camp i see fire — coming home

Feb 18, 2023
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anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
// takes place some time after this thread !

The fight had been brutal, losing a leader and friend, if only briefly as others drove away the behemoth with its tail tucked between quivering legs, blood coating its blackened fur, staining it an eerier mixture of ichor and the blackest of nights.

He would have given Drizzle a few head pats if he wasn't hanging between consciousness and passing out, stumbling through the undergrowth with Dove helping. It was an anchor he needed, heart still beating rapidly, roaring in his ears like angered dragons, teeth gritting at the shockwave of pain that ran from nose to tip.

A little further, you damn fool. He coughed, chest shuddering, breath hiccuping in his throat as he stumbled, nose skimming the ground before he righted himself, hackle rising. Can't die yet. He had no intention of becoming another dead weight to the battered group, but he wanted to succumb to the darkness teasing the edges of his only working optic, the other bathed in blood, scrunched up, no longer visible beneath the ripped flesh.

He had to make sure the others stepped paw into camp, even if it was the last thing he did. He swore he wouldn't be a failure, not again. He failed too many times. No hope in ever redeeming himself, but this time … Duskpool glanced at the returning group with a heavy heart. He still failed, didn't he?

It was a wonder why Blaze made him a warrior, no less trusted him. He was reckless, but how could he not when others put themselves willingly in jeopardy? He'd be damned if he didn't back them up or give them cover, something to aid them, no matter how foolish it is.

Dusk wasn't keen on announcing his affection to the clan, he sure as hell wouldn't start now. He wondered just how he managed to surround himself with a bunch of foolish foolish idiots. Did they want to give him a heart attack? Sure. He wasn't in his prime, but geez. Learn to give this poor fool a warning before jumping into danger. He knew that wasn't possible, but with how little he hoped, it wouldn't be that big of a request, right?

It felt like his kits were the ones putting themselves at risk, even if he had no connections to most of them, nor did he have much contact, preferring to stay in the shadows, watching from afar.

He laughed, choked. Fucking idiot. For someone who was so damn certain he wouldn't grow attached to them for fear of having his bleeding heart ripped bare, he was doing a poor job at it.

The obsidian-furred brute stepped paw into camp, relaxing into his tired ( albeit numb ) paws, swaying where he stood, feeling the caress of darkness rippling along the edge of his vision.

He grunted, turning to his apprentice, offering Drizzle a soothing rumble, unable to move any further as he spoke, voice raw. "You did good, kid." He wanted to say more. To show him how proud he was ( he was so so proud of Drizzle ), but that moment didn't come as he collapsed.

Everyone was home. That's all Dusk could ask for after such troubling times. As his vision darkened, he welcomed the sweet release of unconsciousness without a fight.

footnote : tagging @Drizzlepaw @Sootspritespark. @bobbie @BLAZESTAR @Coyotecrest @TWITCHBOLT @FIGFEATHER @dovetail
thought speech
 
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The lilac queen trudged alongside the returning group; she still had no idea why she'd passed out, but she was awake now (if dizzy and with a murderous headache), and she supposed that was what really mattered—she hadn't been out for long at all, apparently. She's still reeling from the revelation (or really, remembrance) of Blazestar's nine lives; faintly she's embarassed of how she'd reacted to his death, hoping nobody talks about her reaction. Thankfully, her usually-buzzing mind is quiet for once, if more than a little foggy for reasons she doesn't quite have the mental willpower to try and find out right now. Bobbie's grateful for the slow pace of the return, now that the dog's been driven off; she keeps stumbling, for some reason, has almost tripped a couple times, disoriented, tired, and just following the pawsteps of the cat in front of her.

It doesn't help that her side, face, and shoulder have been freshly bruised not one, not two, but three times; the pain checks her haggard steps and radiates dully out from where she'd been struck. The fur along her torn side is matted with dried blood, and she's fearful of stepping too quickly and reopening the barely-clotted wounds. The one benefit of her foggy head is that it's dulled the pain racing about her entire body a bit, although the pounding headache it's brought along is not appreciated. Still, Bobbie keeps moving doggedly (oh, how funny it really isn't to say) forward, squinting at the light and fixing in her head the driving vision behind making this trek: the faces of her three children, who she's worried about much more than herself.

