private let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain ☀️ burnstorm

[ROEFLAME .]

-ˋˏ ༻ ☀ ༺ ˎˊ-

The feeling of the suns rays against her rosetted spine feels like an embrace from an old friend; today promised a beginning of mild new-leaf weather with its clear blue sky and luke-warm breeze. For once, as the deputy's paws carry her through the still-withered undergrowth, they carry a certain sense of leisure, she is free from responsibility today. Beside Roeflame, the broad-shouldered form of her mate brushing against her shoulder prompts the she-cat to cast a side-long glance in his direction.

"I told you it was going to be nice out today," Roeflame hummed with a playful tone of triumph, not that Burnstorm had doubted her prediction in the first place, but the fact that she was right still put an extra pep in her step. "New-leaf is here, finally." The tail-end of leafbare was like living in a grey wasteland, making the suns presence feel extra special.

In her natural pause, a thought crosses Roeflame's mind, one that had been echoing in the back of her skull more and more lately. "The nursery is bound to fill up soon, even more so than now, it'll be nice to have a camp full of little paws that we can actually feed, won't it?" There's no explicit probing in her tone, but it's an exploratory step onto the topic of kits- a topic still shrouded by Roeflame's own uncertainty. What does he think? Does he? The brassed tabby hopes her glance in his direction is inconspicuous, "it's hard to believe our kit's were the little paws nearly four seasons ago." There's a near incredulous breath of laughter that pushes itself from Roeflame's maw then, it truly was a reality difficult to wrap her mind around.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── I GOT A POCKET ⋅✴⋅ A POCKET FULL OF SUNSHINE ──┐‎

• @BURNSTORM
  

• 

• 
  ROEFLAME ✩ she/her, Deputy of Thunderclan, twenty-seven moons.
  ⭃ petite cinnamon silver ticked tabby with murky green eyes & a small scar over her left eye.
  ⭃ mate to Burnstorm ☀ mentor to Dovepaw & Dwindlingpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted ☀ underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[BURNSTORM]

Burnstorm moved beside his mate in slow, steady strides, his thick black pelt catching stray rays of sunlight that filtered through the trees. He said nothing for a while, simply listening to the crunch of undergrowth beneath their paws and the quiet cadence of Roeflame's voice. It was one of those rare moments when the world felt almost still—when the weight on his shoulders lightened, if only just.

Her purr of satisfaction at the weather made him glance up toward the sky, squinting slightly against the sun's pale warmth. "Hmph," he grunted, the sound more amused than disapproving. "I never said it wouldn't be nice. Just didn't want you to get smug about it." But despite the dry bite to his words, his mouth twitched at the corner—something close to a smile trying to break through the habitual gruffness. He bumped her flank lightly with his shoulder in passing, a quiet, wordless affection only she ever really saw from him.

Roeflame's next comment struck a different chord. The nursery. Kits. His steps slowed just a little, eyes narrowing with something more thoughtful than skeptical this time. He didn't answer right away, didn't trust the first words that came to his tongue. He had always been a cat who measured everything—his words, his feelings, the way he carried the things he couldn't say out loud. Especially with a topic such as this. "Feels like yesterday they were stumbling around camp, too small to lift their own tails," he muttered in agreement eventually, voice quieter now, the usual gruffness tempered by something softer. "I still half expect to see them crashing out of the nursery with moss stuck to their pelts."

He fell silent again for a beat, a muscle twitching along his jaw. His piercing yellow eyes stared ahead, though they were clearly looking somewhere far beyond the forest path. "…It'd be good," he said at last, after a quiet moment of contemplation. "To have more little paws around." He wasn't good at softness. Not with words. But Roeflame would know what he meant. She always did.

He let out a low exhale, shoulders shifting slightly, as if trying to shrug off the tightness that had settled there. "This Clan's been clawing its way through too much cold and grief. It could use something warmer. Something hopeful."

That was the closest he'd ever come to admitting he might want more than the life he'd already built—more than the scars and the battles and the endless duty. He wouldn't ask, not directly. He didn't know how to. But if she ever decided she wanted kits again… he wouldn't say no.

Before he could say more—before the moment could settle into something solid—his ears snapped forward, catching the sound of movement that didn't belong.

Too quick. Too heavy.

His body tensed, instinct flaring sharp and immediate. He turned his head just in time to see the undergrowth explode.

A gaunt, half-mad fox erupted from the brambles, its russet pelt clinging to a skeletal frame, ribs protruding like broken twigs beneath its fur. Starvation had hollowed it out, but its eyes were feral with desperation—and it didn't hesitate. It lunged, mouth open, teeth bared, claws raking forward with a snarl that rattled the silence.

Burnstorm didn't think—he moved.

His paws dug into the earth, claws unsheathing as he braced for impact. He threw his body forward to intercept the beast, a snarl tearing from his throat, but the fox was already airborne—already flying toward him with the full force of its weight and hunger, jaws aimed for his throat.

There wasn't time to shout Roeflame's name.

Only the crash of bodies.

The snap of teeth.

And the blur of red fur and flashing claws.

