i feel undone ⚘ joining ⚘ want to run

[Dandelionwish]

[Taking place after THIS thread by several hours.]

It is guilt that pricks him sharper than claws, he’d left WindClan in chaos and didn’t look back. Which cats were there and still fighting, which were dead, who had turned against their queen and who still pursued them now though lost among the forest’s shade?

Each step feels as though he moves slightly more off the path, he doesn’t know where they’re going nor does he realize he has left a most obvious trail behind him to follow should any of them breach the sanctity of fourtrees. Dandelionwish staggers, head bobs with every labored step and any adrenaline he had left has faded into a dull hum through his veins now and left him feeling heavy as stone. He’s only slightly aware of the tapping of pawsteps next to him, the concerned green eyes wide as the sun and just as bright; he wished she hadn’t had to see this.
It was not a death shredded to pieces under his clanmates but a slow drip drain of life as he walked with a hobble, his wounded forepaw tucked close under his chest and offsetting his balance so badly he had to pause every so often to reorient himself.
The chocolate tom had no real plans outside escape, didn’t have an idea of what to do or where to go and part of him insisted that ThunderClan might be willing to take him in given how kind their medicine cat was but he feels as though he’s passed their territory by now; he feels as though he’s lost. They had crossed some scent marker at some point but his nose is so clogged with blood and dirt from being thrown onto the ground that he can’t process it. He hopes, sincerely, that Daisypaw will run if things get rough-he never wanted this for her.

Eventually it happens, he had been waiting for it but stubbornly refusing to give in, but finally his legs give in and he drops to a heap on the ground. A matted and bloodied pile of pale brown and dark brown fur, his ears are ringing as he tries to lift his head to no avail. End of the line.
At least he would die outside WindClan’s cage, free from the moors he once loved that were now only a shell of what it was-what if could have been if not for the ashen rule of their horrid queen. He wonders if StarClan will be disappointed when he faces them, he wonders if they’ll even let him in since he failed his task to force a change.

[Ooc: Dandelion is not unconscious but is very dazed and unfocused. He has several long, deep lacerations on his face and several smaller cuts and bites everywhere else. The most prominent is a scar going down his side from his flank to hip, a scar curving from the side of his neck to his shoulder and another going down his right backleg. His left forepaw is also torn to shreds and slightly fractured. It will heal incorrectly no matter what and leave him with a notable limp.]
- @daisypaw ! is also here, not a PAFP though!

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[daisypaw ! [inact.]]

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They had finally stopped running only after the angry sounds of pursuit had faded behind them, her labored breath billowing in the cold night air. Even still, Daisypaw couldn't help but keep looking behind her, swallowing hard at the dark patches of Dandy's blood that followed their paw prints through the wet earth and snow.

He was in so much pain, she could tell, and although he was taller than her, she had tried her best to press into him, trying not to think about the blood that was slowly dampening her pale pelt. Whether it was to support him or comfort herself, she didn't know. She wanted him to stop and tell her that everything would be okay. She didn't want to ask, teeth instead worrying into her lip to keep herself from crying again.

Their pace began to slow more and more as the night wore on. They were both out of energy, the adrenaline sapping them dry. He seemed to be feeling his pain with each step, a wince here, a stumble there. In the end, it was herself that uttered the words quietly. "It'll be okay." She wanted things to be okay. They had to be okay.

She had switched to staring at her paws as she focused on placing one in front of the other. She was tired. It was so, so late. Would the sun be rising soon? She could barely see the sky through the trees. It made her feel scared. Trapped.

Beside her, she felt Dandelionwish slip away, heard a dulled thud on the earth. He had fallen, she quickly realized, another spark of nerves surging through her with an intake of breath. "Dandy?" There was no response, only the slow rise and fall of his flank. Was he dying? He couldn't die! He was a medicine cat! He was... he was good with hurt cats...

