DUST to DUST ⸸ Little Wolf's Vigil

[Magpiepaw]

The ground was cold and hard to dig, but the cats who had volunteered to do so had not complained once; Magpiepaw watches quietly, between his teeth he clutches the lavender that would not matter as well as other flowers mixed with. The scents up here in this chilled air do not linger, the snow will soak up the aroma of death and they would not linger enough to notice anything anyways but he feels he has to despite it having taken him so long to even find it. He'd spent most the time the others prepared the grave just rooting through the tall grasses in areas he could reach that were not draped in the snow of heavens peak. The black and white apprentice had returned in time to see her laid within, the blood cleaned and soaked up and if he did not focus hard enough the sleek shadow of a molly looked almost serene, she could be sleeping but he remembers the way the blood dribbled from her maw as she cried out in her last moments. He remembers her almost joyful tone as she greeted a figure no one else had seen. Gray Wolf, she called him, 'dad' she had cried. When he turned he could see the faint shimmer of what he thought at first had been snow drifting in an odd spiral but very quickly it had become clear. It was a cat. Magpiepaw's eyes widened as he raised his head but he had said nothing and his turning away could have been easily mistaken for grief.
But while it was to a degree, it was also hopeful. The gray and white tom that had seemingly materialized behind them all had a formidable form and soft green eyes so reminiscent of the fallen she-cat that it was clear immediately he was the one she had greeted. The apprentice had blinked and suddenly another figure as at his side as he turned to go, a small shadow - his little wolf.
Now, sitting with the rest of the journey cats (or those who cared to come) he turned to them each in turn before setting his flowers down on black fur, nudging them to sproud out to drape the ThunderClanner in a somewhat sloppy wreath of them; he tried, but he was clumsy and his paws trembled both from nerves and the cold. When he was done he chose to sit next to Hailstorm, leaning in to absorb the heat from the larger, more long-furred cat and also in a silent comfort.
"....she went to StarClan." He said, unsure if that was as comforting to anyone else as it was for him, "...I saw the tom she called dad come get her. They left together. She's safe."
He had been worried she would not make it from here, forever lost in the cold winds of nothingness and left to roam as a spirit untethered.
​

 

[GENTLESTORM]

✦ Hailstorm still couldn't believe that she was truly gone and it made his heart ache terribly in his chest, he had been one of the cats to help dig. Dull, sad eyes focused on the chilling body of his best friend, his lover, and so much more. Even if a part of him believes that it was unfair that her life had been taken from her before she had gotten to see Duskpaw recover from yellowcough but the other part of him knows that he wouldn't want to see her suffer after the damage the eagle had done to her. I'll bring him the lungwort. I'll get back home safe to ensure he lives, I promise. He promises silently to her even if she's long gone now and he flinches when he feels Magpiepaw leaning into him, the larger tom let's out a soft shaky breath before leaning back into the touch... To provide the Shadowclan medicine cat apprentice warmth.

"... she went to Starclan." ... "She's safe."

He feels his eyes beginning to sting once more but there's a sad smile present on his maw and he nods slowly "I'm glad..." And he genuinely means it despite how his words tremble and crack from emotion, he's happy that she has found her place in the stars and hopes that hers shines the brightest. He would look for her in the night sky and he imagined that she would stand out to him. She always would. His eyes focus on her unmoving form once more and his gaze softened, showing little bits of life and love that had been drained out of him when he had laid next to her bleeding form. "Rest well, Big Bear." I'll see you soon one day. A whisper slips from him and he closes his eyes feeling a tear or two slip down his face.

He spares a grateful glance in the direction of Magpiepaw and mumbles "Thank you," For everything. None of them be alive without the bicolored tom, they had endured so much injury that would've ended up in infection had it not been for the Shadowclanner. A ghost of a smile on his face before it vanishes within a few seconds, his eyes turning to Little Wolf once more.

