FLIP A COIN | DEATH

[OWLEAR]

For so short a time, Owlear had thought Howlingstar was right. That he would survive this moment– that in the end, his apprentice would return his savior and things would continue as they had. His patient instruction, her desperation to please. Her steady, inexorable growth and the way she would inevitably pin him in battle one of these days. ThunderClan would heal and swell, and he would retire sometime in the moons to follow, as his breaths grew even more exhausted and his limbs began to creak. He would have spent the rest of his time in quiet companionship. Maybe he would look after the kits as the queens went on walks, or slowly work on the wall upkeep when he got too restless to remain still.

He'd lasted longer than he thought, all in all. But treatment of symptoms only goes so far. He has been eating and sleeping poorly. Hazel eyes, once sharp with wisdom and mirth are dull where they stare out into camp. What he sees is...beyond the clans. Fragmented faces and soothing whispers, voices that urge him to relax. Promise him that they are doing what they can. They're looking out for ThunderClan. For all of the clans. They will look out for his apprentice too.

In the early morning hours, there is a StarClan cat pressed to Owlear's side. Whether it's his own feverish imagination or a final kindness from those he had lost in his long life, nobody would really know. But they were there as he drew his final, slowing breaths, and stilled. And they were there to guide him home, once his final trials had passed.

˗ˏˋ〚  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〛´ˎ˗

• ooc: —
• 
  ──── owlear. senior warrior of thunderclan. cis male.
  ──── approximately 90 moons old, yet still youthful.
  
  ──── a chocolate tabby with long, thick fur and a broad-shouldered build. despite his age, he is still a strong, imposing tomcat with clear, attentive eyes. though they are a muted hazel, they seem to twinkle with silent wisdom and a warm, deep-seated joy.
• "speech"

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[HOWLINGSTAR]

Visiting her friend had become a daily ritual. She'd bring him prey, sit beside him unafraid of the sickness that radiated off of him, knowing she has life after life to spend with those who need her most. She cannot bring herself to stay away from the sick. They are fighting one of the hardest battles they can and she will be there at their side, weaving stories, updating them on what has happened on the prior day's border patrols, or merely helping them to drink some water.

A vole clutched in her jaws, she pads into the den today just like any other day, her eyes immediately falling onto Owlear's still form. It only takes a moment for her to know. The fresh-kill thumps against the ground as it's dropped, her heart heavy with the sudden weight of grief. With her ears pulled back and tail drooping, she moves forward to place her nose between his ears, voice wobbly as she murmurs, "May you find good hunting in the stars, old friend." She is surprised by the strength in her mourning voice, but inwardly she feels a piece of her heart break. One of her oldest, dearest companions is gone.​

 

[BERRYHEART]

Though she had lives to burn, he worried still for his mother's health. Dipping in and out of a den thick with sickness could not be doing her any good, but... he knew better than to protest. Especially when it came to an old friend of hers, fading by the day, his apprentice journeying somewhere unseen. When, in the morning, Berryheart had flicked his attention to each patient... he had noticed it. The eerie stillness of the old tom's body, the lack of even slow rise-and-fall. Sadness had flickered in his eyes, a dying star. When he lifted his gaze to meet Big Mama's face, there was a misery upon his crooked jaw he was sure she would recognise.

"He will." Berryheart said simply, unsure of what else to offer. When he was unsure, he spoke not. Shrewd green eyes swept over the rest of his patients, all still ailed but still breathing- and, past the heaviness in his chest, Berryheart would have to keep breathing too.​

PENNED BY PIN ☾​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

Owlear is gone.

The mouse in Raccoonstripe's jaws—an offering for the sick older warrior—feels colder, stiffer, than it had before. He lays it gently between his mismatched forepaws, unease rippling through his pelt. Howlingstar is beside Owlear's nest, her muzzle dipping low to his cooling fur. "Rest well, old friend," she murmurs, and Raccoonstripe bows his head. Another warrior, lost, and his apprentice is not here to mourn him. Stormpaw is StarClan knows where. He can only hope she won't be there to greet Owlear when he gets to StarClan's forest.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he says, forgoing formalities so he can rest his muzzle against her cheek. He lifts the mouse into his jaws again. It has a heft to it that it hadn't before. His eyes shine with sorrow, his gaze now directed toward his brother. Overworked, worn thin, losing patients faster than he can work. "You eat this, then. Someone needs to keep their strength up." He feels helpless, as the rest of them do, in the face of yellowcough.

ooc ✧ 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺

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  — raccoon . raccoonstripe
  — he/him ; lead warrior of thunderclan
  — heteroflexible ; single
  — long-haired black tabby with white and dark brown eyes
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Rai

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