They finally step into camp; Bobbie wants to bolt for the nursery immediately, and she plans to soon, but first she glances about their little party to check on everyone. Duskpool's murmuring something to Drizzlepaw, that he's proud of him (Bobbie is inclined to agree, he'd likely saved them all going to get help), when suddenly the big tom collapses—Bobbie darts over with a wince, suddenly realizing how worrisome it must be to see someone simply fall over like that. It soothes her jangled nerves a bit to see the steady rise and fall of his dark-furred flank, but she glances around at the nearby cats, mewing anxiously, "Is he al-alright? We sh-should probably get him seen by D-D-D-Daw.....D-D..." The experience has set her on edge and the queen's muzzle knots up with the effort; oh, how she loathes the way that stupid stutter pitches up when she's emotional. In the state she's in, it'll take her a moon and a half to spit out his name; she settles for gesturing towards the medicine den. Duskpool needs treatment the most out of all of them, she's certain.
 
❪ TAGS ❫ — Coward. A mouse-hearted coward he was for deliberately shrinking away from the call for help, staying back in the safety of camp while other warriors rushed out into the territory to aid their clanmates. Slate was bigger than some dogs—why must he be so terribly afraid of them? However, the massive warrior could not help the icy chills that rushed through his veins like a raging river the moment he heard a mutt baying, or whenever anyone mentioned smelling dog nearby or even—stars forbid—seeing one on the horizon. Traumatizing memories burned into his brain like a charred tree; the very jaws of a dog had almost taken his eye, with a scar to prove it, and ever since then Slate could not bring himself to confront one even if their stature was lesser than his.

The lead warrior had been on edge and impatient for the party's return, pacing back and forth about camp with haunting thoughts of blood-soaked canine jowls buzzing in his mind and chilling barks ringing in his ears. The view of the group stumbling back into camp, battered and bruised, caused Slate to snap back into reality and slowly approach. "... Shit." The former rogue grumbled, eyes dancing back and forth among varying gashes and bites. " @DAWNGLARE , @Fireflypaw - you've got some work to do." The Maine Coon vocalizes to wherever the medicine cats are, though he doubts it won't take them much longer to arrive.

Instead of fretting about the individual injuries of his clanmates, Slate instead opts to inquire about the stray mongrel, "The dog... it's gone? Is it out of the territory?" His top priority at the moment is knowing that the dog has been chased off and is long gone — he's unsure if he'll be able to remain calm if not.

Then, Duskpool fell to the ground with a big thud. Slate took a step back, surprised and arching his brows at this sudden development. "That's not good." He didn't appear to be bleeding profusely; Slate could observe a minor gash in the tom's side and some blood coming from his ear, but not much else. He could have just been exhausted and spent from fighting off the mongrel. Still, the possibility of a newly-made corpse collapsed in the middle of camp couldn't be entirely ruled out. Whatever it was, Slate wasn't a medicine cat and would leave the tending to them.
 
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HE SAID, "WELL MY NAME'S JOHNNY, AND IT MIGHT BE A SIN
BUT I'LL TAKE YOUR BET, AND YOU'RE GONNA REGRET, CUZ IM THE BEST THERE'S EVER BEEN."



Johnny had been out in the forest going over hunting techniques with @>Scorchedpaw when he caught scent of the blood. Thick, coppery ichor was heavy on the breeze, and with a lurching heart he'd ordered his apprentice back to camp with him, sprinting the entire way. His head was swimming ith worry- what if it was Thistle, back and hurt from whatever ordeal he'd been put through out in twoleg place? The thought had him practically racing back to camp, lagging only enough to ensure he didn't lose his apprentice along the way.

"What's happened?" he called as he shouldered his way through the entrance and into the small clearing, amber eyes wide and searching.

When his gaze landed on Duskpool, bloody and unconscious at Drizzlepaws feet, his heart sunk. "Oh, no, no, no. Duskpool, can you hear me? Just- just keep breathing!" he urged as he made his way to the larger toms side, paws pressing against the worst of the open wounds in an attempt to slow the bleeding as Slate called for the medics.

"Don't you dare die!" he growled softly as his paws and forlegs began to stain with red. Dusk was a strong cat. Surely he'd survive this? While they had only really interacted the one time, it's left enough of a positive mark on the bobtail to consider the other a friend.


