camp OLD HABITS DIE SCREAMING [evacuation]

[CENTIPEDEBITE]

They were really, actually leaving, abandoning their home. Sure, it made sense - get out or get engulfed in flame were the two options, and it was much preferable to keep your life instead of lose it due to pride and stubbornness, but - there was an element of disbelief generally at the fact that it was RiverClan that they would be going to, that they were seeking help from while they were vulnerable. And RiverClan did not, in fact, decide to kick them while they were down. They would save that for later, certainly, when they needed or wanted something that WindClan had, wielding the tragedy that they'd had no hand in like a weapon, and he could not truly be angry at them for it, for that was what life consisted of: a cycle of ups and downs, of strong and weak. Whoever had the right cards at the right time played them to their fullest extent.

Of course, the help was warranted. Necessary, even. But his nose screws up rather exaggeratedly at the scent of RiverClan cats through the heather, whiskers twitching at the foul lingering fish scent that they attached to those cats, small dark form lingering at the edges of the camp as warrior and apprentice, kit and queen moved to leave, aided by RiverClan cats, including Smokestar himself. His reluctance to move can't last, surely, given the haze of smoke growing closer, the terrible smell and choking grasp of it looming over all of them, the heat from the spreading flame becoming more present by the moment. Before he can speak or move, Sunstar appears. Any complaint dies in his throat for the moment, gaze drifting to the blood still dripping from the remnant of his leg with shock.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎BY GAMBLING AND RISKING MY LIFE ♠ WHAT AM I HOPING FOR?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  
  

• no ref yet lol

• 
  ♠. shorthaired solid black with low white & vitiligo, blue-gray eyes
  ♠. 35 moons, ages the 13th of every month; npc x npc
  ♠. afab, he/they/it; masc terms
  ♠. bisexual; single, not purposely looking
  ♠. peaceful & minor harm powerplay permitted
  ♠. not easy to befriend; distrustful & sometimes paranoid
  ♠. may start fights, may end fights, will not show mercy
  ♠. ic opinions!
  

​

 

[gracklestep]

˚₊⋅───────── /ᐠ - ˕ -マ ─────────⋅ ˚₊

The difficulty with breathing since that surprise test of his sprinting was not at the top of his list of concerns, surprisingly... Being amongst that patrol had put into perspective for him just how close the fires roared and how quickly they'd traveled with their Twoleg observers not far behind. That meant a solution had to be sorted out and without Sunstar... without a deputy to really fill in, he was admittedly a bit concerned this whole thing would go up in flames- more than just literally.

Slinking like an urchin in its sharp, long-legged movements, Gracklestep had gone out of his way to find the one mad mockingbird he knew he could rely on not to absolutely freak out if things got hazy. "Remember that time you tried to drown me," he asks abruptly of a poison-bubbling green gaze, "Looks like you'll be getting another chance."

Behind him he can hear the chaos of kits screeching their protest, of RiverClan warriors rushing in after the advisement of Scorchstreak. He wonders if the lead warriors actually all agreed to this insane bet at asking for help from their less than friendly neighbors when a hauntingly familiar voice rings out across the smoke-clouded camp.

His ears fold back, straining toward the sound as if he were mistaken. That was definitely...

"Huh... unbelievable... he actually made it..." Though, not alone. Wolfsong lingers at his side as a crutch desperately needed but... what good would calling for Scorchstreak do now? They had to leave. "Well... I'm sure he's thrilled." And who wouldn't be, after losing half their leg and dying a miserable first death? At least he had lives to spare.

// interacting with @Mintshade , feel free to interact​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

➴➴ Everything happens at once, as things tend to happen in WindClan. Gravelsnap’s head spins as the calico lead warrior makes her announcement—everyone besides the healthy apprentices and warriors are being moved to RiverClan’s territory. The idea of setting foot upon that cursed land makes their lip curl, but then a thought crosses the black-patched warrior’s mind. Periwinklebreeze. His kits. His kin. The lead warrior can’t wrangle all of the kits by himself, can he? Even with the help of RiverClan’s warriors, however begrudgingly, that’s a lot of kits to keep track of.

The scent of smoke chokes their voice into something rough, jagged, as they make their way over to their friend. "I can take one," they offer, looking around for the kits that surely gather nearby the other warrior. They are loathe to touch any of the kits, their pelt prickling at the very concept, but… any misgivings between themself and their friend can be put aside for now, Gravelsnap thinks.

// interacting with @Periwinklebreeze. and the kits​

​

 

[ferretpaw]

Scorchstreak's announcement is met with loud complaints. Ferretkit didn't want to go to RiverClan; they were strange, and probably stinky. It's new, and different, and.. wrong.

