sensitive topics far over the misty mountains cold — dog attack

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

A routine patrol composed of hunting and border as Duskpool spoke, offering Bobbie some helpful tidbits, tone borderline dull as he gazed at the mesh between twolegs and pine trees. His tail whisked languidly as molten copper hues narrowed.

He had hoped to see Kyungmin peeking from behind the borders that fenced them in, claws twitching against the softened ground as the winds howled, branches groaning, threatening to break. A destructive force. A solemn reminder that nature was far stronger than the bravest of warriors.

Duskpool wasn't one for violence. He lost too many in hopeless fights drawn to fail. Twolegs were sickening, in that case. He huffed, turning to watch the withering branches. "Remember to watch your heads." He called to the advancing patrol, marking the borders while scouring for prey. Duskpool didn't feel like dealing with a bunch of flattened cats. He'd seen enough death. He wasn't keen on witnessing anymore.

His fur remained tangled, in need of a good groom when he returned with twigs and leaves dotting his obsidian fur.

The eerie howl dotting the air made him pause, head swerving to taste the air, ears perked in attention, molten copper hues narrowed. "Stay sharp—" He knew better than anyone what dogs sounded like, spending most of his younger years being bitten and chased by those foul creatures. The heavy scent of dog weighed heavy on his tongue,

Duskpool head snapped, eyes blown wide as he snarled a warning to the patrol, being too late as the black-furred dog can bursting from the twolegs side, snapping its jaws at the gathered felines. Shit. Dusk was no bigger than the dog, standing a few inches shorter as he shoved whoever out of the way of the dog's path, taking the brunt of it with a fierce, bloodcurdling yowl, teeth sinking into the supple flesh of its neck.

Pain exploded along the left side of his face, snarling through clenched teeth as they rolled, choked wheezes escaping as he was shoved harshly into the dirt. He knew how to fight these damn beasts, claws finding purchase into the soft flesh, enticing a painful yip from the animal.

Molten copper hues narrowed, breathing harshly through his nose to ease the blistering pain along his face, mangy jaws sinking into his shoulder, tasting his blood as they grappled. "Damnit!" He hissed, ripping out of the dog's grasp to snarl at the group. "Get the fuck out of here!" He swiped a clawed paw at the dog, left eye scrunched up, blood coating the obsidian fur until there was nothing but a sheet of sickening red. "Go!"

He snapped, teeth bared, claws hooking into flesh before jerking away, drawing the dog's attention to him, urging the others to leave. He'd be damned if he failed again. He wouldn't lose. Not this time.

Duskpool snarled teeth bared menacingly, so unlike the usually collected, neutral expression he always wore.

@bobbie @Sootspritespark. @Drizzlepaw

footnote : forgot to add this !! but dog is a-okay to be power played ! injuries are welcomed ! so have fun with that lol ​

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thought speech​

 

[BOBBIE]

Bobbie padded relatively cheerfully alongside the routine patrol; she'd nervously asked some of the warriors if there were any 'relaxed' patrols (as relaxed as patrols could be, anyways) she could tag along on, just to see what it was like. Duskpool had quite kindly, in her opinion, indulged her and allowed her to follow along with his patrol, and he offered tips to her in a calm monotone as the little group padded along. The lilac queen was hoping this could be a way to start sort of softly integrating into the idea of warriorhood, just so she wouldn't be going into Clan duties totally blind once her kittens were grown. Bobbie would be lying if she said it wasn't making her a little nervous, leaving her three kits back in camp (even under the other queens' watchful eyes), but all members of their little family should be learning independence now anyhow.

The queen offered tentative responses to the words of the other cats, trying to absorb as much information as she could on this little outing; that was one advantage she didn't have, the easy kitten-osmosis of new apprentices. Still ... her hopes about potential warriorhood were high, and she wanted to develop at least some wilderness skills, pathetic as they were likely to be—no need for the horrible dog event of moons ago to repeat itself, after all (oh, how ironic, she would later think if she wasn't so terrified). When Duskpool called for the moving cats to watch their heads, Snowpath's death out of her sight reemerged in her thoughts, and Bobbie dutifully kept one eye on the groaning trees.