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He could not halt his jittering as their party returned, a doubled patrol from one reinforced. Twitchbolt himself was unharmed, untouched by canid claws or jaws- but the cats who had been fighting it before him, he could not say the same about. Bobbie wobbled on her feet, Duskpool appeared to barely be standing, and Blazestar- well, Blazestar had been healed once again by the sacred paws of StarClan. Was that- in any way painful, afterwards? Did it ache like the wound might've, without leaking blood? It seemed an odd question to ask. Seemed- stupid to think about asking. Especially now. As if he would ever!

His jaw clattered as his teeth, loosened as he opened his maw to respond, knocked against each other. Visibly and heavily, Twitchbolt flinched at the thump of Duskpool hitting the ground, unable to think straight for a few moments. He was- breathing, though. Alive, or there'd be a bigger uproar. And- well, no-one would think of dying with Johnnyflame demanding that they didn't. Shuddering, Twitchbolt set wide eyes upon Slate.

"It's- def-definitely gone," he confirmed, moving his head in a hurried nod. He panted from the run over- from the brief chase given to ensure the dog wasn't looping back for a second go. He felt, thankfully, confident in his assertion. "But- but, there was a... real fight." As if that wasn't obvious- Twitchbolt felt like he too could fall to the ground from how idiotic he felt, having uttered something so easily observed. He couldn't think straight, paws fidgeting with panic, making a visible, trembling effort to keep a lid on his panic. Duskpool wasn't dead, wouldn't die. No one was dead. Permanently.
penned by pin ✧
 
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It always seems like when peace comes, more chaos follows. Fireflypaw cannot fathom what peace is like anymore, not in his position- but he holds his head high nonetheless. He's got to keep his head on straight, else he falls to the panic that surrounds him. Slate's yelled to the medicine cat's den, sensitive ears perking to listen. "You've got some work to do." "Alright, we're coming." Fireflypaw meows softly, ever so gently as to not make the panicking worse. His paw shifts through moss, lifting up a few small bundles of the spongy material and some cobwebs to go with. His mentor will gather the rest, but Fireflypaw would free the high priest's paws of the more minor things.

Taking the initiative, Fireflypaw rushes out of the den to reach the rescue party, the smell of blood heavy in the air.

"How many injured?" He asks loud enough over the cries, nose sniffing at Duskpool's wounds. "Gash on this side here, his ear is pretty badly torn too." He calls out, giving Johnny a look of 'Let me do my job' before he gently attempts to push the shorter tom to the side. Cobwebs press to where paws were previously, trying to stop the bleeding before more red ichor spills out. This is all he could do right now, was there an herb that could slow the bleeding, possibly? ​
SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE ✦ 11 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS
 
It's hard to try and not cry, but Drizzlepaw feels a breakdown incoming as worry hits him like a monster on the thunderpath. Not now, he wills his eyes as he has to keep it together for now. There's more pressing issues, like his mentor's wounds, blood flowing at a rate too fast for the apprentice's comfort. He's okay, for now, but that could change at a moment's notice. The minutes feel grueling as the walk back to camp is slow; they can't go too fast out of fear of Duskpool or Bobbie collapsing again, but it makes his fear claw at him even stronger.

Back to safety, his feelings once more threatens to spill out, but this time he can't stop it. Tears stream down his face, as he sees Duskpool's body finally giving up. The dam bursts as he's given praise, and he should be happy. He is, but what if? What is that's the last thing he's ever told by him? "You...you did good, too!" He exclaims, even if it falls of deaf ears. He cries next to his mentor's unconscious body, praying he makes it. "StarClan, please let him live! He can't die, not now!" Not when you have so much to teach me still...

Drizzlepaw takes a step back as Fireflypaw approaches, though his vision is blurry. He doesn't really have the energy to keep a conversation for too long, but he still feels the need to explain what happened. "Duskpool and Bobbie are the ones who need the most help, the rest of us are okay but...but Blazestar lost another life..." He gets choked up again, and can't help but lie down on the ground, tail curling around his body as he starts shaking.​
 
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☆ -- | It was... a good thing Brightpaw hadn't been there when the dog had attacked, or else she likely would have lost her life. She was horrible at fighting, and although she was learning she didn't think that she would ever learn properly enough if she was caught in something like that, or was caught in a fight with another clan for whatever reason. The scent of blood filling her nose, she looked on with wide eyed-horror as the cats flooded into camp, and listened as they spoke. So many injured, Blazestar lost a life, but the dog was gone. There was no more danger from that. That was good.

