camp I GOT SPURS | Gathering Stragglers

[Firefang]

The moon is high shining as gallantly and inviting as it always does, unchanged and unaware of the destruction beginning to tear through the moors. They're sitting ducks pretending heather and gorse will save them from the blaze. Firefang was surprised when Sunstar had chosen in spite of the dire circumstances to lead a patrol to the gathering, spreading the news was important. Fire could spread easily and it wouldn't just be Windclan in it's path if it continued to ravage the foliage until there was nothing left but soil and ash. She doesn't argue or yowl any complaints when they leave but she wouldn't dare leave the camp on this night there was to much at stake. The more warriors left behind the better, every paw and maw would be needed if worse came to worse.

Uneasily she paces the clearing, fur fluffed up and tail lashing - she hadn't been able to relax since she and Slateheart returned from their patrol. She ignores the ache in her lungs - stifles the occasional cough she makes, she'd inhaled too much smoke but refused thus far to seek out aid. She was fine, and she wouldn't be the only one with a slight wheeze if the smoke continued to billow into the sky. Just days ago the air was clean and crisp, now it felt heavier. A rattle of a sharp cough escapes her only to be muffled by gritted teeth as she swallows it down, she needed to sit down, needed to do the impossible task of relaxing.

Her fiery gaze flitters between the flanks of her clanmates, many are just as on guard though they didn't prefer the isolation of marching like a soldier like she did they sat close together heads low and maws opening in discussion. With a breath she pads over to a small group, eyeing them warily before meowing. "Hopefully they'll be back soon with some kind of good news" she looks doubtful "Starclan knows we need that." she sits herself down, tail wrapping around her haunches. She tries to slow her breath to keep the rattle in her chest inaudible, it hurts but she ain't no little bitch! "If this fire becomes the death of me I'll haunt these moors" she's says half to herself in a grumble. It'd be ironic and fitting wouldn't it - it felt the life she was living was some grandiose joke to make her hurt. Nothing was going right. But she wasn't a quitter, she'd get through this like she got through everything; with spite.

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‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

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  For anyone who didn't go to the gathering!
  

• "speech"

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  Firefang ✩ She/Her, Warrior of Windclan, 22 moons
  ⭃ Black tabby she-cat with amber eyes. former-loyalist of Sootstar, Moorunner.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots. ​

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[SCORCHSTAR]

༄༄ Scorchstreak does not scorn her leader, her friend, for deciding to go to the gathering after all. The risks and rewards of going are varied, and though she does not agree with Sunstar’s choice, she must respect it. Her wishes had simply been in the minority of the council’s; she cannot fault them for that.

She can, however, fret over the smoke that blots out some of the stars and occasionally obscures the clan’s view of the full moon. At least she does not sit alone as she bares her concern to the world; a few clanmates join her in discussing their worry for the state of the moorland. This fire… it isn’t looking good. WindClan is resilient, tough, but this threat is not one th at can be fought off with claws and teeth. It can only be endured. Survived.

Firefang’s approach is met with narrowed golden eyes, commenting her hope for good news although she seems doubtful of it. "Hopefully they’ll return soon so Wolfsong can check on that cough," she comments, her tail tip flicking back and forth with a touch of restlessness. "But with any luck, this fire will be the death of no one. Least of all you—stars know we need you hunting and fighting, not haunting the kits’ nightmares." Though she may not trust the she-cat any farther than she could kick her, Scorchstreak is willing to admit that Firefang is a valuable clanmate. Though the chances of any WindClanner succumbing to the fire are high in her eyes, the calico does not think Firefang is at risk. Her name suits her in that way—it is difficult to imagine the tabby-striped moor runner being consumed by fire rather than wielding it in her words.​

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[CENTIPEDEBITE]

This wretched smoke is making Centipedebite agitated, and of course he's not the only one—it's hard to miss the cats gathering in the clearing discussing the fires, though the anxiety making his legs feel heavier than they should hardly allows him to pick out many of their words from this distance even if he normally could've. Thoughts of hunkering down in the tunnels where the fire would seem less present pass through their mind, knowing full-well it was likely that the flames would cause issues even underground if they reached them. At least the smoke wasn't. visible underground. It would certainly be beneficial to their mind to be able to ignore the flames and their exhaust entirely, to pretend that they weren't real, to act as though nothing had changed, to keep himself seemingly safe for a short while until the heat forced them to acknowledge reality.