But the young molly's complaints are short-lived as a nearby whining catches her off-guard. Sheepkit doesn't want to leave either - Frightkit won't stop yammering - and Gravekit, one of the kits she considered a friend, seems even more distraught than the rest. Ferretkit stops, and frowns, watching the dark-colored kitten's eyes water. I'll be brave, she thinks, furrowing her eyebrows. I'll save the day!

So, at an instant, Ferretkit is at Gravekit's side, nudging them with the best attempt at an encouraging smile she could muster. "Come on, it can't be that bad. We'll do it together!" she'd chirp. "I thought you were so brave."

Just as she finishes speaking, a stranger is approaching, and lowers herself level to their faces. As she sniffs out the paw that was offered to the group of kittens, Ferretkit's nose is wrinkling in an instant; the smell of water and sweat and fish is almost as suffocating as the smoke that fills her nostrils. But, the warrior seems nice enough - and she even offers a badger-ride, all the way to their temporary camp!

"Okay. But I'm pretty big, so be careful!" she warns. On the contrary, Ferretkit is smaller than the average five-moon-old; it's her ego that makes up for it. Without further ado, she's climbing up onto the warrior's back. Her paws slip every which way, but eventually she finds it comfortable to lay her arms down on each side of the warrior's back. Then, she reaches a paw out to Gravekit; an extension of her friendship. "Let's go!"

​

♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡

• speech is #F8C3AF
  interacting with @gravekit and @Troutsnout
  ​
• 
  
  
• 

  FERRETKIT
  ━━ KIT of WINDCLAN | 5 MOONS ,, ages every 31st
  ━━ NPC xx NPC | SIBLING to gorsekit
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to none | MENTORED by none​

 

[FOXGLARE]

⁀➷ Leaving was an inevitability, with Sunstar missing — or dead at least once over — and flames encroaching from all sides, it seemed only a matter of when and where that remained a question. Earlier that day, Foxglare had thought that venturing out to scoop up frightened prey would do their dwindling freshkill pile some good, which... wasn't entirely untrue, there were a couple more morsels to pass around that afternoon. What he had underestimated, though, was the way smoke thickened into his lungs with ease. They had been aching and his eyes burning for a hot minute by the time Scorchstreak burst into camp with a determined yowl, and Riverclanners streamed into their camp to ... help?

Regardless, the young warrior leaped to his paws when the order was given, ignoring the immediate flash of pain bursting within his face, and swept toward the two closest kittens (@Beekit and @Brackenkit ) nearby. He considered attempting to scruff one of them to bring along, but upon a lagging realization, he saw that the two near-apprentice-aged kits were ... too huge. They would all be footing it, then. His voice rasped painfully when he spoke, "We gotta go. Can y'all run?"

He hardly has time to think about the path of their mad-dash when a roar sounds from behind them, and Sunstar booms for Scorchstreak, leaning on Wolfsong and looking worse for wear, blood and singe coating his fur and-

"Oh, what the fuck..." Foxglare whispered. His leg was gone.

Realizing once more that he was standing before a pair of kittens, he pulled his stare away from the mutilated leader to try to capture the pair's attention again, "He survived. Uh, that's good." He glances around once more, hopefully spotting Sunlitpaw similarly rushing to evacuate their most vulnerable clanmates and nods to himself. At least they'd know their father was alive.

Damn, his whole body hurt. That was fine. Anyways.

"Stick together. And close to me, yeah? 'Kay, let's go." And so he would sweep past the chaos of camp to lead his two charges to alleged safety.

HOW COULD YOU THINK, DARLIN, ⁀➷☾⁺₊ ID SCARE SO EASILY?

• OOC:
• 
• 
  — sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
  — he/him. 17mo moor-runner of windclan. currently mentoring sunlitpaw.
  — a large, scarred white and golden tabby tom with grey eyes
  — smells like dewy oak and sedge
  — sounds like leon kennedy, with a vague texan drawl.
  — the straight-faced and taciturn adopted son of houndthistle, lived as a twolegplace loner until 7 moons old, now a moor-runner of windclan. steadfast and reserved, in an era of attempting to forge bonds with others and create a future to look toward.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — fullbody by antiigone, hs by tropics
  — penned by eezy

​

 

[Beepaw]

"Brackenkit!" Beekit looks immediately for their denmate as the call for evacuation sounds, eyes scanning the mass of WindClanners - and RiverClanners? - for familiar calico fur. It doesn't take them long, thankfully, and the leggy kit tracks across camp to their friend. Beekit bumps their shoulder against Brackenkit's, any thought of an escape route banished as Foxglare appears to try and usher them away and towards safety. They don't really notice themself nod, but they do so regardless. Yeah, they can run. Of course they can run, they're a WindClanner-

"Scorchstreak!" Beekit's head whips to face the mouth of camp. Sunstar stands there like a furious apparition, burned and three-legged and ragged and bleeding but alive. Their jaw drops open. The leader's missing leg is lost on them, significantly more swept up in the fact that Sunstar is right there.