She sat a bit further back, ears flattening to her head before she looked over to Fireflypaw. "Is there anything I can help with while we wait for Dawnglare?" She would ask, quieter than usual but still able to be heard. She knew nothing about medicine, wouldn't even know what different herbs looked like if she were asked to get them. The most she could do was hold a stick, but she wanted to be helpful. Wanted a distraction from her thoughts.​
 

Thankfully, a crowd is drawn by their return, and Fireflypaw quickly emerges onto the scene to help treat the collapsed Duskpool. Bobbie lingers, uncertain of whether she's needed to help keep a eye on the situation or tell the medicine cats exactly what happened; on the other paw, she wants to run to the nursery and reunite with her poor kits. Drizzlepaw, who'd so quickly ran to fetch the help they'd desperately needed, is crying and then shaking on the ground. Cats cluster about the unconscious Duskpool, and Bobbie hurries to counter the poor apprentice's words, waving one paw somewhat flippantly as she mews firmly, "Tr-Treat Duskpool first. I'll be f-fine, but that dog really ripped him u-u-up. Mostly just br-bruises and a few c-cuts, here."

Her stupid stammer is still intensified by stress, to her dismay, and it perhaps belies the faux ease of her waved paw. 'A few cuts' comprises long overlapping tears up one side, but she's willing to hold fast on this—she'd seen the blood soaking poor Duskpool's mauled face and the various gashes and twists wracking his body. Her much milder injuries should certainly fall by the wayside in the face of his assorted wounds—after all, what can the medicine cats do for simple, if severe, bruising and whatever's making her head sore and foggy? Once she's asserted this, she moves towards where Drizzlepaw lies on the ground. Bobbie's mew is tired but still an attempt at comforting, "H-He'll be alright, Drizzlepaw, I'm s-sure of it. You did all you could d-d-do, running to get help, and .... and now the m-medicine cats can help him."
 
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Drizzlepaw sniffles quietly, sinking into his own little world as panic has made him shut down for the moment. He doesn't get like this often, really only when he was at his worst, and he feels like it, his worst. At least he was capable at handling himself in the heat of the moment. But right now, with almost no threat to him, it's hard to not give in to his body's demands.

He only looks up as Bobbie starts to speak to him, as even his body knows her words are important to him. Another tiny smile flutters on his face, even if it doesn't fully reach his eyes. "I tried my best...I know that. Thank you. I'm glad you're holding up..." Drizzlepaw doesn't want to jinx it any further, so he stops talking there. He then purrs in a comforting way, for both him and her.​
 
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The scent of blood invades his senses– bullies at space within the crevice between mind and soul. He could not ignore it if he tried– and to forget was far from his god - given duty. There are things one like him must know, knowledge passed from the stars; a boon for the mortal world, kept safe within the vault that was his mind. White paws approach swift, pristine in comparison to the red mess that coated the others' (No– his gore was all his own, stripped at birth and lain across his fleece back) The things no others quite knew were dredged up in the dust he disturbed. Knowing– a glance. His head snaps to their leader.

Five.

Disconcertment flashes clear over Dawnglare's face. Perfectly visible, but something there. An almost - sneeze, grimace of the mouth, throat, and lungs. It is nearly visceral, the way he reacts, but such a thing was no longer his concern, and such a thing was something easy to be missed. No, he hardly feels it at all. His mind is clear and his skull worn. A short moment behind his apprentice, Dawnglare appears within the crowd.

" I am here, " he says, answering a voice without seeing the mouth it came from. He sees the lump that is a fallen warrior, Fireflypaw already at their side. The chatter turned to static, Dawnglare would glide forward with a crease in his brow, and jostling Fireflypaw aside, he would dip a white - painted chin to nose at the injuries parting through fur. Oh, unbearable pain, he is certain – and this he acknowledges with the sort of doting coo his mother might've once given him – however this one would not die, and he would lift his chin to say as such. " No one will be dying, " he announces, though his eyes would find Blazestars, similar hues of blue, and river of thought would stutter, momentarily. " No one else, " hisses between teeth, and without words: I will be seeing you soon.

