private CLOSE TO THE EDGE [➤] rescue patrol

[SOOTSTAR]

It had been less than a day since she had traveled the tunnels in WindClan, but it was comforting to be back despite the chaos that erupted above ground. She wonders if it was at all possible that the rogues knew of the tunnels, surely a few of the brutes were small enough to fit themselves in? Her hackles bristle at the thought, the only assurance she has that’s not so is these tunnels carry no rogue scent- but the putrid stentch of fox-dung could be covering it up.

With her patrol behind her, she slithers around the tunnels. Uphill, down hill, turn after turn until eventually sunlight breaks through the darkness. Sensitive eyes narrow as she pushes forward, cautiously poking her head out of the hole to glance around for the rogues. Their scent was in the air, but she spots no one in the vicinity. She flicks her tail to signal the coast is clear before hurrying into the badgerset den.

The dark fur of Minthshade and Moorpaw are difficult to find, but her eyes adjust quickly and she finds their shadowy pelts in their den. Had they known what had happened to WindClan? Did they know Wolfsong had not checked up on them today, that no one brought them prey, because they had been forced from their homes? ”We need to get you two to ThunderClan.” Sootstar whispers urgently, ”The rogues- they’ve driven us out.” Even to them it was difficult to confess. It made her feel pathetic. Weak.

”We’ll explain more once we’re safe, but first we need to get out of here. Can you two walk?”

☾ INFO BATTLE

• SICK: @MOORPAW & @Mintshade
  PATROL: @HARBINGERMOON , @SOOTSPOT & @RABBITCLAW , @BLUEPAW
  Just a reminder, this takes place within 24 hours of them being driven out!
• 
  » Soot ․ Sootstar
  » WindClan Leader
  » She/her ․ Mate to Weaselclaw
  » Tiny blue smoke she-cat with green eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A high-stamina foe who can be difficult to hit.
  » Excels in quick, short moves.
  » Fights to kill and maim
  » Fatal attack of choice is an underbelly dive.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[HARBINGERMOON]

☾ Steadfast and eager the bulky feline trudged through the familiar hollows of Windclan's tunnel system. Orange gaze stark and vibrant in the gloom. Standing directly behind the wiry leader he kept vigilant for any intruding smells or sounds.

Unfortunately, it seemed his desires would not be satisfied, at least not yet. No rogue nor cat had made an appearance in their slow crawl to the badger set. Which he knew Sootstar was thankful for at the very least. Alas, they were arriving at their destination and his mind thrummed to life. Preparing for any thing that might surprise them.

Pausing as the she-cat scrambled to the surface he obediently followed as her tail lashed him forward. Flicking his own in case any cat missed the signal. Pulling his smaller form through the opening he was relieved to see the intended target. It took just a few moments and rapid blinks for his eyes to adjust.

Once properly accustomed to the dank den he carefully padded after the whispering voice of his leader. Upon arrival he was met with the resting forms of Moorpaw and Mintshade. Murmuring lowly he added to the hushed conversation. "I can carry either of them on my back if need be." Their frail frames would be easy enough to tote even for a short cat like himself. Plus, he wouldn't mind the added brownie points it could garner. ☽​

 

[MOORBLOSSOM]

Fatigue lies heavy on her features and in her senses. Glassy eyes slumped into her cheeks, draped partially by weighty lids. She can scarcely see. Her surroundings are reduced to an opaque shadow which renders the den's walls and floor indistinct, yet indistinguishable. Not since the day Weaselclaw passed on has she poked her head from these earthly confines, and in refusing to acknowledge the sun, her body has begun to die. Whatever movements come are slow and sluggish. Even her thoughts operate at a slow pace, dragging through a soupy haze of memory and present awareness. Moorpaw found it exceedingly difficult to tell one from the other lately.

Her mind took a liking to playing tricks on her, too. So much so that the emergence of four clanmates is met only by a faint hum. The words they speak, the faces of family amongst them, may have been summoned by her fading imagination for all she knows. Mere optical illusions, figments of a failing mind and soul. "Why're you-" Moorpaw attempts, but a cough ruptures through. There were thorns lining her throat, it felt like. "Why're you here? Is this - (cough) - some trick? 'Cause you aren't making... any sense... ThunderClan? Rogues? Like, get real." She coughs again.

