god save the animals | organizing help

[cranecatcher]

TAGS — Cranecatcher flies through the territory, cutting through the thick blanket of snow that keeps piling, @GREENPAW at his heels. He's conscious to not outpace the apprentice, though, and slows as they approach the river. The young warrior turns to his ward, bicolored eyes softening thoughtfully. This kid was scared- and he had every right to be, really -but he didn't want that fear to deliver the poor thing to StarClan prematurely. "Step where I step, okay? The stones are hard to see right now," he instructs, breath clouding in the air. He's slow and intentional as he crosses the river, trying to ensure that Greenpaw is never more than a step behind him.

But soon enough they are in camp, and Cranecatcher ushers the young SkyClanner through the reeds and the sedge, his own gaze tearing just a bit wildly through camp. Adrenaline pulses through his veins when he calls out: "@BUCKGAIT. ! @BEESONG ! SkyClan needs our help- our warriors. WindClan's attacking. Cicadastar's orders." He can elaborate if he needs to, but he figures they'll just need the gist (and a seal of approval) to get a patrol together. Or something. He supposes he isn't sure- it's Buckgait's job for a reason. He tries to calm his breathing, still panting from the run through the territory, as he waits for a response. He spares Greenpaw a single backwards glance, hoping the younger feline isn't too out of his mind with stress.​

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[DARKWHISKER]

darkpaw always looks on the bright side. he knows that starclan will guide them through thick and thin, he swears that he feels their benevolence within the pebble he holds. hope shines bright, even in the darkest of wintry days. even as the snowstorm rages on, frost gathering on the tips of his whiskers with no trace of the storm letting up, darkpaw believes that they'll be alright. newleaf will come, and melt the snow away. riverclan is strong, they will make it to the other side. starclan will see them through.

he sees the skyclan apprentice trailing behind cranecatcher before he scents them. darkpaw perks up from the entrance of the apprentices' den, a glimmer of curiosity in dual-toned eyes. a skyclanner, in riverclan's territory? maybe they'd gotten lost, and had been offered shelter at riverclan's camp until the storm blows over... it seems like it'd be easy to get lost, with the rapid flurries of snow painting the horizon in a mist of white.

but this is not so simple. cranecatcher calls for buckgait and beesong, and darkpaw knows that means something is serious. skyclan needs our help- windclan's attacking. the pebble falls from darkpaw's mouth. he stares at the two, trying to find the joke in cranecatcher's words. it has to be a joke... starclan, they wouldn't let that happen, would they? they protect everyone, every clan. there's no way that windclan would be allowed to invade skyclan-

darkpaw thinks of figpaw, the sweet little she-cat he'd met at the gathering. her bright smile, her sparkling eyes as he told her about his pebble. is she in trouble, now? windclan- sootstar- they wouldn't- they couldn't. they couldn't spill the blood of the innocent.

but they had, hadn't they? painful memories of smokethroat, covered in his own blood and clinging to a frayed thread of life. windclan had done that, hadn't they? windclan had almost taken smokethroat from them, over a rabbit... and it comes crashing down onto darkpaw like a frigid wave, suffocating him in its chill. this is real. this isn't a joke. he sees the truth reflected back to him, in the skyclan apprentice's horrified gaze. he hears it in the furious yowls soon to come from his own clan. windclan is attacking skyclan, skyclan is in trouble. skyclan needs their help.

darkpaw has to help, somehow. that's why he'd been brought into this world by starclan; to help others. he could- he could try to talk to windclan. he could resolve this with words instead of weapons. (a naive hope of a boy who desperately clings onto its fading warmth. he has to hope, he has to believe, that everything would be okay.)

"i- i want to help!" darkpaw's wavering voice rings through the camp. "please. i have to go and help."

he couldn't let this end in more bloodshed.​

 

[GREENEYES]

He chases after the warrior, trying to keep up with his stride though thickened blankets of white. His heart pounds, feels like it's going to burst out of his chest. Viridian gaze keeps focused on patterned fur - strains to look at only the warrior in front of him - as he fears looking away for even a second will cause Greenpaw to lose Cranecatcher.

"Step where I step."

