GONNA CARRY YOUR BONES ☀︎ RETURN

[freckleflame]

the sky is just beginning to pastel when freckleflame finally unwinds from her.

haze blue fur is long cold, long frozen into a gentle semicircle that does not immediately announce her state ; an eye tenderly closed, tail wrapped around a leg swollen only slightly larger than the other. her fur ruffles in the early morning breeze, drifting on pollen soaked wind in a cruel mimicry of movement. freckleflame knows better. she knows a fiery gaze watches her as she lets the life drain from what once, hopes she can hear her whisper you were the best. you were the best i’ve ever met. in an unmoving ear until she isn’t sure who she’s saying it for anymore. hollowness haunts her, puppeteers her upwards after a while and for even longer, she rests her head against the bark of an oak, silent. in the back of her mind, she knows she had to move. to continue, to walk on, to think of her next action and live where wolfwind could not. she was still here, alone as she was, and life continues. so she wobbles to a stand.

there is little left of the adder than a spatter of red and brown scale after she finds it, coiled beneath her dearest friends head where it had met its fate. it bleeds like any other prey would, bent like a splintered bone in her panting maw before it’s dropped to the ground again — her jaw aches from the way she’d thrashed it, tossed it like a hound tossed a toy or a rabbit or a cat and it tastes bitter when it bleeds. bitter as the disappointment in her chest when she doesn’t feel better ; fury still stings at her paws, terror, desperation. it wasn’t satisfying. it wasn’t enough. it didn’t fix this, the hole where her soul had splintered. so she takes a breath. she stills herself again. looks at the body of her dearest friend, her mentor long ago, her confidant. it looked as if the lead warrior were sleeping, paws outstretched in embrace. she had to get her home.

she had to tell everyone.

she doesn’t want to leave her there. our in the open where snakes coil beneath sunbleached rocks, where wolves had once torn into the carcass of a hare her mind kept trying to trick her into believing had ginger stripes fur and — no. she wouldn’t leave her here. not even to grab the guard, to grab howlingstar, to let her and her rousing family know they’d lost another. there is guilt there, knowing she would not be able to comfort them ; that she would cry her way through it if she could make it through at all, and she would collapse, and she would scream until roeflame had tenderly prepared a nest for another one of her loved ones. she feels bad but not bad enough as she struggles, fights to lift the molly onto her back, but it is near impossible alone despite her size. memories of walking her with howlingstar burn in her skull and not for the first time, she wished she had convinced her to stay in camp. if she’d tried, if she’d pushed, if she had time..

it takes far too long. from snakerocks, freckleflame makes her way to camp on stumbling, struggling legs ; makes her way in any way she can, dawn beginning to sing life into camp by the time she can smell the thistle and gorse of thunderclan’s ravine. with a gentleness wholly unnecessary for the length she’d wavered and scruffed her friend back, she finally opens her mouth and — ” help me! “ she wails, because that’s all she can do to keep herself from sobbing it again, and again and again until the gorse bursts with familiarity again. when it does, she is already gasping through her words ; tears break again, for the first time since the molly had passed hours prior. she’s tired, exhausted, doused in misery so vile it curdles her voice into something near unintelligible when she pants a hyperventilating, ” there was an adder, we didn’t — it was in the grass, it was dark and we didn’t see it! she didn’t see it! “ because she was looking at me.

it’s too much, at last. the tortoiseshell falls to her belly aside the molly again as clanmates begin to murmur and rush about, weaving around her in a multicolor haze. she can’t comprehend it, mind lost to the inconsolable and so she simply squeezes her eyes closed, hoping it would somehow wake her up, ” she’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead. it took her so fast, she’s gone. “

ᥫ᭡ ╱╱ 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 - ` ☀︎ ´ - 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙄 𝘼𝙈 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙏

• i. takes place after this thread! shes collapsed with her just outside the gorse tunnel < / 3
  