"I love you." Another whisper that leaves him and he would continue to love her even if she's not by his side, he had wanted to spend eternity with her and he would. He had promised and he'd keep it. There was not enough words to describe how much he had loved her as a friend and as a partner even if short lived, they had fond memories together and he'd cherish them until his own final breath. He would make sure that her memory stays alive in the heart of others and his own. He fell silent and lifted one of his paws to wipe his face before letting it press against the snow which was enough to make him grimace, his eyes becoming dull and void of warmth once more.

* ˚✦ YOU FOUND ME HERE; UNDERGROUND

• 
  ✦ 48 moons old
  ✦ thunderclan warrior
  ✦ bisexual demiromantic; mates with little wolf
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✦ semi-difficult in combat; relies on strength and his burly build
  ✦ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ✦ penned by bosstaurus

​

 

[Needledrift]

She had never been one for eulogies. The cats of the marsh were a hardy stock, made of the darkness that they favored so heavily. Their funerals were short affairs of few words and fewer tears. Heavybranch, Ghostpaw, Poppypaw - between the three of them, Needledrift could count more bent heads and quiet contemplation than words spoken. Even still.... Needledrift found herself compelled to speak now, as garbled as her words would be.

"Little Wolf was one of the bravest, strongest among us. A mother, protector -" Her gaze shifts to Cherrypaw, the poor little thing, exposed to soon to the realities of their world, "- a lover -" then to Hailstorm next to her, his wide, open face now darkened by tear-tracks. She presses into his side, her nose brushing against his shoulder in a small show of comfort. "- a friend." She looks to Nightbird, Lightstrike, Flamewhisker, Stormpaw, the cats she had no doubt trained with, fought with, laughed with during her time in ThunderClan, the remnants of her oaken home that she had to leave behind.

"I knew Little Wolf from a time before the clans and my only regret is that I didn't know her better after. I pray that she guides our paws for a safe return." Little Wolf, guide us. Protect us. Don't let us lose another warrior... send them away from StarClan if you must... we all should have returned home. Light our way, bright star, and when we get back.... I'll look for you above the trees - the brightest star above the mountains. That's where you'll be. ​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

Scorchstreak is more than a bit shaken by the death of Little Wolf. It’s her worst fear, truly—to die on this journey, so far from home and from their clanmates. The ThunderClan cats will return home to their forest with one less warrior alongside them, a victory tainted by the claws of an eagle. That could so easily be herself, calico pelt stained with blood, lifeless for all to witness. She blinks, shifting uncomfortably on her paws, although Magpiepaw’s words come as a bit of a comfort. Even though Little Wolf died so far from home, the young healer claims that she still went to the stars as she deserved.

"I’m sorry for your loss," she offers to the ThunderClan warrior with a careful dip of her head. What she feels is not true sorrow, but there is sympathy in her heart. ThunderClanner or not, Little Wolf had been a great asset to their journey, and the loss of any cat she’s been traveling with is difficult to witness. She can only imagine how horrible this must be for Little Wolf’s clanmates, for her kin back home.​

[ BE A FIRE, BURN THIS DOWN ]​

​

 

[iciclefang]

◇────────────【☆】★【☆】────────────◇​

XXXXXIciclefang’s paws are numb and sore, but she does not regret helping to dig a grave for Stormywing’s Clanmate. It had taken many cats because of how cold and stony the earth is here—and she knew they could not linger here long. They had to return home—without Little Wolf, now.

XXXXXShe searches for her friend’s gray and white pelt now, aching, suddenly, to feel their fur brush and their tails twine, but she does not seek her now. Losing a Clanmate on a journey such as this is something to be shared with the remaining ThunderClan warriors, she’s certain. Had such a thing happened to a RiverClanner—StarClan forbid—she’d want the comfort of their scent around her, the familiar press of their sleek flanks to her.

XXXXXMagpiepaw tells them Little Wolf’s father had come from StarClan to find her and bring her home, and she feels her eyes sting with the wind. Needledrift and Hailstorm speak, and the WindClan lead warrior offers her condolences in a soft, hesitant voice. Iciclefang’s own mouth feels dry. She doesn’t know what she wants to say, but she wants to say something. “Little Wolf will be honored by all the Clans for her bravery,” she says, dipping her head to those who grieve the most. “She discovered the lungwort, and she saved another cat from death. That’s… that’s the noblest thing a warrior can do.”

