camp NO ONE LIVES FOREVER ! patrol return

[wolfpaw!]

/ cw: descriptions of injury!

Wolfpaw's head screams. There is a cleaving down her face, some wall of hot white, right over her right eye — and it hurts, and it hurts and it hurts. The warm red ribbons out into the snow like pastry batter, thick and sweet, leaving a trail behind the patrol as they tear away from the border and towards camp. Who is holding her? Wolfpaw isn't walking on her own. Her arm screams, too, and protests any weight put on it. She is bobbing on someone's back, or maybe in their mouth, held at her scruff like a kitten — and she feels like a kitten, small and stupid, too cowardly to fight for what was right and paying for it now. She stares down at the snow; the streaks of red behind her. But she isn't the only one hurting. Her awareness of them has grown dim, fuzzy with excruciating static that tunnels her vision, but her littermates... oh StarClan, her littermates. Hawkpaw had been the first to fall. She'd hardly even seen Blazingpaw's attempt at bravery, a boy wearing a man's flimsy armor, torn through as wet paper. Her head was too busy screaming at her. Her vision was too busy tunneling (and why? she knows she has both her eyes open, so why can't she see like she had before? maybe once she is done being terrified, it will clear up?).

The warriors stampede back into camp with all the frenzy of a frightened herd. Wolfpaw doesn't understand what they are saying. "Get @DAWNGLARE !" one of them shouts, maybe Figfeather, maybe Howlfire, maybe Bobbie. Would Dawnglare ease this screaming in her head? She is set down so gently in the dusty camp floor, and her blood is still spilling everywhere, and she thinks of tomorrow, when she would likely see the stain. Yuck. Springpaw would see it too, she bets. Would it be gross? Would Springpaw hate her for making all this mess?

Tears well and a new explosion blossoms in her right eye. Wolfpaw shrieks at the sensation, but her surprised pang melts quickly into pitiful sobs: "Mama...!" Howlfire would make it better. Howlfire would let her cry, would lick her cheeks free of the tears (and the blood oh StarClan the blood) and help her; she'd make it so it didn't hurt anymore.

/ edit bc i forgot her injuries list:
- wounded right eye & heavy scarring on right side of face
- large gashes on right foreleg
- bruising to ribs on left side, but no broken bones

𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐍 ☾ 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆

• 

• 
  
  — wolfpaw
  — she / they / he ; apprentice of skyclan
  — longhaired lilac torbie with piercing yellow eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — avatar by tropics; signature by dreamydoggo
  — penned by meghan

​

 

[Howlfire]

The patrol returns to camp hurriedly, bursting through the entrance with all the grace of a raving pack of dogs. As soon as the rogues were gone, Howlfire was quick to rush to her children's sides, checking them over quickly before insisting they return as soon as possible. They alive thankfully but bloodied and permanently scarred. Howlfire wishes she could lick them all and take the pain away and make it better for them all.

As soon as they're in camp, Howlfire sets down Hawkpaw who she had carried back to camp, careful to make the gesture as gentle as possible lest she jostle her injured child any further. Someone shouts for Dawnglare, Howlfire's not sure who, but she sees a few clanmates standing there gawking. "Don't just stand there!" Howlfire bristled. "Get Dawnglare!"

Stars, she must look a state bloodied as she was. They would think her injured too if just looking. There was time for Howlfire to share the story but for now she was focused back on her kits, the ire she had aimed at a clanmate fading as she moved to Wolfpaws side. "Shush, little one, I'm here," Howlfire soothed, rasping a tongue over Wolfpaw's flank as once did. Dawnglare and Fireflypaw would be here soon and then she would be better. Blazingpaw and Hawkpaw would be better too. Howlfire tears her gaze away from Wolfpaw to address a nearby cat. "Can someone find Coyotecrest please?" Her voice trembled as she made her request.​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

A blood shower, that was the best he could describe it- storm of crimson, the ugliest kind. The smell on the air was bitter sting. Wolfpaw shrieked, Blazingpaw similarly stained with scarring and gashes- for once, though, Twitchbolt did not waste a moment in his panic. It was a gunpowder burst of fear and concern within him insten, sending him barrelling toward them. His voice broke through the din of it all, brittle and fearful, though anger coiled beneath it all. "What happened?" Eyes shot wide flicked between the warriors present, prying them apart for an answer before they had a moment to breathe, fidgeting on odd paws. What, who could do this? Was it, them, whatever, still out on the territory? Were jaws ajar waiting to swallow more young apprentices?

Focus, focus, focus. He'd slap some sense into himself if he could, but a spasm did the trick, a full-body shiver. Howlfire warbled out a request, and Twitchbolt swallowed to moisten his drying throat as he nodded his head. Coyotecrest, right- these were his kits, his... his apprentices. though they looked so much like little kittens now, screeching and crying and harmed.

"Coyotecrest?" He called, unable to shake the worry out of his voice, searching for the former Windclanner in the crowd.