"Oh, fuck!" They parrot Foxglare, a squeak of sheer disbelief. They start to follow the moor-runner, hesitant steps at first, streaming sunset eyes fixated on Sunstar until they knock roughly into Brackenkit and tear their gaze away. Sunstar would follow them, right?
​

 

[Brackenpaw]

Scorchstreak’s announcement immediately ruined Brackenkit’s day. She already had a general taste of bile when they were unfortunately victim to being within earshot of her. Lately, that bile has become acidic, a little ashen due to the state of Windclan but that bitter flavour remained. On top of their general dislike for her they pinned the unfortunate news of evacuating to Riverclan on her shoulders, like a target had formed on the lead warriors head specifically for Brackenkit’s glare. The thought of Beekit crossed her mind, causing them to break that glare as the calico turned away to try and find their friend. What if they already left without her? The bitter thought was dashed away as they feel Beekit’s shoulder brush up against theirs. Relief washed through their body, despite the situation a wry smile graced their features as she nudged them gently “you ok?” they asked softly.

That softness dissipated upon hearing Foxglare’s voice, they scowled looking up at him. “‘Can y’all run’ of course we can run! We’re not old like you” she scoffed and rolled her eyes as she shook her front paws in an attempt of warming them up. Despite the bite to her tone, there was a rare look of concern as Brackenkit took notice in that rasp, that’s not usually there. She took note when spoken to and Foxglare never sounds like that, was he sick? Could he run?

Too distracted trying to ascertain what was wrong with the warrior in front of them the sound of Sunstars booming voice rattled through their body, flinching on instinct. Their eyes widened at the sight of him, “oh fuck!” they called out, a little too loud. She didn’t really understand what the word meant but clearly it meant expressing some kind of surprise! “W-what’s wrong with him?” she whispered to Foxglare, hoping for once to be given guidance. Her eyes couldn’t tear itself away from the bloodied stump where his leg should be, where is it? Why is his leg missing? Legs can’t just be missing- The feeling of Beekit knocking into her shook them out of their paralysis.

Brackenkit moved a little closer to step beside their friend again, nudging her paw against theirs, lying to herself in thinking it was more to comfort them and not herself. The bloodied, burnt and singed form of the leader that she had spent so much spite towards would haunt the recesses of her mind for moons to come. “...Sure, yeah- hurry up” they tried to muster the usual edge to their tone that they normally carried but the words fell flat as hesitant paws trailed after Foxglare.

---

‎‎ ‎┌── Im just a dog ⸙ with no bite ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  ooc.
  

• 

• BIOGRAPHY
  ✩ they/she, kit of Windclan, five moons (ages on the 22nd)
  ⭃ Speech, thoughts, attacking
  ⭃ a lithe and fragile looking calico that looks like they still need to grow into her ears
  ⭃ easy to befriend other kits, gradually harder to befriend every rank after that
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Juice ↛ @/ouijeejuice on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  ⭃ All opinions are IC!! Bracken is a little hater
  

​

 

[dimmingsun]

Dimmingsun can't quite the remember the last time he had such a bad day. Well, maybe Sootstar driving them all out of their home had been close enough of a match, but at least he wasn't injured then, throat only feeling blocked by nerves rather than something actually physical. With Wolfsong's temporary (StarClan, please, make it temporary) disappearance, he and Slateheart were recovering in the den all by themselves. It is... fine. There is little the sun-kissed tabby could do for them at this point. Plus, Dimmingsun would rather throw himself into the flames than have Wolfsong waste precious herbs on him at this time of need.

The panic hadn't subdued ever since he returned to camp. It's only gotten worse, and without Sunstar around to help guide them, it seems hopeless.

Scorchstreak arrives first. Dimmingsun manages to get himself outside, although there is no fresh air he could pull into his pained lungs. It's only more smoke that makes him want to sneeze, cough, retch. But he eyes the lead warrior anyway with a new look in his eyes. Her presence only serves to make him more agitated, something inside his chest pulling inwards and forcing a strained exhale out — she had abandoned their leader, and now here she is in his place, promising them a way out in the form of RiverClanners.

Dimmingsun knows that this is their only option at this point. Logically, he understands the only alternative to fleeing into the riverlands is burning on the moors. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could sympathize with Scorchstreak, with the animal-like instinct taking over and forcing you to abandon morale in order to survive.

But right now, he doesn't have it in himself to forgive her. He doesn't even have the strength to confront her about it and it only serves to add insult to injury.

And then, like something straight out from his dreams, Sunstar arrives.