Nervously, she pressed her face into his fur, another set of tears beginning to well up. Her voice was hoarse as she tried calling out, so she tried again. "H-help! We need help! Please!"​

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[QUILLSTRIKE]

CUZ I DONT REALLY LIKE ANYBODY​

---

The scent of blood and Windclan is a combination Quill has learned to be wary of. It triggers frustration and shame in the young tom, memories of the border skirmish where he'd so plainly been beaten and overwhelmed wuick to make his fur spike up, reminiscent of his namesake. He slinks from the near bare undergrowth with a predatory roll in his broad shoulders, an amalgamation of mismatched parts- eyes of burning amber and icey blue, a messily patched pelt of black and blue- there is nothing welcoming about him. He sees the collapsed tom and the frightened apprentice travelling with him, but there no sympathy for either.

"Why the hell should we help either of you?" he asks, the words a low growl in his throat as his gaze flickers beyond them, searching the brush for movement, signs of more.

There are none.

His claws are already unsheathed, and the only keeping him from chasing the sepia clean out -wounded or not- is the kid standing beside them. She looks exhausted and terrified, and from the looks of her companion he can guess why.
​

---

skyclan - male - 10 months - bisexual - homoromantic - single - very tall tabby tomcat with broad shoulders

 

[Sharpeye]

☁ A quick patrol around the territory, one he hoped wouldn't launch any unwarranted surprises upon him. Just one quiet day, that was what he craved the most. With two apprentices he was honestly beginning to feel the drain of it all as their needs placed a constant demand upon him. Still, what does one do other than march on endlessly towards the great abyss?

Even through the haze of exhaustion his senses remain sharp and a subtle change in the wind direction brings with it the stench of WindClan and of a metallic tang. Blood! The small tom's hackles began to bristle on instinct and the fear that WindClan had at last come to seek out Coyotepaw crossed his mind like a horrific waking nightmare. His initial instinct is to protect his two young wards. The warrior snapped his head round with an expression so serious that it was clear that he would tolerate no resistance against his orders. "Hurry back to camp and get Blazestar and the warriors! Quickly!"

His attention then turned to the next instinct; protecting SkyClan. He catches up to Quillpaw quickly and he moves to advance towards the two WindClanners that he can see, but he remains on edge as he dreads who else would emerge. "What is this? Why do you demand help? Where is your snivelling savages? Not trying to sneak into our camp again?" He growled with deepening suspicion. But something feels off. Isn't... isn't one of them the WindClan medicine cat? "Talk fast, otherwise my claws will be faster."

// @Bananapaw @-Wildpaw-
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[Mountainheart]

Mountainheart was familiar with the sight of a cat beaten bloody. He approached the scene and stood over the two former Windclan cats, staring down with a critical glare. Smokey black fur did not bristle, he was not threatened.

"You've been through a lot, lass. Take a moment to breath." He said calmly to Daisypaw.

He looked to Dandelionwish. He could only guess as to what had happened, but he wanted to hear the truth and not his own assumptions.

He could smell so many different cats on this one. Just what had transpired on the Moors this time?

And wasn't he also their medicine cat? He would like to hear this story. He hoped the bloody cat could hold on a little longer.

A loss for Sootstar is a win for them, after all. And if this was a trick? Well, he'd have a moral dilemma on his paws. Two young cats, tired and bloody,that he would have to fell with his own claws. The thought made him sick.
​

 

[SQUALLMIST]

It's a distinct smell, the mixture of moorland and bloodspill. Though this is hardly the first time he's smelt it, and nowhere near the last, such a scent still causes the silver tabby's fur to stand on end - still brings memories flooding back to him, blue paws on his brother's throat, sorrow-filled eyes looking up at Squallmist in their death.

The silver tabby stops at the sight of the duo, as the rest of the patrol does - chocolate-pointed fur turned crimson, a scrap of black and white beside him, calling for help.

Away, he would have begged, if he hadn't seen the damage upon the two moor-dwellers. Send them away.

"Get Dawnglare too," he adds on to Sharpeye's orders. Though he holds a disdain for the moor's dwellers, though he fears a trick has been placed before them, Squallmist would rather not have the cat before them die on SkyClan's land. He would rather not have the child beside him traumatized further.

And Sharpeye - oh, Sharpeye. Squallmist wonders how he got such a name with the venom-filled question he brings forth only proving he hadn't bothered to look at the WindClanners.

"Do they look like they're trying to sneak into camp?" he asks, charcoal tail swishing behind them, "I'm blind, and even I can see they wouldn't be capable of such." Had Sootstar done this? Marred her clan to such extremes? Left wounds more gruesome, less clean, than what killed Haze?