He'd look to his apprentice then. " You will move him " To the nearest lead warrior, he would cast a glance. " And you, " Heavy breath drawn through the nose.

Remarkably attentive, his sniffing brings him elsewhere. Whiskers are curling towards a queen, chestnut brown. A paw rocks manifests anxiety, rocking strangely against the ground. Kind eyes he turns would be a rarity. " You– you must be hurting. I will give you something. " Suddenly wide - eyed, his gaze would flicker to seemingly nothing at all.

It's gone as quick as it comes, though. He releases a held breath, slipping in the direction of his den with the a gesture of his tail, follow me.

His eyes flicker to the grey apprentice briefly. Fear - scent and rain minded. Briefly, Dawnglare considers a similar offer. Relief of pain of relief of anxiety... It would not be a pressing matter now, though. No... later. He is muttering under his breath as he leaves.

[ ooc: out! tldr; asking firefly, slate and / or johnny to help in assisting duskpool back to the den, also gesturing for Bobbie to follow ]
 
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Fireflypaw is prodded to the side, and he scoots over obediently to allow his mentor some space to look at Duskpool's injuries. He must have missed something, because Dawnglare is telling him to move the large Warrior to their den. Brightpaw asks if she can help him, and Fireflypaw gives her a comforting smile in return. "Gather any more injured and help bring them to the medicine den, please? That means you too, Bobbie." He asks the shorter molly, giving her a blink of appreciation before he begins to carefully wedge himself under Duskpool. He shimmies, head scooting under muscle as massive body lurches forward with the weight. A Lead Warrior is called over to help, and Fireflypaw nods to them in thanks.

"Nobody will die today." He echoes his mentor's words, determination in ghostly blue eyes as he takes his first step. One, then two, three, four. His eyelashes flutter as he begins his trek to his den. When he arrives, with or without the help of the lead warriors, he lets the Warrior slide off of his back and into a nest; clumsily tripping forward. "Shall I clean the wounds, Dawnglare?" The apprentice speaks up as he sniffs at the wounds, finally spotting the damage done to the man's eye. "Shit," Fireflypaw slips up and curses, tail flicking behind him. "His eye smells weird. I hope it won't get infected." He murmurs as he walks out to the medicine den.

// out!​
SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE ✦ 11 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS
 
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He’s so tired.

It seems to Blazestar every life he loses takes more from the core of his soul, but also his body. Though the gaping wound in his throat has been closed by the mercy of StarClan, it aches, erased from existence, the scar he’ll wield forever covered by the thick ruff of sand-colored fur hanging about his neck. He limps alongside his Clanmates, watches with blue eyes dusted with exhaustion as Duskpool collapses from his injuries and Bobbie weakly stutters for him to be tended to first.

He tries to reassure the queen, laying the cottony fluff of his tail against her shoulder. “He’ll be okay. He will need a lot of rest after this. And so will you.” Blazestar’s eyes flick over the wounds torn across her delicate body. “You fought as bravely as any warrior.

His head swivels to Drizzlepaw, who seems nervous, crumpling in on himself as his mentor is worked over by the medicine cats. “And so did you. You were swift when asked to get help, and it was your final blow that drove that beast away from us.” His whiskers twitch. “When Duskpool and I are fit enough, I believe it’ll be time to talk about your warrior ceremony.

Blazestar gives an appreciative nod to Twitchbolt, Coyotecrest, and Figfeather. “Your assistance was appreciated. Please eat and rest now.” Facing a hound of that character, and witnessing the near-slaughter of many Clanmates, isn’t easy for a young warrior, but they’d all performed flawlessly. Despite the wounds they all wear, Blazestar is proud of his Clan.

He catches Dawnglare’s cerulean gaze, but he says nothing. “No one else will be dying,” the fox-pelted medicine cat declares. No one else. Blazestar wonders if he can see the dull cast of his eyes, his weakened spirit, the way his steps have slowed. He has aged moons since awakening again, it seems.

After several heartbeats, he murmurs, “Tend to those StarClan could not heal themselves. I will be in my den until there’s space for me.” He exhales softly, brushing beside Fireflypaw and heading for the elderberry bush concealing his sanctuary.