Suddenly, a horrifically familiar sound hit her ears; eerie, drawn-out, mournful, the squeal of the gates of hell—a dog howl. Even with her lack of skills, Bobbie's head shot up to smell for the tarry blood-thick scent of dog, the beginning of a cautionary sentence hitting the air from Duskpool's mouth. She paused a moment, eyes blown wide in a fear that was more than instinctive, still seeking out the source of the heavy smell of the beast, not seeing the sleek black-furred bullet approaching them. Just as her head swiveled back towards the rest of the cats, the queen felt an impact against her side, hard with a careless force only desperation could bring that sent her slighter frame sliding across the pine-floored ground by several tail-lengths. A sick, hair-raising yowl reaches her ears in the next second, making Bobbie pull herself from the earth with a face stretched by terror.

The dog's ravening jaws, their mark intended for her, were sunk deep into Duskpool's flesh, the tom snarling as he grappled against the beast in the dirt. She could practically smell its foul and bloody breath, see its rage-reddened eyes inches from her own, just as it had been moons ago, Bobbie's ears pinning to her head as the queen half-crouched in the disturbed forest ground. It had come back, for her, it must have; the logical part of her brain said that it was impossible for the dumb creature to do, but her mind screamed into a helpless silence: the dog had come back for her. Not content to leave her bloodied and scarred, mar soft lilac fur with gnarled bitemarks; not content to leave the queen resigned to night after night waking silent from dreams of foaming jaws. It had come back.

It had come back, and again Bobbie cannot move; it is just as it was when she had realized her only love had left her, when the dog had first found her alone in the forest, wracked by helplessness, when Plaguekit had been suspended in that horrible moment of choking. She simply cannot move; even as her caged and screaming mind begs her to run, to fight, to do something, she simply cannot. Her limbs are locked in that half-crouch, unable to stir to flee and retrieve help, to launch herself at the dog. Not that it would help, she thinks faintly; it was her absolute lack of any skill, of any merit that had led her to SkyClan in the first place; this patrol was supposed to help her, to fix that, but clearly she did nothing but make things worse. Because it had come back.

The thought rends her heart, curdles it acid sour: What if one day, stars forbid, this happens again? But with her kits, the three little lights of her life? Does she want to spend her life jumping at old ghosts, running from shadows, freezing up when it really matters? Is she content to watch her children torn to shreds in front of her just as Duskpool is now because of her inaction, her inability to move when it counts? To run, to get help, to fight even when she knows it's hopeless? That she would die for her kits is beyond doubt; whether she'd be able to move to do so is the question that haunts her.

It's as though someone else speaks the words in a flat voice. Do something. The queen freezes, if one can do that when already locked into place, the unfamiliar words ringing out in her mind. The voice that says them is the same as the one that reminds her to check on Crowkit and worries about whether she's a good mother and says the moss in her nest is stale, but different somehow. Its tone is cold, determined, holding a self-assuredness that she decidedly lacks. Do something. It's this strange mental voice in tandem with Duskpool's raw and commanding hisses that for once seems to pull her from the frozen posture she's held in the seconds it took to run this course of thought. Duskpool yells for them to run, to go, to get out of here, and she wants to listen, but—that cold voice whispers in her ear. Perhaps she lacks skill, but she still has claws and teeth, right; perhaps she lacks skill, but Bobbie can see the pain painting lines on the tom's face, see the blood coating his fur in sickening formless crimson shapes. She can practically feel the searing raw hurt that must be shattering his face into shards, the fear and anger jarring the oh-so-normal day.

When her limbs finally thaw for what feels like the first time in her entire life, it's to make an unquestionably stupid, led-by-heart-not-head decision: the lilac shape darts forward with a surprising deerish speed, leaps from the earth like a spring fawn to land on the dog's jerking and rippling back. She's short in comparison to Duskpool, dwarfed by the dog, a small desperate shape clinging to the writhing dark fur of the dog's back. Fear leaps icy in her veins, but an unfamiliar warmth joins it as Bobbie struggles to keep a hold on the wriggling beast with hesitantly unsheathed claws; the queen rears her head back, knowing nothing of battle moves, and sinks her surprisingly vicious teeth into the flesh between the dog's shoulder blades. Rancid blood springs into her mouth, unfamiliar and repulsive as her teeth burrow into the creature's meaty back.

For all of a heartbeat, Bobbie is successful: the beast rears back from the warrior for the barest of moments, snarling wolfishly with pain and rage. Then, of course, her lack of skills bites her in the tail again; whatever initially compelled her to do this in the first place did not come with skills included, and the dog's back snaps and writhes, throwing the queen off with a terrified hiss and a horrific force. For the second time, she hits the pine-coated ground; a dull pain resonates through her cheek as it hits the earth first, a stronger one through her shoulder as she lands on one side with a rather nasty-sounding thump, sliding in the dirt. Faintly she tastes the copper tang of blood. Her eyelids flutter as multicolored stars of pain dance across her vision, not quite yet dragging herself to her paws, unaware of whatever else may be going on for this brief moment.
​

 

[✧ Sootspritespark.]

