camp lone star • apprentices den collapse

[CICADASTAR]

GUTTA CAVAT LAPIDEM : snow still clings to his pelt, clumped where he had slid his body through the chipped, snow - laden mouth of his willow den. water laps at his ankles, soaking the fur around sharp, webbed paws in cold, biting waves. buckgait had, for once, made herself useful, taking a patrol in search of higher, stable ground — one more day he refrains from leaving her to freeze in the outlands, should she wish to be alone so badly. the man sniffs, tipping his head skyward, heaven - touched gaze glinting against the wintery haze above. each moment without the shadow of her skulking along the outskirts of his camp was a pleasure, save for this time in particular. the looming tom stands rigid amidst the splinters of reed thickets and shell formerly laced tight into the weaving of their dens. the freshkill pile was . . gone. what little they’d had now floated listlessly, bloated and partially frozen, if not missing altogether — swept up amidst the destruction around them. the pit in his stomach grows, but his features are set — a decision made.

cold settles in his bones and the man cranes his neck back to lap at the flurries of snow gathered on the arches of his shoulders, rough tongue raking at the knotted curls there. he laps backward, ruffling his curls to fluff them faster, drooping whiskers lifting out of the way of his rasping strokes. the patrol would, with hope, be back with good news soon. up near the gorge, hopefully so hidden amongst the beech copse to avoid prying windclan eyes. sudden creaking twitches a tall ear, rounding the shell towards where the thicket cradling the roof of their apprentices den lie, heavy with snow. the man squints against the fog and slowly, it begins to pulse — before dipping inward, heavy with the blizzard and . . his head lurches up, sudden realization dawning upon his sloped face, nearly tripping over too long legs in his desperation to stand, “ the — “ before the words could pass rubberblack, freezing lips, before the cloud of breath could display into the air around him, a snapping of reeds and caving of oversaturated moss.

the reeds cave, flurries of melting snow seeping in through the hole now gaping along the top of their shell and pebble - woven den. the small hole in the wall of snow blocking their exit is now pinned by the arching roof of reed and moss, the top hollow and splintered where weavings have snapped, “ fucking — stars, is everyone out? mentors — find your apprentices! “ silent pawsteps now too loud, ever - deepening splashes of paws in murky water, forcing past clumps of ice and frost. thick fur bogs him down, damp, frosting curls slicking to his malnourished figure the more he wades forth. surely most were out, starclan he hoped they were out. long, arching claws perch upon the snowy side of the den, finding perch from the water to peer into the ruins within, “ @leechpaw. !” where was he? had he gotten out? he hadn’t had time to check.

− ♱ information visual reference out of character translations ♱ −

• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−−−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• 
• none.

​

​

 

[STORMWHISKER]

The crashing sound of the apprentice's den collapsing nearly makes the blue tabby jump 6 feet into the air. He arches his back, his eyes go wide. His tail puffs up and the hairs along his spine rise, making him appear bigger than he actually is as he watches the place he had been sleeping the past few moons go down before his very eyes. It's a sight that immediately makes him feel melancholy, as opposed to change as he is he doesn't want to rebuild the den, he doesn't want things to be different. The apprentice's den was where River Clan was finally starting to feel like home. Darkpaw had let him hold his special rock, Smokethroat had offered to help him, he has so many fond memories of cats lending a paw to him to fitting in.

He's so busy grieving the loss of his safe space that he doesn't think of the possibility that cats might still be in there until Cicadastar calls out for mentors to look for their apprentices and wildly he looks around, pale green eyes searching for his denmates. Were they out on patrol? Or were they crushed beneath the weight of their home? "Oh fish guts!" he murmurs the curse under his breath as he launches himself to Cicadastar's aide, pawing furiously at the remains of the apprentice's den in a mad search to recover anyone still trapped inside.
​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

The waters swilled upward, he felt them rising up to just barely touch his underbelly and were it not for the dire circumstances he might have found humor in how Cicadastar made their flooded camp look like a mere puddle for kits to splash about in with his long limbs and towering form. The chilling river makes him long to be back in that den, blissfully unaware of their plight and warm as could be but this was no time for idleness. The dark tom splashed forward, giving quick jumps to move through the water not yet deep enough for a proper swim but not low enough he could lift his legs high to traverse it with ease; instead it was slog to kick through.

