- Dec 26, 2022
- 282
- 81
- 28
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.
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.
┌── ooc
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info ──┐
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For anyone who didn't go to the gathering!
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"speech"
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