sensitive topics FUNERAL MARCH ✧ bad news

[WEASELCLAW]

Weaselclaw does not like coming home with a Clanmate’s death on his shoulders when the body he should bear is absent. There’d been no way of retrieving it—any cat foolish enough to attempt would have joined Venomthroat in his watery grave. The tabby had seen him fall with the spitting, half-mad fox, and though he could not locate the body through the mists rolling away from the rapids, he’d heard the thrum of their bodies slapping against the surface of the water.

His body is heavy, weighed down despite the absence of his Clanmate’s corpse. When he enters camp, his blue eyes are dull with exhaustion and anger. “Our patrol returns with one less warrior.” He looks angrily at the muddied ivory of his paws. “Venomthroat split from the rest of us. He was cornered by a fox who had some sort of terrible sickness…” He flexes his claws in the dust. “The fox threw him over the gorge. He took the beast with him.”

✧ INFO.

• @HOLLYPAW. takes place after this thread
• 
  — 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

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[SOOTSTAR]

SOOTSTAR ♀​

When she is not tunneling, she is perched atop of Tallrock either napping or surveying the camp. Her resting head is lifted from her paws upon Weaselclaw entering through the gorse tunnel, his apprentice, Hollypaw, mere paces behind him. She cannot help but notice immediately something was off... she can't place it faster than her mate can explain. Our patrol returns with one less warrior. Venomthroat. A fox had been his demise- or maybe it had truly been the gorge...? The night-furred warrior would not have been the first to lose their life that way, falling to a watery demise. Sootstar pushes back thoughts on how his death could've been avoided and instead chooses to honor the fallen feline. She rises and droops her head in an intentional display of sorrow. "A warrior's death. Venomthroat has saved WindClan from a fox drooling poison. StarClan knows the last thing this clan needs is another plague upon us." A frown tugs at her lips. "I wish to grieve for Venomthroat but I cannot until I know the rest of my clan is safe. Do we know where the fox stuck its head out from? We need to make sure no others, especially with its condition, roam our land."

 

[SCORCHSTAR]

The tunneler shakes off her usual coating of dirt as she makes her way over to Weaselclaw, wariness weighing down each step that she takes. By the look on the other warrior’s face, whatever news he bears cannot be good. And when he speaks, her suspicions are confirmed. Another clanmate is dead. Venomthroat is dead. Flashes of rainfall filter through her mind, an image of the black cat delivering terrible news when she was still trapped away in the nursery.

"Tigerfrost… was killed."

She will remember that moment for the rest of her life. The lightning bolt of shock, the arrow of grief that had struck her through the chest. Devastation, threatening to crumble the very earth she stood upon. Her closest friend in the world, gone in an instant, and she hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye. And now… his sibling, one of the last ties to Tigerfrost, gone as well. Lost without a goodbye, just as their brother had been. Scorchstreak and Venomthroat had not been especially close, but still pain winds its way around her heart, squeezes. Another WindClanner dead. Another warrior she cared for gone without a warning. But they had died defending their clan—and perhaps, in the end, death was the best option for them. They had seemed so painfully, achingly empty in their brother’s absence. They were suffering.

Now, at least, they’ll see Tigerfrost again. Such a simple fact is the only thing that keeps grief from showing itself plainly upon the calico’s face as she approaches Weaselclaw and Sootstar. "They were a good warrior. I’ll start-" She cuts herself off with a grimace, ears flattened against her head. She can’t start digging a grave, because there is no grave to be dug. Venomthroat cannot even have the honor of being buried in their own clan’s territory. They’ve been swept away by the river, surely, never to be seen again. Perhaps it’s for the best, but it is a new wound to join an older one, a deep cut that won’t be healing for quite a while. She shakes her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts, and turns her attention to Sootstar. "I can help search for more diseased foxes, if need be."​

[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

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[cottonsprig]

While before, death was a concept that confused dear young Cottonkit, Cottonpaw is finding that she's quicker to understand pain and grief as she grows older. Cats are finding themselves ill, some already having passed despite the feverish efforts of Wolfsong - and now this? Cottonpaw can't even find it in herself to humor the situation. Better to die honorable than in a puddle of mucus and sadness, she supposes... but it'd be best to live overall, wouldn't it?

