- Jun 9, 2022
- 405
- 100
- 28
Wolfsong would have had time to discuss his decision with Sootstar by now. Weaselclaw’s trek back toward camp had been deliberately snail-paced, but even had he been excited to bid his family and Clanmates goodbye, his pawsteps would have been slow. His head throbs, and though the sun is weaker now than it has been in moons, his flesh sears beneath his thin fur. When he lifts his head, dull blue gaze narrowing on the rustling exit to camp, he suppresses another swallow of nerve-filled saliva. It’s like acid on his tongue, in his throat.
He has never felt so afraid in his life. No matter how many battles he’s fought and walked away from, this is one he has no control over. His opponent cannot be blinded or bullied into the mud with his claws running red with its blood. The idea leaves him feeling fainter than he had before. This could be the one war he will not return from, and he will die in a hole with the rest of his fragile, coughing Clanmates, all of them secluded from the sun.
Weaselclaw’s limbs shake, but he remains upright. Steady. When his mate and kits approach him, save for Moorpaw, he will lift a paw to prevent them from stepping too close. “You have to stay safe and healthy.” His voice is tired. There’s a slight rasp to his words now, though he’s not yet been plagued by the coughing he’s heard from others. “I’ll survive… until they get back.” He has to last that long… and he is determined to. “I won’t be there when you have your warrior ceremony, but when I come back… no one will cheer so loudly,” he promises his sons, searching for two pairs of copper eyes. “Be well. Stay strong. Your Clan needs you now more than ever.”
To Sootstar, he does not speak. He only meets her gaze for a long, silent heartbeat, so that he may remember the shade of her green eyes when he is worsening.
He and Moorpaw both, all of their Clanmates who are too sick to remain in camp, they will be fine. They have to have faith, although—
Weaselclaw no longer has anyone to pray to, he realizes.
He has never felt so afraid in his life. No matter how many battles he’s fought and walked away from, this is one he has no control over. His opponent cannot be blinded or bullied into the mud with his claws running red with its blood. The idea leaves him feeling fainter than he had before. This could be the one war he will not return from, and he will die in a hole with the rest of his fragile, coughing Clanmates, all of them secluded from the sun.
Weaselclaw’s limbs shake, but he remains upright. Steady. When his mate and kits approach him, save for Moorpaw, he will lift a paw to prevent them from stepping too close. “You have to stay safe and healthy.” His voice is tired. There’s a slight rasp to his words now, though he’s not yet been plagued by the coughing he’s heard from others. “I’ll survive… until they get back.” He has to last that long… and he is determined to. “I won’t be there when you have your warrior ceremony, but when I come back… no one will cheer so loudly,” he promises his sons, searching for two pairs of copper eyes. “Be well. Stay strong. Your Clan needs you now more than ever.”
To Sootstar, he does not speak. He only meets her gaze for a long, silent heartbeat, so that he may remember the shade of her green eyes when he is worsening.
He and Moorpaw both, all of their Clanmates who are too sick to remain in camp, they will be fine. They have to have faith, although—
Weaselclaw no longer has anyone to pray to, he realizes.
-
family tags!!! healthy: @SOOTSTAR @Adderpaw @cottonpaw @HARRIERPAW @BLUEPAW
sick: @MOORPAW
this is open! all cats who have yellowcough will be relocating to the abandoned badgerset! -
weasel. weaselclaw
— he/him ; lead warrior of windclan
— heterosexual ; taken by Sootstar
— short-haired chocolate tabby with white and blue eyes
— “speech”, thoughts, attack
— penned by Marquette
— chibi by Oliver