As the snow falls at its near-impossible speed, Greenpaw can't do anything other than follow the warrior's instructions. A RiverClanner. He's in RiverClan, wandering further into their territory and further away from his own. It should be the opposite. He should be returning SkyClan's camp to ward off the WindClanners that attack it. He should be helping there. Not staying here.

If this was any normal day, if his curse wasn't prevailing, and if this was him following alongside Sheepcurl, he'd be brighter - hopping alongside his mentor's stride through the snow, telling jokes, taking in the world around him. But instead, he diminished into fear and worry, following an unfamiliar tom into unfamiliar territory with an urgent mission.

Tired limbs are ushered through reeds and sedge, into a whole new world. RiverClan's camp. Though it looks far different from the camp he's used to, he can quickly see its similarities. And, it would be really cool to be here, if it weren't for the battle in the pine forest looming over his head.

Trying to regain his breath, Greenpaw sticks close to Cranecatcher as the RiverClanner calls for help by name. Calls for a deputy, for a medicine cat. But, it isn't them that show up first. Rather, an apprentice his age, begging to go.

Despite his eagerness, despite his dark-colored fur, Greenpaw can only see Morningpaw. Can only see her lifeless body in the medicine den after a border skirmish over a squirrel. This battle before him... It was for more than a squirrel. Though the apprentice doesn't know WindClan's true motives, he knows this is over something bigger.

How many will die then? If a squirrel could cause one death, what will WindClan cause? What will he return to?

How long was he to stay here? The apprentice steps back, ears flattening against his head yet again as he frantically looks for an exit. He needs to get out of here. Needs to go back home and protect his family.
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[HAILFROST]

At Cranecatcher's call resounds through camp, Hailfrost stumbled into view. Ears pinned back out of a sheer sense of alarm as adrenaline began to course through her veins, heightening the tension in her body. Everything seemed to be happening at once; the cold, the rising (and freezing) water, and now Windclan was launching an attack on Skyclan. A cynical thought entered her mind; Why do we have to help? We can barely help ourselves right now! Still, she pushed them aside, remembering that this was her duty now as a warrior, to serve her clan and obey Cicadastar's wishes. Maybe her cynicism could be cured by understanding the heightened tensions between the clans, a fact she had only heard inklings of while she was nursing Dovepaw.

As Darkpaw called out, yearning to help, Hailfrost envied his willingness to fight. Still, she saw her own son reflected in the apprentice; they were even the same age. Concern filled her eyes, wanting to protect him. She couldn't make the call to disallow the apprentice from going, but she could at least step forward and announce "I can fight. I'm ready." She exhaled slowly. Perhaps she couldn't convince herself to fight for the good of Riverclan, but she would fight to at least protect the apprentices. She thought of innocent Skyclanners and her heart pounded.

———————————— .°✧
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[BEESONG]

beesong!

the rushed call summons the healer from the shadows of his den. he expects to see a clanmate, bleeding or collapsed from illness taking over. beesong thinks he would've preferred that over what he does see; cranecatcher, with an unfamiliar young tom in tow. he appears uninjured, but there is a frantic light in his viridian gaze. the stench of fear that clings to his red-flecked fur is overpowering, filling the camp in its smog, but it is not the cause of rising hackles. it is the achingly familiar smell of skyclan that underlies the fear scent.

skyclan needs our help- windclan is attacking.

beesong nearly bites their tongue off, right then and there, to stop the yowl from ripping out of their throat. windclan, attacking their home- no, their former home, they have to remind themself. their mind flashes back to that night, lit by the half moon. dandelionwish asking dawnglare for catmint. dawnglare laughing in his face. is this the aftermath? is sootstar exacting revenge on skyclan for their refusal?

windclan would stop at nothing, not even death, they fear. the probability of skyclan making it out of this without casualties... its nearly impossible. how many familiar faces would be nothing more than a memory by the end of tonight?

