- Aug 10, 2022
- 65
- 32
- 18
ą©ā”Ė³ . Ā° ā¦ [ tw for emetophobia near the end! ]
Darkwhisker hums to himself, his tail swaying to the rhythm of his self-composed song. Nosing through flowers, ensuring that he only picks the best of the flora for his clanmates. RiverClan has weathered their fair share of tragedies these past seasonsā¦ And so has his own family. His heart grows heavier in his chest and his humming falters at the memories of his father and older sisterās vigils. Taken by StarClan one after another. Too soon, his grieving mind threatens to whisper. But he pushes that thought aside. StarClan doesnāt make mistakes. It must all be for a good reason. It has to be.
He takes a deep breath in, and forces himself to smile, imagining that he is letting go of all of his grief and sorrow as he exhales.
Heāll take these flowers back to camp, and weave flower crowns for his clanmates. Darkwhiskerās determined to have even the grumpiest of elders dazzling in their beautiful floral accessories. That would certainly bring some much-needed light back into their lives, wouldnāt it?
The long grass rustles with movement near him. Darkwhisker doesnāt notice, too focused on picking out his flowers. His humming resumes.
It isnāt until he moves to pluck a vibrant yellow flower near the rustling blades that he realizes he isnāt alone. And that is only due to the flash of fangs in his peripheral vision. Darkwhisker reflexively flinches away with a gasp, his heart skipping a couple of beats. But he isnāt quick enough to avoid the gaping jaws of death.
White-hot pain blazes through the right side of his face. Darkwhisker reels back onto his haunches with a screech, the fur along his spine bristling. Flowers scatter across the ground. His claws unsheathe, striking blindly at the serpent clinging to his cheek, inflicting himself with minor cuts in the process. The warrior shakes his head to and fro.
Finally, the snake dislodges itself from his face. Blood beads from the punctures it has left behind. Darkwhisker catches the unmistakable black zig-zag pattern running down the sales of its back as it retreats. His heart drops to his stomach. Adder. āOh, stars,ā he gasps. āNo, no, noāā
The world spins around him as he lurches in the direction of camp, faint with terror. āI need helpā I need Moonbeamāā He babbles frantically, his voice rising an octave higher. Darkwhisker tries to force his trembling paws to cooperate. But he trips and stumbles over them like heās a kit learning to walk again. The swelling of his cheek doesnāt help him, either; it forces his right eye shut and leaves him without depth perception.
Darkwhiskerās breath comes in sharp pants; he cannot tell if itās from fear or pain. It feels as if liquid fire has been injected into the skin of his face. Heart pounding in his flattened ears, he continues to stagger towards camp.
He canāt die. He doesnāt want to die. Not yet. Not when he still has so much ahead of him. Darkwhisker hasnāt found a mate, or had kits, just like heās always dreamed of. He hasnāt mentored his own apprentice. He hasnāt watched Lilybloom and Iciclefangās children grow up into wonderful warriors. Thereās too many things he wants to do before he diesā!
Numbness creeps up his legs. He collapses onto the ground in a dark-furred heap. No! He tries to get back up, but his legs will no longer obey his brain. His flanks rise and fall spasmodically as he struggles to gulp in enough air to appease his aching lungs. StarClan, save me!
Bile rises up his throat, burning his esophagus as it forces its way out of his mouth. Darkwhisker coughs and heaves for breath between his retching. āHelp,ā he manages to croak before he loses the strength to keep his head up. The dark-furred warriorās chin hits the ground. His vision blurs, hot tears rolling down his cheeks and mixing with droplets of blood as he begins to sob.
Thatās when he sees it; a dark brown pelt so similar to his own, he immediately recognizes who it belongs to. Even with stars speckling his fur, Darkwhisker could never forget. Calm washes over him in his final moments, comforted by the scent of his father. Mudpelt was here. Mudpelt would protect him, just as he always did.
With one final, shuddering gasp, the trembling of his body stops.