// out :)


[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]
 

The healers arrive, after what feels like an eternity and was likely only the span of a few moments, pulling Bobbie's attention away from poor Drizzlepaw. Dawnglare gives lilting directions, commanding cats this way and that to maneuver the large unconscious shape of Duskpool. Suddenly it's clear to her despite his strangeness, his sour behavior during her kitting, why he holds this position; maligned as his thoughts might be, he certainly seems to have become capable in the face of tragedy. Perhaps even the strangest cats are cut out to hold power. Blazestar himself seems okay, upright at least, despite the way his throat had shredded like paper this very day; his tail is on her shoulder and his voice in her ears then gone the next moment, crossing camp towards his own den. Worried sage eyes follow him.

Blazestar's demeanour is strange, weary, distracting her thoughts, and it startles her a touch when the odd healer turns towards her, electric sky-blue eyes a disturbance in behavior with the rare kindness they hold. His gaze flickers blankly away as quickly as it settled on her, Dawnglare's melodious voice cognizant of her pain and offering a nebulous solution. Anything to dim the great bone-deep ache of her side, she thinks, and once they've got a hold of Duskpool she obeys the gesture of the white-dipped tail and ducks a touch hesitantly after him into the medicine den.

// just wanted to get in an officially out post! so, out :D
 
I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I WANT AND WHO I WANNA BE
sootspritespark | 36 months | demi-girl | she/they | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #ffff99
When sootspritespark returns to camp, she is damn near unscathed - a smattering of bruises, some missing chunks of fur, a few scrapes - and above all a broken collar clutched in her jaws. Nothing more sever lines the womans features, and the rather round molly watches as clanmates gather around them, a frown on her face and an unusually cold look in sunshine eyes. "I will not be needing any - I'm returning home for the day, my twolegs will care for me," she does not see the appeal of herbs and spiderwebs - her twolegs can fix anything, heal anything, it only takes a trip to the strange-smelling place. Sure, she'll get poked and prodded a bit, and probably locked indoors for a few days while they replace her beloved collar, but it's better than being dead - or worse, scarred and maimed. "Tch,' her annoyance slips through her mask for once, and she leaves just as quickly as she arrives - it's best to go now, before someone can try to change her mind.

// out <3
 
Drizzlepaw sighs in slight annoyance as Dawnglare is being Dawnglare, but he can't stay mad for that long. Bobbie needs help too, so he's glad she's getting it. His thoughts are mostly on Blazestar's words before he left for his den, though. It's strange to think that it won't be that long until he's graduated, but the leader almost made it sound like it would come quicker than he thought. Was what he did really that impressive? To him, it was just necessary.

He doesn't have the energy to be anxious about that right now, however, as Duskpool's health is more important. At least he's gotten confirmation that he should live from this, so he feels better about letting some tension go. That quickly invites tiredness to fill his body, and he's suddenly very tired. He wants to help move his mentor, but he thinks he'd just end up collapsing himself. "Take care when you carry Duskpool...I think I need to sleep..." It's obvious when he wobbles off to the apprentice den, ready to rest off the mental pain.

// Out!
 

HE SAID, "WELL MY NAME'S JOHNNY, AND IT MIGHT BE A SIN
BUT I'LL TAKE YOUR BET, AND YOU'RE GONNA REGRET, CUZ IM THE BEST THERE'S EVER BEEN."​



Paws staunched the flow of blood as best they could until the arrival of Fireflypaw. Despite his instincts to help, the koi tomcat didn't argue, stepping back with bloodied paws and worried golden eyes as the younger cat stepped up and began to look them over. And for perhaps the first time, Johnny was glad to see Dawnglare arrive, as cryptic and odd as ever. The bobtail still hardly ever understood half the things that came out of the others mouth, but he recognized an order when it was given to him.

"You will move him."

He nodded, stepping forward again after the pair of medics had assessed the situation. Johnny may have been easily dwarfed in height by cats like Slate, Blazestar, and even Duskpool themselves, but Johnny was no weakling, his stocky frame carved with muscle that he made sure to put to good work on the daily, and he managed to slip under Dusk so that the tom was draped over his back, hauling him off to a nest in the medics den, offering a nod of understanding to Drizzlepaw before the exhausted apprentice turned away.