sensitive topics it had something to do with the rain (o, birth, death)

[Peachpaw.]

She knew she shouldn't be out here, and as the rain began to patter down onto the bank, the expectant queen only became even more convinced. She had chosen today to explore the river territory because it had been nice and bright, without a cloud in the sky. She'd had not an inkling of an idea that it might downpour like this. It would be best to get back home now, before the wild river cats found her.

The silver female crouched down as she reached the river, eyeing the rushing current uncertainly. It had been far calmer when she'd crossed it that morning. But she had to make it back across somehow. She padded along the edge of the bank, stretching her neck out in hopes of finding a way across.

After walking for some time, an outcropping of stones came into view. They weren't close enough together for her to just go walking across, but she'd be able to make it if she jumped. Nervously, the queen shuffled her paws before crouching down and taking the first leap. She scrabbled her claws against the stone for a few moments as she tried to regain her balance, but quickly pulled herself up.

Sides heaving and legs trembling with the effort of her jump, the she-cat crouched down again in preparation for her second leap.

The tabby let out a gasp as a sharp pain rippled through her belly. My kits! she thought. Oh please, no. Not here! Not now!

She had to cross quickly. She had to get her kits somewhere warm and dry. Gritting her teeth against the pain, the queen took another leap. She let out a wail as her claws just missed the rock and left her instead struggling against the current. "Help me!" she yowled, coughing as she tried to keep the water from filling her lungs. She paddled uselessly against the current, her legs flailing as she reached out to grab onto anything that might save her.

At last she managed to sink her claws into the bank, panting with effort as she managed to stagger out of the rushing waters. Her sides heaved as her body continued to twist with pain, and after staggering a few steps, the queen could only collapse onto the soaking wet ground, her voice nearly gone and her energy depleted. She didn't call for help. She couldn't. All she could do was lie there, panting and letting out feeble moans as her kits began to enter the world.

She hardly noticed when the river cats began to come upon her, and anything they said only met her ears as garbled nonsense. She scarcely even realized when the ripples of pain ceased, and three kittens lay crying weakly at her side.

"Please…" the queen said, using her last bit of strength to plea with the cats that had surrounded her. "Look after her…"

And then she was gone. Two of the feeble kits she had birthed had stopped moving, their little mouths frozen open in cries that would never come. The remaining kit, a fluffy little tortishell splashed in pale orange and grey, had fallen nearly silent as well, only making tiny little snuffling sounds against the rain.

@DogTeeth

 

[DogTeeth]

The rain had started off gentle, but with the grumble of the sky- the droplets came down heavier and his curls soaked and dangle loose around his pensive features. His chin lowered to the thin strip of waterflow near the rage of the current. That’s when a yowl split the air with terror. Help me!, as warm blooded as he was- Dogteeth could swear it climbed his veins ice cold when he heard her scream.

Dogteeth’s limbs flail a bit as he races up the riverbank- eyes searching wildly for the source of desperation. Too long, several long minutes tick by- it was too long before he found something.

It was a silver water-laden pelt- the riverclanner pelted as fast he could. Paws thundering and bringing him closer to the unmoving figure, brows furrowed in worry with the scene suddenly laid before him. " oh no…" he whispered, carefully sidling up to the dying queen as her final words are pleaded toward emerging strangers. Tiny kittens laid under a storm- only one kept it’s heartbeat. " no- sweety, you’re gonna… it’s gonna- " be okay? it’s too late- the mother stopped breathing. " I will… I will " he whispered- in clear shock and widened eyes.

He didn’t know what it was- what instinct had suddenly swallowed him whole. Left his throat dry- his chest heaving as he crawled and curled around the last living child. His head serving as an umbrella to the rainfall as he nudged the small patched orange and pale blue tortoiseshell and curled her into the crook of his limb and chest. to warm her up. " s’gonna be okay- you’re gonna be okay. " he panted a bit. He needed- help, he looked around wildly and quickly. He had to get this baby to a queen in camp.

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[SMOKESTAR]

The river, for them, was a lifeline. It protected them, fed them, kept them strong as they learned to swim against its heavy current and shallow pools. Not all RiverClanners could swim, but most could, and the ones not capable learned to respect the water for what it was. A dangerous but powerful ally that could just as quickly turn on you if you stepped a paw out of line. Like the leaders meant to enforce their clans, the river enforced their caution; you learned to live with it and adapt to it or you paid for it with your life. Smokethroat had always been comfortable in the water, he knew when it was too much to cross, he knew when to pull back and he knew when he could drift listlessly like a log left carelessly tossed into the rippling tides.
Fishing was something he often did, finding himself more skilled at it than prowling about on land with his heavy paws and bulky form, and it was here he had decided to spend his day basking in the sun until it had been unceremoniously cut off by the roar of thunder and the downpour of rain. His orange eyes opened and closed with annoyance at the torrential display, the otherwise blue skies caged in a dreary cloud of gray and black like the mottled pelt of their leader. Smokethroat shrunk away from the water's edge, knowing that storms had a tendency to twist the river's mood into something aggressive, when he heard a sound. It was sharp, shrill, horrified, his ears flicked upward and swiveled to try and locate the source of it. It had been muffled, garbled by the vicious waters, but the words had been distinct.

