an ounce of gin | return

[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ Casually he walks with Needledrift, keeping himself close given his recent injuries. At least he isn't bleeding all over the place and it has all scabbed over into some sort of mess. Though the pain lingers in his leg, causing him to limp just a bit. Just enough to make him feel like a liability. Yet he isn't gonna let it stop him. Nor is he going going to hold Needle up either and so he keeps moving, forcing himself to keep his long strides. To stay by her side. Their walk towards that insufferable tunnel seems to take ages and at one point they have to couch and hide for a moment as they come across the bear. His eyes are wide as he stares at the creature, rumbling growl seeming to shake the earth. It is a wonder that it's as large as it is and he has to wonder if Starclan just enjoys torturing his home. This is the second time they have had to abandon it and hr grits his teeth, his smile straining and laughter threatens to pulls from him but he swallows it down as they wait for it to leave. He presses his head against Needle's paw once it is safe. Taking a small breath on the lanky tom moves forth from their hiding place and continues with her towards the Thunderpath. The last time. He shakes his head and just keeps moving forward.

Soon the trees thin and the smell of the acrid blacktop becomes prominent. As does the smell of many Shadowclanners. His muzzle feels dry and he swipes his tongue along his muzzle before he glances to Needle. "Well, we made it back in one piece." He grins lightly as he pulls his ears back, the pain making his head foggy and so he finally sits down.

@Needledrift ​

 

[Needledrift]

He sits, his smile pulled a little too tightly across his face for her liking. He is in pain, far more than he'd care to admit to her after the journey. Her fur is still bristles, her entire body on high alert, spooked from seeing one of those lumbering creatures mere foxtails from her whiskers. It stank of dirt and musk and leaf-litter, so drenched its own malodor that the stench of the Carrionplace that wafted off the cats was of little consequence, but still...

Needledrift swallows, pressing her forehead against her friend's shoulder briefly. We're safe. She can't bring herself to speak. Her jaw aches, her paws ache, her heart is still beating so hard that she is sure that her ribs are going to crack from the pressure exuded on them from the inside. They were safe, safe and trapped in this tunnel. Magpiepaw's words come to mind, warning of penance and punishments. StarClan forgive us... She can't imagine what ills her clanmates would pay for, what crime Chilledstar had committed to be targeted. She pulls away from Chittertongue's face, surveying his ice-and-fire eyes for a moment. Surely, Chittertongue would be safe from StarClan's wrath, surely his list of crimes was negligent at best.

Yes, he would be safe.

She gulps again and pads into the tunnels, chuffing a soft chkachkachka - an announcement of greeting. She can sense her clanmates in the gloom, @STARLINGHEART . among them, no doubt. Surely, she would be happy to see her brother alive.​

i will never leave your room, tell everything that bothers you​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

---

"what the..."

they don't know what to say. they don't have the resources for this. they don't have anything. it wasn't like they were in the nice comfort of their camp. they had no herbs, they had no prey, they barely had enough room for nests within such a dirty and cramped space. they pushed their ears back with a huff, before just stepping aside, gesturing for needletuft to come towards them. starlingheart cannot do much, but she surely didn't need needletuft in her way, either.

"i will try and get a nest for you. try not to bleed out, will you?"

they're frustrated. this is frustrating. how much more could starclan punish them?
​

 

[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ He says nothing, he voices silence. The exhaustion weighing on his limbs but he supposes being here is better than nothing at all. Better than smelling the Carrionplace he supposes. He leans against her tongue for a short moment and only thusly before Needledrift moves off to go and seek someone else for help. Most likely his sister and he frowns slightly. His wounds from the battle not too long ago do still sting but he will be fine and he doesn't want his sister to have to use herbs on him. Though as he pulls his head up to look at his leader he can't help the cackle that breaks from his muzzle. A deep swallow happens to push it back down before he shakes his head. "I'm fine. Just fine. Old wounds will heal. But a nest I'd love that." Yet that seems preposterous in such a dank enviorment that they have to be involved with.​

 

[Starlingheart]

There's a good chance, Starlingheart knows, that cats would leave the temporary camp and come back either injured or worse. Cats that she cared about were not safe from this, no matter how hard she loved them. It was not enough to just love someone, she knows. It is one of the things that makes her glad she had chosen this path of healing, no matter how difficult of a path it had been. She never would have been a strong fighter. A good hunter maybe, but now even that had been spoiled. Instead, she spends most of her days healing, looking for new ways to heal, or gathering the tools needed for healing, though she wouldn't be doing much of that last one with the ever-looming shadow of the bears hanging over her as she traversed the territory.