  
• 
  
  
• 
  
  
• AND I AM A WITNESS WATCHING IT​
  FRECKLEFLAME 𖦹 . LESBIAN, SINGLE. SMELLS LIKE SUN - WARMED OAK AND RICH, EARTHY MUSK. TWENTY MOONS OLD. FRIEND & SISTER TO MANY! NAMED A WARRIOR OF THUNDERCLAN ON 8 / 3 / 2023. MENTORING BRAVEPAW! PENNED BY ANTLERS -----------------------------------------
  
  she / her, eldest daughter of rabbitnose and the late sunfreckle. big, fluffy cream - ribboned tortoiseshell with seaglass eyes. she is fire - forged, smoldering ; something bright and voracious, radiant as the blazes that once raged through her homeland. shades of vibrant russet, dousing swathes of shadow and interwoven with ribbons pale cream come to drape like licks of flame over her hulking form. a heft of roundness settles comfortably upon her form in adulthood, padding muscle hardened by her life in the forest and yet still partially concealed beneath a tangled thicket of undergrowth - laden pelt. warriorhood had brought her to full height ; kittypet lineage showing itself in glimpses of rotund paws and tufted, long - furred toes set upon thick, tabby - splotched limbs. she is broad shouldered and square - jawed, wild cheek fur like the blazing edges of a red sun — a mirrors image of her late father, sunfreckle, and just as warm.
  

  A LARGE, ATHLETIC MAINE COON MOGGY. somewhat brutish in the wake of her family's staggering loss, bull - headed and hardy with something to prove, freckleflame will often find herself in border disputes as an unsurprisingly formidable opponent. a slow but hard & heavy hitter.

  
  

​

 

[roaringsun]

❝ IF I COULD BURN THIS TOWN ✧°.☀ ————————————
ROARINGPAW WAS EXHAUSTED from his training session the day prior, to the point he skipped dinner entirely and fell into slumber the moment he laid down on his nest. It's peaceful, and perhaps he'd feel well-rested had he slept any longer — but the wails and cries of Freckleflame startle him awake.

He pokes his head out of the den, and sees the scene laid out right at the entrance of the gorse tunnel. She's dead! the words echo inside his head once, twice, thrice, too many times he's since lost count. His eyes widen and he's stumbling outside, stepping into a tail or two in the process. I need to tell Howlingstar. He thinks grimly.

"HOWLINGSTAR!" He shouts, stepping into the Leader's den without much politeness — but there was no time for that, not now. "I'm - I'm sorry if I woke you. It's Freckleflame and, and Wolfwind. They are — I don't know what happened. I don't —" He's shaken and stuttering, blabbering, unsure if the brown she-cat is even listening to him. "Wolfwind is dead!"


"speech" thoughts
OOC: fetching @HOWLINGSTAR

[penned by nocthymia - ☀]

———————————— ☀.°✧ I WOULDNT HESITATE ❞ ​

​

 

[ROEFLAME .]

-ˋˏ ༻ ☀ ༺ ˎˊ-

Help me!
Whatever sweet illusion Roeflame’s slumbering mind had placed her in is shattered when someone’s cry rings through camp.
The wolves! Still wrapped in the thick cobwebs of sleep, it is what the cinnamon queen thinks of first- about to jump from her nest until her conscious forces logic into her train of thought. The wolves were gone, but something was happening.
Carefully, Roeflame peels herself away from the five sleeping bodies that she had been curled around, poking her head out just to get a peek, but the clearing is empty, it is Roaringpaw she watches walk to and fro, and when he returns with a shake in his step, the queens breath hitches.
What the fuck is happening? Determined to get an answer, she would quickly turn to the nearest queen that had been stirred. ”Keep the kits in here, don’t let them look outside.” With that order, the queen does not keep her paws rooted for a moment longer, and she bounds out of camp, following the trail Roaringpaw had moments ago. When she pokes her head out from the thorny entrance, it is none other than Freckleflame, a slump of citrus ribbons and ebony, entangled in another’s blue coat, but theirs’ was limp.
Realization burst’s hot tears upon Roeflame’s water-line, rips something akin to a gasp, but she cannot stay frozen- she needed to get to Freckleflame, to Wolfwind.
As Roeflame stumbles closer, Freckleflame is spilling a broken explanation that Roeflame can barely register, believe.
An adder, we didn’t see it.
Roeflame pauses just short of her crumpled friends, a forepaw lifted to keep the sobs from spilling, to keep herself from choking.
Sunfreckle, Flycatcher, Batwing, Wolfwind. The losses play through her mind, and Roeflame feels a familiar crack split underneath her, threatening to swallow her whole. She hears others beginning to trickle out behind her,
”Someone get Gentlestorm.” Roeflame barks, though the volume of her voice is only to encourage urgency.
”… Okay, Freckleflame look at me, look at me.” Almost a whisper, Roeflame would attempt to press her forepaws against each brindled cheekbone. Last time grief had beaten her friend to the ground, she had tried to encourage her back up with soothing words, love- though that was hardly enough to stifle the raw pain that clouded behind ivy hues.
Freckleflame had hardly recovered from Sunfreckles death, Pigeonpaw’s disappearance was still a fresh wound.
”Gentlestorm is coming, he’s going to take care of her.” Through streaming tears, Roeflame’s only focus was getting Freckleflame off of the soil. ”Come up, you don’t need to stand on your own, let me support you.” She was no longer heavily pregnant, she could give all of her strength now.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── SHE BLOWS OUTTA NOWHERE ⋅✴⋅ ROMAN CANDLE OF THE WILD ──┐‎

