- Jun 7, 2022
- 422
- 152
- 43
✦✦ He wanders through mist for what feels like ages, stretching on and on until he's sure that he's just… lost. Hazel eyes glance back in the direction he'd come from, but there's nothing there. StarClan is gone, out of his reach for now, and Clay can do nothing but continue trudging onward. Putting one paw in front of the other, keeping in mind his promise to Clearsight, his promise to his kin. I will return. I have to. I will not leave you without me in death.
The other side of the mist is just as cold as the wall of mist itself, and a shiver crawls its way down Clay's spine as he pushes his way through. Instantly, he's reminded of the chill of snow, the cracking of ice beneath unsteady paws. The silent movements of a rogue. The kiss of teeth against his jugular, ripping, tearing, stealing life. Struck with uncertainty, the tom's head whips around to take in his surroundings—his eyes have yet to adjust to the darkness, so all he sees is shadow, but there's a slight shifting motion in the dark. Other cats, predators… or just the wind. The wind… it's freezing, harsh like a permanent wintry gust. Branches creak with each touch of wind, and—wait, branches? He looks up. Gnarled, twisting limbs, bare of all their leaves, stretch like tendrils of shadow toward one another, caging him in and blocking out parts of the sky. And beyond them, the sky itself…
It's too dark—darker than the blackest night, even. Not a single star shines in its endless span, reaching horizon to horizon without a single pinprick of light. There's no moon, either, and so there's no light in the forest below besides a sickly glow coming from seemingly nowhere. Clay squints, and can barely make out the slight gleam of light against tree bark. The trunks are thick and tall, gnarled just like their branches are, but there's space to move through the space they take up. He presses forward, unsure where he's going, but needing to know more about this place anyway.
He isn't sure how long he walks, but soon enough the sound of moving water reaches his ears, a blessed relief. A river. If he's going to get anywhere in this place, it'll be good to use the river as a landmark—plus, he can wash off all the grime that covers his paws from walking through this wretchedly empty place. After what feels like a period of time both too long and too short (damn, time moves weirdly in this place without the sun's position in the sky to track it) the dry land beneath his paws turns to mud that clings to his paws, attempting to drag him down with each pawstep. It's dark enough to nearly be black, and the smell… it's worse than the marshland. It smells like something crawled into the mud and died, and then was never dug up before the ground solidified around it. Death-scent claws its way into his nostrils, and Clay would clamp a paw down across them if he weren't afraid of getting the horrid-smelling mud splashed across more of his pelt.
He reaches the water at last, wetness lapping at his muddied paws, icy cold and threatening to leech the warmth from his entire body. It's black as raven feathers when he stares into its depths, and moves slowly enough to nearly fool Clay into believing it isn't moving at all. It's like RiverClan's waters, but worse. A poor imitation, a funhouse mirror with a horrific twist. This land is terrible.
A sound from behind him catches his attention—paws over mud, or some other damp substance. Clay's tail flickers as he whirls around, but there's nothing there. Odd. "Somebody out there?" Maybe he shouldn't be so loud in this scary place that might have scary cats lurking around in the shadows, but if there's anyone here StarClan definitely needs to know. Especially if they're unfriendly.
// this is open to any dark forest characters !
The other side of the mist is just as cold as the wall of mist itself, and a shiver crawls its way down Clay's spine as he pushes his way through. Instantly, he's reminded of the chill of snow, the cracking of ice beneath unsteady paws. The silent movements of a rogue. The kiss of teeth against his jugular, ripping, tearing, stealing life. Struck with uncertainty, the tom's head whips around to take in his surroundings—his eyes have yet to adjust to the darkness, so all he sees is shadow, but there's a slight shifting motion in the dark. Other cats, predators… or just the wind. The wind… it's freezing, harsh like a permanent wintry gust. Branches creak with each touch of wind, and—wait, branches? He looks up. Gnarled, twisting limbs, bare of all their leaves, stretch like tendrils of shadow toward one another, caging him in and blocking out parts of the sky. And beyond them, the sky itself…
It's too dark—darker than the blackest night, even. Not a single star shines in its endless span, reaching horizon to horizon without a single pinprick of light. There's no moon, either, and so there's no light in the forest below besides a sickly glow coming from seemingly nowhere. Clay squints, and can barely make out the slight gleam of light against tree bark. The trunks are thick and tall, gnarled just like their branches are, but there's space to move through the space they take up. He presses forward, unsure where he's going, but needing to know more about this place anyway.
He isn't sure how long he walks, but soon enough the sound of moving water reaches his ears, a blessed relief. A river. If he's going to get anywhere in this place, it'll be good to use the river as a landmark—plus, he can wash off all the grime that covers his paws from walking through this wretchedly empty place. After what feels like a period of time both too long and too short (damn, time moves weirdly in this place without the sun's position in the sky to track it) the dry land beneath his paws turns to mud that clings to his paws, attempting to drag him down with each pawstep. It's dark enough to nearly be black, and the smell… it's worse than the marshland. It smells like something crawled into the mud and died, and then was never dug up before the ground solidified around it. Death-scent claws its way into his nostrils, and Clay would clamp a paw down across them if he weren't afraid of getting the horrid-smelling mud splashed across more of his pelt.
He reaches the water at last, wetness lapping at his muddied paws, icy cold and threatening to leech the warmth from his entire body. It's black as raven feathers when he stares into its depths, and moves slowly enough to nearly fool Clay into believing it isn't moving at all. It's like RiverClan's waters, but worse. A poor imitation, a funhouse mirror with a horrific twist. This land is terrible.
A sound from behind him catches his attention—paws over mud, or some other damp substance. Clay's tail flickers as he whirls around, but there's nothing there. Odd. "Somebody out there?" Maybe he shouldn't be so loud in this scary place that might have scary cats lurking around in the shadows, but if there's anyone here StarClan definitely needs to know. Especially if they're unfriendly.
// this is open to any dark forest characters !