XXXXXShe quiets, then, letting the mountain wind whistle through their fur. She wonders if StarClan had foreseen this death, if Gray Wolf had traveled with them knowing he would be leading his daughter to StarClan.

─────────​

​

 

[STORMFEATHER]

Stormpaw had not seen Little Wolf's brave sacrifice. She came far too late, when Little Wolf's body was already cold and cats were preparing to bury her. If only, she wished, she had not gone out on that hunting diversion. At the very least she could have been there in her final moments.

Little Wolf had helped raise her when she was still a kit in the nursery. She remembered the she-cat's stalwart bravery as she allowed Stormpaw and Falconpaw to huddle underneath her as dogs ravaged the camp. She should have been able to spend many more moons with them, with ThunderClan.

Perhaps most of all her heart ached because Little Wolf had given her life for a SkyClan apprentice. Unlike some of the others, Stormpaw was guarded in who she decided to like on this journey. No cat mattered or provoked such admiration in her unless it was a ThunderClan cat. And Little Wolf had used that bravery for someone else—someone she had not shared tongues with regularly in camp.

Stormpaw blinked and swallowed, feeling her throat grow thick and heavy. She was gone, and had gone in such a noble way that it was too selfish for her to wish for things to be different, or even to get angry at Cherrypaw. She hardly hears Magpiepaw's assurance that StarClan had indeed taken her, even though they were so far. She cannot help but feel her faith shaken. This wasn't supposed to happen. How could they let this happen?

She says nothing, but her eyes close and her head bows.

​

 

[dovethroat.]

He did not know her. Or had not known her, rather. Not really. Not any more than one knew any other passerby. And yet, it was impossible to not feel some shred of solidarity. They had been on this journey together. She had made choices that, ideally, any good warrior would make. Something like that, Iciclefang might say. The reality of how her death could have so easily been avoided by one single, more intelligent decision weighs heavy on his shoulders. What is he meant to say, though? He would not dare mention that. He would not dare think he is the only person to have noticed.

The pain Cherrypaw must feel—Dovethroat feels his heart drop. He could not even imagine.

He blows out a breath in time with the wind, such that he is certain nobody else can hear it. The seeking for reason, for purpose in all of this makes his head hurt. He remains silent near Stormpaw, completely by chance. Sometimes things mean nothing. And Dovethroat feels a bit of himself break away at that realization.

Stilling himself, he stares mostly at the ground.

[⋆]​

​

 

[GREENEYES]

His paws are frozen with an aching chill, one that he’s certain he won’t forget the feeling of any time soon, as he stares upon the freshly buried plot, dark fur now below the ground, rather than standing amongst them, far from any need of a vigil - whether for Little Wolf, or Cherrypaw.

He’ll never see Little Wolf again - never see her among their party, at gatherings, at the ThunderClan border. A cat he’d met when he was young, fresh into his apprenticeship, as Blazestar brought her to meet the clan. Eager, he had been to meet her, a commonality in being the children of their clan’s deputy that split off down the line - as her’s rose in rank, his own stepped down - though an excitement held over the potential for new friends in her and Blazestar’s kits.

New friends, in which his mind cannot stop thinking of now, though some friendships had faltered with time, with the formation of codes bound in loss. Two oak-dwellers, two pine-dwellers - all bound to be awaiting Little Wolf’s return in some amount, all unaware of what just happened, of the loss they just faced. One star-walker, who he can only hope gets to reunite with her mother: if something good can come out of this, let it be that.

The silence is heavy, and only mountain winds looping around them seem to have the heart to speak. Greeneyes’ head lowers, tears blurring his vision. With all that he’s lost, with all that he’s witnessed, this part never seems to get easier.

It’s Magpiepaw’s voice he hears first, an assurance of what comes next for Little Wolf. A snow-masked face lifts to look at the medicine apprentice, at Hailstorm beside him. His heart hurts for the large tom, for all of ThunderClan. She went to StarClan, Magpiepaw tells him, She’s safe.

