- Feb 8, 2023
- 74
- 39
- 18
Rear-swivelled ears caught Bluefrost's demands, and promptly ignored them. She was not staying, because she couldn't stay. Camp had burnt through its sense of sanctuary the moment WindClan blood was spilt within it, and the sheer brutality she'd witnessed defies any reasoning that could lend it justification. The gorse walls no longer housed a clan. Aggressive mania governed them all now, as dangerous and volatile as foxes starved.
Though neglected, her littermate's words echoed like a recurring mantra, even as the echoes of conflict gave way to whirling winds and her own erratic breathing. Wounded. Bluefrost's voice bore a wounded edge, a raw tone of disbelief. With every brisk stride across the snowy plains, the realisation dug further into Moorblossom's pelt—to those she leaves behind, her family, her clanmates, her identity will be distilled down to the single word.
Traitor. She is a traitor, now.
Reflection is a luxury she cannot afford at the moment. The pressing need for escape tempers any grief with urgency, and the latter, in turn, drives her paws into a frenzy. Her legs feel leaden and numb. There's a dull ache in her lungs, and her breath comes out in harsh puffs. The moors are a blur, a rippling sea of glacial white, and her head spins in its wake.
The air around her seems to ripple too, and when her vision finally settles, the landscape is no longer the same. Horseplace looms, its fenceline cutting through the horizon. It was here where Sunstride and the others had hightailed, right? She could've sworn she saw dimmed outlines advancing towards this twoleg structure.
Her momentum downshifts to a walking pace, and she becomes aware to the paw-impressions scattered about the terrain. Breath comes in ragged bursts, but Moorblossom pushes onward a tad further, crossing the fence and encroaching on what she hoped was a safe haven; supposing the renegades found no qualms in accommodating her, progeny of their murderous leader.
"H-hello?" her warbling cry cuts the silence, whiskers trembling in hope for some answer. She slinks low to the ground, teeth chattering even with her face away from the breeze. "Is anyone a-around?"
They must have ventured inside.
A dainty sniffle, and Moorblossom tentatively nears the dwelling's wooden walls, glassy eyes grazing its cracks. Slowing her step gave room for fatigue to creep in, limbs dropping into deadweights, and the chokehold she held around her emotions slackens. The instant she creeps inside, and lays eyes on dishevelled cats within, what fragile composure crumbles completely. "E-ev-ery-one is get-t-ting k-killed!"
Brackish tears cloak over her vision, and the sodden blur threatens to whisk her under a tide of panic. "S-Sootst-tar c-cut Larkf-feather in t-two! She's murdered!" her words spill forth like bile. "L-Lilacstem..." She hiccups over a strangled mew, paw swiping feebly over her cheeks and muzzle. Her gaze averts itself to the ground, staring bitterly through wavering orbs.
Why was any of this happening? Where was Bluepool?
// takes place just a few minutes after the other arrival thread!
Though neglected, her littermate's words echoed like a recurring mantra, even as the echoes of conflict gave way to whirling winds and her own erratic breathing. Wounded. Bluefrost's voice bore a wounded edge, a raw tone of disbelief. With every brisk stride across the snowy plains, the realisation dug further into Moorblossom's pelt—to those she leaves behind, her family, her clanmates, her identity will be distilled down to the single word.
Traitor. She is a traitor, now.
Reflection is a luxury she cannot afford at the moment. The pressing need for escape tempers any grief with urgency, and the latter, in turn, drives her paws into a frenzy. Her legs feel leaden and numb. There's a dull ache in her lungs, and her breath comes out in harsh puffs. The moors are a blur, a rippling sea of glacial white, and her head spins in its wake.
The air around her seems to ripple too, and when her vision finally settles, the landscape is no longer the same. Horseplace looms, its fenceline cutting through the horizon. It was here where Sunstride and the others had hightailed, right? She could've sworn she saw dimmed outlines advancing towards this twoleg structure.
Her momentum downshifts to a walking pace, and she becomes aware to the paw-impressions scattered about the terrain. Breath comes in ragged bursts, but Moorblossom pushes onward a tad further, crossing the fence and encroaching on what she hoped was a safe haven; supposing the renegades found no qualms in accommodating her, progeny of their murderous leader.
"H-hello?" her warbling cry cuts the silence, whiskers trembling in hope for some answer. She slinks low to the ground, teeth chattering even with her face away from the breeze. "Is anyone a-around?"
They must have ventured inside.
A dainty sniffle, and Moorblossom tentatively nears the dwelling's wooden walls, glassy eyes grazing its cracks. Slowing her step gave room for fatigue to creep in, limbs dropping into deadweights, and the chokehold she held around her emotions slackens. The instant she creeps inside, and lays eyes on dishevelled cats within, what fragile composure crumbles completely. "E-ev-ery-one is get-t-ting k-killed!"
Brackish tears cloak over her vision, and the sodden blur threatens to whisk her under a tide of panic. "S-Sootst-tar c-cut Larkf-feather in t-two! She's murdered!" her words spill forth like bile. "L-Lilacstem..." She hiccups over a strangled mew, paw swiping feebly over her cheeks and muzzle. Her gaze averts itself to the ground, staring bitterly through wavering orbs.
Why was any of this happening? Where was Bluepool?
// takes place just a few minutes after the other arrival thread!
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