"Iciclepaw!" His voice cracks, splintering like ice, and its the first time he's felt true and solid fear for a long time. The last time it had been smothered in urgency and a desire to get his clanmates to safety but the aftershock of Cicadastar's first death was something he still thought of to this day and probably always would. It's that same fear now, sharp and piercing as a claw through the throat, that has him splashing forward to join Stormpaw in frantically digging at the den. He had not seen his tortie apprentice that morning, they had plans to train much later that day, he had assumed she'd go hunting with the other apprentices prior to that and hoped she had done so so that she was not one of the many crumpled forms now trapped beneath the shattered reeds and woven bracken of the partially ruined den.

-hunting for @iciclepaw
​

 

[BUCKGAIT.]

MY NAME IS BRUTUS AND MY NAME MEANS HEAVY ✧​

there's a frantic look as a sounding crack breaks through the air, eyes locked on the den she had reinforced not even a moon ago. she tries to keep her composure the best she can, eyes scanning for the familiar locks of stormy fur. when she spots him next to the damned leader, buck is quick to his side. "storm, you're alright? you aren't hurt?" her words echo, scanning over the younger tom, looking for even a misplaced hair. she could not forgive herself if her own apprentice had gotten hurt, nor could she face lightning with that knowledge.

she follows suit after checking with him, securing her place by his side as a silent protector. hoping it may bring him comfort, having to watch the place he was supposed to feel safest, collapse. claws furiously tearing through the reeds and branches to allow a greater chance of escape. the deputy blocks out the words of smokethroat, nor his own actions at digging. her attention was split between stormpaw, and digging as if her life had depended on it. ears perked forward and on a constant swivel, desperate to hear anything from the mass.
​

 

[BONERIPPLE]

The molly has been lounging, finding annoyance as the water rises and keeps doing so
It's dangerous she knows this and she can not swim yet but she finds it such a hindrance in day to day life. A soft yawn splits her features before she pushes to her paws to check the freshkill pile. Perhaps she will find something there. A small snack maybe. Really she wants to get back on her paws and start hunting again. She doesn't want to lose her skills just laying around. And who knew being a Queen was such hard work. Especially looking after her young ones. They were everywhere and she has been trying to keep up with them just ad much as Wolverinefang has been. Shaking her head she turns away from the pile to find something to do when she spots Cica. He is looking at the apprentice den and she ventures closer toward him before suddenly she hears the sound. It makes her ears pull back as reeds splinter and woven branches break. It all goes fall inward and the woman's eyes widen.

The leader shouts and the woman moves on instinct. Not thinking she is starting to dig, to pull snow and fallen debris aside as quickly as her thin frame will let her. Her paws freeze against the water but she has to do something. She has to help queen or not and she is not afraid to get her paws dirty.​

 

[iciclefang]

The rising waters, almost eclipsing the bottom part of her legs and paws and lapping with an icy tongue at her belly, has become a constant in the past few days. She'd watched with the rest of her Clanmates, dismal and hunger-dull as the last of their prey pile had been swept away in bracken-colored floodwater.

She'd intended to go hunting while she waited for Smokethroat -- she really had. She'd only gone into the apprentice's den for a moment, though the ruins of their nests causes her to pause and sigh. Iciclepaw wanted to see if Ashpaw would go hunting, too, wanted to pry her out of the viselike grip this camp has had on her for too long.

It's instant, the way the world becomes dark around her. A splintering sound, the roof caving in above her, and she's forced to throw herself onto her belly. Branches and moss and suffocating bits of weavery fall around her, holding her in place. Water fills her mouth, horrid cold floodwater, and she gags, spits, chokes. "Is anyone else in here?" Her voice rises, high-pitched. "Is anyone else--"

Mouthfuls of water again, forcing up and into her mouse and nose, and she thrashes, trying to break free from the piles of debris that keep her pinned. "Help us!" She doesn't know if there is and us, she can't hear anything else -- she can only hear the shouts outside, Smokethroat calling her name, hear the scrape of claws against wood. "The water, it's--" She chokes again, fighting the waves of panic that threaten to consume her along with the rising water.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[MUDPELT]

He's been looming high on one of the slopes in camp, ears pinned in dismay as he watches the last of the fresh-kill bob up and down in the water. Ruined - crowfood, at this point. His stomach rumbles, a reminder of the hunger his clan is dealing with. A heavy sigh leaves him, fog swirling from his maw. He thinks about going out to fish some more, and ponders whether to invite Fernpaw or not. He needs his rest...but selfishly, the father doesn't want to be alone.