He steps towards the WindClanners, leans down to meet the child's gaze, an effort in helping Mountainheart keep the kid calm.

"Everything will be okay," he promises, despite his uncertainties, "What's your name, kit?"
​

 

[Orangestar]

And here's the poor sod of a healer. She should have known the feral queen would have tried to kill him - Orangeblossom had kept her suspicions to herself since the Gathering, and now she wonders if it's a matter of time until a former deputy of theirs shows his face at their borders. Orangeblossom keeps her distance and keeps lookout just in case this was a ploy. Only WindClan would gravely injure one of their own as a front.

"If you think Dawnglare will waste herbs on a WindClanner, injured or not, you're very naïve." She says to Squallmist, voice flat. He hadn't been there among the council present during the healer's outburst over Coyotepaw, and Orangeblossom isn't looking forward to the frothing mess that Dawnglare will be after he finds out about the latest refugees of the moors. And, for once, she's inclined to agree with the hypothetical hissy-fit - no good would come of this. If anything, they should bury him with care. But that was all.

// ouuugh mobile & app tag @eveningpaw

 

[daisypaw ! [inact.]]

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She had cried for help, maybe even twice more before an unfamiliar scent cut through the suffocating tang of blood. Not once did she leave the sepia tom's side, huddled close and nearly buried into his soiled fur. Tears once again flowed freely as the crushing silence left her with little to do but dwell on the night's events.

So when that scent washed over her, despite her pleas, she couldn't help the way her fur began to rise, pressing ever closer and green eyes turning upward to the towering tabby that appeared before them. Why should he help them? Her throat was too tight to speak. An involuntary hiccup was the best she could muster.

The next to show was even less friendly, Daisypaw shrinking further into the frostbitten earth and ears pressing to her skull. "He's hurt," she nearly whimpered, her voice quiet, pitiful.

The rest of the patrol began to appear, then, and with a wavering breath, the bicolor she-cat hid her face in Dandelionwish's fur again. "They hurt him. They wanted ta'hurt him. They wanted ta'hurt me." She didn't know what else to say, her mind unwilling to cooperate.

There was shuffling right next to her, then, and she slowly peeked out to see one of them staring right at her. Her teeth worried on her tongue. Everything would be okay, he said, and a thin whimper choked itself out of her, eyes downcast once more. She didn't want to be here. She just wanted to go home. She wanted Echolight to be the one to tell her things would be okay. She wanted Dandelionwish to tell her things would be okay.

Eventually, although she didn't meet the stranger's eyes again, she mustered a small response. "M'Daisypaw."​

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[DAWNGLARE]

So, and so, he is summoned. Already, he can tell, he would not appreciate the call. They clamor for warriors, carry the moorlands scent upon them. Barely their neighbors, this clan, far far away. And yet they're the ones paying them the most visits. How strange, indeed.

As he crawls forward, sunset-red face amongst the crowd, the tone is already set. Bristlings of danger, and here, he agrees. A white jaw is already set in a frown. It had nearly been a task unimaginable, to drag him from his den; place that seemed fragile now, more than ever. (Ripe for the picking, wasn't it?) A day-blue gaze drags across the both of them, sorry bunch. Windclan's former medicine cat, along with, something he would only describe as a problem. Dawnglare glowers silently, for now, the hint of teeth poking over a lip. The swish of his tail is not languid, but rather, an irate back and forth; ticking of something dangerous, fur splintered on the precipice.

One of these few is all-too-keen on offering them respite. Together he arrives, with the orange-stricken feline, and for once, in agreement, he would lilt his chin along with her, fixing the wayward tom with a slit gaze. "Hmm, listen to your deputy," he says with a scoff. The only time he'd ever use that title on her of course, would be for sick satisfaction, but its something, nonetheless. "H-he already had my things stolen, he can f-fix it himself."

Yes, the frustration remains tucked beneath a bristling spine and blackened-gums, but it only clicks faster; tick of his jaw as he watches how cuddly he was willing to get with these two. So long as they were Windclan, it was not his duty to care. More a glance is spared to their own warrior, than it is to these too. Filth beneath prime-white paws. He held no interest in what the problem had to say. He pushes his way forward, but he makes no move to help. Deathbed or not, so long as they were WindClan, it was not his god-given duty to care.