I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I WANT AND WHO I WANNA BE
sootspritespark | 36 months | demi-girl | she/they | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #ffff99

---

Sootspritespark is not proud of it, but she freezes. Dogs are a familiarity to the molly - she shares a nest with one in fact. But this - this is different. The sound of barking and baying does not set off warning bells in her mind the way it does the others, trailing forwards without a care. It all happens so fast - the woman's back is turned to the commotion, and by the time she spins 'round the smell of blood is thick in the air. Teeth are flashing, cats are fighting, and she can only look on in abject horror for a moment. Her head is empty of all but one thing - his words echoing her mind on repeat, 'Is it everythin' you hoped?' - no, no it's not. Reality is much, much worse than the daydreams of a lovesick young girl.

It is only when the beast turns against bobbie that she finds her courage, that the woman moves. Small and round as she is, she at least has some fighting experience - and she is not a mother with kits to care for (as much as that fact crushes her deep down). The curly furred molly is naught but a streak of shadows, claws out as she swipes cleanly against the beasts muzzle, feeling the tender flesh tear. "Hey you- yeah you, dog-breath, flea-pelt, over here!" she snaps, voice ringing loud and clear even over the thunderous beat of her heart. She's already moving again, leaping at the beasts back with the hopes of using her hefty weight against it the best she can - her pudge has to come in handy sometimes, right?

​

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[Drizzlepelt]

Drizzlepaw is always concerned about how patrols will go, deep seeded worry settled in his gut permanently. Usually it's not warranted, patrols calm enough despite tensions and threats. Either way, one day things were bound to go wrong, and it seems that today is the day. Dogs were nothing new to him, as they're common enough where he used to live, either ones owned by twolegs or feral ones. That didn't make them any less scary, and Drizzlepaw is anything but calm as his mentor is brutally attacked, and he yelps out of genuine concern. As he's told to *run*, it doesn't take him long to listen. "I'll go get help...!" His promise is rushed as he spins around and heads the other way, wanting to make his trek back to camp as fast as possible. Even so, he can't help but look back a few times, panic crawling up further as Bobbie is attacked next. He picks up the pace, as fast as his lanky legs can handle.

As soon as he reaches the border, he's yelling, "Help! Help! Dog attack!" He doesn't feel he should take a moment to breathe, but he does. His labored huffs hurt, but he quickly picks himself back up. "Someone please...my mentor..." His eyes are wild as he's looking around at any cat who will take notice of his plea, hoping Blazestar or at least one of the lead warriors will act quickly.​

 

[BOBBIE]

Bobbie can faintly see, through the stars spotting her vision, the curly-furred cat who'd been padding alongside them launching herself at the dog just as Bobbie had, if with significantly more skill. She can see Drizzlepaw run to get someone with more battle experience, would shout a warning and a gratitude if the hit had not stolen her breath. Gradually, her sight clears, although the harsh pain of the earth's blows echos in her cheek and shoulder; she has no idea whether the injuries it indicates are severe or not—but for now she feels no warm blood. Still the queen drags herself to her paws, swaying slightly, black dotting her vision; perhaps these cats are not her Clanmates from birth but she can not, will not, let them fight the battle alone, inept as her attempts might be. She will not let Duskpool's face be ripped apart in front of her, let Sootspritespark fight this battle mostly alone, not if she can help it.

The lilac form makes an inexpert lunge again, battering the dark beast's hind legs with inexperienced claws. Terror steals her breath, but her long fangs grit together; she can do this, will do this, even if it hurts. Perhaps this runs deeper than just protecting her newfound Clanmates; perhaps it as much a battle against herself as it is the dog. Still, faintly she can hear the dog's roars of pain and fury through her still-ringing ears—Bobbie has not a trace of a clue how the other two cats are doing, but she fights anyways. Again, it proves to mean little; the flailing dog's muscle-bound leg connects with her side and already-aching shoulder with desperate force, batting her away yet again like a fly. She manages to keep her feet this time—or so Bobbie thinks until she crumples of her own volition onto the ground, half-prone and fighting to rise, still achingly conscious. She can feel pain burning, blood rising where the brute's primitive claws have slashed her, panting, pausing as stars dance through her eyes once more. It hurts, hurts more than she had been prepared for—the cuts flare with bright pain, but worse is the dull but harsh thuds of pain reverbating through her body. She can only hope the help Drizzlepaw ran to fetch will arrive soon.
​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Duskpool grunted, spitting out a mouthful of blood, staining the ground a curdling crimson. Shit. He choked back a groan, rolling onto his side, head filled with cotton, trying to gather his bearings, eyesight asymmetrical.