• 
  
  

• 

• 
  ROEFLAME ✩ she/her, Lead Warrior of Thunderclan, twenty-two moons.
  ⭃ petite cinnamon silver ticked tabby with murky green eyes & a small scar over her left eye.
  ⭃ mate to Burnstorm ☀ mentor to Foxpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted ☀ underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[THUNDERGLEAM]

Oh, a clamorous call- one wracked with grief, Thundergleam could sense it in the croak, in the crevices. The way a tone could wobble like that, along a claw-sharp edge, that all encompassing sorrow. With the precision of a preying-bird's beak, the puling found her- she's dead, she's dead, wailed Freckleflame, and at her side was poor Wolfwind. Eerily calm for a few heartbeats, Thundergleam looked at the face of the fallen lead warrior- her whiskers twitched at the coldness in the air. You gave Freckleflame strength to return home, did you not?

She spoke to star-spangled spirits as she always did- a silent, silver message, spun into a void many could not see. Grief and suffering descended on ThunderClan once more, neverending; pinkened paws picked forward, tentative. Oh, the grieving- the pain that tore them to shreds. Death spun as a constant in the world, a fate they would all reach eventually- but by the unpredictable fangs of an adder, that was oh-so-different. It was not peaceful, not kind; what was left behind roiled this din of agonised keening.

In the end, she kept her distance. The family would not appreciate her blockade. Out of the way was for the best.

That still face of the lead warrior, one she had not known well... regret pooled like blood through Thundergleam's ghostly form. As well, though- she felt peace. Peace in knowing that Wolfwind had ascended to the best place possible- that she no longer had to bear the string of suffering that ailed ThunderClan so desperately, that continued to rip her apart. Balm had not arrived in time to tether her to the earth... but she was happy, she was perfect, now. "May your spirit lie in the paws of the truth. May your ideals become your reality amongst StarClan."

Her prayer was mumbled, soft... silken, and for the stars to hear. Rosy eyes observed the tearful, but did not shed themselves. For Wolfwind was free, but those who had been left behind were not, entrapped by the agony that departure had left. It would soon be time to gather flowers.​

penned by pin ☾​

 

[Flamestar]

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ Help me!

Howlingstar!

Fear....

Grief...

Death had sunk its claws into another victim. She didn't have to see the body to recognize the screams. The kits were just beginning to stir, dawn had only just began. The sky was still making it's transition from nightfall. Flamewhisker quickly stepped in front of a kit who was attempting to leave the den, using her body to block whatever view from what was going on outside the best she could. Roeflame had cast her an order, but she didn't need to be ordered around, she would have done the same on pure instinct. The den was full of too many innocent eyes, they did not need to see one of their fallen clanmates. They would see plenty of that when they were older.

It took everything she had to not cast a glance over her shoulder...to see who had been taken. Fear prickled in her belly, forcing her throat to swell. She would find out soon no doubt...the news would spread like wildfire. For now, she needed to distract. "We will be staying inside for a while. Ah ah, no buts." she said, shaking her head as someone protested. "I know it's cramped, but we'll just have to make due for now."