He's already heading towards the apprentice's den to find his apprentice, long legs pushing through the muddy water. It's then when he hears the creaking. Tall ears perk up, but the meaning behind the sound doesn't register until it's too late. Mudpelt stands frozen as the den before him sinks in on itself, reeds bending and snapping. His brown jaw is slack, shock written across his face. But it's the voice coming from inside that sends him splashing forward.

"Iciclepaw!" He yowls, joining his clanmates at the edge of the ruined den as it sinks further and further into the high water. His daughter's pleading voice rings out and he pauses, blinking at the warriors at his side before he makes a decision. "Hold it here! I'm going in!" He would not let his little girl be pulled into the rapids, pinned beneath reeds and rush. The hulking tom hauls himself into the wreckage and sinks his claws into the sides. Water splashes up against his face and he splutters out, "Iciclepaw, can you hear me?" It's dark, but through the carnage he can see the splash of ginger fur, the ivory blaze. It's her. He reaches down to grasp her scruff in his jaws and attempts to pull, using a forepaw to try and claw away the debris holding her down.​

 

[Steepsnout]

WE'RE TAKING OVER THE WORLD, A LITTLE VICTIMLESS CRIME ➳​

She had been wading through the shadowy portions of the den, grousing over nest splinters, when the roof had fallen in. Limbs leaden with water were crushed into action in a heartbeat, reed knots pinning her tailbone into the frigid depths. "Oh- rats-" Steeppaw yelped as she wrenched at the silt-soft earth in an attempt to wriggle out. Her strength, reliably, earned her an escape but not without taking precious seconds. Sediment leaked between her teeth, the taste warning of worst to come.

A voice, familiar, bubbled up a tail length away. "Icicle? Is that you?" Darkness bled into the cloudy water, swilling false shapes into being. Helplessness clawed at her throat- she didn't like that. With a snarl, Steeppaw lugged her body over debris toward the sound of her sister. The water, a friend in manoeuvrability, had turned sour and seemed to want to draw her in deeper with every huffed step. Her broad shoulders were pinched and wrenched as the structure fell away moment by moment.

The apprentice almost crashed into Iciclepaw, a current snatching at her paws without warning and tipping her into a furrow. It cracked her cheek against a log, igniting pain through her muzzle. But she was there- she was with her sister. Mudpelt's tone was just audible, heralding a splinter of sky becoming available.

"Dad! We're here- " Blood bloomed along her palette- a crooked tooth maybe? Not even a cool scar... "C'mon sis, c'mon I'll push you up. Get ready to haul ass." Despite the shudder that was beginning to set in, the molly coated her cadence with confidence. Steeppaw braced her form against the tortie and, with a mighty breath, tried to shove her up into their dad's clutches. "Is there anyone else? Guys? C'mere and I'll... I'll push you up" Eels, it was cold in here.

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[FERNGILL]

He was checking, counting- sure that some of the almighty pile of stuff by his nest had been reduced. Had someone been thieving it? He'd- he'd have to conduct some sort of investigation when he finally figured out what it was that he was missing, and he was sure he was missing something. He'd seen it! Eyes cast his pile's way, envious probably. He wouldn't blame them if they took or moved anything by accident, but- if someone did it on purpose?

He hardly had time to ponder the possibilities- there was a crack, a splinter- a shift, and a cold creep up his legs and body in an instant. Fernpaw's bug-eyes shot wide at the sight- water rising up, up, falling in a weeping flood, and the ceiling giving them little leeway to swim above it. A gasp fled from his maw, a tiny sound and the din of his sister's panic caught his attention. Pivoting best he could, the tiny ginger scrap shot himself upward and toward his kin, using everything his father had taught him and congratulated him for in attempting to swim through the deluge and the debris. Smaller than most, for once his size was an advantage, giving him the tiniest inch more space to breath.