Everything else vanished in a heartbeat.

( ☼ ) Darling, I'd go through it again

• 
  
• 
  BURNSTORM THUNDERCLAN WARRIOR ; HE / HIM ; BROTHER TO MORNINGPAW, MOONWHISPER, HOWLFIRE, FIREFLYGLOW, SKYCLAW & DUSKBIRD ; MATE TO ROEFLAME ; FATHER TO DOVEPAW, BEETLESTORM, AND LITTLEBIRD
  

  A large, sharp tongued, tom with long black fur and golden, oval shaped, eyes.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + fights honorably
  

 

[ROEFLAME .]

-ˋˏ ༻ ☀ ༺ ˎˊ-

They had mastered their own form of unspoken communication moons ago, from rolling their eyes behind Flycatchers back as apprentices to hearing the silent I love you with a mere blink- a quirk of the maw. As Burnstorm's gait slows and his gaze finds purchase in something Roeflame can't quite see herself, the brassed deputy knows the undertone of what she's said has not gone unnoticed. …It'd be good, to have more little paws around, he says, and Roeflame's head tilts slightly in understanding, her teeth finding sanctuary within her inner cheeks flesh as the tabby echo's a tentative, "really, you think so?" Excitement and nerve make her pupils flit to and fro. Something hopeful. "Yeah, I agree."

The moons spent in the nursery's confines would be a challenge, but if it meant bringing another Beetleburn into the world, or another Littlebird, or a new litter of different kits entirely, wouldn't it be worth it? Just as an uncertain smile would begin to blossom on her maw, the ground beneath her paws would rumble, the foliage in front of her would explode. Before Roeflame could dare ask for more in life, before she could even entertain the idea- she had already tempted fate, and it had taken the bait.

The stinging scent of rot and musk is eerily familiar, but It's Burnstorm that the feraled thing locks in its gaze, her own presence doesn't even seem to click with the crazed fox. "Burnstorm, no!" The cry is ragged as her mate lurches forwards, the fox ascending upon him with its yellowed fangs outstretched. Suddenly, her world is flipping entirely on its side.

Smack! Roeflame feels the wind forced from her ribs as she crashes against the foxes shoulder, slinging a blind jab across its wrinkled, agape muzzle, whisker lengths from where it nearly buried itself in Burnstorm's throat. Barely, the small warrior is able to intercept, and it is she and the fox that go swinging to the side with the force of her impact. In the single side-step the fox takes, it is the flesh and bone between Roeflame's throat and shoulder that collapse under the weight of the foxes teeth with a vicious crunch.

The deputy tries not to scream against the initial shock as she buries her grip deeper in the foxes thin flesh, but she cannot suppress the inevitable sound of her own blood welling up her throat. If I can just hold on for a little longer, if I can give Burnstorm a fighting chance- !

Within moments, she is no longer clawed to the fox, but is hitting the damp soil with a thud. Adrenaline rushing through her emptying veins have made Roeflame's body numb to everything except a creeping chill up her spine- she cannot move. "Hmphm… mm..rrr…" she gargles desperately, glassy pupils flying in every direction in desperate search for her mate as her distorted vision dimmed and blurred. What was she trying to say, did she even know? Run, fight, help? Hold me, I can't breathe and I'm scared? All of it. Everything.

Yet, she cannot see her beloved; cannot feel anything but the stark contrast of her chill and the heat of the foxes' hungry breath against her blood-speckled cheek as it looms over her crumpled form. Was this how it felt, had Freckleflame and Flycatcher and Dewfrost felt like this? Would they be there to greet her on the other side if she let her eyelids shut?

Fear and waning adrenaline grip at her sides, pushing rapid and empty breaths from her nostrils. The fox's shadow swallows her whole, and Roeflame lets her eyes flutter closed. If this was how she died, it would be worth it, she thinks- for every river and boar and rogue Burnstorm had saved her from, she'd have happily bled ten times over for him- she does.

I love you, I love you, I love…

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── I GOT A POCKET ⋅✴⋅ A POCKET FULL OF SUNSHINE ──┐‎

• 

• 
  ROEFLAME ✩ she/her, Deputy of Thunderclan, twenty-seven moons.
  ⭃ petite cinnamon silver ticked tabby with murky green eyes & a small scar over her left eye.
  ⭃ mate to Burnstorm ☀ mentor to Dovepaw & Dwindlingpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted ☀ underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[BURNSTORM]

He'd felt her hope. That flicker behind her voice when she asked, "really, you think so?" And StarClan help him, he'd wanted to say more, wanted to tell her that yes, he did. That the thought of tiny paws and soft chirping mews didn't terrify him like it once did. That the idea of a future with her, another litter, a quieter season, maybe even peace, felt less like a dream and more like something he could finally reach for. But he'd never been good at that. Not with words.

So instead, he'd glanced at her sidelong, softened his rough expression just slightly, and given her the faintest blink.

I do.

And then the world tore itself in two.

The forest exploded around them in a thunder of teeth and snarls. The scent of musk and rot and hunger slammed into him like a blow, and before his mind could fully process what was happening, Roeflame was already moving—throwing herself between him and the fox.

