- Mar 15, 2024
- 44
- 12
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☾ ⋆*･ﾟ It was safe to say he spent his time worrying about trivial things. All in all, the looming threat of a fire was constantly in the back of his mind, as was the loss of the sun. Much too overwhelming to spend much time thinking about and too important simply to forget about.
Quietpaw’s stomach rumbled, it seemed smarter prey had already fled from this area. That’s the whole reason why there were so many of his clanmates aimlessly search the not burning parts of the moor. To fill hungry bellies, both inside the camp and the ones who ventured beyond. ‘Was everything really going to be okay?’
They walked, sniffing the ground. Ears up. Searching. Waiting.
The weather ain't the way it was before. The air was filled with grime, no matter which way you went. Dark clouds rolled high in the sky with no promise of rain. He was no stranger to the wind, and yet it behaved strangely. harshly whipped one way or another. Until it finally settled on blowing directly at the patrol. This was a hot wind. No, this was not wind at all!
Thick, heavy smoke encompassed everything around him, burning up his watery eyes forcing them closed. “Need to move," he tried pushing his voice to get over the howling sound, his mouth filling full of smoke and ash. It burned his lungs. Quietpaw couldn’t stop the coughing that overtook him. He lowered himself to the soot covered ground curling his tail around him. ‘Why was this happening? We were only looking for food.’ His mind and body were at war, with one trying desperately to remain calm and find a way out and the other trying desperately to rid himself of hot smoke.
‘This will pass, he’ reasoned, ‘everything will be okay; it will pass.’ He prayed, swore, and cried. Maybe because of the smog or just because he was genuinely scared that he wouldn’t be able to breathe again. He had many good frights in his life, but this? This felt like divine punishment perhaps this was the wrath of starclan? Quietpaw for once took initiative and rose to his paws once more shaken but determined to find his way out.
Quietpaw’s stomach rumbled, it seemed smarter prey had already fled from this area. That’s the whole reason why there were so many of his clanmates aimlessly search the not burning parts of the moor. To fill hungry bellies, both inside the camp and the ones who ventured beyond. ‘Was everything really going to be okay?’
They walked, sniffing the ground. Ears up. Searching. Waiting.
The weather ain't the way it was before. The air was filled with grime, no matter which way you went. Dark clouds rolled high in the sky with no promise of rain. He was no stranger to the wind, and yet it behaved strangely. harshly whipped one way or another. Until it finally settled on blowing directly at the patrol. This was a hot wind. No, this was not wind at all!
Thick, heavy smoke encompassed everything around him, burning up his watery eyes forcing them closed. “Need to move," he tried pushing his voice to get over the howling sound, his mouth filling full of smoke and ash. It burned his lungs. Quietpaw couldn’t stop the coughing that overtook him. He lowered himself to the soot covered ground curling his tail around him. ‘Why was this happening? We were only looking for food.’ His mind and body were at war, with one trying desperately to remain calm and find a way out and the other trying desperately to rid himself of hot smoke.
‘This will pass, he’ reasoned, ‘everything will be okay; it will pass.’ He prayed, swore, and cried. Maybe because of the smog or just because he was genuinely scared that he wouldn’t be able to breathe again. He had many good frights in his life, but this? This felt like divine punishment perhaps this was the wrath of starclan? Quietpaw for once took initiative and rose to his paws once more shaken but determined to find his way out.
- ooc: Prompt: While out on patrol, a particularly heavy cloud of smoke and ash rolls right over you. And it seems intent on lingering. Outside the safety of camp, does pessimism finally begin to weigh you down? As your lungs fill with smoke, are you still sure you can escape it? —
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A timid mostly black tom with white markings on his chest and backTags
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