Wraith-like, he lingers. His voice clips on the edge of a growl. Name at the tip of his tongue. "Wh–y here, Dandelion?" Those sorry things he could never hope to find... Blankly, he stares. "Why don't you WindClanners e-ver go away, away...?" He paws at the dirt, gripping for herbs, invisible. (All at home. Would they be at home? Or would he only return to another invasion, another loss?) His demeanor grows more frantic with each passing moment, wide eyes that can never quite remain somewhere, somewhere.​

 

[SLATE]

The commotion as well as the stench of blood is what draws Slate toward the situation unfurling at the border. His expression shifts from neutral to more critical as he recognizes the odor of WindClan all over the two strangers. Them again; what did they want? Were they apologizing for trying to steal from them?

As it turned out, these two were merely refugees from Sootstar's apparent dictatorship. Fresh wounds littered their disheveled forms; a send-off ritual, it seemed. That clan seemed about as savage as the rogues dwelling in the city. SkyClan usually leaps at the opportunity to take in lost souls, even a rough and tumble tom like him, but he highly doubts that these two cats would be granted passage. It was too soon following the attack, surely.

First Coyotepaw, now this pair. Was WindClan trying to spy on their neighbors?

"They hurt him. They wanted ta'hurt him. They wanted ta'hurt me." Such a sob story was not so compelling for someone like Slate, who didn't particularly possess a strong moral code. He hated how he was getting so sucked into the politics of these clans, but he supposes it was inevitable at this point. "... And your brilliant plan was to come here, of all places?" From the looks of it, it didn't look as if WindClan would be wanting these outcasts back. They had been tossed aside like rubbish, even torn into pretty badly by what he assumed were their own ( former ) clanmates. What had they done to piss everybody off?

He narrows dark pupils at the apprentice, adding gruffly, "You really should have just kept running." Maybe some twolegs would have taken pity on them and brought them to the vet. Slate personally believed in licking his own wounds, but at this point, it might have been their best option. What clan would want to waste their herbs on these outcasts?​

— * ✰. ooc information recent events * ✰. —

• 
  
• 
  ✰ SLATE
  —— amab, uses he/him pronouns. twenty-nine moons old. warrior of skyclan; former rogue.
  —— unrefined, rough and tumble rogue who is not accustomed to clan life. only trustful of his littermate, duskmane.
  —— link to tags. @ on discord for plots.
  
  quite the hulk of a cat, slate stands above the average clanmate with an arrogant gait. he has a dark gray ( bordering on black ) colored pelt with a pale-brown-tinged underbelly and whisps of tan at the tips of his chest hairs. amber-colored eyes contrast against his dark palette. notable features include a jagged scar across his right eye and two small scratches across the bridge of his nose.
• —— decided to officially remain in skyclan as a warrior
  —— participated in battle with windclan, currently recovering from belly scratches and a bite mark on hind leg
  

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[SQUALLMIST]

"Nice to meet you, Daisypaw," he says, "I'm--"

He oversteps, and is shot down quickly. The prince knows it's residual, from a time too long ago now to be considered much of an excuse. From his father's reign, when things were easier, when there would have been no doubt about taking two runaways in.

"Dead WindClanners will only cause us more trouble," he says to Orangeblossom, irritation thick in his voice as the deputy spouts his naivety. Of course, she is correct in her thinking. The priest appears with a command to listen to his deputy. The silver tom flicks his tail at this.

Which one? Squallmist wants to ask.

Ever so welcoming, they are to Dandelion - as Dawnglare calls him - and Daisypaw. Children, they both are. Too young for his father to have ever turned them away. Too young to be marred by claws, ordered to be harmed by their murderous leader.

Squallmist detests the way things are now - hates how someone like Sootstar can be in charge of a clan, hates how SkyClan's own rhetoric has changed into something less welcoming because of it.

But, he understands. Understands the necessity of it after all that's happened. Each moorlander that arrived to the pine forest only brought more risk, only brought another chance of war and bloodshed. Though, with as many WindClanners that arrive here, the blinded warrior fears that risk is a constant under Sootstar's reign.