His appearance is more akin to a nightmare, but the very fact that he is standing and breathing is salvation enough. At once, life floods Dimmingsun again. Perhaps in the earlier moment, he would have decided to stay instead of lending himself over to Smokestar and his fish-eaters... but now there is reason again to continue.

He doesn't even spare a glance to the RiverClanners. They just make his fur want to rise along his spine despite the knowledge that they're here to save them all. What a disgrace.

"I can also help," he says to Periwinklebreeze, standing beside Gravelsnap. His voice is barely above a whisper, words still painful, but he is determined to help the kittens at the very least.

---​

INTO THE NIGHT ✦ I DRINK AND DRIVE

• 
• DIMMINGSUN ✦ WINDCLAN WARRIOR
  ────── HE/HIM ✦ PENNED BY KARMEN ✦ 04/15
• @Periwinklebreeze.

​

​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

Again, indebted. First it had been ThunderClan, then ShadowClan- and now they turned to their final neighbours for help, the ones with the most narrowed venom, frozen in a path toward them. Still, there was no sign of Sunstar- and Featherpaw's tongue had been locked behind his fangs, glacial. She burned with cold fury, with tortured understanding. A warrior had to die for their Clan, and what was WindClan without Sunstar?

To think of it as Scorchstreak's WindClan felt wrong. To have betrayed a leader for another, who no longer walked among them- to follow the Clan, and not the leader...

And yet, Featherpaw knew his father. Knew he would not have asked a whole patrol to die instead of him, to die to bring his body home. The uncertainty was what bore the more hooked claws; that both of her parents were missing, blotted out like the sun, and he had to carry on. It was what a good warrior did. Reliable perfection did not grieve, even through the barbs... and RiverClan's presence was keenly discomfiting. He could not let himself fall worried beneath their scrutiny- could not show any swaying weakness, for they could remember- and they could reach through the cracks and pluck the threads that sewed him together if they were ever to meet in battle.

So, she was quiet as they moved on- as they began to steer kits toward safety, bore shoulders for the injured to lean on. Like a wraith, Featherpaw drifted forward- cold and corpselike, watching from afar. Owl-eyes stayed watchful upon the tumbling kits- envy sparked within him at the ease with which Pinkpaw marched on forward. He took in a breath, parted his lips to speak- when, through the clowder's clamour, a booming voice spoke out. Scorchstreak!

Featherpaw's head whipped around- yellow eyes stared in sharpened silence. Was this some... horrible hallucination spurred from sleeplessness, from the worry that writhed wormlike beneath burnished fur?

No. No- her Clanmates bore the same look. Her parents, stumbling forward. Relief and nausea all at once rushed through her like the wind through a tunnel, smacking into her with the force of a dog. "Father! Đir!" He forgot himself for a moment, forgot that RiverClan watched- that enemies could see the flicker of relief in her sun-bright glare could catch the softening- and then, the freezing of horrified concern across her face. Sunstar's leg was gone- he leaned on Wolfsong not out of love (or not only out of it), but out of necessity.

Above all, though, shone the relief. The knowledge that the WindClan he had always known- Sunstar's WindClan, that he had almost died for, that he bore the scar across his spine for- was back together again. ​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[LILYPAW ✞]

✞ Blizzardpaw’s pale coat once made them a ghost, a wraith, floating amongst smoke and smog. Now white fur is stained dark with ash and soot, and the apprentice is so preoccupied with their self-imposed guard duty that they don’t even notice. Pale eyes are wide, scanning across the territory for Sunstar, for Wolfsong. Fire blazes along the horizon, leaning ever closer with outstretched claws of scarlet and yellow. Are the two toms out there, too, burning down in the same way the flowers are? Bright things can’t last, can they? Does that apply to cats, too? Blizzardpaw thinks she is a bright thing, happy with her life and doing her best to be upbeat and make friends. What other doom does this life have in store for her?

The albino apprentice catches herself spiraling, and shakes her head firmly. While she’s been zoned out, Scorchstreak has made her return—when did she leave camp?—and unfamiliar cats trail behind her, led by a one-eyed cat who looks like he could bite Blizzardpaw in half if he wanted. But the lead warrior says that they are here to help. It makes sense. But as she watches kits being carried away by strangers, she feels conflicted. It feels wrong. Should she go with them? She doesn’t know what to do, frozen in place and fighting the cough that prickles at her delicate throat.

She spots a familiar pelt, though, and hears her own name spoken in a familiar voice. "Lakekit!" She cries out, rushing over to her friend. The sound of shouting goes ignored as the albino apprentice joins her friend’s side, casting a shaky smile up at Pinkpaw. "I’m okay… let’s go!" They can’t hang around here anymore, can they? Not when there’s fire everywhere, and RiverClan is taking them anyway.