The obsidian-furred male wasn’t sure what was worse. The singing in his shoulder or the fucking fact he couldn’t see in one eye. He bit back the bubbling laughter threatening to tear from his bloodied maw, instead turning his attention to Bobbie and Sootspirte. Damnit.

Stumbling, Duskpool surged forward, spitting out a perturbed hiss, tail lashing. “Damnit! I told you, idiots, to run!” He snarled, using his larger frame to his advantage, blocking Bobbie from view as the mutt let out a chilling yowl, ringing out. “Damn, mutt.” He seethed, nostrils flared, smelling nothing but the pungent ichor. At least his own apprentice had the common sense to run. Now? Dusk couldn’t help but feel the underlying panic settle deep within his creaking bones.

His leg throbbed, reminding him of its distorted shape, one someone would barely recognize if they didn’t look closer. A break that never healed right. A foul reminder of how worthless he was as he watched his mate and kits wail, torn apart by dastardly beasts. Not again. He’d give his life up to protect these two idiots if it was the last thing he did.

Death? Duskpool had no qualms about dying. But didn’t he deserve to suffer? For everything? Yes. The obsidian-furred brute had done a lot of things in life he regretted.

His regrets? He’d never been strong enough to protect the very cats he adored.

He never wanted to deprive someone of someone they loved. Molten copper gaze lingered on Bobbie’s prone form, biting back a wince at the pain she must be in. “Hold on, kid.” He muttered, hoping Drizzle would hurry the hell up, pressing his nose against her side for a few seconds, noting the beaded marks along her frame. A concerned hiss weighed heavily on his tongue, head whipping to stare at the dog.

He didn’t doubt they’d be able to hold it off, but given the sudden panic that befell the group the second the dog burst from its territory and the lack of experience, Bobbie possessed. He’d have to congratulate her on her bravery when they weren’t getting their asses kicked.

With a burst of energy despite the wear and tear of his muscles, dizzy from the gradual loss of blood that seeped down his matted face and side, clumping up, staining his fur an eerie, darkened black while the pearly white stood out, contrasting.

“Stay out of its jaws!” He snapped to the curly-furred molly, gaze briefly meeting Sootspritespark as he surged forward, jaws latching onto the supple pungent flesh, ignoring the blistering pain that bursts from his shoulder as the dog reared, head swearing to latch onto the already leaking wound. Fox-dung that hurts. He grunted, shifting until his entire weight pressed against the dog’s front, tipping it back a few inches until he jerked back, bloodied teeth bared.

“Go for its under—” He’d snarl to anyone within the vicinity, paw lashing out to claw at its muzzle.

His vision blurred. heart roaring within his eardrums as he settled for snapping and tearing into any available flesh, ignoring the familiar burn of his wounds and muscles pulling taunt, muscles rippling beneath sanguine matted fur. ​

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thought speech​

 

[✧ Sootspritespark.]

I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I WANT AND WHO I WANNA BE
sootspritespark | 36 months | demi-girl | she/they | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #ffff99

---

The woman takes offense to duskpools words, teeth bared as claws sink deep into dog-flesh - "It already had bobbie! what was I supposed to do, let her kits become orphans!" words come out waspish, shouted over the din. Even she is not that heartless. Teeth dig into her collar, the dog shaking her, and for a moment time stops - she's choking, can't breath - before it finally does it's job. With a loud click she's promptly yeeted - tossed a good few feet away, as the strap gives way. She's never been more grateful for her reflexes as she twists on impact - winded and bruised, but nothing broken. She takes the toms advice though, using her small stature to dive beneath the dog, claws tearing at its inner legs an underbelly. "Give up you stupid mutt!" she grumbles, tasting blood. This is tedious and not at all hat she'd signed up for - a simple stroll indeed, hah!
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[BLAZESTAR]

The salt-laden tang of blood on the air causes the fur along Blazestar’s neck to rise even before Drizzlepaw finds him just outside of camp. Duskpool, Sootspritespark, and Bobbie needed help, the silver tabby stuttered—and Blazestar’s teeth snap together with rage. “Go back to camp and get more warriors,” he instructs the young tom, not waiting for an answer before he propels himself forward. His oft-slow gait becomes a powerful lope beneath the towering pines.