"I'm- KHHG- I'm here, too...! A tiny voice, interrupted by a little choke as he failed to keep his head above the surface for a moment. A mistake he had made before, but this time- this time it was crucial he didn't forget. That he put everything he had into staying afloat, making sure he could breathe. "I'm huh-here- I'mmm-m h-here," Panicked, he fumbled over himself as he repeated it, trying best he could not to panic. Iciclepaw wasn't panicking, Steeppaw wasn't panicking... or maybe they were. Maybe they were. He couldn't be sure, he just- knew he wanted them all to be safe, and did not know how possible that was. ​

( penned by pin )​

 

[CLEARSIGHT]

---

➵ \\ cw for fear of death
& @GILLPAW apprentice tag

There's screaming from within, gurgling cries for help drowned out by mud and water — Clearsight's stomach twists, mouth falling open in stark horror. The whole of RiverClan seems to freeze, then burst at once into action — their kids are in there.

"Gillpaw," Clearsight hears himself shouting, "Gillpaw!" His apprentice, his Gillpaw, sweet black-and-white tom Clearsight has helped to raise — bravest child he's ever met, who's fought for RiverClan and its allies, who has swum and fished and hunted, who has grown and grown — is nowhere to be seen. Please, Clearsight prays, don't let him be inside this mess —

Clearsight will not lose the boy now.

Smokethroat and Mudpelt are shouting, too, Smokethroat's voice cracking with a kind of terror Clearsight has not heard from him before — Mudpelt is digging, and Clearsight leaps in to join, aiding however he can, hauling back reeds and tearing through mud.

Mudpelt has Iciclepaw in his grasp, now, and Steeppaw is struggling upright through the freezing water, helping her sister. The poor girl looks half-drowned herself, and on second glance she's bleeding. Shit. "We have her, Steeppaw — you're hurt, you need to get out — " He'll nudge Steeppaw toward the path they've cleared, with more than a little force, aiming to get her away from Iciclepaw and toward safety. His tone brooks no argument; he is not asking.

And another voice, watery cries for help, further down — a wobbly head and bulbous eyes, patchy ginger fur — Fernpaw —

"I'm here too!"

I'm coming, Clearsight thinks, gritting his teeth against the cold and diving forward. He forces his way through the freezing mud toward Fernpaw's struggling form. "I've got him, Mudpelt," he'll shout, seeking to snag Fernpaw's scruff and get the kid's head firmly above the water. "Come on kid, kick, we'll get you out of here — "

With all his might, the blue tabby hauls Fernpaw backward, closer to sunlight, closer to air.

Still he hasn't heard Gillpaw.

Clearsight's mind feels quite separate from his body — he attempts to help Fernpaw further out of the soaking rubble, half-dragging him, hoping to pass the boy off to his dad or clanmates higher up , and all the while grief and terror tear his composure to pieces. The longer his calls go without reply, the more certain Gillpaw's fate, and that isn't a loss Clearsight can face.

"GILLPAW!"

He dives back into the mud. The cold, sharp and visceral, has begun to sap his strength, but still he digs — until his paws collide with a body.

His vision grays at the edges, heart falling into his stomach. No —

No.

Choking back the urge to vomit, Clearsight sinks his teeth into the waterlogged pelt. So small, it can't be Gillpaw, then — he rips the apprentice free of the mud and reeds — so cold, stars above, is she breathing?

He recognizes the silvery pelt of the NPC apprentice. "Finpaw," he breathes. A very little girl, just four moons old, barely begun her apprenticeship. She's breathing, thank StarClan, the den collapse must've just knocked her out. "I need help — " he shouts over his shoulder. "Finpaw's out cold."

He starts hauling the girl up, passing her off to a clanmate if he can. His stomach churns, gazing deeper into the mud. Who else is buried here, unconscious or digging their way out — can they all be so lucky as Finpaw?

​

---

& we've all got battle scars ✗​

 

[willowroot]

( ☾ ) she huddles beside boneripple, the two queens together attempting to soothe their shaking children as around them, water swirls. the pool is vast, broken only by strong paws cutting through debris as warriors scour the camp for herbs and wayward nests. willowroot's children huddle beneath her belly, packed tight together, their pelts spiked with fear and dampness. she bends to comfort them, setting to work the arduous task of licking them warm, when a shout is heard. the king of riverclan stands with horror dawning on his face and the smoke follows his gaze towards the ruined bits of woven vine where the apprentices' den once sat. all at once, she's alert again, sharing a look with boneripple as the two join the action. she has faith ashpaw will look after the kittens. thank the stars the girl has been sleeping in the nursery.