Darkwhisker hums to himself, his tail swaying to the rhythm of his self-composed song. Nosing through flowers, ensuring that he only picks the best of the flora for his clanmates. RiverClan has weathered their fair share of tragedies these past seasonsā¦ And so has his own family. His heart grows heavier in his chest and his humming falters at the memories of his father and older sisterās vigils. Taken by StarClan one after another. Too soon, his grieving mind threatens to whisper. But he pushes that thought aside. StarClan doesnāt make mistakes. It must all be for a good reason. It has to be.
He takes a deep breath in, and forces himself to smile, imagining that he is letting go of all of his grief and sorrow as he exhales.
Heāll take these flowers back to camp, and weave flower crowns for his clanmates. Darkwhiskerās determined to have even the grumpiest of elders dazzling in their beautiful floral accessories. That would certainly bring some much-needed light back into their lives, wouldnāt it?
The long grass rustles with movement near him. Darkwhisker doesnāt notice, too focused on picking out his flowers. His humming resumes.
It isnāt until he moves to pluck a vibrant yellow flower near the rustling blades that he realizes he isnāt alone. And that is only due to the flash of fangs in his peripheral vision. Darkwhisker reflexively flinches away with a gasp, his heart skipping a couple of beats. But he isnāt quick enough to avoid the gaping jaws of death.
White-hot pain blazes through the right side of his face. Darkwhisker reels back onto his haunches with a screech, the fur along his spine bristling. Flowers scatter across the ground. His claws unsheathe, striking blindly at the serpent clinging to his cheek, inflicting himself with minor cuts in the process. The warrior shakes his head to and fro.
Finally, the snake dislodges itself from his face. Blood beads from the punctures it has left behind. Darkwhisker catches the unmistakable black zig-zag pattern running down the sales of its back as it retreats. His heart drops to his stomach. Adder. āOh, stars,ā he gasps. āNo, no, noāā
The world spins around him as he lurches in the direction of camp, faint with terror. āI need helpā I need Moonbeamāā He babbles frantically, his voice rising an octave higher. Darkwhisker tries to force his trembling paws to cooperate. But he trips and stumbles over them like heās a kit learning to walk again. The swelling of his cheek doesnāt help him, either; it forces his right eye shut and leaves him without depth perception.
Darkwhiskerās breath comes in sharp pants; he cannot tell if itās from fear or pain. It feels as if liquid fire has been injected into the skin of his face. Heart pounding in his flattened ears, he continues to stagger towards camp.
He canāt die. He doesnāt want to die. Not yet. Not when he still has so much ahead of him. Darkwhisker hasnāt found a mate, or had kits, just like heās always dreamed of. He hasnāt mentored his own apprentice. He hasnāt watched Lilybloom and Iciclefangās children grow up into wonderful warriors. Thereās too many things he wants to do before he diesā!
Numbness creeps up his legs. He collapses onto the ground in a dark-furred heap. No! He tries to get back up, but his legs will no longer obey his brain. His flanks rise and fall spasmodically as he struggles to gulp in enough air to appease his aching lungs. StarClan, save me!
Bile rises up his throat, burning his esophagus as it forces its way out of his mouth. Darkwhisker coughs and heaves for breath between his retching. āHelp,ā he manages to croak before he loses the strength to keep his head up. The dark-furred warriorās chin hits the ground. His vision blurs, hot tears rolling down his cheeks and mixing with droplets of blood as he begins to sob.
Thatās when he sees it; a dark brown pelt so similar to his own, he immediately recognizes who it belongs to. Even with stars speckling his fur, Darkwhisker could never forget. Calm washes over him in his final moments, comforted by the scent of his father. Mudpelt was here. Mudpelt would protect him, just as he always did.
With one final, shuddering gasp, the trembling of his body stops.
ā§ćĀ°ć.ćā¶ć.ćĀ°ćā§
- tl;dr darkwhisker was bitten by an adder and succumbed to the venom </3
-
tall, lithe dusky brown tom with splashes of white. a cheerful tom who tries to put a smile on the face of everyone he talks to, darkwhisker's life is devoted to spreading positivity in a world full of negativity. though his words may be fancifulā and coated in the sugar of white lies, at timesā he is a well-intentioned, albeit overly idealistic, young warrior.
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