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── I WOKE UP IN TEARS ⋅✩⋅ WITHOUT YOU BY MY SIDE ──┐‎

• 
  
  
  

• 

• FLAMEWHISKER ✩ she/her, deputy of thunderclan, 32 moons, ages on the 20th
  ⭃ LH red tabby with low white (masks black tabby, carries dilute, solid)
  ⭃ widowed mate to flycatcher / / mother to: falconheart, stormfeather, sparrowkit, sunkit, mothkit, scorchedkit, and squirrelkit
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ will start a fight, will finish fights, will kill (case depending)
  ⭃ link to toyhouse
  ⭃ penned by Icey ! ↛ @icefang65 on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[Softsight]

Softpaw doesn't know the gravity of keeping one's kits from facing the misery of death, but one day she might. Flamewhisker was protecting the kits from something that wouldn't come for them anytime soon, StarClan willing, and Softpaw took it upon herself to go get Gentlestorm while Roaringpaw went off to get Howlingstar. Softpaw tears her flustered gaze away from Freckleflame, and hurries to the medicine cat's den.

"Freckleflame's in a state," Softpaw breathes as she enters the den, hardly feeling swamped by the aroma of herbs when something so terrible had happened. "She and Wolfwind seemed to be out, and... Wolfwind's gone." She knew she shouldn't pull her punches with Gentlestorm, of all cats. But it would have felt worse to deliver the news that she was dead.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OOC ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ INFO ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• !
  

• 

• SOFTPAW ✩ apprentice of thunderclan, six moons
  → peaceful and healing powerplay permitted.
  → penned by Archivist → .archivist on discord.
  

​

 

[GENTLESTORM]

'CAUSE SOMEWHERE DOWN THE BANK — The wail that pleaded for help is enough for Gentlestorm to step outside of his den with both ears perked forward and his eyes widened though its Softpaw who comes over to deliver the news. Freckleflame's in a state... Wolfwind's gone. The pale healer feels his mouth grow dry as he focuses on the apprentice once more and he isn't sure what to say, he wants to ask... Why? Why her? He couldn't understand why so much of Little Wolf's family kept dying or disappearing, he wants it to stop he doesn't wish for any of her kin or Howlingstar to keep losing family. "Thank you, Softpaw... For telling me," He swallows as his snowy dipped paws begin to carry him where all of his clanmates begin to crowd and he can see Roeflame comforting Freckleflame, his heart aches for her only to focus his gaze on the limp form of Wolfwind. The murmurs around him tell him the cause of her death, an adder, and his eyes focuses on how one leg is more swollen than the other. There's nothing he could do for the lead warrior even if he wishes there was a way to extract the venom from her and for her to jolt up with life once more but he knows that isn't possible.

She would be reunited with her family and apprentice, his ears press flat against his head only to dip his head in a brief silent moment of respect. Gentlestorm draws closer to close his jaws carefully over the scruff of Wolfwind nodding slowly to those around and pulls the stilled form of Wolfwind into camp before releasing her carefully so her head lay on the ground, his gaze unreadable as he steps back waiting for the rest of her kin to arrive and see the state she's in. He recalls when Skyclaw's mentor had died from an adder bite as well and a shaky breath brushes out from his jaws.

WHERE THE DOGS ROAM ✿ POR LA CALLE QUE TE LLEVA A CURICÓ

• 
  MEDICINE CAT IN TRAINING;
  — ✿✿✿✿✿ FLESH WOUNDS
  — ✿✿✿✿❀ INFECTIONS
  — ✿✿✿✿❀ ACHES & PAINS
  — ✿✿✿❀❀ ILLNESS
  — ✿✿✿❀❀ BREATHING ISSUES
  — ✿❀❀❀❀ TRAVELING HERBS
  — ✿✿✿❀❀ BROKEN BONES
  — ✿✿✿❀❀ KITTING
  — ❀❀❀❀❀ POISONS
• 
  ✿ a longhaired blue sepia tom w/low white and brown eyes
  ✿ gentlestorm is a very warm individual and friendly to those who he meets, he's very social and willing to lend anyone a paw if they need it. he's very patient, caring, and it's usually rare to earn his ire.
  ✿ 54 moons old; ages the 27th every month
  ✿ widowed mate of little wolf
  ✿ easy to befriend/interact with ; hard to anger/upset ; peaceful powerplay allowed
  ✿ "speech", thoughts, attacking

​

 

[Sparkwing]

Sparkwing's heart froze when Freckleflame came back to camp with Wolfwinds body crying for help. He stood frozen for only an instant as she explained what had happened before the flood of emotions broke through and he found himself rushing forward, horror written on his face and tears in his eyes.