// interacting with @Lakekit. ​

​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

༄༄ The camp bursts into movement, both from the WindClanners and their RiverClan rescuers. The sight of strange cats—enemies—inside of these gorse walls feels as much a betrayal as asking them for help in the first place, but her nerves are settled somewhat as she watches Smokestar himself grab a raggedly breathing Grasskit. Her clanmates are, as expected, unhappy with the events unfolding, and Addervenom leans close to snarl a warning into her ear. The ear flicks sharply, and the calico responds to his words with nothing more than a narrowed golden gaze. If Smokestar asks it, she will pay his price. She had been the one to ask, and so it makes sense that she should be the one to face the consequences.

As soon as the younger tom moved away, a smaller calico form steps closer. Pinkpaw is greeted with a small smile and a flicker of the lead warrior’s tail—she’s a good kid, and even in the wake of this terrible situation, she turns to Scorchstreak and tells her that she trusts her. "Thank you." Her apprentice then turns to go and look after the clan’s kits, and the tunneler watches her go with an expression of pride. Pinkpaw is shaping up to be a capable and caring apprentice, though she allows her emotions to guide her. Perhaps that is what makes Pinkpaw such a good WindClanner; she clearly cares deeply for her clanmates in spite of her frequent lapses in logic.

The calico continues to watch her clanmates move about, her mind working in circles thinking of what will happen next. But she doesn’t get the chance to come up with another plan—suddenly, a familiar booming voice carries over everyone’s heads, but there are no orders stated in a rough, tired voice. There is only one word shouted by Sunstar, and it is her own name. Scorchstreak pauses, caught off guard, but golden eyes trace their way over pelts both familiar and new before they settle upon Sunstar and Wolfsong.

The leader looks worse for wear, obvious lack of a leg aside. He is singed and scorched yet still he enters the camp alongside his mate, a phoenix from ash. He’s standing, he’s talking—he will survive. He will live to see another sunrise to mark the end of this fiery hell. The calico moves to stand before the taller toms, dipping her head in greeting to her leader. "You’re back," she breathes, relief shrouding her expression plain as the soot that clings to Sunstar’s own pelt. She had never doubted that the tom would return, but still it is surprising to hear his voice roaring across the camp. Her plan was never the greatest, built upon the shaky soil of desperation, but now more than ever it seems a terrible idea. "The kits, elders, and queens are being moved across the river. The fire—I had to do something." Of course, doing something had included going behind everyone’s backs to request help from their river-dwelling neighbors. She can only hope that she will be forgiven, if not by her clanmates then by the starry eyes that watch over them all.

"You should go with them, the rest of us can stay behind." The smoke may attempt to choke them out, but they can still save their camp. The twolegs had dug trenches to keep the fire from going certain ways, and the sun-warmed pool isn’t so far away that a moor runner couldn’t soak plenty of moss in water—it would be a tedious task, but lining the singed edges of gorse with soaked moss could help save the delicate yet deadly walls that surround them.

// @SUNSTAR​

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── He was not confident he would see this camp again, not in this life, but he was wrong. He has been wrong often lately, at least where the fire-soaked dreams are concerned— but they were not dreams, were they? Visions. The dog and Sunstar's blood, the blackening air...Wolfsong saw them all, and between huddling in the pool and hurriedly shuffling to camp, he has yet to share his guilt with his mate. Now that Wolfsong no longer plunges through burning curtains, his mind has room to breathe, and he is ashamed. Afraid, even. Wolfsong overcame his missing eye with time and great effort, but he was a child, not a leader depended on by an entire clan, some of whom would crow to watch him stoop low.

And still WindClan burns.

Sunstar's voice tenses Wolfsong's shoulders, or perhaps it is the sight of RiverClan in their camp that sets him on edge, ferrying their kits with such ease. His ears twitch, and he spies Featherpaw among the crowd just before she calls for them, and he smiles tiredly. Briefly. The apprentice is prickly, but his love is unquestionable, and Wolfsong hadn't realized how numbed he was by the flames until the relief of seeing his children again stings his eye.

Will Featherpaw still gaze upon him the same when she learns of his culpability?

"Go with them?" He echoes suddenly, frowning. Sunstar, left with the weak and wounded, without his trusted warriors?
​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 42 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTAR (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  — ★★★☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart and his own pregnancy, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​

 

[CELANDINEPAW]

In the wake of the evacuation, a certain ginger-furred molly had been starkly absent, and the silence that settled where chipper voice would perforate now crooned in loud quietude. While the world burned, Celandinepaw was not there to witness it. Like a phantom in the night, she had slipped away without much complaint and much fight. It seemed that she had snuck from the crowd before Riverclan had even arrived, before the kits and elders lined up to make the journey to the Beech Copse, before there had been a chance to notice amongst the careening smoke and the huddling bodies.