\ lingered for a little while to hear what happened, then went to find @Coyotecrest !​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[BOBBIE]

Her spine is a brand of fire—minor scratches mar the rest of her body, but the burly rogue's claws had continually found her back a suitable home as they tussled. Jagged swathes of oozing red, overlapping and weaving, shriek their way along her vertebra like tongues of fire. No matter. If the weight of her apprentice (such a light weight, so light) on her back, unconscious and head-lolling, worsens the arcane etchings of pain, then it's the least she owes. Blazingpaw's first proper outing, bright-eyed and big-dreamed as he deserved to be for a few sweet moons, before life snatched it away, and he couldn't even walk away from it.

The trek back is appropriately silent, and every time Bobbie glances at Howlfire, bile curls up in her throat and she has to suppress yet another gag. Guilt seeps bitter into her back teeth until she thinks she might choke on it, and she hefts Blazingpaw a little more securely across her narrow shoulders. The silence is proclamation enough from the injured warriors and small, broken-looking apprentices; proclamation enough that she has, once again, failed. Why had she ever, ever thought she could be better than this? A small, stupid, endlessly naive kittypet.

Wolfpaw begins to sob pitifully when they get back to camp, a small shape on the ground crying out for her mother. Her mother calls out for Dawnglare, bristling and bloody, and then begins to soothe Wolfpaw as if she were a kit—and, really, the broken little apprentice looks like one. She half-slumps to let Blazingpaw gently onto the earth by his sister, feeling fresh trickles of blood matting into the fur along her spine. Twitchbolt's voice breaks through the copper haze, and Bobbie looks to him. "Rogues, on the border."

She sits by her apprentice, too numb to cry despite the nauseous washes of guilt and pain, murmuring to his limp body, "I'm sorry, Blazingpaw."

i'm a moon ☾ ( constantly chasing you )

• 

• 

  bobbie ; lead warrior of skyclan
  x. she/her ; 44 moons ; tags
  x. small, scarred lilac tabby and white she-cat with green eyes
  x. played by dejavu
  x. mother to lupinepaw, crowpaw, and drowsypaw. mate to blazestar.

​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

The patrol returns, staggering into camp and splashed with red. Blazestar drops the piece of prey he’d been carrying—it THUDS like the dead meat it is to the ground, in between his paws, forgotten instantly. The scent of blood stings his nostrils, burns on his tongue. A crumpled cream-colored heap stumbles into the middle of camp, one side of her face crimson and marred, her sobs hiccupping into the air and cleaving the calmness in two. Blazestar’s paws are heavy, his voice wobbling as he turns with dread toward the cats he and Orangeblossom had sent toward the unmarked border. “No,” he whispers, his heart climbing into his throat and sticking there so that he can’t swallow, can’t speak.

Wolfpaw is alive, but her face—her face and body bear the wounds even an experienced warrior would find devastating. Howlfire bends to lick her daughter’s ear, coated in blood, though he cannot see any wounds on her marbled pelt. She calls for Dawnglare, then for Coyotecrest, and Twitchbolt shoots away to retrieve the kits’ father. He’s about to echo the lead warrior—what happened?—but it’s Bobbie, weak and sinking into a crumpled lilac heap beside her apprentice, who gives voice to the devastation.

Rogues at the border, and Blazestar knows he has made a costly mistake. Blazingpaw is still on the snow-crusted camp floor—the blood leaks from one ear, hidden too-well by the fiery red of his pelt. Hawkpaw is laid gently beside her littermates by her mother, and Blazestar can see the ruin of her profile.

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes, his steps unbalanced. He does not know who to go to—his mate? His daughter? Is Figfeather alright? Which of his grandchildren are hurt the worst, which of them is in the greatest danger right now? The lump in his throat thickens, and he’s reminded of a tiny body crusted red with scarlet snow, of whispering pleas that grow strained and die like flowers in frost. “B-Blazingpaw, Hawkpaw, are they—?” His jaw snaps shut, grief fighting horror on his features.

, ”​

​

 

[FIGFEATHER]

Figfeahter's head feels as if it might split open. A heavy crimson stains her face, trickling down into her eyes and nose. Most of the damage pooled at the back of her neck, a deep cut hidden under fur matted in blood. She still feels it now as she pushes into camp, the heavy paw of the rogue, it had felt like her head was merely a berry to be squished.

The marmalade tabby is eerily quiet in the chaos, her head hangs low and her lips pursed straight and narrow. As Wolfpaw calls for her mother Figfeather would not move to comfort her, not when she had failed Wolfpaw and the rest of her littermates so miserably this day.

Blazestar questions the safety of Blazingpaw and Hawkpaw, a terrible look of horror and grief twisting on his face. "Blazingpaw is unconscious- I don't know if he's okay." She confesses, claws raking at her heart for the fact she could not ease the mind of Blazestar and the clan-mates that gather. "...Hawkpaw- she's- I don't know, her eye... It looks bad." The area was so thick with pooling blood Figfeather doubts they can even open it. She hopes it's not as bad as it looks... but it all seemed terribly bleak.