The beast is hostile, snarling as it stands before three panting, blood-stained bodies. Blazestar’s heart lurches—has it taken the lives of any of his warriors? But, no, Sootspritespark spits insults the creature’s way. Duskpool staggers to his paws again, though he’s torn in so many places it amazes the leader. And Bobbie… Bobbie’s pale tabby body seeps red through her stripes, and despite her lack of experience, the queen faces the dog with as much courage as his trained warriors.

Blazestar’s yowl is as loud as the dog’s barking. He skids to a stop before the three injured SkyClanners, his claws unsheathed and his fangs bared to the root. “Get back!” He orders, and he’s speaking both to his cats and to the hulking demon attempting to make prey of their fragile bodies. “Let him have me—if he can.”

Though Blazestar is slow, his bulk makes him at least a nuisance for the hound. His claws flash, ripping across a dripping snout. The dog yips in pain, but it’s hardly deterred at all. Blazestar grimly bunches his muscles, knowing he’ll have to use his weight if he wants to make any real impact. He spurs himself into the dog’s chest, claws flailing at any bit of flesh and fur they can catch. The hound is bowled backward several steps, perhaps more by surprise than anything else.

Regardless, it works—for a minute. Once it regains its footing, and before Blazestar can lunge again, the hound snaps its jaws into the delicate flesh of Blazestar’s throat. It holds him there, suspended, crucified by fang and blood and saliva. He gasps, and the motion hurts—but he feels heat and building pressure more than he does any pain. He kicks his hindlegs, one catching the dog in the face—it has just enough force to cause the mutt to release him, and he crumples to the ground, struggling to take in air through what feels like a hole in his throat.

Perhaps the hound is realizing four cats are more trouble than they’re worth, for it backs away, tail tucked, though it does not run yet. Blazestar watches it through a haze of red—is it going to finish him off and attack the cats behind him? He struggles, jaws flexing open, but only blood spills like juice from a ripe fruit.

Eerily, he’s reminded of the life he’d lost at the jaws of the fox hunting Butterflytuft. Then he’d not made a difference—this time, the hound is seconds from fleeing, at least, before Blazestar succumbs to his wounds. Crimson vision dims, and then darkens entirely.

// idiot lost a life
i did ask blue for perms first <3


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[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[Drizzlepelt]

"R-Right," Drizzlepaw responds as he's met by Blazestar at the border. He's glad that the leader was the first one to find him, as he's probably the most capable one to deal with a dog, even if it means losing a life. The leader immediately rushes off and there's tension littering his body at the worry of him tacked on, but he's got a job to do. He can worry about any trauma this may give him later.

Rushing into camp, he takes a quick note of who is around, and gets a serious look on his face. "You four!" He yells at the warriors that is in the immediate vicinity, "Blazestar told me to grab help...there's a dog close to here. Please help me save my mentor..." His voice is shaking, but the adrenaline is starting to set back in, and he's ready to head back with help in tow.

// OOC : Talking to @dovetail @TWITCHBOLT @FIGFEATHER @Coyotepaw !​

 

[dovetail]

Dovetail makes a quiet, panicked noise as her throat constricts - torn between her fear, obvious from the way her ears pin to her skull, and the cracked meow of Drizzlepaw as he begs for their help. Dovetail's paws remain rooted to the spot for a very long moment. Her eyes flit to her right, towards Figfeather, and then back to Drizzlepaw as she forces herself through the paralysis and takes that first step towards the panicking apprentice. And then another, and another; until she's managed to reach his side.

"Where are they?"

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[BOBBIE]

Bobbie's lilac head is bowed, thick mane of white-marbled fur hanging in her eyes, as her companions on this 'easy' patrol face off against the dog. She wants to get up, to keep going—Duskpool had been bleeding from so many places he seemed more wound than fur, she has to help, and her white-splashed paws scrabble at the needle-floored earth hopelessly. The queen wants to get up, but strangely enough, someone else seems to be sharing her lungs, stealing her breath; the dog's kick knocked the wind thoroughly out of her, and it takes her a moment of helpless heaving breaths to recover it. Thank the stars, she doesn't seem to have hopelessly broken some part of herself inside, just lost her breath—but still with each exhale, ribbons of hot pain claw up her side where the dull but big dog-claws shredded the soft lilac pelt there. Blunter but no less painful aches radiate from her cheek where it struck the dirt, thick heartbeats of pain drumming along her twice-bruised shoulder and side from the powerful muscles of the beast.