Her ears flick as she hears the murmur of voices at the end of the tunnel. No doubt just another patrol that w.as returning from a long, stressful day. She is about to return to her duties when the metallic smell of blood hits her nose and her head snaps to look for the source. When her eyes land upon her brother they go wide. No, not again. Suddenly, she is sucked back into visions of a darker rosetted pelt. Pitchstar bloody and dying and her, too young and inexperienced to know what to do. She does not want to watch another brother ascend to the stars."Co-cobwebs." she says quickly to her apprentice, turning her attention to Magpiepaw. Grab- grab cobwebs and- and help me apply pressure to the ounds" she instructs."Do you know what other herbs I should grab?" its a quick quiz, under a bit of pressure, but one look at her brother told her that he wasn't on the verge of death. This would be a good learning experience for her and Magpiepaw.

// @Magpiepaw

​

 

[Magpiepaw]

Magpiepaw peeks around the smaller form of his mentor's trembling, stares incredulously at the returned cats who dared dance with death and nearly paid for it. To leave the temporary camp was to suffer, to pay in blood. They had learned this already, it was a wonder ShadowClan had any blood left in it.
"Filthy." He mutters, examining the pale tom's decrepit state and wondering if there was a plant to deliver them rain to wash with.
Starlingheart tells him to fetch cobwebs and he does so before the word is even entirely sung from her throat, before the weight of it topples forward; he's clamped his mouth around a wad of it, dragged it upward in a sinewy tug of loose strands and sticky adhesive to turn and present to her where it could be pressed to the wounds most at risk of spilling further. All he can think about is how alarmingly red it is against the off-white sheen of the thick webbing.
His mentor speaks again, voice tilted in a quizzical manner and he catches the question slowly with a wide-eyed and dawning awareness that he is to be tested. For a brief moment he worries his delay may end in Chittertongue's demise but she seems alarmingly calm enough he dismisses it; no. Starlingheart would not make bets on his retention when lives were on the line. He has only really been taught one thing so far, the image of Siltcloud's torn shoulder and matted form comes to mind.
"The burning sun, infection...darting fireflies to heal swiftly." The plants had names too did they not? He remembered what they looked like, what he compared them to visually, but he closed his eyes tight to try and conjure up the names themselves. After what felt like alarmingly too long he gasps quietly, "Marigold...is one of them..the sun." He can not recall the other...
​

 

[Needledrift]

Obediant, immediate, Needledrift heels to her leader's side, watching as Starlingheart and Magpiepaw come scuttling out from the gloom. She is grateful, so grateful, to see them, to see herbs and treatment for the ails of the lilac tom. Green eyes blink slowly at each of them before turning owl-like back to Chittertongue, his jittery cackle making her ears snap to attention.

"You can bunk with me. I can sleep on you like a bird, all tucked under my wings." Her voice is quiet, barely more than a mumble. It's all she can handle at the moment, the movement of her jaw aching from cheek to chin, but she still tries at a smile as the medicine cats go about their work.​

i will never leave your room, tell me everything that bothers you​

 

[Starlingheart]

"Ma-marigold is correct" she tells him with a nod of her head, proud that he seemed to be learning so swiftly "The-the other is Gold-goldenrod. F-for swift healing" she informs, picking up one of the herbs to show him. "I-I always keep- keep some of both of-both of these in an ivy l-leaf by the- by the entrance of my den. Back home." in case of emergencies when she would need to grab herbs quickly. She misses her old den, the stone walls that make it up, the grove in the back. It had been her safe haven for so long now, and now being seperated from it made her realize just how much she had come to rely on the space. Now was not the time to mourn, however. She picks up the herbs in her mouth and chews, coming to take over Magpiepaws spot and lifting the cobwebs so that she could spread the poultice on her brothers wounds and cover them back up. "Th-there. Is-is there anything else that-that hurts?" she asks him, her green eyes creasing in worry.
​