Stars only know, how many of her own had lost their lives under her claws.
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[SPARKSTORM.]

I keep trying to find me​

---

With all the chaos and everyone going back and forth between what to do, Sparkstorm's tail swished while blinking a slight bit. Sure, they were from windclan but one looked like a kit while the other looked to be on the verge of death. Everyone suspicious and questioning what they should do with the former medicine cat and the tiny apprentice. A frown dripping on her lips. "The apprentice is only a kit...and the other windclanner...they look to be near death, they're harmless, and they're asking for help! We all hear what comes from the gathering, how their warriors look...how young their apprentices are. I understand that...that they are supposed to be the enemy but... that is a child" the young warrior spoke as a frown appear on her maw. "I understand the older one, but condemning a child?" she frowned a bit. That wouldn't make them any better than any than windclan.

"Leaving them for dead would make us no better than them." she pointly stated, gaze drifting towards Slate at his comment towards them running. Perhaps she was truly too soft-hearted but...Sootstar, she was a monster and... leaving them for dead? Or not helping? She could not bear the thought of it. Her green gaze flashed towards Orageblossom with a plea look, they couldn't just allow a kit to die. "I'll go one more herb patrols if it helps Dawnglare out for whatever is used up for these two or whatever damage they have caused but they both came here begging for help" she placed in as well. Would they really leave these two for dead? A kit and a former healer? Her gaze flashing between all that was there, some looks cold and suspicious. Windclanners shouldn't be at fault that their leader was terrible.​

"speak""Thoughts"​

 

[eveningsun]

her pale stare was quizzical as she arrived on the scene. seated next to orangeblossom, she just watched. it was boring but without a clue who these cats were, there was not much else eve could do. the apprentice listened to the exchanges with a furrowed brow. it seemed tense, skyclan must not like these cats. but why? they were on their doorstep, bloody and begging for help and they were just going to turn them away?

in a bit of a nervous glance, her eyes flicked up to her mentor. all she saw was a hard face towards the strangers. eveningpaw shifted her paws uncomfortably. she didn't like being in the dark. "who are they?" she asked in a hushed tone, eyes flickering back and fourth from orangeblossom to the two windclanners. ​

[ FALLEN STAR ]​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

Silversmoke didn't recognise either WindClanner, but the older one's wounds told a story that had only been told before in whispers and off-handed rumours. An emerald eye looms on Dandelion's form, the corners of his mouth twitching and writhing as they threatened to curl into a wide sneer. It served the enemy right for enacting such an outlandish plan a mere moon ago, it was with small glee that the maine coon imagined the moor runners tearing themselves apart over their own stupid, stupid choices. There was an aloof conceit as he tilted his head upwards. He did not rub verbal salt into the other's wounds, though it was tempting, and instead, let his tufted ears pick up the words of clanmates. Unity was lacking in their opinions, some like Dawnglare and Slate wanted to condemn the WindClanners to the loner lands, whereas Sparkstorm and Squall opted for more peaceful approaches. In deep consideration, the spotted tabby's eyes narrowed. He lacked the authority to make a decision, something he was endlessly grateful for. Let the WindClanners in and the whole clan was at risk, send them away and a child was condemned to die unless RiverClan extended their charity.

He tilted his head - why hadn't they tried to go to RiverClan? His claws unsheathe and flex against the earth, as authentic as their pain was, their intentions were still unclear. His heavily-furred cranium snapped back into an upright position and the maine coon, who'd been lingering towards the back for cover, took a few steps forward. "Our territories are not connected. There's something here that he wants that the other clans couldn't give." Access to the Twolegs place? Access to SkyClan herbs? He wished he could read Dandelion's mind, though, at the moment, Silversmoke was certain only cobwebs were in there. He lowered his gaze, with it, a pang of guilt as it settled on Daisypaw. The name felt foreign, wrong, a creature that small shouldn't need to fight yet. Large paws tucked closer to themselves for security, the male's plumy tail lashing as he began to reconsider his stance. Eventually, the warrior tore his attention away from the two, though he was worried that if he took his eyes off of the little one for even a second, she'd somehow die. It was a possibility he'd have to contend with regardless if the pleas of softer clanmates didn't reach Blaze's ears when he arrived.