'Help me!'

Someone was in the river. He turned with a bound to race along the pebbled shore, the froth and foam of the rushing current lapping at dark paws as he moved; desperate to find the source of the sound. Both orange eyes fell on burst of pale sandy fur that appeared before him in the almost obscuring drizzle and as he slowed to a stop next to Dogteeth who raised his blue-sky gaze up to meet his own fiery one he knew it was too late. It did not stop Smokethroat from turning to the motionless she-cat, the smooth stones underpaw coated red that was fading to light pink as the rain swept it up into the rushing water nearby. He dipped his nose, carefully pushing it into the side of her neck for a moment; just to be sure. Nothing. No flutter of a heartbeat, no pulse, there was an eerie stiffness to the body and as he turned to do the same to the motionless kits he knew it was folly. There was no point in checking like this, a glance of the eye told the story well enough. With a sharp snatch of his head he turned to the kitten between Dogteeth's paws that was almost as still but the most quiet of muffled mewls was just audible in the storm battering over their heads. "Icesparkle-" He found himself saying too softly, before raising his voice to be heard over the rain, "Icesparkle just had kits, can she be carried back to camp?"
Or would he need to fetch Beesong and the experienced queen for help. The medicine cat surely was in camp or coming back to it with this weather. This was no place for such a young kitten to be left in, if she could stand the journey back to camp she'd have a better chance.
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[Peachpaw.]

As the rain pelted down, the tiny, nameless kitten let out a wail of protest, crying out for the comfort of a mother who could no longer offer it. She felt herself being nudged away from her mother and suddenly the rainfall seemed to lessen and she was surrounded by thicker, curly fur. Still wet, but far better than nearly drowning, and she shrank into the stranger in a desperate bid to keep warm, giving tiny squeaks of upset as the storm roared around them.

 

[HOUNDSTRIDE.]

( ᴛᴀɢs. )  ❝  There was much in this new life that he could rejoice in. Hound had found himself ensnared in them as of late. With time he'd grown to love this clan, these felines that grew to family– what'd begun as a love for water, for the loneliness that came when he was away from the struggles'f others, turned to much more. He'd grown comfortable in RiverClan. Complacent. Cicadastar kept them isolated, and in a way this was always exactly what he'd wanted. The only world that concerned him now was the one he was a part of. Is that not the way of it? Is that not how it should have been? And for a while, the security had blinded him to their troubles. All that he had, he could handle.

Now this stands before him, and Hound has forgotten all of it. The peace, the ease, the relief he had felt when it was RiverClan and nothing else. There is a child now, a small bundle of fur cradled against pale curls, and another few lyin' limp in the mud. His heart has crawled to his throat on unsteady limbs, trying desperately for calm when he wants nothing more than to mourn.. He thinks of Swift, of himself, and feels the sting of cold rain all the more intensely 'cross his face. Dog's a delicate heart, with kindness so sure it'd drown 'em all, and for all of Smoke's strengths, kittens were hardly one of them. And so the chocolate tom steels himself, stepping a little closer. In the muted bath of rain, his eyes are a verdant paradise held at paw's length. No true escape in them, much as he may want it. "Take 'er back to camp," he murmurs, though it come as a gentle command. "If you make it there without us near at your back, send them to us. We'll manage the rest."

There is no telling Smoke now that the molly's gone to the stars– against all logical thought, he's certain the kitten might hear it.

†  ooc notes information †

• 
  ooc: DOG AND PEACH DOG AND PEACH DOG AND PEACH!!!! REACHES FOR BOTH OF YOU! please i am begging you both for plots
• ──── hound. trans male, he/him pronouns only.
  ──── approximately 30 moons old, or 2.5 years.
  ──── bisexual with firm male preference; single.
  
  ──── a chocolate tabby with ( stylized ) low white and intense lime eyes. lean and lanky,  with whiplike musculature and a long, quick stride. hound's notable features include his impressive height, the long scar across the left side of his face from nose to jaw, his very deep, dense fur, and the confident manner with which he conducts himself.
• "speech"

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