When she manages to look back up, to haul herself to shaky paws, she almost can't believe her eyes for a moment—wonders if she perhaps did lose her life—because for a second it's as though a lion has leapt down from old legends to fight this monstrous hound. Her wobbly vision clears and it's Blazestar, his yowl seeming to reach the watching stars, claws and teeth bared. Suddenly it's clear, if it hadn't already been, why he leads this Clan; the leader hurls himself at the dog with the courage of a lion and if Bobbie had the breath she would call for him to stop, because it seems too dangerous. Too reckless. The flame point battles it backwards with more skill in these few moves than she'd shown this entire battle, and he seems in the verge of perhaps doing what they'd failed to do and driving the beast off, when it happens.

In seemingly the blink of an eye, the leader seems to go from battling off the dog to hanging, throat shredded, from its oozing jaws. As she watches, he falls to the ground like a discarded kitten toy, the hound that's so terrorized them backing away but not yet turning tail. Bobbie had thought she had no breath left, no way to move until someone pulled her, but desperation stretches her pained muscles as the she-cat lunges forward in one anguished burst of energy. She pushes herself forward, to the flame point's crumpled body and gasping, torn throat, blind to the whining hound still lingering there, sees the last breath whisper from his throat and the huge sides stop heaving. With her next struggling breath, the queen shouts, "Blazestar!"

Of course, someone had likely mentioned to her casually the fact of the leaders' nine lives, but Bobbie's frenzied mind couldn't hope to retrieve such a simple interaction now. Blood foams on the earth, shadowed green eyes wide and tear-edged—because he can't die because of her, this cat she's known for only a couple moons that feel much longer. Whose few conversations have been so genuine, caved deeper than she thought'd she be able to divulge to another, listened to her with an achingly knowing tone. The only other cat she feels like she can properly trust in this new environment, who's laid his own struggles out in front of her without judging her own. But he is—the breath has left the hulking form, the queen's pounding lilac head hung over the crumpled leader. Perhaps it's wrong that she feels so attached to this cat who has an entire Clan of those he's known much longer as friends, but pathetic as it may be, Bobbie trusts him—the first time she'd felt safe in moons had been their sparingly few talks, so vulnerable and yet somehow so easy. The cat responsible, undoubtedly, for the safety of her and her kits.

She only has the grace of a few seconds to ponder this in the echoes of a panicked mind, hunched over the limp form, because naturally she'd forgotten entirely about the cause of all of this. Another sweeping blow swats her away for the third and hopefully final time today, carving yet another cat-shaped trail through the dirt and etching another criss-crossed wound onto Bobbie's side. Again she tastes copper on her tongue, slumps onto her side with the wind knocked out of her as fresh blood oozes from furrows carved in pale lilac fur. In swimming vision, she can see the dog continuing to back away a bit—it seems to have swung at her as an easy target more than anything else, but better her than the leader, she thinks fadingly. At least Blazestar's efforts hadn't been in vain, she wonders—hopefully more reinforcements arrive to deal the final blows and send the thing packing. Faintly Bobbie's aware of black washing over her vision and the feeling of falling before nothingness takes over—whether it's from the injuries, the pain, or the stress, she's finally lost the aching grasp of consciousness.
​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶​

Damnit. He turned to snap at Sootsprite, maw sliding shut with a haggard clink at the sight of Blaze, chest tightening. Shit. Shit. Shit. Panic pooled deep in his gut, frozen as he watched, heart-tugging brutally against his sternum.

Duskpool wasn’t sure what he’d expected, hoping by some miracle the beast would realize he was outnumbered by the sheer size of the Blaze’s hulking frame, but when did shit ever go the way he wanted it to? A bubbling laugh escaped his maw, borderline baffling, optics blown wide at the sickening sight.

He choked back a snarl which burned like dragon’s fire, threatening to spill from bloodied lips. No. Damnit! He wanted to screech, flinching at Bobbie’s cry.

If only he’d warned them sooner. None of this would have happened, but he couldn’t change the past. No. He couldn’t. Even if he begged while holding his bleeding heart for the world to see. It was cruel and unjust. He’d learned that from a young age as cats were ripped from his life, tittering along between life and death.

The foul stench of dog hit his tongue, spurring the male forward, ignoring his body which screamed, begging. He couldn’t back down. Not now. He sure was one pathetic, weak mutt who couldn’t even handle one thing he was supposed to excel in. If he had only led the bellicose dog away from everyone.