still, she has more than just those lives to look after. green eyes widen as she splashes into the mess with a hiss. "steeppaw?" she calls, although it is hard to be heard over the cacophony of other vocals as mentors search desperately for their apprentices. splashing to mudpelt's side as he leaps into the wreckage. "steeppaw, iciclepaw, hang on, we're getting you out!" she tries to keep her voice steady, but a small stutter gives away her fear. pushing in beside the warrior, she takes a breath and lets herself sink under. eyes squinted tight as silt and twigs swirl around her, she attempts to grasp on to steeppaw's scruff, aware that clearsight has pushed her up further. "come on," she mumbles between tightened teeth, jaws hauling the splotched apprentice towards safety. when they reach the higher end of camp, she lets go, aware of her heart beating out of her chest, lungs collapsing as she gasps for breath. her scarred nose prods gently at the apprentice's body as she tries to scent for blood, for any sign of injury. "oh little love, your muzzle," her voice catches and she offers the girl small licks of comfort.

standing again, she hears a gasp of pain and horror from her storm hued friend. "stay here," she tells her apprentice, praying to the stars that the bright girl will find ashpaw and huddle in safety. turning back to the mess, her stomach drops. clearsight reappears from the swirling waters with a small form in his jaws. the femme hurries over, hissing in pain as her paw catches on something and she's tripped. emerging, sputtering and slightly pained, the lead warrior reaches her friend. "oh stars above," she breathes, taking in the sight as her stomach churns. "finpaw." with gentle intentions, she attempts to pull the body towards her own, aiming to bring it towards the safety of the dryer lands. the girl is curled, still as ice although her chest rises weakly. willowroot can't help but see visions of her own children as she carries the child to shore.

apprentice tags @ashpaw! @Steeppaw
interacting with @CLEARSIGHT @MUDPELT ​

( THE LIGHT YOU GAVE ME )

 

[GILLSIGHT]

The river is flooding.

The river is flooding, and Gillpaw doesn't like it. He doesn't like the way it inches closer and closer, faster and faster, laps at his paws with each step - reminds him of his brush with the stars, trapped under ice for Snakeblink to save.

How Clearsight couldn't save him, because he'd almost died that day too.

But, like the river that overtakes their camp, he too must surge onwards.

Of which he has the intention of doing. He's meant to train with Clearsight, later on today. For now, however, Gillpaw takes refuge in the apprentice den, an effort to keep his paws dry - though even the den he sleeps on is dampened from the flood.

Dampened. Gillpaw doesn't realize how bad it is until it's too late. Doesn't realize until reed and moss is caving in on itself, burying the apprentices and their nests.

He shouts in surprise as his world goes dark, as water begins to fill their den. Shouts that are matched by his fellow apprentices, panic shared between the lot of them.

He should be helping, right? He should be helping to make their escape, helping free the rest of them from their watery demise? But he too is trapped, he too is drowning in fear - reminders of ink-black water and struggle, of desperate pleas to keep his head up in icy temperatures, all coming to fruition; becoming all too real, once more.

And, it's Clearsight's shouts he can hear, panicked just as Gillpaw. It scares him even more. Scares him, because, he's trapped, can't free himself from the reeds and moss that pin him down, push him back into icy waters. Scares him, because he can't escape to keep Clearsight's fears at bay. He is merely frozen, trapped in his nightmares once again.

But, he needs to surge onwards.

Gillpaw takes a breath, closes his eyes. It's alright. He'll be okay. He's going to be okay. He has to be, for Clearsight.

Stars, let him be.

"C-C... Cl-Clearsight...!" he finally calls back, hoping it's loud enough to gain his mentor's attention - to be a sign of life to ease his mentor's panic as muddied paws try to free himself from the rubble.
​

 

[Pinepaw]

"nothing but pain on the edge of a knife"​

Pine had been up and out early as usual, perching at the edge of the camp and watching the entrance. He’d only turned his head for a moment to get a knot from his fur when he heard Cicadastar’s call. He was supposed to be staying in the apprentices den, though he slept little with the other cats so close to him and spent more time outside the den than in it. That habit had kept him safe this time, but the others were not as lucky. He was too small to be much of a help and felt frozen with fear at the idea of his new family–for so quickly that is what they’d become–being lost to the river that protected them.
​

✦ ★ ✦​

 

[DARKWHISKER]

darkpaw's chatting with his littermates, paws holding tight onto his pebble. the river's risen high enough now for water to trickle into the den, making for even colder and wetter nights, and he fears that his pebble would be swept away if he didn't keep a hold on it. he fears that the entire camp was going to be swept away, at this point. what was once their fresh-kill pile now floats in murky water, bloated and inedible. scraps of nests and trinkets, too.