"NO... NO NO... WOLFWIND!!" He cried. She couldn't be dead. That was his mentor! The coolest cat in Thunderclan, practically a big sister or.. Or an aunt..... She was....

She was family.

And now she's gone.

Sparkwing buries his face into her fur, not even trying to control his sobs. "Not you.... Not you too, no....."

He remembers when he was first apprenticed to her, after his first mentor turned out to be a traitor. He was so excited, then. He'd always thought Wolfwind was cool. She was fun, she was strong, and she was patient with him. He learned so much from her, she was always in his life. And now..... Now she's with Starclan with all those they've lost in not even two moons. Was Starclan mad at them? Had Thunderclan done something wrong?

He wants to scream at the stars to stop taking from them. From him. His family hasn't even begun to find its feet yet after Sunfreckle died, and then Pigeonpaw disappeared, and now this. He's losing everyone. His family, those he holds dear.... Who's next? Who will Starclan take from him next?

"It's not fair....We've lost enough, why wont it stop? Who's next?" He cries. Sparkwing is inconsolable. He's not sure there's anything that can make this better unless Wolfwind opens her eye with a silly smile and a Gotcha. How long until it's just him? How long until he's all that's left of his family? Or worse, how long until something happens to him, leaving his family and friends to mourn?

 

[WRATHHOWL]

*+:｡.｡ Grief.
It was a sharp tang that pierced his nose even through the constant stuffing he had to deal with. He doesn't see the grief, only hears it, for Freckleflame's piercing cries couldn't be quelled by the farthest of distances. "Sh-shouldn't w-we go and h-help?" Wrathkit squeaked, a protest as weak as his resolve as his trembling paws were quick to pursue Flamewhisker's lead. He presses against the woman's leg, deep blue eyes switching between her to the cats quickly disappearing behind the nursery's shrouded entrance. But it's hard to tune out the screams and whispers. Wolfwind, Unfair, Dead, and Adder ring endlessly in his too-big ears. He knew what many of those words meant, but strung together like that? The picture it painted made him tremble even harder. He wished his siblings would keep him safe in the nursery, he really, really wanted to know they were all ok right now...

*+:｡.｡ Updated 4/16/24

• 
  
  
• 
  
  
  GENERAL:
  ♡ Wrathkit
  ♡ DMAB— He/Him
  ♡ 5 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
  ♡ Brother to Lovepaw, Joypaw, Gigglepaw
  ♡ Thunderclan — Kit
  
  
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ♡Physically easy | mentally easy
  ♡ Attack in bold #191961
  injuries: None currently

​

 

[COPPERFANG.]

His apprentice tears through the camp shouting for Howlingstar, and that's plenty of reason for him to startle, rushing out of the warrior's den and into the clearing. It was only a matter of time until ThunderClan was faced with another bout of grief. Grief was most of what there was lately; loss on top of fresh wounds that had not had time to even begin to heal, a grief that ate away any joy that they had accumulated in the short time since the previous loss. It appeared that newleaf was not preparing itself to be kinder to the clan.

He will not crowd Wolfwind's friends and family, instead keeping his distance to allow them their space and their time with her, sitting aside with his head bowed. He would be there, though, for Roaringpaw when he came back from Howlingstar's den, anticipating that he would need time of his own to reconcile with what had happened to one of his clanmates.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎IT'LL HELP YOU : ̗̀➛ SOME SUNNY DAY ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• speech, thoughts, actions

• 

• 
  
  ☼ SH chocolate ticked tabby tom w/amber eyes
  ☼ 47 moons; ages every 3rd, npc x npc
  ☼ cis male he/him; bisexual, not purposely looking
  ☼ currently mentoring roaringpaw
  ☼ peaceful & healing powerplay permitted
  ☼ easy to befriend; will not start fights, will end fights
  

​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

Freckleflame enters camp with a wolf pelt draped across her shoulders, with a hymn bursting through frantic lips. “Help me,” she cries, and all but collapses under the weight of her burden, sinking to the camp floor and trembling, wracked with grief. Raccoonstripe’s on his paws and out of his nest, entering the clearing just as Freckleflame sinks to her belly. The sight is enough to cleave his heart in two. His niece slips onto hard-baked earth, still, fur unmussed by the morning breeze. Stiff. One closed eye tells him everything.