( There will be a thread detailing where she's gone (she's not leaving forever lol), but I just wanted to make it apparent that she's not here at the moment! >:3

EDIT: here is the thread: X )​

 

[BLUEFROST]

The stench of the rivercats is only masked by the hot, ruinous smoke. Bluefrost stares, incredulous, as Smokestar and his warriors pour into their camp, put their wretched teeth in WindClan kittens’ scruffs, slide sleek and treacherous bodies into their home. Her green gaze whips toward Scorchstreak, who has invited them here, into WindClan’s sanctuary set ablaze. “I would not have chosen this if we had another, safer option,” the tunneler tells them, and Bluefrost suppresses the urge to lift her lip as RiverClan’s leader begins to herd kits. Her brother snarls something soft into the lead warrior’s ear—whatever it is, Bluefrost is in agreement. She watches, dazed, as RiverClan and WindClan begin to mingle, begin to herd the Clan’s injured and most vulnerable toward the exit.

Snakehiss’s black pelt catches her eye. Despite the fury trembling in his green eyes, the ebony-furred warrior goes to his offspring and orders them to begin to move toward the watery edge of RiverClan’s territory. She bites her lower lip and, decisively, goes to meet him and his children. “I’ll help you get them there,” she says, avoiding eye contact with him and bending to nudge Violetkit along with her muzzle.

There’s a commotion, then, at the camp’s entrance. Sunstar leans against Wolfsong, the two of them scorched and bloodied. Their leader bends to one side, his foreleg torn off at the root. Bluefrost’s eyes round with surprise—he lives, he walks, but he’s missing so much of himself that it’s hard to adjust her vision. Sunstar and Wolfsong speak with Scorchstreak, and she turns, leaving them to it. She must assist with the kits now and get back to camp as quickly as possible.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: helping @SNAKEHISS with @violetkit
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 14 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan warrior. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue and white she-cat with emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

​

 

[SUNSTAR]

A slow, rattling breath fills his lungs, and he squeezes his eyes shut. Numbness begins to set in — the shock of blood loss that he did not know would come. He had expected an argument. That he might carry this fire within his chest forever. Perhaps that is to be true. For now, though, in this singular heartbeat between his entrance and the warrior's acknowledgement of him there is only the lure of death in its quiet embrace. There will be time later for rage and indignation. He is certain it will spill over as most things within him do. For many, they could not have spared a moment longer. His pride may have saved his clan, or it may have damned them. Time would never tell.

It is not the path that he would have chosen to walk alone. As he limps forward, it is still not on his own. His path is shadowed by Wolfsong and the rest of his clanmates. It matters little that he does not stumble. The journey is hardly dignified. "WindClan!" Sunstar shouts it as if it's a gathering call, another sunny day beneath the tall rock to discuss their day, their patrols. But his voice quavers some with a restrained cough, and the leg that bears the rest of his weight threatens to buckle. "From this moment forward, Scorchstreak will follow in my steps. As my deputy, she will guide you to safety; to whatever future StarClan will allow for us." Is this punishment for all they had done? Had his clan not suffered enough, in their attempt at healing? Were questioning eyes correct, that this was due to his own place at the head of this clan?

He sways. Exhaustion is as hot as the fiery air. "I will not leave," he tells her quietly. "Whatever fate comes to my clan, I will be alongside it. Continue your evacuation. Do all that you can."

⋆ 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄  ╱╱ 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝗕𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋 〚 04.17.2024 〛 𖤓ᨒ

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTAR. WINDCLAN LEADER.  ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
  ——– AMAB HE - HIM - HIS ╱╱ 4+ YEARS OLD.

  NPC x NPC,. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO ONE LITTER WITH HIM. MENTORING RIVEPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ A LARGE, SCARRED CHOCOLATE AND WHITE ROSETTE TABBY TOM WITH SEAGLASS EYES

• "speech"

​

 

[SCORPIONBACK]

The tall, wispy scarred creature hasn't been in Windclan for a moon, and already it's burning to ash before his very eyes. Yes, he had seen the great grey billows of smoke wafting through the sky like it belongs there. Choking him. He makes him sick to his stomach to see that the Farmfolk had caused this. Why? They were nice enough to have sheltered some of the felines of the barn. Letting them stay there to hunt mice to keep their strange crops safe.

Scorpionback twitches his long tail behind him in silent fury. Lean muscles tensed under his dark coat, as he gritted his teeth thinking they would break from how hard he was holding them together. Anger boiled through his lanky form, simmering. How could he and his charge come here while there was fire happening?

So, in the wake of the evacuation, a certain dull black tom wasn't there to witness it. Scorpionback has been absent throughout the whole thing, the lurker that followed Celadinepaw wasn't there. While Windclan's camp burned, he slipped through the heather tunnel. He isn't there to witness Riverclan arrive, where kits and elders were lined up to make the journey to the Beech Copse. He was nowhere to be found, except for following dutifully behind his charge.