was starclan truly watching over them? a shiver runs down his spine, and darkpaw doesn't think it's due to the chilly water lapping at his paws. he shouldn't question starclan- his grip tightens on the pebble, and he's certain that he could feel the stars' disapproval rolling off of it- but it's hard, when he's watching his home be destroyed with no intervention.

darkpaw's melancholic thoughts are interrupted by the sound of cracking overhead. chocolate ears twitch, brows furrowing... he opens his mouth to ask the obvious; what's that sound? but any words die in his throat as the world goes black beneath the deafening sound of the roof splintering. cold seeps up his legs, across his flanks, as the den quickly fills with water and debris. darkpaw yelps, the sudden close quarters pushing him nearly beneath the surface of the flood- half-scrambling and half-paddling towards the direction of iciclepaw's yowls on instinct, pebble forgotten in the midst of chaos, coughing out water that laps at his muzzle and trying to remember to breathe through his nose to avoid a mouthful of the stuff- he can't see a thing, and the rising pitch in the typically composed iciclepaw's voice isn't doing anything to calm his own pounding heart. "icy! steep! fern!" his own voice cracks from the fear that chokes him, gagging around another mouthful of water, and he sounds more like a scared kit than a future riverclan warrior. where are his siblings?

dad, mom... starclan, help us!

a beacon in the dark, the young boy hears his father call out for iciclepaw. steeppaw and fernpaw answer, and darkpaw wants to sob in relief as he paddles harder. "dad! i'm h-here! i-i'm here!" words are spluttered against brackish water. as his eyesight adjusts, he can catch a glimpse of iciclepaw's ginger patches peeking from a pile of debris, and fernpaw sticks out like a sore thumb with his fiery pelt- steeppaw's splashes of white, too, are barely visible. with chattering teeth, darkpaw would begin to do the only thing he knows how to- he would claw at the debris pinning iciclepaw in place, hoping to dislodge it. it's difficult to do while also focusing on not being fully submerged in freezing water and low vision.

clearsight's here, now, shouting at steeppaw and fernpaw to get to safety- but they couldn't leave without icy and their dad! choking down tears, darkpaw would attempt to pull at the debris with all of his remaining strength.​

 

[iciclefang]

Iciclepaw hears other voices behind her, all three of her littermates and Gillpaw, all trapped. Being with them provides her with no comfort -- instead, the panic begins to bloom again in her chest with unfurling petals. She hears her Clanmates' voices outside of the collapsed den, notably her father's and Smokethroat's.

The bracken pinning her is shredded and scraped, and she can see light -- she takes a gasp of air. She can see his face, brilliant golden eyes, paws outstretched and reaching for her. His jaws just manage to latch onto her scruff, and her sister's body heaving against her is enough to dislodge her from the material pinning her into the rapids.

She's free, and she takes a few haphazard breaths before turning back to the ruined den. Clearsight and Willowroot are here now, helping to clear debris from her siblings, from Gillpaw. They're being hauled into fresh air, into life, and her body quivers with gratitude. "Mudpelt... thank you," she exhales, unable to stand as her body trembles with exertion and residual fear. She's come close to death only one other time, and this time -- this time had seemed final.

But Darkpaw's voice rings out -- and Iciclepaw's blood freezes as she realizes her brother is still inside what remains of the den. She pushes herself to her wavering paws, voice firm: "Darkpaw! Mudpelt, he's still inside!" She wobbles towards the widened opening made by the rescuers, and she attempts to lean back into the den that had almost become her watery grave, her teeth seeking Darkpaw's scruff. If successful, she will pull with what little strength she has left -- but she will slip forward, clearly not enough to haul her brother out alone.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[MUDPELT]

He hears more voices, and with growing dread he realizes they belong to his other children. They're all inside. His grip tightens and the father fights back tears, his emotions threatening to take hold. He's panicking. His babies are all inside this den, and it's floating away. His other daughter's force against Iciclepaw is the last move needed to free her. He hauls her up, doing his best to not drag her against sharpened debris, and releases her once she's safe on dry land. Relief washes over him as he watches Clearsight drag Fernpaw out and Willowroot handles Steep-paw. "Thank you," The warrior chokes out to them. He embraces Iciclepaw, a paw holding her firmly to his chest as adrenaline rushes through him. "I'll never let anything happen to you," He wearily assures her in response to her gratitude, but the moment doesn't last when the tortoiseshell calls out her brother's name.