There was an adder, Freckleflame cries, and Raccoonstripe goes to her with acid in his mouth, burning his tongue. “An adder,” he repeats, his voice cracking. An adder had stolen Wolfwind from them—not a ShadowClanner materializing from the dark, not a RiverClan warrior barreling from the water to reclaim Sunningrocks, not a rogue, or a dog, or her namesake with teeth like weapons, but a—an adder, sneaky, small, perilous, an adder has taken his niece from him.

The tabby bows his head, feeling numb in his extremities. “My lead warriorness is being helpful. I like being helpful,” she’d said, and he’d known it to be true, the way she charged headfirst into danger, the way she’d thrown her body before her Clanmates in dire times. He slowly kneels beside Wolfwind’s body, faintly aware of the chaos beginning to unfurl around him. “You were supposed to be there beside me, when I’m leader,” he says, his voice splintering. “You were supposed to be by my side.”

He pushes his nose into her cold fur, unable to escape the hollowness that pulses up from his chest cavity and consumes him.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Raccoon . Raccoonstripe, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 37 moons old, ages realistically on the 5th.
  — mentored by n/a ; mentoring none ; previously mentored Wildheart, Moonwhisper
  — thunderclan lead warrior. gray wolf x howlingstar, gen 2.
  — currently mated to Nightbird.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh black tabby with white and dark brown eyes. charismatic, charming, calculating, ambitious, shallow, manipulative.
  
  

​

 

[braveheart : ̗̀➛]

☀ . ° ✦ Nothing too strange stirred that morning for Bravepaw to believe anything was out of the ordinary. While he rose with the sunlight's peak over the horizon, he tended to his early routine as usual. Freckleflame either wasn't awake yet or gone from the warriors den, but that sort of thing wasn't unusual.

The chocolate tom began to worry once the dawn patrol had left and Freckleflame still hadn't come around. Thank the stars they weren't assigned to it, he didn't want to go anywhere without his mentor. But at the very least she usually entertained themselves with some training in between. But the sun has gradually begun to go higher and higher. He tried to busy himself with something but his little siblings still napped most the day away, and most of his friends were out since their mentors hadn't mysteriously disappeared in the night.

Bravepaw's only company left in camp is Doepaw, who coincidentally is also without her trainer today. They sit beside one another, comforted by the wight that leans against his shoulder.

He tried his best to rationalize it. Too much grief had plagued ThunderClan in the last two moons and he feared that his worries would manifest into something more real than he could handle. But at last Freckleflame has burst through, carrying the limp body of yet another lead warrior who's journeyed to the stars. Wolfwind.

"A... what?" An adder? Eyes wide he looked down to Doepaw and began to pad closer to where their Clanmates gather around. "Why.... why? It keeps happening..." Sparkwing's words make the tom wince away. Who's next? Such a scary thing to say.

✧　°　.　✶　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
• 

  BRAVEPAW — HE/HIM ･ 7 MOONS ･ THUNDERCLAN & APPRENTICE ･ PENNED BY beatae!

  A Longhaired chocolate tabby/blue tabby chimera with deep blue eyes. Very thick coat that has started to grow into long, wispy curls. Developing into an awkward stage of kitten uglies as the rest of his body grows and changes. Severe scars from owl talons stretch across his shoulders and another that starts from his back down his left thigh.

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[doepath ࿔]

Wolfwind was busy. Being a lead warrior came with more responsibility than the typical hunting and fighting of other warriors and she knew that her hesitance to do a lot of the things real warriors did served as a dragging weight. She'd been patient... and from what Doepaw could tell, never grown agitated by her need for careful, slow adjustment. It was hard to articulate just how much she valued that gentleness, the feel of a tail gently held between her teeth to guide her towards Fourtrees that first time. They had a routine... a partnership...

The difference this morning is noticeable.

She doesn't spot the stark lights and darks that normally linger in the camp clearing for uncertain, tufted paws to find her. There is no sharing of breakfast... no ruminating on what their task for the sunlight hours is. As the chariot of light moves across its skyward path, an uncomfortable knot winds itself tighter and tighter in her belly... it's only satiated by Bravepaw's cheerful smile and a reassurance they could wait together since Freckleflame wasn't here either.