The SkyClanner feels relief at that, if only a little bit. Little Wolf will see Morningpaw again and Fireflypaw… Fireflypaw will get to see Little Wolf too, should she decide to visit his dreams. Though it is another face to watch over them from the stars, Greeneyes doesn’t feel the edge of irritation toward such a sentiment he usually would this time around. He listens to Needledrift, to her prayers of guidance, to Iciclefang’s own speech of honor and nobility, to Scorchstreak’s apologies.

“I’ll carry her in my memory,” he finds himself saying, unable to find the words for a speech like Needledrift’s or Iciclefang’s. Just as he does his own mother, his brother, he will carry Little Wolf in his thoughts: a journey-mate, the mother of his clanmates, the grandmother to ones he has yet to meet. A strong warrior above all else, braver than he could possibly be. “Everyone back home, they... They deserve to know that Little Wolf was the one to find the cure.” The ThunderClan warrior deserved to be honored, deserved to be celebrated, even if she wouldn’t step foot in the forest again.

✦ ABOUT

• 
  

  
  
  GREENKIT ‣ GREENPAW ‣ GREENEYES, Warrior of SkyClan
  — Daisyflight x Raven Ramble
  — AMAB; He/Him
  — A red tabby and white tom with bright green eyes.
  — Mentored by Sheepcurl; Currently mentoring Falconpaw
  — "Speech"; Attack
  
  ✦･ﾟ: * — Among SkyClan's first born, Greeneyes is a bright tom with an affinity for the world around him. Despite always seeking to be kind to others, the warrior believes he's cursed - a belief brought on by rhetoric that green is a deadly color.

​

 

[Cherryblossom]

"You MOUSEBRAIN! What were you thinkin'?! Were you tryin' to get yourself killed?!"

No. Of course that hadn't been her intention. She didn't have any intention at all, now that she had the blankness of mind to think about it; not one single intention in any one of her pawsteps. You didn't have to say that, she says in response to the words drudged up again from her mind, their syllables tattered and fraying at the edges from use. I KNOW! she wants to scream. I know what I did, you know, she wants to hiss and shriek and cry, before anyone can say anything more.

Cherrypaw looks around, as though waiting for someone to bring it up again. To explode over Little Wolf's fallen, torn-up form like a knight she didn't need, lashing out with tongue where claws couldn't pierce. To level their burning stare to hers and pierce the black veil of mourning over everyone's mouths. She almost expects someone to spell it out in the frigid air, dragging splits through the glassy haze that seems to have descended upon their world, where no one moved and no one talked.

For awhile there they had all just stared at each other, or the sky, or helplessly at the rapidly-cooling corpse before them. No one in their right mind would call this stroke of ink and blood in the snow by the name of Little Wolf. (Though they'd cleaned most of the blood off, Cherrypaw still catches glints of scarlet in the sunset light.)

Magpiepaw said he saw her going up to StarClan, and Cherrypaw believes him without question. The few sad flowers they'd managed to wrest from the scraggly forests dapple her pelt like the forest light she ought to rest under. Even as her fellow journeymen entomb her in the bitter heart of the mountain instead, the stars flock to her brilliance from the sanctity of their home skies.

The red streaks upon her sides remain angry and wet, but the edges are slowly but surely crusting over. Cherrypaw had neither the time, nor pain tolerance, nor presence of mind to wash the remaining crimson from her flanks, which had slid down her lower ribs and clumped at her belly fur. The apprentice lies with her belly pressed against the snow. Pristine white paws spill hapzardly from where she'd tried to tuck them beneath her chest, as though she wanted to contain her traitorous heart in paws too fragile to hold it.

She wants to go to sleep. She wants everyone to shut up. A protector, a noble warrior, a savior. "Another cat." Why don't you just spit it out? Yellow eyes blink blearily at Needledrift, Iciclefang, Greeneyes. Everyone already knows they'll carry Little Wolf in their memories, that they'll never forget what she did, that she was a great cat that didn't deserve to die, and secretly they all probably think that Cherrypaw should've died, right? They should all just say that out loud. Because, because she was the one who ran out and got attacked by a hawk, and no one cares about how much pain Cherrypaw's in right now because Little Wolf died.