♡ INFO BATTLE

• INJURIES:
  - Tufts of fur ripped/missing from her pelt
  - Most notable injury is a deep, dug-in scratch at the back of her neck. It's bleeding has began to halt but the area around the wound is coated in blood
• 
  » Figfeather
  » SkyClan Warrior
  » She/her . AMAB
  » Mentoring Wolfpaw
  » Mate to Fantastream
  » A red tabby she-cat with a mangled leg.
  » ”Speech”․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A foe in battle whose ability to strategize can shift tides.
  » Excels in strategizing and pre-planning her battles.
  » Fights defensively and aid to her clan to victory.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[Hawkpaw]

Hawkpaw remembers fragments from the journey home.

Being hoisted gently atop Howlfire's back, the vibrations of her words to the other mentors urgent and clipped. It almost feels like purring, comfortable and soothing, and Hawkpaw is reminded of the nursery: of falling asleep atop her mother, naptime coming on strong after a raucous play session and a story.

Shifting to get a little more comfortable and being frantically soothed, as if Howlfire is worried her daughter would slip from her back and crash into the snow beneath hurried, steady paws. Hawkpaw doesn't feel a smidgen of that concern: she has faith that her mama would be able to carry her all the way home.

She remembers a glimpse of the sky between pine branches, sunlight filtering down onto her muzzle and making her squint against the brightness of it. Something dark darts across her vision and she tenses

All the way back to camp, the only sensation she would remember is pain. The only scent that fills her nose is blood. The stinging lines of fire that score her muzzle and left foreleg fade into a dull throb, numb enough with the snow she'd pressed against that it only burns beneath her eyes (eye) when Howlfire needs to stretch her stride to navigate a stone or a fallen log.

She's not conscious enough to talk but she manages to lift her head at the sound of calls for Coyotecrest, for Dawnglare, of Blazestar's rumbling meow. Howlfire lets her down gently, and Hawkpaw is once again reminded of the nursery, of an early memory playing tumble-hill down her side when she thought they were all still really easy to break. Hawkpaw would give anything to go back to those days now. Maybe she'd been right.

Her throat is so dry, aching from her wails during the fight or from something else she doesn't know. Hawkpaw makes a quiet noise, somewhere between protest at being left alone and a whimper for attention from someone, and sets her head atop the paw of her uninjured leg.

—​

injuries list:
- moderate bruising across front half of body, no damage to bones.
- clawmarks on left side of face, including damage to the eye.
- slightly deeper scratch around left fore leg's shoulder.
— both have stopped bleeding by now.​

 

[SLATE]

Amber eyes flick upward from his makeshift nest as the dawn patrol staggers back into the camp entrance. He frowns, immediately getting to his paws, and follows the party through the entryway where cats flock over to see what has happened. Black irises narrowed as he laid eyes upon the wounded youths, admittedly stunned to see such deep cuts and gashes littering their once pristine pelts. What the hell...?

Then, Bobbie confirms it — their patrol had been attacked by rogues. They must have been especially vicious to inflict such violence upon the apprentices. They seemed worse off than the adults by far. "Rogues on the border?" The lead warrior echoes, his charcoal pelt beginning to bristle warily. Were they the same rogues that had driven the clans out of their territories? Were they back to try and seek their revenge?

The camp was hectic — bloodied and unconscious apprentices, their mentors ( and mother ) breathless and bewildered from the attack, clanmates murmuring about what happened and what to do next. There was only so much Slate could do about the injured; he was not Dawnglare, nor was he their respective mentors or kin. Despite the dire situation at hand, Slate felt that it was important to keep the focus on the threat as well, "How many of them?" Did they all need to be concerned for the safety of camp at this point? How many numbers did the clan need at the ready?

Maybe Orangeblossom would quickly gather a patrol to scope the borders again and see if they were still lingering in the area. Maybe they hadn't run off too far and were planning on returning now that the SkyClanners were vulnerable and licking their wounds. "We should go check things out." The lead warrior grunts in the deputy's direction, hoping she would have the same idea. He'd go by himself if he needed to. SkyClan could not take any chances in letting the rogues get the upper paw again.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠, 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚

• 

• 

  ✰ SLATE
  —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.

​

 

[Dogbite]

✦ The day began with a sense of normalcy, swinging through its usual rhythm until one small whimper shattered the tranquility. Not far behind the Ragdoll, the scruffy warrior stood, initially focused on picking his own piece from the pile. However, he abandoned his task in an instant as their good eye caught the bloodied mess of clanmates rolling through the entrance in panicked shouts. Shock and confusion etched across his scarred muzzle as they absorbed the sight of battered paws' and woeful cries from Wolfpaw. "No..." Both scenes tugged at his heartstrings, threatening to unravel the calm he had started the day with. Bobbie's curt explanation and Blazestar's choked meows stoked the flames of rage in the back of his throat.