beesong wants to help, he wants to scream out into the blizzard engulfing the camp that, yes, i will fight. he'd fought for the pine forest in the great battle, he would do it as many times as he must to protect his first clan. he would die for them, if that's what it takes to keep them safe. but he couldn't. it rips a hole right through his constricted chest, a wound so deep that beesong is surprised he couldn't see blood dripping onto the snow at his paws. he couldn't protect skyclan anymore. his duty now, is to riverclan. to the injured who will be coming back from this battle. he'd already risked his life, jumping into the fray upon the windclan border. it had been foolish of him, in hindsight. he'd wanted nothing more than to protect smokethroat... but riverclan could not afford to lose beesong to sootstar's cruelty, in the dead of winter with an ill-trained apprentice.

he is a significant figure among the river-dwelling clan, and he hates being so.

please, protect them, beesong whispers, and they aren't sure if it's to starclan or to riverclan.

emptiness falls over their one-eyed gaze, as they watch others step forward to the call of war. warriors, they remind themself, a pounding behind their blank eyes, not healers. their calling is elsewhere, with the young apprentice who is shivering and surely exhausted from his frantic journey. "come to my den and rest," beesong tells the boy as their paws carry them over on autopilot, with a distant stare that seems to look right past him. their calling is here, but they do not feel as if they're truly in the riverclan camp. it seems as if the whole world has been severed from them by cranecatcher's words, lost in the curtain of snow that surrounds everything in sight. windclan is attacking skyclan, and you cannot do a damn thing about it.

"you've done enough," beesong continues, his voice too weary to ever be comforting. eerily hollow, just as the hole in their chest is, as he resigns himself to his inescapable fate. but i haven't.​

 

[Redpath]

Redpath only had to hear one word. Windclan. They were attacking Skyclan now, hm? Well we'll just see about that-

Her wounds sting as if to remind her she's not ready to fight yet. But still, she leaves the medicine den.

"I'll tear those fucks apart LET ME GO!" She says.

She's so ready. She IS SO READY.

SHE WANTS TO BITE. TO KILL.

FREE HER.

But she knew Beesong would say no. Beesong was smart.

But she had to try.
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[RAVENSONG]

Ravenpaw felt his blood run cold at the news being brought to camp. He had never been involved in a fight before. At nine moons old he had never felt what it was like to be a warrior. But his hackles raised at the thought of WindClan and his claws sank into the sandy snowy ground. “I also want to go.” He said, his voice somehow not faltering. He raised his chin. Would he live or die like his father had? Ravenpaw could only hope that their sheer numbers would make WindClan stop and flee.​

 

[CLEARSIGHT]

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➵ As he approaches, Clearsight will attempt a gentle brush of his tail over Beesong's flank — a slow motion, meant not to startle; hoping to provide comfort. The healer is always so tired... "Beesong is a wonderful medicine cat," he assures Greenpaw, the poor kid. "You're safe in his paws."

The blue tabby falls into step beside Hailfrost, whirlpool coat dulled by hunger, too-lean muscle poised as ever: hunger sharpens him, he tells himself, fighting through this hell-season. It clears his mind; he is not any weaker. He will leap into battle just as quickly, or what kind of warrior is he? He dips his head toward Cranecatcher. "Ready as well."

He doesn't see Clayfur — the cold has been harder on him than most, so it'd make sense for him to stay home. He finds that he's selfishly hoping for that outcome. Clayfur is a warrior, Clearsight reminds himself with a deep breath, he can make his own choices.

Switching focus, he casts his gaze across camp for @GILLPAW , searching for golden eyes so like his own. Clearsight is no stranger to battle, and Gillpaw isn't either, anymore. He remembers a much smaller Gillpaw, half this one's age, whose paws stuttered as much as his voice did — just four months old and begging to follow Clearsight into the slaughterers' camp. Clearsight had told him no, then, and left him in gentle paws that kept kittens far from danger.

Those days are behind them now, greenleaf's blessing gone and its children with it. Gillpaw has grown. Clearsight would not deny him this today: the chance to fight for his clan, as any apprentice would. As any warrior.

(Though a part of him will always be terrified, he thinks, for the little boy he still sees in those golden eyes. A part of him still hopes, selfishly, that no one he loves will join this mission.)

// obligatory apprentice tag, no pressure though. mostly wanted to write the clearsight development!

