camp OLD HABITS DIE SCREAMING [evacuation]

[SCORCHSTREAK]

༄༄ Scorchstreak braces for impact, for the snapping of fangs in her face or the searing pain of exile—she understands how this must look. She understands her own betrayal, but still she says nothing as the leader hauls himself on three limbs to stand beneath the Tallrock. Briefly she considers lending him her shoulder, because his hobbling is nearly too wretched to watch. But he’s calling for the clan as a whole, drawing all attention to himself, and… wait. The tortoiseshell blinks slowly, once. Are you certain? She does not ask. Instead, she nods stiffly, allowing the weight of more responsibility to settle onto her shoulders. She has now stepped into the prints where black and white paws once stood, and sun-spotted after them.

Deputy. The title feels like a new life, like emerging from a pitch-black tunnel into the radiance of the sun. It is overwhelming, yet a relief at the same time. No longer is WindClan without a second, without a successor in case of their leader’s death. She is unsure how to respond, however; should she thank him for placing his trust in her? She does not have time for a speech, for a great promise of loyalty. He knows, he must already know her dedication to WindClan. "It has been an honor to serve as your lead warrior, Sunstar, and it would be a greater honor to be your deputy." From this moment forward, Scorchstreak—as she was—no longer exists. No longer is she Scorchstreak, lead warrior of the mad queen Sootstar. She is now Scorchstreak, deputy of the honorable Sunstar, next in line to be the beating heart of WindClan.

Her coronation is short-lived and uncelebrated. She does not need congratulations, does not need praise or acknowledgment. Sunstar refuses to leave the moorland, vowing to face the same fate as the clan; she nods. "Very well." She will not argue with him, not now. Not when they both have more important things to do—in her case, continuing with her efforts to save the clan’s camp, if nothing else. Her mate offers her aid, and although she is correct, Scorchstreak agrees for a different reason. Rattleheart will surely remain in RiverClan’s territory (or, if he refuses, the calico will drag him there by his ear), and Periwinklebreeze is likely to as well. She does not expect Wolfsong to leave his own mate’s side… which leaves herself and the silvered tabby to lead the push to save their clan.

"Bluepool," she says, and her mate won’t meet her eyes. She presses through the brief panic that strikes her at the thought of facing the lead warrior’s rage—her clan must come before her own concerns. "I can gather the tunnelers and start digging trenches, like the twolegs did." It makes sense that such trenches would stop the flames in their path, leaving an open space without fuel for the fire to blaze through. "If you could find a way to keep the gorse from burning… we would have a chance to save camp, at the very least." A slim chance, but a chance nonetheless.​

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[Firefang]

Firefang drifts in and our of consciousnesses, her dreams for once are peaceful and blank she remembers nothing about them but a distant roaring in her ears. The herbs she's given have done well to dull her pain just as they've soothed her anger, she hasn't done much more then stare out the entrance of the medicine den the times she's been awake since she'd been hurt. She hadn't gotten to her paws since she was first lugged into the medicine den but as her fiery gaze begins to open and the world around her begins to fade back into existence she stirs, she forces herself to sit upright thrusting her good leg harshly on the ground to prop herself up. She hears Scorchstreak - her yowls are muffled by the walls of medicine den but there is anothers voice - there's scents she can still recognize over the smoke. Her hackles raise and she stumbles hastily, she hops on one forepaw trying to keep it's wrapped twin held up. A snarl begins to bubble out of her, Riverclan! They were attacking! They saw they were cornered by the flames, that they were at their most vulnerable and they'd come with sickle in hand to rid them from the land. She breeches through, she'd rather die on her paws then cower in the dark. Light fills her eyes, she's forced to look down at her paws blinking away tears that come to relieve them. She doesn't let them adjust for long her head whips around and she hops forward again.

She's not met with the scene of a battle, she'd been mistaken - her clanmates aren't fighting and kits hang from the jaws of Riverclanners. Cottonpaw, Addervenom and Moonpaw are moving her way towards the medicine den and she tries to get away from them, limping another few steps before she can't manage the throbbing pain that's slowly re-awoken and intensifies with every slight movement she makes. She's forced to collapse clumsily on her haunches. She listens in bewilderment - they were evacuating they were going to cross over into Riverclan's territory. What motivated the fish-eaters to allow such a thing; it wasn't mercy and it wouldn't be a unpaid debt there were no such thing as favors between clans. Her eyes fall on Scorchstreak who'd seemingly appointed herself in charge, did she have no hope for Windclan's own survival that she'd grovel, just as she had no faith they could've saved Sunstar. Would she be able to pay the price Smokestar would ask, willing to let their clanmates pay - the grudge between the two clans would never be erased to much blood had been spilled and Firefang can't trust this but she has little choice. The young and injured - her life is put into the paws of Riverclan. It was bad enough it'd been put into Wolfsong's and Cottonpaw's.