Ears shoot forward and amber eyes blow wide. Darkpaw's not out? His throat tightens and he launches forward, tears already pricking his eyes as he watches the den shift and sink further. "Darkpaw! Darkpaw, can you hear me?" He yowls, peering desperately into the darkness. His daughter spots him and reaches for his scruff, slipping as she tries to pull. Mudpelt looms over her, attempting to grab hold of his son's scruff further down from Iciclepaw's grip. The two of them together should be able to pull him out without a problem. StarClan, let my boy be okay!​

 

[Steepsnout]

WE'RE TAKING OVER THE WORLD, A LITTLE VICTIMLESS CRIME ➳​

It was falling away beneath her paws, shards of home stripped away by the ravenous waters. That yawning scrap of sky though, became even brighter as Clearsight joined her dad in getting them out. Wobbling limbs held her up as her sister was lifted free.

“Nice, ok-okay who’s-“ Fernpaw’s slim form wove through the debris, a scrap of maple unfettered by the larger obstacles. Darkpaw too, was bundled beside them, his pebble no doubt still tucked against his shadowy form. Steeppaw made to connect with her brothers, only to have her shoulder pulled further out of the den. She almost protested, but Clearsight’s swift grip Fernpaw and Darkpaw being wrenched free wicked the objection from her tongue.

Then her mentor was there, wicker pelt ablur through her squinted view, dragging her further still, up the bank. She wanted to rally, to go back to them, but Steeppaw found her legs unresponsive.

“M'yeah, totally f-fim, fine-“ Despite no questions asked, she found herself answering. Reassurance, for Willowroot, not herself- no. A cold nose at her muzzle awakened the ache there, drawing her attention to the blood dribbling from between her teeth. Clementine eyes widened briefly, before she spat the offending tooth clean from her jaw. In a heartbeat, the river claimed the milky artefact. Cool...

A laugh, belted out in other circumstances, instead whistled from her limply. The taste of iron was overwhelming and there was that palpable sense of emptiness in the spot where the tooth once sat.

Despite her mentor’s instruction, Steeppaw laboured forward and hovered, ready to lunge in if needed as the last few were pulled free. If able, she pressed against Fernpaw, flanks still juddering with the chill. “So glad w-we’re out- that was shit”
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[SMOKESTAR]

His heart is loud, thunderous in his ears, above the cries of cats panicked and scared he finds himself surrounded by other warrior forms and less lost in his own disorienting worry. Iciclepaw's voice breaks his concentration briefly, the panic not often heard from his usually dismissive and quiet apprentice and he glances sharply over to Mudpelt who has joined in the digging with a frantic urgency; the pull of a parent's worry more powerful than the pliable walls of the collapsing den. His head turns, reeds shred beneath his teeth and he tugs away the flimsy and broken material now of the den's structure to make more headway into finding any of the younger cats lost and still buried.

The apprentices are managing well, continuing to fight and assist in getting the others free. One by one he watches them being pulled free from the rubble as he contiues to tear at it with claw and teeth to dismantle the entire thing, horrified that there might still be an young cat buried and unable to call for help in a wounded or disoriented state. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Pine, perched on the edge of camp and fearful and unsure and was relieved to be able to take a cat off the mental list of apprentices he was running through his mind in rapid fashion.
Iciclepaw is free, Darkpaw is pulled up be her and their father, Steeppaw, Fernpaw...his mind is racing, running through the apprentices of the clan and finding most of them accounted for except-there. His ears flick forward, it is not his name being called but he hears Gillpaw's stuttering and shrill cry rise up from the wreckage and he shoves his upper body in, face pushing past reeds and broken weaving until he can spot the flash of golden-yellow eyes set against dark fur only lightly touched with snow. "Gillpaw-! You're fine, I got you!" Teeth try to find a grip on the tom's scruff, hindlegs pushing against what remained of the den's foundation to help him tug. Clearsight's apprentice was proving to be a little too wedged in place but he tried, Stars was he trying without biting down too hard but he was certain the boy would prefer a few teeth punctures to drowning in his own nest in the end.

- Grabbing @GILLPAW
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