Well, she never asked her to die. Maybe if Little Wolf had been stronger or faster, she would've lived. But if Cherrypaw had been less stupid, or stronger, or faster too, she would've lived and Cherrypaw wouldn't have to carry these scars down the mountain. Tears, so hot she imagines them steaming in the solemn air, paint her porcelain cheeks; wounds of their own kind opening above her gritted jaw. She supposes she should say she's sorry. Feverishly, hatefully, hopelessly sorry. She can see it in the way no one really looks at her though: they all already know.​

 

[HONEYJAW]

Honeyjaw had not been born to a colony like this one. The history of this place is not beyond him– he couldn't stay long in ShadowClan without the others spilling it out like some sort of truth serum. As if it's the only story he would ever need to hear. Cats that fought and bled and died for some sliver of land, who created an afterlife through violence, and strove towards ensuring such a tragedy would never happen again. It was almost poetic. If only it had worked. They're...terrible at it, really. Saving each other and themselves. This journey seemed only to be proof of that. They had spent the first long, long while struggling to see past their borders even if they had walked past them long ago. Now that they were home, he...finally saw them for what they were. Not clans. Not warriors. Just cats.

Who lived and grieved and made mistakes, and one day would die. And for all of the faults, all of their petty battles, at least there is that, right? At least, at the end of the day, they all tried. And StarClan would wait for them back home.

He had never expected himself to mourn a ThunderClanner the way he mourns Little Wolf. He had not seen her death. He had heard it, and helped where he could. Whatever reason he finds to feel guilty for not being there is senseless and useless. That does not make it any shallower in its pain. He watches his own paws and the edge of her grave as if he might find movement in either place. Like she could ever find her way home in body as well as spirit, and like he could drag himself past where he is now rooted. There are no words he could say. Nothing for her, or Cherrypaw, or all of those she had left behind. Mute and blind to the world beyond this small space, Honeyjaw only nods.

𝘈 𝘗𝘖𝘌𝘔 𝘉𝘌𝘎𝘐𝘕𝘚 𝘈𝘚 𝘈 𝘓𝘜𝘔𝘗 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘛  ╱╱ 9.16.2023 𝘈 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘚𝘐𝘊𝘒𝘕𝘌𝘚𝘚

• OOC. —
• ✦　　. 　 ˚　.  HONEYJAW. HE - HIM. WARRIOR OF SHADOWCLAN. ADOPTIVE FATHER TO DRAGONFLYPAW. PENNED BY REVELATIONS. —————————————
  ——  a short-furred dark chocolate point tom with the smallest splashes of white on his forehead, front paws, and tail tip. well-built, but overall average in size and unremarkable aside from his lightly curled ears and the magnetism of his smile. seems to show signs of aging earlier than expected with a salt-and-pepper dusting.
  

  ✦ NOTICE honeyjaw is currently on the journey and will not be active outside of retro threads, or finishing those he had previously posted in! please message me on discord for plots or interactions between journey cats.

• "speech"

​

 

[Orangestar]

𝐵𝑈𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐴 𝑊𝑂𝑀𝐴𝑁, 𝐵𝑌 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝑁𝐷 ✧ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀

• 
  
  — orangeblossom | tags
  — she/her ; deputy of skyclan, mentoring eveningpaw.
  — scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes.
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — chibi by waluigipinball
  — penned by mercibun. @ me in any official tabbytales discord for plots.
  
  

​

Orangeblossom settles her tail around Cherrypaw, her own white flank pinkish with the apprentice's drying blood. She hadn't helped to dig the grave of her old friend; her grief for Little Wolf had to come second, for now. Despite their shared pasts, a lot of Orangeblossom's priorities had shifted since becoming a mother, and there's no further proof of that than how she'd stuck to Cherrypaw's side ever since she'd taken over comforting the apprentice from Figfeather. She wants to tell her daughter that it's okay. To soothe the trembling in her scarred shape, to take away the apprentice's pain and lay it across her own shoulders and scar her own flank, anything to make the spitfire calico holler and bounce around them again like she had at the start of this journey.