She doesn't want to go not really if she could so much as stand for a lingering moment longer she'd argue she'd still be of use here on the damned scorching moors - this was her home and she had a right to fight for it until it's end but she was of no use. She was as good as dead if the fire was creeping closer and closer, clanmates would die trying to save her - she doubts they even would be she'd not let that happen. She feels sick to her stomach staring at the Riverclanners as they gather her clan up and begin to lead them but her attention is sapped away from them - all their attention is shifted.

A phantom crosses into camp far less blackened and crisped to the bone then she expected him to be, his fur doesn't have it's luster, soot covers him and how poetic that is. He stands better then she does, holds himself with the same righteous authority as if she hadn't seen him limp and powerless before her surrounded by flames that wanted to swallow him whole - she'd never get that image out of her head wouldn't look at him the same. He was as vulnerable as any other cat, there was no beauty in death it didn't matter if you died once or nine times. The stars had given him his life had sealed his wounds but they hadn't saved his leg. She doesn't know how to feel - there's a bittersweet feeling seeing him standing there when she'd almost sacrificed everything for him he who'd taken so much away from her. She'd almost given him the one thing she'd witheld from Sootstar; her life.

She watches him, eyes clouded and morose her expression unreadable, she sits on the fringes of his procession as she always has, as his clanmates comes to him and as he makes his way over to Scorchstreak. He plays king as he always has and he chooses his successor; her lip curls in disdain and a weight in her stomach drops. She is awarded for her cowardice how funny that not a hair on her pelt is scorched like her name. It shouldn't surprise her - the values of Windclan had been snuffed no longer was bravery and honor celebrated, all she'd done was run away from her dying leader and run and show her neck to an enemy! Her burnt leg twitches, she can hardly feel her paw and though she tries the pain is to much for her claws to leave their slits. She shakes her head and looks away. It didn't matter, Sunstar was alive everything she'd tried to do had no meaning - she'd be scarred for nothing and she'd still be treated like a traitor when all she'd ever been was loyal to windclan and to her clan - loyal to him when he most needed it.

She can't stomach looking at them any longer.

Her gaze wanders until she sees a familiar and not unkindly face (but not completely kind either) " @SOOTSPOT " she calls out, her voice still sounds like a croak, she begins to force herself back onto three of her paws lifting her fourth up and holding it as close to her stomach and chest as she can. "help me." she hates the sound of the words in her throat, their vulnerable but she knows she can't manage the journey alone and she'd rather be helped by someone she knew wouldn't revel completely in her misery.

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  Firefang ✩ She/Her, Warrior of Windclan, 23 moons
  ⭃ Black tabby she-cat with amber eyes. former-loyalist of Sootstar, Moorunner.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots. ​

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[Dustpaw!]

Dustkit had cooped herself back into the nursery willingly, it'd become so much harder to sniff her way around and the air tasted horrible! She could rely on her memory and her whiskers but there were so many cats out and about running from place to place, it was hectic and she'd almost gotten run over more then once. It's worse then usual today, the camp is bursting with sound and there are more unrecognizable scents in the air and it's overwhelming and she wants it to stop! The fire was evil and was making everything harder, her dad had explained to her as best he could about what was going on but it's hard for her to comprehend the gravity of it all. She just wants things to go back to normal. Her back arches, her bushy tail curls behind her her hind legs are against one of the walls of the nursery - it's too much. She's not alone and yet she feels both alone and crowded at the same time, a fearful growl croons from her even when her dads normally comforting voice booms in she still can't make herself relax. Frustrated tears stain the corners of her unseeing eyes and they're quick to trail down her cheeks as a loud yowl erupts from her as jaws clamp on her scruff and gently lift her up.

The kitten thrashes in Periwinklebreeze's jaws "Put me down!" she cries out but she's not strong enough to wiggle free and even in a tantrum she wouldn't strike a tiny claw at him "I don't wanna go! I wanna stay here!" the nursery was safe it was the only safe and recognizable thing left for her and she's being ripped away from it to be taken somewhere entirely new. She's scared, more scared then she's ever been and she'd always been so brave! She continues to struggle a while longer, all the voices around her are just noise - she doesn;t even recognize when meanies voice when he approaches.

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  Dustkit ✩ She/Her, Windclan Kit, 2 moons
  ⭃ short furred black smoke she-cat with high white and cloudy green eyes (blind)
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots. ​

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