At some point she finds herself leaned against her den-mate, a tail curled tightly around her paws in some sort of effort to self-soothe the anxiety away... he is warm... his breathing is consistent... and his jabbering is an ambiance easy enough to grow comfortable within. She supplies him the occasional, meek response; never really the type for long conversation anyways and waits. Waits while the shadows move across the camp in distorted blobs.

The birds fluttering in panicked flight just outside the walls of camp are what she hears first. Swiveling her ears forward to get a better listen, she wonders if maybe an apprentice has missed and scared off all the prey in that area, even makes the unbothered assumption that it's nothing important or serious at all. And then a shrill voice screams.

The illusion of a lazy morning shattered into a hundred tiny fragments like the kaleidoscope view of near-blind eyes. Bravepaw sits up straighter and she does too and in tandem fearful concern, the pair timidly pad forward to investigate the situation only to hear something that sounds so impossible it borders on fiction.

She can make out the cloudy, hulking shape of Gentlestorm, sees him pull at familiar shades of a white-split pelt, sets her tenderly in the same place that had been stained a muddy crimson when the wolves had snapped up Sunfreckle too. She doesn't move. Wolfwind doesn't get up, as if content to rest there and sleep off the rest of the warm, sun-kissed hours of the day. It's so unlike her... vibrant and energetic and boisterous and loud. It had to be a mistake.

"Wolfwind...?"

Her ears ring... it drowns out the sounds of mourning caterwauls. Leaves a distinct buzzing tone behind while honeyed eyes remain fixated on the soft edges of a new cadaver. A clutch of butterflies flutter wildly in her chest, so intensely and frantically it takes conscious, active thought to breathe in shallow, panicked breaths. The fine, careful outlines of a body that had kept her safe and secure become blurry like wetted ink, splotching and spreading and becoming less distinct.

She'd felt bad, after the wolves had ravaged camp, that she hadn't a single tear to shed for those that had died so suddenly and violently. That her friends had sobbed and been so distraught they couldn't will themselves to move. She'd tried her best to help, had known that death was something to feel sorry about. They'd be strangers... Even if they shared the same camp, the same prey.

The sensation of something warm sliding down her cheeks registers first... it's damp... the corners of her eyes sting and when she blinks the hazy lack of clarity doesn't disappear- tears cascade in overwhelming number, far more than even when she'd been brought back to ThunderClan's camp with marks of motherly hatred ripped down her face. They bubble and drip in rapid succession, sliding towards the corners of her agape maw, slithering further still under her chin. And they won't stop. Even when she draws in a wheezing gasp and tries to turn to wipe her paw at her face- "Make.... Make it stop," she pleads to Bravepaw, growing more frantic in her rubbing, more hectic in sobbed huffs between words, "It won't-" hic "Stop. Make- Make it stop."​

 

[Lightflower]

❝ it's gonna hurt for a bit of time ❞​

Just between the waking world and dream world, she stirred. Lightflower blinked her pale eyes open gently. But this was no ordinary morning. One by one cats began to voice their grief, wailing and crying and sending her stomach to her feet. Wolfwind? She thought, disbelief clouding her mind. She shoved out of the den and stopped just by Thundergleam, though the white she-cat was barely noticed. StarClan, how could you take another from us?
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[FALLOWBITE]

ˏˋ*⁀➷ Another death. The first thing Fallowpaw hears is the screaming, Freckleflame's cries for help, like some wounded and baying animal. The first thing it does is look around camp - because Fallowpaw is selfish, Fallowpaw is desperate - to check that it was no one she would miss. She is not through tallying the heads before the body is brought in.

Wolfwind.

It had not known her well. It does not know the body lying on the ground, and it never will. She looks peaceful. Like she was sleeping. Wails of grief arise in camp like a chorus, and Fallowpaw does not join in.

And yet, her breathing is heavy. Who's next? Sparkwing's words echo in her ear. One by one, they all seem to be taken. Death after death... Who's next, who's next, who's next? When will it be her? She doesn't want to die; stories of a peaceful afterlife feel too abstract, too far away for her to grasp. She is certain whatever starry ancestors are out there have no place for a creature like her among their ranks. But worse... When will it be Doepaw, when will it Antlerpaw? She can't lose them again, she can't, she -

Doepaw. Its eyes dart back to her, moving from where she had sat alongside Bravepaw. Wolfwind was her mentor, that's right.