"He will be hunting with his ancestors if we turn him away." The tabby addressed Orangeblossom with a voice that did not seem particularly upset about such a fact. the lives of SkyClanners would always come first, he had no time to grieve crowfood. "He can rot, but I don't feel good about turning away a kitten. I know it's not your call, I know what happened last time but..." He took a deep breath and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Just consider it might be worth separating them. Save the kid, exile the adult. Or, if Blazestar somehow takes pity, at least make sure the half-dead cat can give us something to help our clan in return." Like information.


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[Mountainheart]

Mountainheart took a breath as he heard his clanmates speak. His fur bristled, and he forced his claws to stay put.

To speak in such ways.... About children! One was barely even full grown. It angered him. They aren't here as Windclanners, they are here as injured exiles in need of aid.

He looks sharply behind him at the cats gathered.

"Do you hear yourselves?" He spoke calmly.

"These two are children. One, barely an adult." He said. "I expect such heartlessness from Windclan, not us. In fact, I'd say our ability to have compassion is our biggest difference."

He turns to face them.

"I understand where your concerns come from. I myself killed one of the bastards with no remorse. But Sootstar has cast these two aside...... And I thought it above us to abandon mere children to their deaths." He speaks again, firmly.

"Windclan is in the business of ripping families apart. We are not." He finished, looking back to Dandelionwish who's just ... Bleeding out. He hopes Blazestar will take them in.
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[Daisyflight]

"SUREFIRE, YEAH, THE SETTING SUN WANTS COMPANY"​

A hiss of frustration coloured the debate as Daisyflight came alongside Orangeblossom. How many moorcats were going to slink down from their territory into theirs? Skyclan already had Sootstar's ire- all of these visitors were unspooling greater, deeper layers to it. If she knew- The calico lashed her tail, unable to summon her usual decorum.

The gentle nature of many of her clanmates was endearing, it brought her relief in the moons she had lived amongst them. It was slipping into dangerous allowances however, churning situations that could risk much more than morals. They couldn't risk themselves for others, not from a place of ailing stability. Jade cut at the wounded medicine cat, her slit eyes doing little to hide her discordant thoughts.

"Windclanners bring us trouble dead or alive. By the looks of it, I hardly think this one's wellbeing is their top priority." Voice bell-clear, Daisyflight looked to Squallmist. While advocating for the death of the pair was not her goal, their value alive to their home clan shouldn't be overestimated. As this, Daisypaw, had said- Sootstar had aimed to harm them.

The clamour rose and with it, her snowy chest. Air drawn in, to debate, to question. Her cool observance was shed in the face of her fraying patience. It was always Windclan. "We are not Windclan. But we cannot ignore the danger of this- as has been proven, age is irrelevant." Dawnglare's droning tone stitched 'stolen' into her roving thoughts. Compassion for the young was invaluable but in the case of outsiders the clan had to afford some wariness. Coyotepaw had been allowed to stay under the strictest of situations, after much debate. They could not freely allow Windclanners into their midst.

Words pricked at the tip of her tongue. Unable to express them clearly, neatly, Daisyflight simply ground out a final, "We must be careful." They did not yet know Sootstar's intentions with the pair. Flattened ears rose sharply, piece said. Blazestar would have the final say.

/quick post! forgive any mistakes <3
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[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar's ire is stoked like lit coals. How tired he is of hearing WindClan and our border at the same sentence. He is wary this time, having learned a lesson that could have cost his warriors their lives -- he tells Thistleback and Sheepcurl to stay in camp, to guard it with their lives. Part of him thinks Sootstar won't try the same trick twice, but he's no battle expert, and he won't pretend to be.

By the time he makes it to the scent of blood and impending death, quite the group of his Clanmates have gathered. He looms over them all, the height his breed standard has given him enough to be able to meet each and every cat's pleading gaze with strange authoritative blue bullets. He hears Sparkstorm, Mountainheart, and Squallmist begging for their lives to be spared -- as if Blazestar would kill them. Mountainheart's assertion that we are no better than WindClan if we turn them away causes the Ragdoll's lip to curl.