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& we've all got battle scars ✗ ​

 

[FISHFACE]

Lofty ears would tilt in Cranecatcher's trajectory, as the pallid-toned tom hurtles his way into camp. Alarm holds tightly to his features, a glint of severity in his eyes. A summons for the deputy and medicine cat exists as the first words to part from his maw—nothing could make it more glaringly apparent that something grave is afoot.

Whatever Fishface'd been doing before this moment no longer matters. His attention is now split between the troubled warrior and the unfamiliar young'un ensconced in his shadow. Both of them wore likewise expressions, though the younger lad lacked the outward resolve in Cranecatcher's. No, his manner is more of a distraught one, rendered aghast by the situation which had brought him here in the first place.

Fishface takes on a comparably frightened demeanour when the news is ultimately broken.

"Oh no," he murmurs, his olive gaze flicking between his clanmates' faces to gauge their own reactions. Disbelief clouds his mind initially. It evades him how Cicadastar could have given that order—what good is there to gain? His friends are going to get hurt, only to return home with broken bodies. Beesong is going to be even more overworked than before, in turn putting a strain on everybody. He can sense a knot twisting in his gullet while he considers the consequences. SkyClan isn't even their ally.

He feels helpless. Everyone else is so determined to give WindClan what for, and here he is, capsizing in his own apprehension. Yes, that wretched posse has made themselves enemies of his people with their disregard to RiverClan's borders and lives. And yet, it isn't worth fighting others' battles over, especially during the worst days of Leaf-bare.

Nonetheless. Cicadastar is his leader. He is loyal to Cicadastar, he is loyal to his home, and he will not question his leader's judgement. "I can fight," he mewls meekly. "WindClan... needs to be stopped."

Maybe, Cicadastar is right. The whole of the territories will be all the more safer with a vanquished Sootstar. "We better get going."​

 

[GILLSIGHT]

Cranewatcher's shouts had given him enough information to know what was going on, the unfamiliar face he sees beside him only further proof. WindClan was at it again, this time with a different victim - SkyClan.

Help was needed, Cicadastar ordered it, but the green-eyed apprentice must have been the one to beg for it. He looks scared - had Gillpaw looked the same way, hardly over a moon ago when WindClan unsheathed their claws on RiverClan instead? Had sunny eyes filled with the same panicked look?

He scans the camp for Clearsight, and already finds him near the kid, his mentor's golden eyes meeting his own. He nods knowingly, snowy paws rising to pad over to the blue warrior.

Wherever Clearsight goes, Gillpaw follows, and into war, he will go.

"I-I'm going too," The black and white tom declares, looking up at Clearsight for confirmation. Perhaps he doesn't need it, but it's nice to have, sometimes - a sense of comfort of knowing he's doing the right thing. Gillpaw looks over at the SkyClan apprentice, an assuring smile on his face. "D-Don't worry! W-We've beat them before, and we'll beat them a-again!"
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[GREENEYES]

More unfamiliar faces arrive, ranging from his age and older. Greenpaw's glad so many want to help, but each new face causes him more frustration. Shouldn't he be fighting alongside them too? Shouldn't he be fighting to protect his home too?

Their medicine cat arrives in the midst of the chaos that surrounds Greenpaw - a vaguely familiar face in a sea of unfamiliarity. He's met this one, once. Briefly, when the orange and white tom was just a kit, Beesong had visited the pine forest. An intruder, he'd called the medicine cat.

And though they urge him to follow them, to rest in their den, Greenpaw can't help but be hesitant. Did Beesong know of his curse, as Dawnglare did? Would Beesong turn him away because he's too green, the moment they realize? What of his mother, so wary of SkyClan's medicine cat, preferring her own remedies? Would she be wary of RiverClan's medic too?

He's assured of his safety by a blue-furred RiverClanner, and, though it's a small action, he finds enough comfort in it to decide to follow the medicine cat. "Thank you," he says quietly to the growing crowd of RiverClanners in front of him, before turning to follow Beesong to their den. It's the least he can do, to thank them for fighting a war he should be taking part in himself.

"You've done enough," Beesong tries to assure him, but Greenpaw doesn't believe the same.

"Do you really think so?" he asks, "Shouldn't I be fighting too?"
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