Breaking free from the stunned stupor, Dogbite swiftly made his way to stand beside their injured clanmates. Not again, damnit! His bedraggled head whipped side to side, taking in the extent of the attack. As their gaze fell upon the scratches marring Hawkpaw's face, a coldness settled over his body. Stars... They're just a kid! While Dogbite lacked the skills of a medicine cat, the fear for the young apprentice gnawed at him. Remorse heaved in his chest, a mixture of 'what ifs' and 'should haves' flooding their mind. In that moment, he had no words of comfort, no solace to offer, as dread sank deep into his stomach. Slate's rough tone jolted them back to reality, grounding him as their wide-eyed expression hardened.

Taking a page from the tom's book he paused and revaluated the circumstances to cool his fury. Now isn't the time to give in to despair or anger. We have to think this through for every cats safety. His friends were ragged, and the grief emanating from Howlfire solidified Dogbite's resolve. Those responsible needed to pay with more than just a scuffle. If they had to hunt down and cull each cat involved, he was ready. Taking a deep breath and exhaling he banished the desire to storm off and do just that. Dogbite harbored a long disdainful history with the freeloading brutes, and with this recent attack it only fueled their hatred into something more sinister.

Gritting snaggled fangs, he turns to face the inky lead warrior, pelt bristling wildly as he ground out a response. "If you're going, then I'd like to come." Swallowing back the maelstrom of emotions churning within him was challenging, but he managed. Flashes of Littlepaw's terrified face haunted his thoughts, serving as a constant reminder—I can't let these bastards breathe a moment longer. The only logical answer would be the satisfying crunch of their esophagus between his teeth. To know they would never put his clan in harms way ever again. Revenge.

✦ OOC ✦ INFO

• 
  ———✧———​
  ✧ LH cinnamon tabby w/high white one blue eye
  ✧ child of npc x npc ; sibling to crescent and bear
  ✧ skyclan warrior ; ex-loner ; mentor to littlepaw
  ✧ 31 moons old ; birthday 07/01 ; ages realistically
  ✧ AFAB ; nonbinary ; he/they
  ✧ pansexual ; polyromantic ; single
  ✧ "speech", thought, attack, powerplay
  ✧ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ✧ penned by tasmagoric
  
  ———✧———​

​

 

[butterflytuft]

The screams draw her out of the nursery quickly, yellow eyes wide with alarm, her fluffy pelt bristled as she tries to make herself look so much bigger than she is. The scene before her is a bloodbath, the iron scent smacking her hard in the nose so hard that she sneezes with the shock of it all. Howlfire's kits! The little ones she had watched grow up while she grew rounder with her own litter, who had pestered her to play with her little ones. By the time her own kits were old enough to play, Howlfire's litter would bear names with the mighty -paw tacked onto them, too old and too busy to play with the kittens they'd wanted to scuffle with for so long.

They never got the chance to play with Fluffykit, Weedkit, and Daisykit, and instead they lay broken and bloodied in heaps inside of camp. A sudden fear worms its way into the queen's heart as she looks over her shoulder to make sure her own kits are still inside the warm den. In two short moons, this would be them. They'd be just as little as Hawkpaw, Wolfpaw, and Blazingpaw, but just as expected to face the dangers out in the world head-on with tiny claws at the ready, kitten teeth bared. She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself to get closer so she can help wherever she is needed. "They're just kittens," She cries softly, devastated as she looks across them, helpless to do anything but groom the pelts that she once babysat and murmur soothing words.​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

It is with a certain ferocity, that he is summoned. One that told him he would not turn eyes to the typical bumps or bruises that SkyClan often bore. Hesitantly, he draws from his den, toward the metal tang of blood and clamoring voices. He sees it clearly now, a patrol returning in shreds as they often did. Not often, was it tattered enough to bring limp forms slung over shoulders— but, ah, it certainly was not rare, either.

He hurries to wind cobweb around a paw before emerging fully, eyes blown wide as he sees the extent of their injuries. In leaf - bare too— not... convenient. Far from it. Did he have the stock for this? Amongst the chattering, Dawnglare presses himself between them all, sniffing at wounds and watching for that telltale rise and fall of breath. The bloodiest pictures were that of the youth. In a way, he is greatful that they cry... for it reassures him that they were alive at all. Blood always made things look more a mess than they really were... That is not to say that they were fine.

...But they would be. Dawnglare mutters a quiet prayer beneath his breath, asking that the earth cradles their heads while they lie upon it; asking that they do not return to it so quickly.

Ah, has he done this before? Cared for the daughter of his friend— and now, his daughter's daughters. A sudden pressure in his head threatens to overwhelm, but no, he would not let it. " They— they will be fine, " he tells their mother, a note that stumbles dangerously close to sympathy making itself known. " They w-will be. To my den, please. Take them, " he urges, eyes dragging across the forms of those abled - bodied enough to bring them.

To his apprentice, surely not far behind, he would practically snap his neck. " Make sure they have nests ready. And— and poppy seeds. They will need poppy seeds, " he stammers, inspecting the other injured all the while. Most easily, he finds his way to Figfeather, a pelt that he has had to nose his way over one too many times. It's familiar, to glance over her scars. Unfortunately so. He grimaces at the sight of her neck; bloodied, though if she was not unconscious already, she would likely be fine.