"Accuse me of that again and this will be a different conversation," he says, staring at the warrior before shouldering his way to the front of the party.

Dandelionwish lies, crumpled and delirious, face pressed half into the piles of pine needles and cold dust. His wounds are egregious -- Blazestar almost flinches from the brutality of them. They've hunted him down like prey, he thinks with a barely-disguised wince of disgust.

His attention turns to the black and white scrap flattened to the earth beside WindClan's former medicine cat. She's terrified, it's easy to see, and splashed crimson from blood that's been sprayed over her.

"Dandelionwish, why have you come to SkyClan?" His voice is devoid of warmth, of compassion. He cannot let his judgment be clouded, not when it might cost his Clan their lives, their livelihoods. "What makes WindClan think they are welcome to trespass on my territory any time they like?"

Again, he flicks his blue gaze to the kit. She's tiny, impossibly so, and it's impossible to tell if she's wounded; her had said WindClan wanted to kill her, kill the medicine cat, and he finds himself unable to doubt the story.

Nevertheless... "And you've brought a WindClan kit here." He lets out a huff of frustration. "Every time a WindClan kit comes to SkyClan, it brings bloodshed and trouble to our borders. Why have you brought this kit here? Is your final act as WindClan's medicine cat to get us attacked in our own homes again?"

He sits, sweeping his thick tail about his paws. Though he cuts a regal and imposing figure, Blazestar feels lost inside. Troubled. The decisions he must make plague him worse than any disease, and every one of his warriors is here to judge him -- he can feel it radiating off of their pelts. From senior-aged Mountainheart to bitter Squallmist to barely-graduated Sparkstorm, they're all judging his next moves, and Blazestar's trepidation begins to mount by the moment, his nerves fraying under the pressure.

His senses are clouded with emotions he tries to fight. With the scent of Dandelionwish's blood, cloying and sickening.

He wants to be sick.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[Dandelionwish]

Voices. His ears prick upward, he hears snatches of conversation beyond Daisypaw’s whimpered explanation for what had happened. Two things become very evident very quickly, first was that they are in SkyClan territory. No. He must have missed ThunderClan…? He had not intended to wander this far but the blood loss and the lack of focus had disoriented him so badly.
Two was that they were not happy and he could not blame them. Not a soul among them had any reason to offer care nor consideration for WindClanners; even the exiled kind. SkyClan was a clan he felt no malice towards himself, even if his own clan had, even if they felt it toward him in turn.

Dandelionwish forced a paw under him, wobbly pushed himself up to stand among the sharp stares and Blazestar’s strangely larger than expected form. Perhaps it was because he always saw the ragdoll at a distance that he never considered how massive in size he actually was, it might give him reason to fear if he did not know that the fire striped tom was not a vicious soul. At the very least if they decided to kill him it would be quick. Quicker than what his own clanmates had tried to do. Or…his ex-clanmates. Moons of patching wounds and healing them, giving care to even the most unruly and surly among them and it had all crumbled in face of the bold delusions of the moorland monarchs paranoia. He offers a wavering but small smile, more out of habit than pleasantries; gives a sharp sneeze to try and unclog the blood and grit in his nose so he can speak and breath at the same time.

“...I’m….my apologies…” His tail loops out carefully, curls around Daisypaw to draw her back to his side more closely, “We didn’t intend…” No, it didn’t matter. He didn’t have the energy to make excuses and apologize more than just that, his head bobbed slightly as he tried to remain focused on the task at hand. An explanation was needed. He would be lying if he claimed to not fear death, but living hadn’t been much easier in WindClan. What they needed was a second chance to live. At worst he can talk them out of killing them both or even just taking Daisypaw and he would take his chance in two-leg place.