What ifs. What ifs. So many what-ifs. Nothing good ever came with that. The spiraling thoughts. The guilt. The pain. He should know that better than anyone. Hell. He was wallowing in his own damn misery, refusing to get close to anyone for this exact reason. Sure. He might be missed by some, but he’d merely be a stepping stone in their lives.

Duskpool swallowed, watching as Bobbie collapsed, falling into sweet unconsciousness, something the obsidian-furred brute wished for without purgatory.

He was a sinner. A failure. Fox-dung. He shouldn’t be thinking about his problems while cats were in danger. No less because of his stupidity. He swore an oath to protect his clan, and now? He couldn’t even do that.

How pathetic could he get? His shoulders shook in silent laughter, helm hung low, teeth grinding, darkened lips curled menacingly.

Duskpool stumbled, choking back a cough, blood splattering the ground as reality settled in, bones aching, muscles quivering, vision darkening. Not yet. He couldn’t lie down, not when Blaze and Bobbie were down. He’d be damned if Blaze lost another life—Duskpool hoped to StarClan that it wasn’t his last.

He’d drag his foolish leader back from the land of the dead to strangle his neck for being stupidly reckless, albeit brave, but stupidly so.

With what little strength he had left, Duskpool surged forward with a newfound purpose, bloodied teeth bared as ichor trickled, clumping together against his disfigured pelt. Damn did he need a bath after this mess—if he survived.

Duskpool slammed into the dog’s side, knocking it over with his momentum. The two were in a deadly tango as they grappled, searing pain sparking along opened wounds. His scrunched-up eye throbbed, blinding him momentarily as he snarled, battling the beast with new ferociousness.

If he were to die, Dusk was sure as hell determined to bring it with him to the pits where even light was afraid to go. Because damnit he wouldn’t risk anyone else’s life.

A sickening twist of his poorly healed leg caused sparks to fly, and breath shuddering. No doubt spraining the already damaged limb as he rolled, collapsing on his side, vision muddy.

Get up! You old fool! He’d think, helm twisting to stare at the mutt covered in wounds from various fights, no doubt realizing it had bit off more than it can chew in its hunt for … whatever mutts did. Enjoyment?

Duskpool scoffed, biting his inner cheek to stop the whimper of pain, teeth-gritting, swallowing the sound. Molten copper optics narrowed, sneering at the mutt as he pulled himself up, favoring his injured leg, back half sprawled out on the ground while his upper half tittered, barely clinging to his consciousness. “Realizing you're going to lose?” He grinned cryptically, marred flesh crinkling. Of course, it looked worse, glancing at Bobbie and Blaze’s prone forms to Sootsprite. He winced.

“I’ll be damned if you hurt anyone else.” He grunted, ears lying flat against his helm. “You want some more? Come get some—!” He hissed mockingly, jerking his body, blood beading against the parted flesh, nostrils flaring.

One thing was for sure, he was running out of stamina, hoping whoever came fast before he lost consciousness. Fuck my life. He huffed. Does anyone else want to take a jab at his deteriorating life? Geez. ​

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thought speech​

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[TWITCHBOLT]

From whatever depths he had been dwelling in he was dredged by the cutting shout of Drizzlepaw, a noise that snapped his head to attention. Wide eyes fixed upon the apprentice as he hurried through his explanation- a dog nearby, help, Blazestar. His shocked gaze swept over the other three warriors, a quick and panicked motion to scan their faces for any minuscule smudge of a reaction, before settling his attention back upon the apprentice. "Lead us there," he said hurriedly, a nod accompanying his words. As soon as each warrior came to terms with their duty, he was off with the rest of them.

When they arrived upon the scene, Twitchbolt could not help the immediate curl of bristles along his spine, blood clogging his senses and gore strewn in his sights. Blazestar lay motionless, and- and Bobbie, too. Duskpool and Sootspritespark stood injured before a slathering- beast, a beast, a face he'd seen in nightmares. Canid jaws, slobbering... hungry, or something. For food or... fun, whatever their chasing claws pursued. Sickened by the sight, Twitchbolt knew he had to push forward regardless- blood-scent thickened the air and fear thrashed within him, but it would not make him turn and run. What sort of warrior would he be?

A shiver ran through his form, and he glanced again to the other reinforcements before settling his gaze upon the dog. Blazestar was- Bobbie was... not dead, surely. Couldn't be- couldn't think about it, not now. Whatever they were, Twitchbolt knew they needed to get the dog out of here before it caused any further harm. The mutt was already awash with scrapes and claw marks, and held itself in a hunched position, appearing to- to hesitate. If it could have that much sense.