A shudder seizes control of her then, preventing her efforts of meeting anyone's gaze from achieving fruition. "Can you see 'em, Aunt Mintshade?" Moorpaw asks, voice as smooth as a bristle bush. Or, am I just off my rocker? she wonders. Dad also found himself in the company of invisible visitors during his final moments, and look what good that did him. ​

 

[RABBITCLAW]

Remind her why she even opened her big mouth to sign up? Yes, she was aware that there was a reason why they coated themselves in fox dung, but it didn't mean she enjoyed every bit of it. She's thankful that her nose has given up complaining although she supposes the reason for that is because it's been wrecked beyond repair due to everyone smelling like fox dung and in the tunnels? Wooo, yeah that was great. Peachy even. In any case she shuts up and does what she's told. Another rogue fight is the last thing she wants, her wounds ache and exhaustion is steadily making itself present. She remains silent as Sootstar explains what has happened to the pair, defeat is still bitter for all of them. Who could blame them? It hadn't been long since they'd lost their home.

Harbingermoon is quick to offer his strength, which she can't help but roll her eyes. If they weren't so sick I doubt they'd want to be carried by fox dung covered cats. She keeps that thought to herself. Moorpaw was known to be sick, but she didn't think the apprentice was this sick. Yeah, we need to get them to Wolfsong. They don't know what's going on, or at least Moorpaw thinks we're fakes. She's had enough of this! The more time they wasted explaining the more time they gave for the rogues to attack them if they even dared to. For that reason she saunters over and places her paw on the apprentices head and flicks Moorpaw's ear with it. "There. We're real, now come on we don't have much time. You can complain later when we're all safe."

 

[Mintshade]

—————————————————————⊰☣︎⊱————————————————————
Truth be told she HAD noticed the lack of presence lately, she'd noticed no one come to drop off prey, she had noticed Wolfsong not arrive with his failing attempts to keep them stuffed with plants that did little to nothing, she'd noticed...
And it worried her because Weaselclaw's death and Soostar's subsequent denial of the stars above made her think perhaps they were truly lost. Maybe WindClan had decided their ill were no longer worth the effort, maybe they had given up on the journeying cats already and moved on - leaving the sick to die as their final cure. Mintshade wouldn't deny these thoughts crossed her mind, maybe it was delirium or maybe there was a touch of truth to it but her sister's words that once rang with grief now resonated far more than she ever thought they might. They had been abandoned, punished and for what? Why? The black she-cat maintained that there was a weight to the cursed words uttered as if expected, as if a battle had been lost and she thinks of scorched stone and red skies.
Like Moorpaw she is initially wary of the voices, the figures pressing inward and she stands with stiff limbs and a snarl on her maw until the familiar voices ring out-muffled through sickness and uncertainty. She'd been prepared to fight, to go down fighting like the brown tabby before her but something snagged her thoughts-tightened her focus. This was real, they were here and they had not been abandoned. Her scruffy pelt, more disheveled than usual, smoothed from its bristling mass of porcupine-like spikes in vehemence and she felt herself relax.
"...stars." It's muttered quietly, bitterly, but she staggers forward with a lot more effort than it would normally take her, "..don't...need help to walk. Get Moorpaw, let's go."
Rogues, driven out, surely she had misunderstood? She knew those vagrants were wandering around but them overpowering her clan? WindClan? The fighters of the moorland? The most tenacious of the forest clans? It must be the illness fogging her thoughts-obviously something got lost in translation. The wiry Moor Runner's form stumbles along to the mouth of the sett to join the cats outside, if she had the energy she might've quipped something terribly unfunny but for now her clanmates were sparred.

☣︎ All my friends are heathens, take it slow ☣︎ — Wait for them to ask you who you know

•  
• 
  
  
  Mintshade
  —⊰⋅ Warrior (Moor Runner) of WindClan
  —⊰⋅ She/Her
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ SH Solid black cat w/ acid green eyes.
  —⊰⋅ penned by Rai
  

​

 

[SOOTSTAR]

A grave look is given to Moorpaw, when had her mind turned to slosh? She is instantly reminded of Weaselclaw and his final moments alive, did Moorpaw sit at the paws of death too? Sootstar doubts her ability to make this journey. Mintshade rises onto weak limbs, denying the offer of help and beckoning Moorpaw to her feet. ”So long as you can be quick.” Sootstar meows understandingly, she’d want no aid in her sisters place either. She would not deny her the strength and dignity that remainded.