She isn't sure what to say. Venomthroat was a treasured feline to her, even though they rarely spoke. They cared about her, esoecially after that hawk attack several moons ago - and now they're gone. And like the others, she despairs over the lack of a body. Cottonpaw lets out a shaky breath, nearing Weaselclaw's side as she draws closer. Her gaze floats up towards her mother, then towards Scorchstreak. Her mouth opens, eager to join whatever patrol that may be - before she remembers her new position. Her lips press back together.

"I can talk with Wolfsong," she decides, "Body or not, we can still mark a spot for them..." she trails off. Her mentor is not one to have a heart of stone, though his tongue is sharper than most. She hopes he doesn't think marking an empty grave to be a silly idea.​

 

[WEASELCLAW]

Weaselclaw’s gaze lifted at Sootstar’s approach. He could feel the displeasure radiating from her pelt, and he remembered the friendship she had shared with Tigerfrost. This would sting, too, he reasoned, and he pressed his flank to her’s in a brief gesture of comfort. The tabby turned to Scorchstreak; he can see that even while mourning their Clanmate, her paws itched to be productive. “I’ll go with you.”

His daughter trotted over, a frown upon her speckled muzzle. Weaselclaw almost offered to take her on this patrol—and then with a start, he remembered she would not be following Scorchstreak into battle any longer. His eyes burned into her, then he nodded. “I can show you where he went over, but we should not make their grave too close to the edge… the last thing we want is for other cats to go over.”

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — 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

​

 

[Badgermoon]

Another one, gone. Sunsetbreeze, Tigerfrost, Vulturemask, Dazzlepaw...Badgermoon was beginning to understand that the life of the Clan ebbed and flowed. Kits were born, warriors were lost. Elders drifted away, apprentices were cut down in their youth. The Clan grieved and then moved on - or tried to, anyway. Whoever they lost left their mark on those who remained, sometimes in ways that echoed down the generations. His and Scorchstreak's child, Frostpaw, bearing the name of a slain warrior. Wolfsong and Cottonpaw were now on a radically different path than they had been, prompted by Vulturemask's death.

The broad-shouldered deputy walked slowly towards the group which had formed around Weaselclaw and his apprentice. His yellow eyes were too-bright with anger and sorrow. He hadn't known the dark-furred decedent well, not at all, but the grief still coated the back of his throat like honey. A fox. A sick one, even - certainly the last thing WindClan needed. "Surely we could mark a place for them in the graveyard, alongside their Clanmates." Badgermoon mused in response to Weaselclaw. "A cliff's edge is no place for a grave." At least, not in his mind. Would Venomthroat's soul fall in, just as their body had? Or were they already racing across the verdant fields of StarClan?

"A patrol is a wise idea. Perhaps, ma'am, you, Scorchstreak, and some other tunnelers could investigate the tunnels." he addressed Sootstar first, his white-tipped ears briefly flicking back as a gesture of respect. "Weaselclaw and I could take some moor-runners out to look, too."​

 

[Addervenom]

Life doesn't discriminate

The loss of a warrior impacts the clan in more ways than one. Not only was there the emotional toil of loss, but there is one less member of the proverbial body to help assist in battle, patrols, and hunting. While he might not have been close to the fallen tom, Venomthroat was still a fine warrior. Broad paws carry Adderpaw over, leaving him to stand by Cottonpaw and Weasleclaw. His expression is taunt with anger as he mulls over the thought of a mad fox flinging a warrior to their death. The possibility of more crazed predators was a threat that needed to be neutralized immediately. What kind of sickness drives a creature to attack another in blind rage? A single ear rotates as Badgermoon speaks to his father, and soon enough his head follows suit. "I'm more than willing to go." He voiced, stepping forward. ​

Between the sinners and the saints​

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