(It wonders, distantly, how it would feel if Stormywing died. It pushes that thought away.)

Its paws move before it can think. It had kept its distance before; it is not one for socializing. It knows even less how to console, how to comfort. All this tragedy is too much for the young molly; kindness comes far too clumsily, and it cannot mend the wounds that are torn open day after day. But tears drip from Doepaw wounded eyes, and Fallowpaw feels like a kit again. Facing their mother, facing something too big and horrible to fix. It stumbles forwards.

"Doe..." creeps its way from a parted maw, soft and vulnerable in a way that feels foreign. On clumsy, uncoordinated paws, it moves to press itself against its sister's side. She doesn't know what to say. "'M sorry..." slips out and it's not enough. All she can do is shut her eyes tight, lean into her sister's side, and pray for the crying to stop.

‎‎┌── HERE IN THE FOREST, DARK AND DEEP ⁀➷ I OFFER YOU ETERNAL SLEEP ──┐‎

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• 

  
  
  "SPEECH"
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• 
  FALLOWPAW ⁀➷ she / it, apprentice of thunderclan, nine moons.
  ➳ a scarred, pointed brown and white molly with shaggy fur and golden eyes.
  ➳ standoffish and solitary, always seems to have a dark cloud hanging over its head.
  ➳ baying hound xx npc, littermate to antlerpaw & doepaw.
  ➳ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ➳ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[HOWLINGSTAR]

It's the scream that stirs her first, her dream split in two by the sound. Her mind, foggy with sleep, tries its best to wake up swiftly, her heavy eyes working hard to blink. Confusion swirls around the woman's brain like clouds and it isn't until Roaringpaw is in her den that she focuses. Shock writes itself across her face as he stammers to her, the fur along her spine prickling until that final sentence leaves his maw.

Wolfwind is dead!

For a moment, all she can do is stare at him, disbelief evident in fern eyes as she processes what she has just been told. And perhaps she would have said she didn't believe him if not for the scream of Sparkwing outside. The sound is enough to propel her from her nest, ungroomed pelt forgotten as she brushes past the apprentice and hurries into the daylight. She turns just in time to see Gentlestorm dragging a limp gray and white form into camp, where it is then carefully placed where Wolfwind's former and present apprentices can mourn.

Her eyes are too dry at first, stretched so wide they hurt. Her maw is agape in horror, her ears turned back and flattened. Not her. Please, Gray Wolf, not her. I'll do anything. Not her!

As if in a daze, she begins to stumble forward, her head ducked low as she approaches as if she will frighten off prey. Raccoonstripe approaches first, burying his nose into her fur and murmuring words she cannot begin to hear. When she blinks, tears fall in streams down her cheeks. "Oh, Wolfwind," She croaks, finally coming to a stop at her side and staring down at her, eyes roaming from nose to tail-tip. Her head is shaking, and slowly, her shoulders begin to shudder. Not her. Not her.

Her legs give out and she collapses in a heap by her son, her paws draped over Wolfwind's form as her face buries into her pelt. Sobs shake her body, ugly and loud. She does not care to hide them. She breathes in her scent, and remembers a time in the marsh when two little gray she-kits played around her paws. Azalea had scolded Wolf for breaking the rules of their game, to which little Wolf (who no one could tell what to do, ever) stuck her tongue out before running away with a hearty laugh in her throat. She sees her granddaughter take down her first piece of prey and flaunt it as if it had been the biggest, most impressive catch anyone had ever seen. She sees her in the Great Battle, and in every battle they'd faced together after, bloodied but proud, and strong, and brave, and always with that wide grin that made Howlingstar feel like she could get through everything as long as Wolfwind was at her side. There was never a cat like her. There never would be a cat like her.

Lily Pad. I have to find Lily Pad. Wolfwind's mother should be here to mourn the only daughter that had chosen to stay in ThunderClan with her family. Loyal and true, that's who Wolfwind had always been. Sniffing, the tabby pulls away and tries her best to catch her breath as she stares at the kin's face, serene in death. "I need to find her mother," She utters, her voice broken as she pushes herself to her paws shakily. It takes her several moments to leave, however, as she struggles to tear her gaze away from the girl whom she'd always adored. Finally, with tears still dripping from her chin, she turns to slowly walk towards the warrior's den in hopes of finding her daughter inside. ​