" Sit a moment, " he tells her. Most urgently, he would need to attend to the apprentices— but he could afford Figfeather the most basic of curatives until them. If she so let him, he would hastily press a plaster of cobweb across the wound. It would need better treatment later, but for now... " Rest, " he tells her, flicking his tail along a sun - kissed leg.

" The rest of you in-jured see me later. A little later, just not now. And don't make it worse, " he insists somewhat sternly. But he supposes that if they would like to, he can do little to stop them anyhow. His priorities are greater, at the moment. Frantic, he would slip back towards his den, hoping that Fireflypaw had heard him, afterall.

A WISE WOMAN SAID I'M ALIVE 🍷 NOBODY'S EVER TOLD HER SHE'S WRONG

• ooc: orders for @Fireflypaw!! If your kitty is injured pls lmk specifics through this thread or in my channel!!
  

• 

• ( I'M AS ALIVE AS HER BEARD IS LONG ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
  𓆩♡𓆪 He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
  𓆩♡𓆪 Currently 60 moons old as of 1.1.24. Mated to Mallowlark
  
  Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest.
  Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads

​

 

[Howlfire]

Unsurprisingly, it does not take long for their clanmates to emerge. If the panicked yells and words hadn't drawn them out, then the strong coppery smell of the shed blood certainly would. Howlfire is aware of the stares and the questions wanting to know what had happened, but her attention was focused solely on her children. Hawkpaw was closest but she looked over all three of them, shuddering inwardly at the blood and the wounds.

The torbie is relieved when Figfeather and Bobbie explain what had happened, not sure that in her current state she'd have been able to get the information out. Slate and Dogbite were quick to suggest looking for them. "I killed one," Howlfire mewed, lifting her head, amber eyes meeting her former mentors gaze. "If you find the fallen body I imagine they wouldn't be far."

Dawnglare appears soon after, instructing the apprentices to be moved to his den, telling Fireflypaw to ensure nests were prepared for their arrival. As the medicine cat moves on to Figfeather, urging her to rest, Howlfire flashed him an appreciative glance. She is about to move one of her fallen children when Butterflytuft's devastated cry hits her ear and she watches as the queen touchingly grooms their pelts. Such a simple action but one that damn near breaks her heart. After all, it was not so long ago the two queens had shared the grooming and watching over of each others kits. They're just kittens, Butterflytuft had said. And she was right. Despite the apprentice names they carried they were still young and still small, only mere days ago still playing within the boundaries of the nursery, blissfully unaware of the cruelties of the real world.

"Blazestar," Howlfire's head suddenly snaps to her father. He was lingering nearby having initially coming over to see what had happened. "You have to do something. This cannot happen again." Although her voice is determined and clear, there is pain behind it too. And it isn't just a recent pain but an old pain that had never really healed. It feels like a big ask but her father is the leader, he's the only one who can. "I can't watch another apprentice barely out of the nursery get injured or worse. Morningpaw's death nearly destroyed me. If anything happens to my kits, I'm not sure how I'll cope," Howlfire confessed. "I don't want anyone else to have to suffer that. I don't want another queen to have to worry that the first patrol their kits go on might be their last." As she says that, she looks to Butterflytuft, and her eyes get teary. She thinks of Fluffykit, Weedkit, and Daisykit and how in a different situation this could have been their fate. ​

 

[Coyotecrest]

The thunderous sound of paws crunching upon the snow laden ground snapped the tom's head to attention from where he lay. Blood. A thick, heavy concoction wafted through the air to assault his nostrils by the time his eyes met the group frantically settling. Then there was the scream. A pitiful wailing that welled up from the depths of his daughters very lungs. It's sound shattering more than just the former tranquility of camp, but his heart. And oh did it break beneath the weight of such a cry. Crumpled to ash by the chords of agony vibrating within Wolfpaw's pained voice. His very breath hitches within his throat, suspended by the wave of red coating his kits. Fear is a heavy stone sinking into the pit of his stomach by the time he scrambles to meet Twitchbolt, green eyes clearly reflecting raw emotion.

"Howlfire." Hurried strides bring him closer to Howlfire and their children, hindered by a near trip of uneven footing. As his gaze drinks in the wreckage he barely processes the cause of it all. Rogues? He thought they'd all been driven off. Today was meant to be one full of ecstatic stories of their first outing, of blissful innocence, not of carnage. Wolfpaw's face has been marred and the blood was so heavy he was afraid of what would become of it. Blazingpaw lay in a crumpled heap, unmoving. While Hawkpaw's own face bore the marks of battle, whimpering a soft noise. "Shh...you're okay now. You were, you were all so brave." The tom whispered, tone cracking along the edges as he licked the tops of his daughter's heads. His nose rests within the fur of his son for a moment as Howlfire turns to address Blazestar.

