- Sep 2, 2023
- 205
- 60
- 28
đđŒ The night passes in a blur of snapping barks and blood-curdling howls, the scent of blood clinging to Falconheartâs nose. Dawn comes and goes, fading the sunny daytime as though the horrors of the night before were no more than a bad dreamâand yet the cream tabby tom doesnât move. His perch, though bloodied slightly from the torn claw, is to him the safest place in the entire forest. Up here, no wolves can get him. They wonât even find him. He should feel a bit relieved, shouldnât he, though? He hasnât become some raving beastâs dinner. But the tears wonât stop flowing down his face, guilt pounding away at his chest. He hasnât seen another ThunderClanner pass by all day. What if the entire clan is gone? What if, because he hadnât stayed behind to help, his home has been reduced to nothing but a memory?
If he had any more tears left to cry, they would be rolling down his face to splash on the ground below. But he doesnât, and so his sniffles eventually subside once again in favor of looking around blearily. He hasnât slept all night, and his head protests with each movement he makes. He cannot stay up in this tree foreverâthe wolves must be gone now, because he hasnât heard them for a long while. He considers remaining up in the tree until daytime, but he isnât certain that heâll even make it that long. Besides, the dark will help him stay undetected in case the predators havenât moved on. With one final heavy breath, he picks himself up and makes his way down the tree. The trek back to camp is filled with too many thoughts, so many of them horribly guilty, but he makes it before the day has gone fully dark. When he finally steps past the campâs entrance, his brows raise in alarm at what he seesâeverything seems so much more frightening in the aftermath, no matter how peaceful it is now. Cleaning up the camp and repairing the roughed-up portions of the dens will be difficult, of course, but what matters more to him is the scent of blood. Itâs much stronger here, and Falconheart finds himself having to take deep, measured breaths to avoid descending into a spiral of fear.
His poor heart practically skips a beat when a familiar cat comes into view. A clanmateâand then another, and another! He quickly makes his way over to them without much conscious thought, favoring his right paw. His heart races, pounding against his ribs, and for a moment he worries he may faint from the force of his emotion. "I⊠hey. Hey!" Blue-green eyes are wide, panic nearly choking him as he doesnât spot his family at first. Where could they be? His mom is pregnant, his sister is already hurt, and his dad⊠he just canât lose his dad. But he canât see that familiar gray-striped pelt, those warm green eyes. He canât find any dashes of bright red fur in between the bodies of his clanmatesânor can he find the blue and red and white mixture of both his parentsâ coats. To the first cat he sees, he asks, "Whereâs my dad? Mom? Stormfeather?" His voice rises in pitch with each word, fear-scent filling the space around him. What if theyâre all dead, his entire family, and he has to attend the vigils of not one but three of his kin? With how ravenous the wolves seemed⊠Would there even be bodies to bury? Or would there only be pools of blood left to mark the places where his family once stood? No, he canât think like that, he tells himself. He has to believe theyâre okay. They have to be okay.
// this is set the evening after the campâs invasion
If he had any more tears left to cry, they would be rolling down his face to splash on the ground below. But he doesnât, and so his sniffles eventually subside once again in favor of looking around blearily. He hasnât slept all night, and his head protests with each movement he makes. He cannot stay up in this tree foreverâthe wolves must be gone now, because he hasnât heard them for a long while. He considers remaining up in the tree until daytime, but he isnât certain that heâll even make it that long. Besides, the dark will help him stay undetected in case the predators havenât moved on. With one final heavy breath, he picks himself up and makes his way down the tree. The trek back to camp is filled with too many thoughts, so many of them horribly guilty, but he makes it before the day has gone fully dark. When he finally steps past the campâs entrance, his brows raise in alarm at what he seesâeverything seems so much more frightening in the aftermath, no matter how peaceful it is now. Cleaning up the camp and repairing the roughed-up portions of the dens will be difficult, of course, but what matters more to him is the scent of blood. Itâs much stronger here, and Falconheart finds himself having to take deep, measured breaths to avoid descending into a spiral of fear.
His poor heart practically skips a beat when a familiar cat comes into view. A clanmateâand then another, and another! He quickly makes his way over to them without much conscious thought, favoring his right paw. His heart races, pounding against his ribs, and for a moment he worries he may faint from the force of his emotion. "I⊠hey. Hey!" Blue-green eyes are wide, panic nearly choking him as he doesnât spot his family at first. Where could they be? His mom is pregnant, his sister is already hurt, and his dad⊠he just canât lose his dad. But he canât see that familiar gray-striped pelt, those warm green eyes. He canât find any dashes of bright red fur in between the bodies of his clanmatesânor can he find the blue and red and white mixture of both his parentsâ coats. To the first cat he sees, he asks, "Whereâs my dad? Mom? Stormfeather?" His voice rises in pitch with each word, fear-scent filling the space around him. What if theyâre all dead, his entire family, and he has to attend the vigils of not one but three of his kin? With how ravenous the wolves seemed⊠Would there even be bodies to bury? Or would there only be pools of blood left to mark the places where his family once stood? No, he canât think like that, he tells himself. He has to believe theyâre okay. They have to be okay.
// this is set the evening after the campâs invasion
