tunnels i dont need a microphone .. rta

[heathermoon !!]

// retro to rogue invasion!!

Nimble paws tilled against cold dirt, red fur nearly unrecognizable under the coat of dust and crud that had begun to pile up. Heatherpaw had grown quiet after his mothers death, quieter than he ever had been before. In his throes of grief the apprentice had isolated himself from his friends, from his Clanmates, focusing solely on his tasks and responsibilities in the tunnels and around camp. Heatherpaw felt like a ravine had carved itself into his chest and flooded with waves of guilt. Gradually, though, the tide had begun to recede. He felt more comfortable int the tunnels now that he preferred them over the surface and when Robinfang dragged him back to camp, he only felt safe in the cover of the old badger sett his mother used to sleep in.

He had practically replaced her spot in the darkness of the sett. When food was available he would retreat in the darkness to eat by himself or convince one of his denmates to share with him inside. Otherwise his days had been filled with strict routine of waking, diving for the tunnels, working in the dark, then returning to camp just to fall asleep. The routine had remained unbroken for a couple moons now that Heatherpaw hadn't even realized the change of the seasons. The sun had begun to set quicker into moonlight now, but he still didn't feel safe in the blanket of stars. He shielded himself away from their twinkling sights, feeling unfit to bare their presence.

This morning had been the same as any other. A few other apprentices and their mentors had been assigned on repairing a particular finicky tunnel. Supports were worn or overwhelmed much quicker than the others and today they were set on repairing it once again. Scruffy ears perked as one of the warriors, Whitepaw's mentor, noted he caught the scent of prey further down and was met with no objection, though Heatherpaw found it odd as he picked up the tom possibly muttering to himself as the distance between them grew. He dismissed it quickly, instead returning his focus back to their task.

A few moments of silents continued between them, unsuspecting. Heatherpaw paused mid-reach for a stone, paw pads picking up on a sudden sensation beneath- or above? - the patrol.

"Anyone else-" A crack split overhead with an audible rip and his ears flatten. Shouts come from ahead, urging them to rush out and Heatherpaw doesn't hesitate to oblige. He can feel tension from the ceiling release as the supports fail and the cave falls into itself. There's so much soil falling through that only brief glimmers of light appear before being swallowed by the dark once again. His heart is beating out of his chest as paws chasing after heels. Another shine of light reveals silvery fur and Heatherpaw recognizes Bluepaw, staggering behind the chase of the cave-in.

He stalled behind just a few paces to help lead her forward. "Hey, bite my tail if you have to and run!" He would drag her out of these caves if he had to, he wasn't losing anymore denmates today.

-- pls wait for @BLUEPAW to respond before posting!
-- @whitepaw tagging cause mentor momence ​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ RED MACKEREL TABBY ✦ 10 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[BLUEFROST]

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XXXXXHer movements are slow and dull this morning, as they have been for the last moon. Her father’s death had threatened to draw a veil over her, but it had been Sootstar’s resulting reaction that had cemented it in place. Bluepaw’s paws are aimless as she packs dirt beneath the moorland. Green eyes are dazed, lacking focus. All she can think about is her mother’s raging voice, declaring StarClan had turned their backs on WindClan, that StarClan hadn’t wanted her father. The knowledge that Weaselclaw is not in StarClan—is it knowledge, or is it her mother’s grief-driven suspicion?—has driven her numb.

XXXXXWhen the tunnel begins to split above them, she has a delayed reaction to the noise and commotion. Dust begins to fall in the space between herself and her tunnelmates, and her belly sears sharp with fear. “What is going—” She gasps as a chunk of clay thuds in front of her, as dust begins to cloud her vision. “Agh!” Her voice shrills and then breaks off into a startled shriek.

XXXXXBluepaw’s fragile poise is trampled in the face of impending death. Her claws scrabble uselessly at the ground, unable to find her footing and unable to see any of her Clanmates through the dust. She hears their panicked pawsteps through the crashing, but then her coughing drowns even that out. Dust tickles her throat and then she’s reminded—soon it will be all she can breathe, soon it will replace all the air in her lungs, and she begins to panic. Bluepaw’s pelt fluffs out until she is thrice her size, her body shaking uncontrollably as the tunnel begins to fill in around her.

XXXXXThrough the debris, she sees a pale shape, mismatched yellow-green eyes. “Hey, bit emy tail if you have to and run!” Heatherpaw, his voice sharp and whiplike. She opens her mouth in a silent wail, still feeling frozen in place, but a bit of soil hits her over one eye and she’s seeing dirt, too, now. “Please!” She latches onto the tip of his reddish tail, her body wracked with coughs and wheezes as though she is sick as Weaselclaw had been. She wills her body to move after him—she makes herself—for she cannot die here, not today, not when she knows not where her soul will go.

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