Upon lifting his own head there is a moment of relief to know that one of the rogues had been slain. But it wasn't enough, nothing would be enough to make up for this tragedy. They were young, far too young and he finds himself agreeing wholeheartedly with Butterflytuft. They were merely kittens just days prior. "I'm not discrediting the strength and bravery they showed today...I would never do that." He started off softly, gaze turning to linger on his brood. "I'm not saying that they don't deserve the "paw" portion of their name," If anything, because of the ordeal they faced today, they more than earned it. "But they are too young Blazestar. They were innocent, impressionable..they shouldn't have needed to face something like this so early in life. No one should." Turning his attention back to the warm toned ragdoll he continued. "I was their age when Sootstar came to collect me at skyclan's borders. A choice was dangled above my head to either watch blood spill or go peacefully. A heavily weighted choice no barely turned apprentice should have to make." It was a choice that led to many regrets, all because youth, inexperience, and lack of sound judgement played such a large part in the equation.

"Please Blazestar, there must be something you can do. Like Howlfire, I don't want anything like this to happen to them again." Coyotecrest nearly pleaded past the pain he felt for the apprentices placed near his paws. ​

̶̶̶̶  «̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶   skyclan warrior / fourteen moons old / he/him  ̶ ̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ »̶ ̶̶̶  ​

 

[BOBBIE]

Her mate is, of course, one of the first on the scene—ready to charge in and get himself killed, no doubt. Bobbie lifts her bowed head away from Blazingpaw's crumpled heap of a body, fixing turbulent green eyes on his horrified face. Ferocity fights despair, claws locked behind her eyes; she doesn't know whether to leap to her paws and demand they return to drain every last rogue of their thieving blood, or to collapse into her bloody apprentice's side and apologize with what little breath she has.

She does neither.

Fighting the rogues again would only hurt more innocent kits—kits, because that's what they are, what they look like right now, bloody and crying for their mother. Murmuring her sorrows into Blazingpaw's sad, limp little body would do nothing at all. And yet—and yet, something in her chest strains like a trapped bird, calling for the blood of those stars-forsaken rogues. Bobbie sinks her claws into frosty earth, the feeling painfully familiar. Her confrontation with Stormy, nearly getting herself killed in that long-ago first patrol, volunteering for the journey. She will always let her heart rule her.

Figfeather is informing Blazestar as the kits continue to whimper; Slate calls in an instant for a patrol, and she cannot find any fault with him now. The fault lies with her, after all: not recognizing Blazingpaw's youth, his vulnerability. Letting him get hurt more than any cat so young should; more than that, letting his high spirits be stamped out by the cruel claws of the rogue. Butterflytuft crying over the apprentices' tiny bodies she'd been telling stories no more than a matter of sunrirses ago.

She's preparing to haul Blazingpaw onto her back once more and make for the medicine den when Howlfire speaks up. She pleads with her father, teary-eyed, to do something about the circumstances—and as Coyotecrest steps up alongside her, Bobbie is inclined to agree. The bloody gashes raked down each tiny face were testament enough that no matter how much training they had, this would never have been a fight the apprentices could have won—they were just so small. How could they be expected to win a fight against an opponent who could scruff them without lifting a claw? Because, really, they were still just kits, meant to be carried gently by a queen instead of tossed around by a rogue.

"Howlfire and Coyotecrest are right," she mews, tone rising from a murmur as she looks up and towards her mate. The bitter guilt extinguishes that fighting hunger as easily as rainstorm to a flame, leaving behind only a sour taste in her mouth and her apprentice's blood streaking her fur. "They're just so small. How can we expect them to win a fight against an opponent so much larger than them?" Not every first patrol went like this, thank the stars, but the forest seemed to only become more dangerous with each passing sunrise. It was no place for kits.

"If my kits were still young, I wouldn't want them out on patrol if this could happen." Her kits, thank StarClan, were far beyond childhood now. A passing thought crosses her mind...and she dismisses it, because now is not the time. "I know it's the tradition, but four moons just seems so—so young. Too young for this."

"speech"

​

 

[butterflytuft]

Butterflytuft lifts her head to look at her former denmate, her eyes wet with emotion. She is addressing Blazestar now, and stars the queen can see the devastation in her mentor's gaze as he looks at his bleeding grandchildren. And when Howlfire is done speaking, she looks to her, and the tortoiseshell knows exactly what she is thinking. Again, she looks back to the nursery, half-expecting to see her brood poking their tiny heads out of the den to see what all the fuss is about. Luckily, she doesn't see them. Good. They're too young to witness something like this.

Coyotecrest joins in and echoes his mate's words, begging Blazestar to do something. Too young. Too young, She agrees silently, her small head beginning to bob up and down in a nod. Her heart races, for she seeks to stay out of the spotlight whenever possible, keep out of sight in crowds like these, but her love for her kits is enough to push her forward a few steps towards the leader, head ducked and ears flat. "I don't want my kits to experience the same, Blazestar," She tells him, and there is pleading in her small voice. "Four moons...they're still children, still kittens. Please." She repeats Bobbie's words; she doesn't know what she's asking, exactly, but she wants change, too. When she looks around at the hurt apprentices, she just as easily sees Weedkit with blood seeping from his little shoulders, Fluffykit's beautiful pelt marred with wounds, Daisykit's tiny body riddled with scars she had no chance of avoiding. "Can...can they please stay in the nursery longer with me?" She dares to ask, blinking up at the leader that towers over her own hunched form.​