It’s best we touch them as little as possible, anyways… Who knows how Harbringermoon would fare after having either of the moor runners settled on his back for a prolonged period of time.

Turning around she heads back out of the den, mumbling a curse about no longer being able to use the tunnels. This is where the danger peaked, though their scents were masked the rogues would spot them with ease if any perched atop a hill… or forbid Outlook Rock.

”We’ll stick to the tall grass. Move as silently as possible.” She instructs all present cats, looking to Mintshade and Moorpaw and signaling them forward with a flick of her tail. ”Harbringermoon, take the lead. Rabbitclaw and I will bring up the rear.” If we’re lucky we’ll be in ThunderClan within no time. Unlucky? Mintshade and Moorpaw would be unlikely to see another dawn.

☾ INFO BATTLE

• (in someones next post, please powerplay them a little ways along!)
• 
  » Soot ․ Sootstar
  » WindClan Leader
  » She/her ․ Mate to Weaselclaw
  » Tiny blue smoke she-cat with green eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A high-stamina foe who can be difficult to hit.
  » Excels in quick, short moves.
  » Fights to kill and maim
  » Fatal attack of choice is an underbelly dive.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[MOORBLOSSOM]

Revulsion rumbles from within the apprentice's throat when a paw comes into contact with her ear. Rabbitclaw's lovetap may have corroborated her claims—no better way to prove one's existence than by a smack to the head, Moorpaw supposes—but it hardly eases her unease. Her growl of protest is swiftly undercut by yet another coughing fit. Yellowcough hits harder than any clanmate could, and she's left reeling from the aftermath. Eyes strain open and weakly land on her mother's figure, putting forth a silent bid to be left alone. She's just going to end up like her father, anyways. Best to not risk anyone's well-being in trawling her along, wherever they're off to.

Ultimately, the plea goes ignored, and she slowly came to grips with the fact that she wouldn't be left to rest in peace.

She'd refused to be slung over Harbingermoon's shoulder like some piece of prey. The girl instead settled on straggling behind with her equally-as-infirm aunt, making use of Mintshade's steadier gait as a crutch. They'd lumber from the badgerset den and into the tunnel system. Had Moorpaw been of a sounder mind, she would have remarked on how much time has passed since she last gave the passageways a good crawl. But, aside from the occasional cough, her mouth is kept shut until daylight breaches through the tunnel's end.

"Are we... are we almost there?" asks the wilting apprentice, momentarily blind upon emerging from the entrance. The swelling sigh of moorgrass carries in the wind. WindClan's territory has yet to be left behind. "My legs're gonna give way if we don't stop..." ​

 

[HARBINGERMOON]

☾ A brief grimace flitted across Harbingermoon's snout as the apprentice spouted some incoherent nonsense. Thankfully, the older cat displayed some semblance of sanity and agreed to go. His offer went unreturned which was no fur off his back.

He remained silent unless addressed, and when Sootstar called to him, the Tunneler eagerly stepped forward, fluffy cheeks belatedly bouncing with a nod. Harbingermoon's eerie eyes reflected the gravity of the situation, and he kept his tail straight ready to signal as he cautiously entered the tunnel.

This time, the last half of the rescue started as a descent, large paws helping him navigate the slope, gripping the earth below. After a grueling minute of shuffling through the tight corridors, the tunnel plateaued, allowing them a moment of respite for their aching joints. Harbingermoon was grateful for the familiarity of the twists, turns, and divots that his body instinctively adapted to.

Guiding the other cats through the labyrinth of tunnels, moving swiftly but with care. His heart picked up the pace as the outside world slowly came to view, and he signaled their imminent exit ahead. With a squinting nectarine gaze, he emerged to the surface, satisfyingly devoid of any unusual sights.

Waving his bulbous tail once more, the Tunneler scrambled out onto the moorland. Wide pelt flattened to his scrawny frame as the winds rushed past. Harbingermoon's expression of relief transformed into mild annoyance, but instead of lashing out, he softly murmured. "Almost, Moorpaw... We've gotten through the difficult part. Just a little longer." His hearty baritone rumbled gently with each word, a shift from his usual gravelly gusto.

Harbingermoon had intended to sound concerned, but it came across as more of a gentle encouragement. Casting a glance back to Sootstar looking for her voice on the matter.​