Time slowed.

He saw the way her body crashed against the beast, how her paws swung wide and wild across its face, how she drove it off-course with nothing but the force of her love and fury.

And then he saw the teeth.

And the blood.

And her body crumpling beneath the fox's weight.

He didn't remember lunging. Just that his paws were suddenly soaked with earth and blood, his claws buried in mangy fur, his jaws tearing with a kind of desperation he'd never felt before. The fox writhed beneath him, yowling and biting and snapping, and he fought harder than he ever had.

But it wasn't enough.

The jaws found him—sharp, final—clamping into his side so deep that the world spun.

Pain flashed white. Then red. Then nothing.

His legs collapsed beneath him, breath rattling in his throat as he hit the ground, a gurgled growl escaping his chest. The fox twisted away, retreating, wounded—but so was he. More than wounded.

He was dying.

He could feel it in the way his blood spilled freely into the earth, in the cold that seeped into his limbs and crept toward his heart. He tried to lift his head, tried to crawl toward Roeflame, but his body was already leaving him behind. He could see her—barely—just a blur through failing vision, slumped, broken, beautiful even now.

His throat constricted.

I'm sorry.

He wasn't sure if he said it aloud or only thought it. He wasn't sure he still had the strength to speak at all. He wanted to tell her everything he'd never managed to say. That she'd made his life brighter. That she was the best part of him. That he would've given her a hundred lifetimes if he could've.

Instead, all he could do was watch as the sky above him began to blur—not from blood or pain, but from light.

Soft. Pale. Otherworldly.

The trees melted into stars.

And out of that quiet glow, a shape began to form.

Familiar.

Steady.

A black tabby with kind green eyes, standing in the starlight just beyond the veil.

His heart stopped—not from fear, but from something deeper. Recognition.

Howlingstar.

His grandmother.

She just stood there—watching him, waiting, with that same quiet strength he remembered from when he was barely more than a kit, tucked into her shadow, dreaming of what kind of warrior he'd become.

Burnstorm's breath rattled one last time.

His eyes never left Roeflame.

I love you, he thought.

Then the cold slipped away.

( ☼ ) Darling, I'd go through it again

• 
  
• 
  BURNSTORM THUNDERCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; HE / HIM ; BROTHER TO MORNINGPAW, MOONWHISPER, HOWLFIRE, FIREFLYGLOW, SKYCLAW & DUSKBIRD ; MATE TO ROEFLAME ; FATHER TO DOVEPAW, BEETLEBURN, AND LITTLEBIRD
  

  A large, sharp tongued, tom with long black fur and golden, oval shaped, eyes.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + fights honorably
  

 

[HOWLINGSTAR]

The stars had been waiting for them. Howlingstar had felt it the moment their fates were sealed, the ripple in the fabric of StarClan, the call to guide two souls home. She had known loss well in life, and she knew it still in death, but that did not make it any easier.

She had watched Burnstorm grow from the moment he first opened his eyes. Had seen the fire in him, the way he carried his clan on his shoulders and chose it time and time again. She had known Roeflame just as long, from the days when she was a trembling scrap of fur left to the mercy of the clan border, to the unyielding, fierce deputy who stood beside him now. She remembers well the days she had called each of them to her council, and oh, how proud they had both made their clan.

And now, they lay before her, bodies still, warmth fading, their blood soaking the territory they had fought so hard to protect. Her star-glittered form touches ground that no longer exists for her, silent snowy paws performing a somber dance as they carry her closer to them. The glow of StarClan weaves around her softly, painting the endless shadows silver, chasing the frightening darkness away from the two warriors. She looks down at them with grief and understanding, knowing they would have chosen this path time and time again to defend the forest. That is what made them great warriors whose names will be passed down in stories for seasons to come.

She closes her eyes as she feels the last vestiges of their spirits clinging to the in-between, lingering on the edge of a world that no longer belonged to them. She lowers her head. "Burnstorm." Her voice is steady, a thread of warmth in the cold of death. "Roeflame." A pause as she takes a breath. "It's time."

The moment stretches silently before she feels a slight, fragile shift in the air. And then, through the fading light of their last moments, their eyes open once more. Not in their bodies. Not in life. But in the stars.

Burnstorm's gaze meets hers first, and for the first time since he was a heartbroken apprentice, forced to choose between two worlds, she sees the raw emotion in them, unguarded by gruffness and duty. Roeflame is beside him, her silvered body lifting weightlessly from the ruin the fox had left behind.

Howlingstar's heart aches only for a moment before she steps closer, pressing her nose to Burnstorm's forehead like she had when he was small. "You fought well," She murmurs. "You both did." She pulls away and gazes proudly at her kin. "Come. Your mother waits for you." She shifts it to look at Roeflame, a kind smile on her maw. "As does yours."

She turns then and pads toward the starry mist that leads to StarClan's hunting grounds, trusting them to follow. The weight of their lives will fade. Their pain will ease. And when they step into the stars, they would not be alone, but surrounded by every loved one they'd had to say goodbye to throughout the moons.
​