 

[BLAZINGPAW]

THERE WILL COME A SOLDIER — He had barely even stirred when Bobbie had picked him up much less when she let his body slip onto the floor of the camp clearing, his breathing shallow and small kitten form trembling for a moment or two. Blazingpaw suddenly jolts up slightly where he laid only to hiss in pain, feathered ears laid flat on his head, and the breath he takes feels sharp and cold against his lungs. His ears are ringing, his head spinning, and he isn't able to make out any of the words that are tumbling from everyone's parting and closing jaws. His entire body hurts and it burns demanding that he lay down once more but his gaze tries to search for the bloody, marred pelts of his littermates. He feels sick to his stomach like when he had ingested Springpaw's beetle but much worse like his head was swimming in thick, tar-like depths that held onto his mind and he turns his gaze away from the light that hung overhead. Too bright. Hurts. The thought itself causing his head to ache further but once he realizes that his sisters are near, he ignores the way that his body screams and feels terribly painful but still, he pushes himself as best as he can on his paws to take a few wobbly steps forward. He ends up falling face first into the snow not caring that his once bloodied nose drips a few more droplets from impact, he drags himself over to them feeling like he would pass out once more.

He arrives at Hawkpaw's side after his rather pathetic attempt to reach her, Blazingpaw let's out a shaky breath feeling his eyes beginning to water unsure if it was from the immense pain that he felt rippling from his body or at the mere sight of his sisters and their condition. The tabby tom rests his chin on her back gently and proceeded to give her a few weak comforting licks, he wants to tell her how sorry he is to both Wolfpaw and her but his throat feels dry and constricted. His eyes half closed as he extends his tail to Wolfpaw trying to coax them to join him and their other littermate, Blazingpaw feels his breathing is shaky and his body feels cold. The adults were still talking but they meant nothing to his ringing ears, Blazingpaw can barely register any of their expressions or tones. A soft wheeze leaves him and he finds himself passing out once more from having pushed himself and his body just to reach his littermates. Safe. A final thought before everything fades to black once more.

WHO CARRIES A MIGHTY SWORD 𓆩✧𓆪 HE WILL TEAR YOUR CITY DOWN

• 

• 
  ✧ longhaired red tabby tom with green eyes
  ✧ 4 moons old; ages the 28th every month
  ✧ sexuality unknown; too young
  ✧ son of coyotecrest and howlfire
  ✧ brother to wolfpaw and hawkpaw
  ✧ currently being mentored by bobbie
  ✧ easy to befriend; kinda quick to anger (especially if you're springpaw)
  ✧ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✧ peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[FIGFEATHER]

Slate and Dogbite rush to jump out and patrol, every fiber within her lurches to join them in volunteering but even she knows her limits. Besides, one of her patrol mates would be likely to smack her across the head, like Dawnglare instructs after hastily applying cobwebs, she needs rest. Figfeather flashes the medicine cat an appreciative look, far from offended that he could not spend more time on her. Wolfpaw and her litter-mates needed all of his focus right now, a warrior could suffer in silence. Apprentices- kits… they could not.

Figfeather sits down, listening to the conversation around her in almost a haze. Still she understood what her patrol mates called for, Butterflytuft and Coyotecrest too. ”They’re right, Morningpaw was too young. Snowpath- he never even should’ve been in the position to have to carry that burden.” A tragedy for both of them, even if one had lived just long enough to earn his warrior name. ”Wolfpaw, Blazingpaw, Hawkpaw- it was too close this time to happening again.”

She looks at the terrified, wounded trio of apprentices. Blazingpaw who struggles to remain conscious, in and out of forced slumber. ”A couple moons more in the nursery and they’d be standing just a mouse-length shorter than a warrior. Maybe it’s then they’d be strong enough to face the dangers of the forest.” Much older than she had been when she was apprenticed, much older than they all had been. It’d be a difficult change, but all this heartbreak? It just wasn’t worth it. SkyClan’s kits needed to be protected.

♡ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Figfeather
  » SkyClan Warrior
  » She/her . AMAB
  » Mentoring Wolfpaw
  » Mate to Fantastream
  » A red tabby she-cat with a mangled leg.
  » ”Speech”․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A foe in battle whose ability to strategize can shift tides.
  » Excels in strategizing and pre-planning her battles.
  » Fights defensively and aid to her clan to victory.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

To his relief, Blazingpaw and Hawkpaw stir, and Dawnglare is slipping past him, Fireflypaw on his heels. Their wounds are egregious, marring delicate kitten-soft fur, ripping faces still round from the nursery. Blazestar’s aching heart sinks into his chest, settling somewhere near his stomach. He hears Slate and Dogbite offer to patrol, and he turns to them, his mouth parted… but it’s Butterflytuft who draws his attention away. His former apprentice streaks from the nursery, her mouth curved with pain. “They’re just kittens,” she cries, her licks against their feeble little bodies jarring. His eyes lift toward his daughter’s, and Howlfire is looking at him—beseeching, through the haze of rogue blood splashed across her face.