Wandering away from their nest on stiff legs, they momentarily turn their head to look up at the sky, and quickly turn their face away when a cloud of ash blots out a good amount of the moon's light. It calls to mind the image of the sun blotted out by whatever that had been, and now they were being forced into further darkness even during the night. What sour luck.

Blinking in the remaining moonlight, their expression twists into something like disgust. "This is very bad," He says plainly.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎BY GAMBLING AND RISKING MY LIFE ♠ WHAT AM I HOPING FOR?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

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• no ref yet lol

• 
  ♠. shorthaired solid black with low white & vitiligo, blue-gray eyes
  ♠. 35 moons, ages the 13th of every month; npc x npc
  ♠. afab, he/they/it; masc terms
  ♠. bisexual; single, not purposely looking
  ♠. peaceful & minor harm powerplay permitted
  ♠. not easy to befriend; distrustful & sometimes paranoid
  ♠. may start fights, may end fights, will not show mercy
  ♠. ic opinions!
  

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[Beepaw]

Beekit can't sleep. They haven't been able to since the fire started, with their Clanmates murmuring worriedly and the gross smell of smoke in the air. One pale eye cracks open, sick of tossing and turning and finding no respite, and their ears fold back at the sight of the gingery, smoke-stained moon. Still sleepy but becoming more alert by the second, they leave their nest and pick their way across camp to where a few of the warriors cluster. With no deputy and Sunstar at the Gathering tonight, they look to one of his council for answers.

"Scorchstreak?" Beekit pauses a couple of paw-lengths away, resisting the urge to press close to one of the warriors for comfort. Despite trying to put on a brave face, they can't hide the tremble in their whiskers or the terror in their eyes as they stare skyward.

"What happened to the moon? Will Sunstar come back soon? My eyes sting, I can't sleep ..." Their questions turn to soft complaints, unsure of how else to articulate their discomfort. ​

 

[sparkspirit]

"Is that possible, do you think?" he asks softly, the words out of his mouth before he quite makes it to Firefang's side. The others are already talking about the moon, the fire, Sunstar. He doesn't particularly care about that. Though the tom doesn't make direct eye contact, he glances at the larger warrior from the corner of his vision. His expression is taut and serious, but not due to the molly herself. Unlike what seems to be most of his clanmates, he doesn't really blame her for what she'd done. After all. . . had those claws not gone for his family's throats, perhaps he would have wound up just the same. It's something he tries not to linger on.

He leans a little closer to her, just so that his quiet words are heard a bit easier. "Haunting the moors, I mean. Or would StarClan drag you up there even if you didn't want to go?" Sometimes he wonders if that was how he felt about things. If he would rather live and die and stay forever on this one spot, despite everything that happened. Sparkspirit huffs a sound that might be a laugh.

𝘛𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘓𝘌𝘋 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘋𝘚 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐  ･｡ﾟ  🗲  ╱╱ 02.13.2023 𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘚𝘈𝘠 ˊˎ＜

• OOC. —
• 🗲　　. 　 ˚　.  SPARKSPIRIT. HE - HIM - HIS. 17 MOON OLD MOOR RUNNER OF WINDCLAN. VERY LOYAL TO HIS CLAN. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  ————
  
  
  ——  a trim mock tortoiseshell tom with mostly black fur splashed with the occasional patch orange. he has a singular white mark on the back of his neck shaped similarly to a lightning strike, and a small scar across the bridge of his nose. his eyes are a shocking electric blue.
  

  ✦ ECHOLIGHT x ELMBREEZE. ADOPTED BY YEWBERRY. BRIGHTFAM, BUT SOMEWHAT ESTRANGED DUE TO HIS LOYALTY TO WINDCLAN. ————————

• "speech"

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