A hiss flew from his maw, claws unsheathing with fangs bared in full view. He hoped the fear he sensed from the thing would be enough, and it would run- with them giving chase, of course. Five new players had joined the fight... surely, if it had half a mind, it would give up. And- and no one would be dead. ​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[Coyotecrest]

Angry at all the things I can't change

A call to arms rings throughout the clearing as he snaps his head up from his paws. Drizzlepaw was frantic, spilling forth words about a dog that had Coyotecrest quickly standing to join the others called into action. He sprints alongside Twitchbolt until they reach the scene and his eyes widen briefly at what he finds. Both Blazestar and Bobbie are looking worse for wear, battered by the brutality of the hound looming dangerously ahead of them all. Slouched and hesitant it looked as if it only needed a little more persuasion to chase it out for good. His pelt bristles as claws puncture the earth below. All they needed was one final push. With a hiss spilling from his jaws, Coyotecrest rushes at the beast, claws aiming to cleave the flesh along its side. ​

When you're lost in the universe don't lose faith​

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[BLAZESTAR]

The bloodied pine needles and soft earth give way to plush, silver-laced grass. Blazestar stirs, the burn in his throat slowly fading like an echo. When he opens his eyes, he faces a cat cloaked in starlight, their fur glittering impossibly and their eyes heavy with the wisdom of the dead.

“I lost a life,” he rasps, struggling to rise. A shining tail tuft lays itself on his shoulder.

“Not yet.” Blazestar can make out faint tabby stripes through the shimmer dusting his fur. “Let yourself heal completely.”

“I have to get back… they can’t find that dog alone,” he wheezes, but his muscles will not let him stand yet. He slumps in the grass, closing his eyes. “I have five lives to give. They have one.”

The tabby spirit does not reply. He sits vigil with the fallen leader just as a cat in the forest would for a fallen Clanmate. Slowly, slowly, the pain fades, and Blazestar can press a paw to the healed wound in his throat.

“Rise, Blazestar.” The StarClan warrior’s voice fades, as does the plush landscape their predecessors hunt in. His body jerks, tangible now. The earth is soaked with red beneath him, but there is only a dull ache where the hound had torn into him. He comes to slowly—and he sees that Duskpool is still fighting. Twitchbolt is here now, and Coyotecrest, fiercely driving the dog back from him.

And—

“Bobbie?” She’s collapsed just beside him, and though her wounds look gruesome, he’s relieved to see the faint rise of her lilac flank. He briefly presses his nose to the top of her head. “We’ll all need help getting home,” he mutters into her fur.
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[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[Drizzlepelt]

The young tabby can feel his emotions ready to burst as him and the troop he assembled finally arrive at the fight, ready to be rid of the beast, hopefully forever. It's a bloody scene, that's to be sure. He had a feeling that Blazestar was going to lose a life to this mutt, though the thought doesn't calm him in the slightest. He feels guilty, almost. But he knows it's not his fault, Blazestar was just doing his own job. Keep the clan safe. He's not sure if Duskpool or Bobbie will make it out of this alive, but at least they're safe now. Still, his feelings storm inside him, drizzle turning into a downpour. He's usually good at keeping his cool, or at least pretending to. Right now, though, there's only one thing on his mind.

Revenge.

Drizzlepaw's wrathfulness is clear on his face as he stares down the dog, and even as Coyotecrest aims his claws for the bitch's side, he's ready to cause it pain unlike any it's ever known. It's the least it deserves for it's sins. "HOW DARE YOU HURT DUSKPOOL, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" He yells out, loud enough to hopefully spook it, as he sharply hisses with the unleashing of his claws. He leaps for it, and rakes his daggers across the dog's face, leaving it's own visage bloody as it yelps, finally deciding the fight isn't worth the trouble as it scampers off.

When it's out of sight, Drizzlepaw tries his best to calm his strongly beating heart down, taking a few breaths before he settles himself. He really...just did that. He stood up in the face of evil, all for the sake of his clan, for the ones dear to him. And there's one thing he's especially sure of now, he respects the hell out of his mentor.

He turns his head in Blazestar's direction, mood souring once more once the adrenaline wears off entirely. "I...I'm...I'm so sorry," he says quietly, barely over a whisper. He knows there not much that could have been done, dogs are formidable foes, but even still...he wishes this didn't have to happen. Even so...he did it to save Duskpool. "Thank you..." He manages to smile a bit in appreciation for his leader, even though it threatens to fall. "Thank you all..." This time directed at all those brave souls who helped him out, despite the threat of things turning out ugly. Thank you, thank you...​