sensitive topics i'm your friend, and i'm your shade ⚘ death

[oakrumble]

tw: description of death, minor gore (blood)

-ˋˏ The forest is blanketed in snow, casting the world into eerie dimness as Oakrumble pads wearily back towards camp. Even in the most solemn and grim Leafbare the torbie has ever seen she manages to keep a slight smile upon her misshapen maw, a warm invitation amidst the doom and gloom to her beloved clanmates. Dusk swiftly approaches as Oakrumble meanders beneath the canopy of pine trees. Restlessness had pried her away from camp and led her to the Twolegplace border, in search of nothing but the company of the frostbitten air. Her paws make large imprints in the packed snow as she departs from the border's edge to follow a well trodden path to return home. A gruff chuckle bellows from her as she steps into a pawprint left by the last patrols to come this way, her own round print swallowing the previous one.

Oakrumble, the warrior known to always be at alert to ensure she can protect her counterparts, lets her guard down. Her whiskers twitch as she finds amusement in imagining which pawprints belonged to who, pausing every few tail lengths to press her own into the snow; maybe she wants to leave a trail of her own bizarrely large pawprints for the dawn patrol to find amusement in, if it does not snow overnight. It is such kit-like behavior from the brute but she decides it to be harmless, after all she works so tirelessly to provide and protect. The torbie nods stiffly after her momentary diversion and continues on- but she'll not return to Beechdapple's side tonight.

She is but two tail lengths into continuing on her way when she is ambushed. Weight is dropped upon her shoulders from a branch above, accompanied by searing pain digging into head just below the base of her ears. Oakrumble scrambles forward as she swings her broad head, attempting to dislodge the hold her ambusher has. The weight of her foe shifts, they jump away by their own volition and Oakrumble whirls around, hoping to meet her attack in fair combat. It is quick. It isn't my time! I can't... As her head swings around jaws meet their target. Pressure, pain radiating outwards from where teeth rip into her throat. It is an unimaginable pain that makes her crumble and wilt. All of it meant nothing- her strength and her prowess in battle. She could not do anything at all but stare straight into the hollow, dim glare of Kitestorm as they steal her life.

No one meets her to escort her to Starclan. This is okay... Oakrumble decides as she stares down at her own lifeless body, her life's blood dyeing the snow crimson. Maybe her death was too sudden even for Starclan. And just like that, heh...? There was so much for her to do... but she promised to die for the clan when she joined... all those moons ago, didn't she? As snow begins to sprinkle her stout body and erase the pawprints that brought her so much joy, Oakrumble finally lets go and finds her place among Silverpelt.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌──HOW DO YOU SEE ME? ⋅⚘⋅ AM I WHO I USED TO BE ──┐‎

• Disclaimer!! There will be no signs of Kitestorm at the scene of the crime!!
  ily oak<33

• 

• 
  OAKRUMBLE ❋ she/her, warrior of skyclan, 56 moons.
  ☼ lh chocolate torbie, stout and muscular she-cat with an overbite.
  ☼ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ☼ penned by @ken_Unot, feel free to dm for plots on disc!

​

 

[Ekat]

Ekat wasn't sure if she'd find anything within the endless mirage of snow when she'd set out into the forest that day, only hoping against hope that the blizzard wouldn't return. But as the scent of blood hits the roof of her mouth, the young warrior realizes with the sickening drop in her chest that she'd rather have braved the storm again. Reluctantly Ekat follows the trail, her pawsteps growing slower in the blanket of snow until they halt upon spotting the lifeless form of Oakrumble, sprawled and stained crimson among the sea of white. Ekat's head swims at the sight of her Clanmate, pelt matted with blood and body already stiff with the chill of death, and she wonders briefly if Oakrumble might still be salvageable, just clinging to life. She rushes forward, stumbling to the ground at her side and pushing her nose into the older she-cat's flank, seeking any last dredges of warmth, a heartbeat, a breath. She doesn't find any. Only the cold biting into her bones as relentlessly as the reality at her paws.

Desperation claws at Ekat's chest as she forces herself back to her paws, her head snapping up to scan the empty, snow-cloaked forest surrounding them. She parts her panting jaws, hoping to catch a scent of what did this to her Clanmate, if it was still nearby. Was a predator lurking in the shadows of the trees? But all she can smell is blood and snow, cloaking her senses. Her claws unsheathe instinctively as she begins to turn in frantic circles, searching the snow-covered ground for tracks, for some sort of clue, for anything. "Oakrumble..." she murmurs under her breath, her voice trembling, suddenly wishing her father were beside her so that she didn't have to face the corpse of her once-warm Clanmate all by herself. She turns, her wide eyes returning to Oakrumble's form, tears blurring her vision. Ekat hadn't witnessed death this closely in a long time. And although she wasn't close with Oakrumble, she'd still hoped she'd never have to again. "Fireflyglow!" she cries out into the trees. "Someone!"

/ @Fireflyglow​

 

[FIGFEATHER]

Figfeather is drawn to the scene by Ekat's frantic wailing. She stops in her tracks when she sees why she is so distraught.

"Oakrumble…" Figfeather chokes, shaking her head in dismay. "What could've done this?!" Rogues? Foxes? The two were infamous for preying on SkyClan cats, had they returned?

Figfeather places a paw atop of Oakrumble's broad shoulders. She looks down at her deceased Clanmate with a frown, "Lets get her back to camp. Fireflyglow can look at her there." 'And prepare her for her vigil…' Figfeather stares at the gaping wound on her throat, promising to remember what her attacker had done to her.

Stuck like a hog. Oakrumble deserved so much better.

 

[Cherryblossom]

She's been here before. Metal in the cold air, wails in the distance. Her pawsteps crunch the snow behind Figfeather and Ekat, tail twitching madly despite the straight-pressed line of her mouth. Another great warrior lies splayed in the snow, red streaking from her open throat like a meteor shower through a white sky. Even though she expects it, Oakrumble's corpse still pulls a faint gasp from her lungs.

Her heart pounds. "What could've done this?!" "Rogues," the tortoiseshell hisses immediately, yellow glare snapping to the Twolegplace in the distance. "What else could it be?" she demands, swinging her lantern gaze towards Ekat, expecting nothing but agreement from the pale-muzzled molly and the rest of their patrol. The Twolegplace, a lone patrol, a clean kill—it was like she was dispatched like prey.

Figfeather moves to bring her home, but Cherryblossom balks for a moment. In death, the torbie looked even larger. Ugh, why'd you have to die so far from camp? The warrior glowers into the grim horizon of the Twolegplace again, claws flexing into the snow. "We have to find who did this." One of those fox-hearts that did this would come back, admire their kill or something, and then she could dirty herself with their blood instead of her heavy clanmate's. Oakrumble was dead, but her killers could be dead too. That was something more than just bowing their heads over her body and talking about how much they respected her when she was alive.​