Through grit teeth and slurred speech he began, each word counted; the dizziness continued to fight his attempts to speak but he swallowed his nausea and pushed onward.
“I…protested the raid put upon you and paid for it...” The chocolate tom’s ears pinned back. “...my rebellious words were not taken well...she kept me caged in my den with guards, forced me to teach her self appointed new healer with the promise to let me go…” His delirious smile turned into a grimace, he’d laugh if it didn’t hurt to do so, “...we all know how that goes, but I…escaped. I’m…she would've killed me..to keep me from joining her exiles as a healer I assume, I didn't...finish teaching my replacement...”
A cat with medicinal skills was one of the few things clans could offer that simply being a loner meant you lacked in. Perhaps he might've considered this option if he had any idea where Yewberry and Galeforce had gone. Emberfang and Honeytwist as well...so many lost. Lost.
Had Coldsnap made it out? Had Coalfoot? Jasperglare? He had seen Mallowlark at a distance not participating and wondered if the black-footed tom would remember their talk to be careful, be mindful. He hoped so desperately he did.
A careful stare lingers on Dawnglare, mismatched eyes noting the medicine cat seems fine all things considered and he was glad for it. Only WindClan suffered a casualty for its foolish act and he wished otherwise, he wished there had been no blood shed.
“We’re not a danger to your clan, Blazestar…this I promise. She probably thinks I’m dead…” Of which may very well end up true. The ex-medicine cat closed both eyes quietly.
“...I’m a poisonous snake to her…she’d not want a viper in her nest.” And Daisypaw well, it was unlikely they’d fight for a loner kitten he brought into the clan. Coyotepaw and Squirrelpaw had been WindClan born and blood was all Sootstar cared about one way or another.
“…at the very least, take her...” Dandelionwish finds himself slowly sinking back onto the ground again, head resting on his paws, spent. "...or take her to RiverClan in my stead, please..." Hyacinthbreath would take care of her, of that he was she.
​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Dandelionwish's voice is barely more than a rasp, pitiful. Breathy. Dying. He apologizes for trespassing, and Blazestar's heart wrenches again at the state he's in. Almost massacred, and why? Sootstar had decided her medicine cats were her enemy, and he's sad to see this trend has continued. He thinks of Honeytwist, though he'd known the gentle she-cat as Fritter, long ago, before there were Clans, and he shudders.

Blazestar does not disbelieve Dandelionwish's story.

The kit, though... the kit could pose a problem, and Blazestar does not want more problems. If he sees Sootstar march to his border again he is likely to have little control over his warriors if they meet her. They cannot afford another battle, not so soon...

He has to send her away. And the thought is horrid to him. She can't be older than three moons, and her body shakes with her terror, eyes round with the horrors she'd witnessed and endured. Blazestar looks at the blood splashed across her body and feels his muscles stiffen.

"Don't... cry..." She had whispered as the spirit had abandoned her tiny body, as it had padded to StarClan on paws he could not see, a path he could not follow.

"Morningpaw," he whispers dully. "I... can't..." He can't. He can't send her away, and he feels bile rise in his throat at the memory of his daughter dying.

His voice is flat but authoritative when he speaks.

"This is not the time for this discussion. You are wounded badly. The kit you've brought here is terrified." He sighs. "Dawnglare, he will need treatment. But I fear he won't be able to make it to camp without support."

He flicks his tail. "Mountainheart, Squallmist, help Dandelionwish to camp now. To the medicine cat den."

He sighs and glances at Orangeblossom and Daisyflight. "The kit will need to go, too, to ensure any injuries she might have are well-cared for. Please help her make it to camp."

He knows in his bones this is not the decision a wise Clan leader would make. He does.

But he can't help but see Morningpaw in the frail, crimson-splashed form of the WindClan kit's face.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[Sharpeye]

☁ Sharpeye bore a stern glare as he continued to stare at the pair of former WindClanners. Honestly, if it were up to him he would have forced them away and left them for dead. Quite frankly even his level of patience was worn thin and it was beginning to show. However, he takes some peace when Blazestar arrives and he finds himself waiting with a bated breath for their leader's decision. But his heart soon sinks as it is decided that they would bring the pair back to their camp for treatment.

The sandy tom longs to make some passing remark like "are you truly sure about this?" or "is this wise?", but he ultimately holds his tongue. Such remarks would do no good now, and the last thing he wanted was to risk bringing Blazestar down in any way. He had to have faith in his leader, even if he wasn't happy about it. Sighing, he then proceeded to take a step towards the ragdoll. "Shall I go and check that they weren't followed to our territory?" At least then he could stay out and make himself useful, far away from the ex-WindClanners they were taking back to the camp.
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