CAUSE YOU'RE A NUTCASE ( ♰ ) YOU'RE A FILTHY PIECE OF TRASH

• ooc. following/lurking after @CELANDINEPAW

• 

• ( they come in creepin' ) ˚₊‧꒰ა ★ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ SCORPIONBACK.
  — trans masc ; HE / HIM ; 19 MOONS & AGES EVERY 12TH.
  — warrior of windclan ; former rouge, barncat
  — single / pansexual & poly / not actively looking ; open to crushes
  — a tall, lanky shorthaired dull black feline with narrow dark amber eyes.
  — battle notes — thoughts ; "Speech, 9A3B3B" ; attacks only
  — may powerplay minor harm ╱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  — smells like raspberries & midnight rain
  

  ic opinions: he can be outright mean and rude,, </3

  
  → biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by calzone
  

​

 

[SHEEPPAW]

There's so much going on, chaos from all the smoke-plumed air and warriors running to grab any kits they could. He still didn't want to leave his home behind, hiding under his mother's paws he watched as he saw his denmates leaving. Coughing from the smoke entering his lungs, he narrows his eyes at the strange Riverclanner that came toward him and his other denmates.

He watches as the strange cat, lowers down towards the ground to be at eye level with him and his denmates. Sheepkit looks at the paw coming forward towards him, he scrunched his nose at the tall spotted molly. His ash covered fur rose on end, as he slowly but cautiously moved forward with a flick of his ear. He lets himself sniff at the strange scent of the stranger's paw, plumed tail swept at the ground behind him. The warrior seems.. nice enough. "F-fine.. But don't drop me!" He agrees towards the strange-smelling warrior.

The young tom watches as Ferretkit and Gravekit, climb aboard the River cat's back. He shuffles his paws as he looks down at the ground, he still doesn't want to leave his home. He felt his mother nudge his flank towards the Riverclanner, he climbs up on the stranger's back with a worried expression. He still doesn't know if Blizzardpaw, Spotpaw, or even his big sister Lambpaw is safe. He hopes they escaped with their clanmates.

Hearing a familiar voice boom through the chaos, he angled his head around to see Suntar all tattered. Burned and ragged. But he was alive! That was good. His jaw drops open at the Leader's missing leg. Legs can't be missing, right? Right? It can't just be missing! He stares at the bloodied stump where a leg should be. Shaking his head, he turned his attention to the Riverclanner poking the warrior's back. "Can we get outta here?"

BETWEEN DREAMS ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 SLUMBER PARTIES

• ooc. interacting with @Troutsnout
• no ref yet </3
• ( NO WAY! REALLY?! ) ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ SHEEPKIT.
  ✶ amab ; HE / HIM ; 5 MOONS & AGES EVERY 26TH.
  ✶ kitten of windclan | clanborn
  ✶ undecided / single / not looking / open to puppy-crushes
  ✶ a longhaired black smoke with high white with blue eyes
  ✶ thoughts ; "Speech, 8E7F7F" ; attacks only
  ✶ may powerplay minor harm ╱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ✶ smells like early morning dew & windblown heather
  — all opinions are ic
  
  → biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by calzone
  

​

 

[PINKSHINE]

Lakekit gets the idea, and Pinkpaw's smile widens when he thanks her. Less good, is that he's asking her a question right now she like, doesn't know the answer to at all. Why would she know where Blizzardpaw is? Were they best friends? She was totally marking that down to remember... " Blizzardpaw? Ummm.... "

Right on cue, Blizzardpaw appears. Hooray! " There he is! " And their smile mirrors her own, there but straining to stay put, wobbling because, in a situation like this, how could anyone keep a straight face? Her blink is sympathetic. It's okay, maybe is what she should tell them both. Or at least— it was gonna be. She rounds the both of them up, preparing to find the nearest RiverClanner to follow, as weird as that was...

Then, like magic, Sunstar is pushing his way into the clearing. Pinkpaw's eyes fly wide in shock, and it kinda feels like... she's the most surprised of anyone there. She guesses she'd forgotten than Leaders had more than one life. She guesses she'd forgotten that he'd wake up again. She's really happy to be wrong.

But, um... he looks... mad, or annoyed, or... something. Pinkpaw hesitates, her warbling smile shifting between him and Wolfsong both. For a little while, Sunstar is quiet, and a lot of the clan goes quiet too. A strange exception is Featherpaw. Featherpaw; she's happy for Featherpaw.

She winces, when all of a sudden, Sunstar shouts, and it's familiar. And then Pinkpaw is turning slack - jawed to her mentor. Once upon a time, Pinkpaw knew Sootstar was Leader, and Sunstride was deputy, and... probably, that was how it would always be. And suddenly— It's Scorchstreak's turn.