But it's not really okay, is it? Tallulahwing's death, which had kickstarted all of this, had not been Cherrypaw's fault. But this, truly and irrevocably, was. Little Wolf had died. Even though Magpiepaw assured them that she had been collected by a StarClanner, her father at that, that would not bring her back. Cherrypaw would carry this for the rest of her life. Orangeblossom can only hope that Cherrypaw does her best never to put another cat in this situation, ever again.

Orangeblossom presses her nose to her daughter's ear silently. She's not sure whether it's to give comfort to Cherrypaw, to give silent thanks to Little Wolf, or if it's an apology to them both. Maybe it's all three.​

 

[smogstar]

It is fitting for Smogmaw to retain a tenable gap between himself and the ongoing procession. He held no firsthand knowledge of the attack, only its outcome, and already had the tom gotten an up-close viewing of the ThunderClan warrior's corpse. Extending his involvement in the matters around Little Wolf's demise would yield no further insight or benefit. Not at least in any light that was easily discernable. And so, he merely watches from afar, breath shuddering as snow gathers in the gaps between his toe digits.

Meagre attention is dispensed towards the mourners. Their respective eulogies register and evaporate before a lasting impression can be made, and their grieving voices are reduced to a muted, indistinct hum. Though implicitly aware of some present—such as the moon-and-midnight apprentice helming the sombre affair, and the woeful tom gawking at what remained of his once-mate—the deputy's primary interest lies in one individual present.

The one who lived so Little Wolf may die. The one who brought their journey home to a screeching standstill for the sake of this vigil. Cherrypaw. Smogmaw observes her through a cold regard and brows woven taut. Whatever words were wedged in that throat of hers had yet to see the light of day, and, in view of her gushing hysterics, it was not probable they ever would. The girl is lost, isolated amidst the rabble, Orangeblossom's pity notwithstanding. That isn't the point. Internally, she's alone, caught in a melancholic tizzy and justifiably so. Should any line of thought of self-blame cross her mind, he would hold no qualms with the fact. He, for one, fixes the blame for Little Wolf's death squarely on Cherrypaw's shoulders. And if any of his companions had half a mind and a fraction of wisdom to back it up, they would do the same.

"Awful," he forces softly, identical to how he'd done at the bloody scene. He wasn't entirely willing to invest much into this display, let alone make the effort to think up something unique. "Just... awful." ​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ OH HOME, LET ME COME HOME ❀❀​

---

periwinklebreeze & 15 moons & demi-boy & he/they & windclan moor runner ​

---

Little Wolf is dead. Peri does not cry - he grieves, sure, but cheeks remeain dry and gaze impassive as he stares. Death comes for them all in the end - but to think it'd happened now. They'd been so, so close to coming home whole - with many an injury, yes, but alive. And now they would return one short - starclans claws having dragged one of their own away. He hates it, this sinking numbness, this aching nothingness. He does not say a prayer for her - not like some. It'd only be empty words, when part of him still wonders if she's taken his place. 'Goodbye' he thinks instead, with only a dip of his head as he drops the flowers he's passed. And then he clambers upon blackened paws, and leaves. He cares little what the rest think of him for his actions, but he does not feel much like standing around a body. He's done to much of that lately.

— home is wherever I'm with you ❀

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: in & out
  tw/cw: —
  
• 
  — a lithe figured black and white tom with a false-pointed pattern and clear blue eyes that gleam periwinkle in the right lighting. he seems perpetually worn and exhausted, with heavy bags beneath his eyes and a slouched posture. he has a speech impediment which leaves him with a stutter and sometimes even completely non-verbal, and his fluffy tail is adorned with carefully woven daisies.
  
  — physically medium && mentally easy && pacifist
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=#ccccff]action here[/color][/b] and tag account