“You have to do something,” she says, and Blazestar stares at her helplessly at first. What is he to do? He and Orangeblossom had ordered the patrol not to engage, hadn’t they? They hadn’t prepared for the possibility of such hostility, of a waiting ambush, but perhaps they should have. Guilt begins to rise around him like a surge of water, wetting his ankles and soaking his paws, but Howlfire’s next words have him stunned. She brings up Morningpaw, and Blazestar knows they are both reliving that moment where his little daughter, her sister, had breathed her final broken breath.

Coyotecrest is found, and the cream-colored warrior rushes to his mate, to the children lying still around their paws. Blazestar eyes his other former apprentice, remembering the choice he’d made at four moons—grave, heavy, full of consequences he would carry for the rest of his life. He’d been Coyotepaw then—and perhaps, perhaps he should have been in the nursery still, in the paws of a queen who would have protected from after Leopardcloud’s untimely death.

Blazestar bows his head. The pleas of his Clan wash over him like warm rain. His mate, Bobbie, speaks softly, advocating that the kits are still too small, that four moons is too young. Butterflytuft asks if her kits can remain in the nursery longer than four moons, so that they may grow bigger, tucked safely under her wing. And then Figfeather—when she speaks, Blazestar opens his eyes, blue and bright with determination. A couple moons more in the nursery and they’d be standing just a mouse-length shorter than a warrior, the golden tabby reasons, and slowly, Blazestar nods.

“You’re all right,” he meows. His gaze falls to the heaps of fur sobbing into their paws, paws too small to have carried them into the jaws of such vicious enemies. “Four moons is… is too young to begin warrior training.” He lets his tail rise behind him, his jaw clenching. “SkyClan has seen too much young blood spilled before its time. I will… I will speak at the Gathering,” he says. “I will propose a new warrior code. Even if the other leaders don’t agree, though, know that in SkyClan, our kits will remain in the nursery until their sixth moon from this day forward.” He meets their eyes, slowly, one by one.

, ”​

​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

Commotion exploded around him when he returned with Coyotecrest, voices raised in grief, in sorrow, in protest. Butterflytuft's voice, quiet as ever, broke through the din toward him- somehow. They're just kittens. It struck him how small they were, how- how small they really were, expected to fight and stand against their opponents, gnashing teeth, baring claws. Memories struck him of his own delayed apprenticeship, a five-moon-old Twitchpaw bumping noses with Daisyflight. He'd, back then... been as big as a full-grown cat, even on the smaller side. Or, close enough.

Maybe that had been an advantage Tidespin and Ravencall had given him, for all their misdeeds. In forgetting him, they had spared their four-moon-old kitten from fighting. Just maybe, they had spared him from a fate such as this.

Wide green eyes snapped back into focus- voices flocked together. Howlfire, Blazestar's own daughter, begged the leader for intervantion. Coyotecrest joined his mate, Bobbie faced hers, and Butterflytuft found her voice. When Figfeather spoke of other apprentices, victim to their smallness- Morningpaw's death crafted change once again. The burden Snowpath had carried in his youth struck true. Wolfpaw, Blazingpaw and Hawkpaw- and other Clans, he was sure, had faced similar losses. Against his better judgement, Twitchbolt's brittle voice croaked out the name "Centipedepaw..."

However old he had been had long died in Twitchbolt's memory, as had the cat himself. But Centipedepaw's never-found boddy haunted his memory, weighed heavy on his breath and kept him skittish for the safety of apprentices. Blazestar's new law- hopefully soon to become a Code- settled well in Twitchbolt's gut. It bloomed, for once, into a good feeling. Something vaguely, faraway, optimistic.

In the meantime, he would be Pumpkinpaw's guard, as well as their teacher.​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[FIGFEATHER]

Figfeather's eyes widen in awe, a new warrior code? She feels almost as if she steps out of her body- who would've known the events of today would've led to this? Figfeather's heart aches for her apprentice and her litter-mates, if only they had been protected sooner. She feels at peace knowing no kit after them would be put into harms way.

Figfeather hangs her head sympathetically for the croaked name forced out of Twitchbolt's maw. Another apprentice- no, kit who had found their peril, never found, SkyClan never got closure. She hopes the apprentice watches from the stars, nodding in approval to the new rule.

"Does this mean..." Figfeather hesitates, ears folding back. She'd hate to have taken the role they had just received away from them, the only thing they had to show for the blows they've taken today. "Is Wolfpaw to return back to the nursery? Blazingpaw? Hawkpaw?" What about the rest of the kits who bore apprentice names? Springpaw? Pumpkinpaw? She looks wearily to Twitchbolt, to Orangeblossom, would they all lose their apprentices today?

♡ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Figfeather
  » SkyClan Warrior
  » She/her . AMAB
  » Mentoring Wolfpaw
  » Mate to Fantastream
  » A red tabby she-cat with a mangled leg.
  » ”Speech”․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A foe in battle whose ability to strategize can shift tides.
  » Excels in strategizing and pre-planning her battles.
  » Fights defensively and aid to her clan to victory.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​