bared, she kicks and scratches and bites and — "get off, " she screeches, and with another kick it does, taking fur and skin with it —
She's in so much pain now, blinding pain, but Ashpaw has felt worse. She stands, gasping for breath — and lunges back at the fox, with hackles raised, teeth bared, claws extended. This will not kill her. Damn it, this won't.
And it bolts.
Cuts its losses, rather than face any more injury at the claws of unruly prey. Ashpaw's lunge connects with the ground, and she slips across the flood-soaked earth, colliding hard. A lone thing, survivor of the flood, the predator flees in the direction of the beech copse ... away from either camp, Ashpaw realizes, toward the border. Away from RiverClan territory entirely.
She did it.
Her head drops, ginger fur slowly soaking red, breathing hard and fast. She just lies there for a moment, muddy and exhausted, basking in the fact that she's alive. She did it — she did it, the fox is gone. Pride swells in her chest, and she rolls over to stare up at the sky.
Colors bleed over the horizon. The sun is rising.
For the first time in her short life, Ashpaw has saved herself.
—— " i found gold in the wreckage "
-
takes place a couple days after moving into the temp camp !!!!
ash has chased the fox off, and though your character may see it in the distance/recognize its scent, it is no longer present in the thread. it's possible that she's kicked up enough of a commotion to be heard from camp (she's not far off), or by a dawn patrol
injuries (nothing too serious):
- large, shallow gash along flank
- smaller gash along shoulder/collar area
- mild shock from moderate blood loss
-
- 7 month old orange tabby with green eyes
- apprenticed to lead warrior willowroot
- crushing hard on iciclepaw
- happy-go-lucky, mischievous, hardworking
- very friendly, but defensive of riverclan!
- "speech" -
- disclosed being abused by spiderfall, who was exiled & who then killed her best friend pumpkinpaw
- temporarily apprenticed to npc pebbleskip due to willowroot moving into the nursery
- benched for a few weeks at smokethroat's request after a training incident; mainly stays in camp and helps with the kits or does chores