Pinkpaw bites her tongue really really hard trying not to yell and it's the worst thing ever. Dumb... fire. Dumber... RiverClan! " Owowow! We're leaving, we're leaving! " she squeals to her two companions instead of the ear - shattering celebration that ought to happen. Grumbling under her breath, she turns to shoo Blizzardpaw and Lakekit towards camp's exit.​

 

[Bluepool]

The flames are closing in. She can feel it in the heat that presses into her pelt, can smell it in the smoke that permeates the air, and she can see it in the bright red that glows on the horizon. What she doesn't expect, however, is the smell of fish and river-water. It infiltrates her nostrils in a way that even the smoke is unable to. It makes her want to retch in its sudden assault and when she looks up, when she sees RiverClan streaming in, she thinks this is it, they've come to finish us off while we're weak but no. Her mate is at their head, she is speaking of how she brought them here, how they were here to help. In her shock, she stands still. Even as their enemy streams into camp, even as others move into action to get the kits, to get the elders. To leave. Scorchstreak won't meet her eyes and it only serves to fuel to flames of Bluepool's raging heart. Conflict roars inside her mind. it was the only way. one part of her mind argues she shpuld have told me the other counters selfishly.

And then... her gaze drags to the ghostly figure that appears in their bramble tunnel, as he limps into camp and calls out her mates name. She feels as if she is watching everything in slow motion, like nothing is real. Suddenly, she snaps awake, limbs move into action and she is moving forward to stand near Scorchstreak and Sunstride. Scorchstreak, who she also avoids the gaze of because of the decision she had just made. " I will stay behind too. Im fast. You need me." she says, trying not to allow the fear that hammers in her heart infect her voice.

( ➸ ) test my worth in blood

• 
  
  
• 
  BLUEPOOL WINDCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO SOOTSTAR & MINTSHADE
  

  A small framed moor runner with a blue toned pelt and black stripes. Her tail is cropped and her eyes are golden in color. On her chest, she sports a large 'X' shaped scar.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + isn’t above using dirty tricks in order to win
  

​

 

[spotpaw]

Windclan is on fire. Smoke, ash, it chokes the camp. Scorchstreak stands at the camp entrance, calls out that this was the only way. That she had to go get Riverclan, that they had to leave... Everythings happening too fast.

Where was his mom?! Riverclan is quick to appear all of the sudden. It happens so fast, his head is spinning. He wants to run. He wants his mom, he wants Frightkit, he wants to leave. His mentor calls out to him, tells him to evacuate and then... She's off, again.

"No!" he barks at her, fear in his eyes, pelt bristling. He looks nearly angry in the way that he's puffed up, eyes narrowed, voice too loud- "I'm staying besides you. You- You're not going to be besides me, you're doing it now!" he says in a childish yelp, because he knew her all too well and the fact that she had already left his side didn't bid well for her side. If a kit needed her she'd stop and help, and by the time Spotpaw turns around, she'll be nowhere in sight. He trails after her like a lost dog.

Wheres Frightkit? Where are the kits he had spent so long in the nursery with? The air is full of ash and ember. He cannot see, his eyes water, Stars he feels so dizzy, his chest feels tight, he can't breathe, he can't breathe! I'm so scared.

Sunstars voice booms out and it makes Spotpaw jump, eyes wild in fear, much akin to a cornered animal. His leg was missing! Spotpaw stumbles and dry-heaves, the adrenaline rush making him feel absolutely terrible. He's ready to bolt as soon as an argument arrises... Except, Sunstar isn't mad. He names Scorchstreak as his deputy... He blinks. There hadn't been a deputy for as long as he had been alive, practically... The memories under Sootstar are hazy... He stays attentive incase anymore of his former (or current) denmates needs help.

In moments like these, he still feels like a kitten. Just... Older, now, unprepared, barely was shown the territory before fire rippled across the moors. I want to cry. But he's never cried before, never was a fussy kit... He would not cry now.

𝖲𝖮 𝖲𝖤𝖫𝖥-𝖠𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖤 *:ꔫ:* 𝖨 𝖨𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖭𝖣 𝖳𝖮 𝖣𝖨𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖨𝖲 𝖶𝖠𝖸

• // sticking by @whitedawn ,,, watching out incase anyone needs help
• 
  ❥ spotkit, spotpaw
  ❥ amab ,, he/him ,, 6 months
  ❥ tunneler apprentice of windclan ,, mentored by whitedawn
  ❥ small & oddly proportioned cinnamon tom with high white
  ❥ "speech, afd9f2" ,, thoughts
  ❥ unknown sexuality ,, single
  ❥ smells like windblown heather
  ❥ chibi by pin ,, penned by chuff

​