sensitive topics OTHERSIDE ✧ return

[Orangestar]

The forest is dark in earnest now, dusk long since passed, but the storm has eased somewhat. Fleeting gaps in the sky reveal something close to a half-moon, periodically lighting the way. Orangestar's pelt, sodden with blood and water, feels heavier now than ever, and as as steadies Slate's shoulder against her own once more she sags with relief at the sight of camp just ahead. Even if all she can smell is blood, even if most of them are injured (her mind strays to Twitchbolt and Sorrelsong, concern forcing her ears to lay flat), they're home.

A pawful of SkyClanners come to greet them, to assist the wounded. In lieu of the leader's own meow, which still cracks beneath anything heavier than a whisper, a warrior's call rings out in the tension-filled camp from the entrance:

"Fireflypaw! Silversmoke! They're back!"

ooc ✧ 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦

• set directly after this thread and before apr 25 chronologically<3
  @SLATE @Cherryblossom @Sorrelsong @Springpaw @Flora @ODDPAW @TWITCHBOLT @FIGFEATHER @LUPINESONG
  
  
•  
• 
  
  ORANGESTAR ✧ she/her, leader of skyclan | eight lives
  " a scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes."
  
  — single ; mentoring springpaw
  — speech is in #E3B2A9
  — tags | art by pin
  

​

 

[Florabreeze]

Flora refused to leave Sorrelsong's side as they made their way back to camp. She had offered herself to be used as a source of stability for the molly, half of it was for Sorrelsong but half of it was for the maine coons own comfort. Her tail raised above her friend, trying to keep as much rain off of her as she possibly could, though it didn’t really assist much. It was cold, she was exhausted from running, the thought of returning to the warmth of her home in the Twolegplace was a faint echo in her mind.

There was another thought, a thought of remaining here to help out where she could instead of going home tonight. That was the louder one, and yet despite wanting to help she couldn't dare look at the injured yet. Guilt laced her motivations, she had remained unharmed while so many clanmates suffered. The least she could do was stick around to help wherever needed, even if she didn’t know what exactly she could have done.

Even so, right now she would rather look at the injured than Orangestar, the leader died, Flora had bore witness to her death and now she was back? She was vaguely aware of the leader's of clans being awarded… some kind of special perk? Her mind was racing too far ahead for her to grab a single thought. Was that special perk being some kind of… Undead privilege? Cats around the neighbourhood would often tell stories of cats who had risen from the dead, she thought it was just tall tales but now she wasn’t so sure. Powers were just kit stories, they weren’t real were they?

The thoughts of the undead can be on hold for a moment, her focus right now was trying to be useful. Even as they were in the safe walls of SkyClans camp she refused to move from Sorrelsong's side, she gazed at the warriors gathering around them. Then back to the patrol she came with, eyes lingering on Orangestar for a moment. “I-I’d like to help out if I can in any way.” She uttered, voice a little shaky, she didn’t want to sit idle. ​

 

[FIGFEATHER]

Figfeather is among the lesser injured of the patrol, yet blood still stickies her pelt. She enters camp with a wounded clan-mate at her side, doing the best she could to assist them in keeping balance while maintaining her own. As they push through the barrier and into the camp she would slow to a halt as a warrior yowls an alert of the patrol’s return.

Leaning over she gives a few licks to her clan-mates injuries. Fireflypaw was about to have his paws full and she knows the importance of keeping a wound clean after her own had gotten terribly infected, once upon a time.

She glances to Flora and Orangestar as the daylight warrior offers further assistance. ”I don’t think there is anything more we can do as warriors. It’s in Fireflypaw and StarClan’s paws now.” She meows gently to the warrior, admiring her drive to help her hurting clan-mates.

♡ INFO BATTLE

• tldr; Figfeather helped one of the injured home (can be anyone) and began to briskly lick at their wounds. Briefly speaks to Flora.
  
  Injuries; Minor bite marks across her body. Likely to be one of Fireflypaw’s lower priority cats but will still need to be treated to prevent infection and bleeding.
• 
  » Figfeather
  » SkyClan Warrior
  » She/her . AMAB
  » Mate to Fantastream
  » Sire to Sangriakit & Coffeekit
  » Mentoring Wolfpaw
  » 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 to aid her clan to victory.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

The call from a clanmate caused the pacing tom to stop in his tracks, the dirt beneath scarred by black claws that had scuffed it repeatedly. His attention whipped towards the camp's entrance, seeing the blood before his nose could even register that that was what the coppery smell was. First, Silversmoke's gaze found Orangestar, the tension in his shoulders abating once it became apparent she could walk (albeit, with some assistance). Then, upon a squint, he spotted the others within the crowd, and whatever relief he felt disappeared with the sinking of an already anxious heart. They were alive, but some looked more like ghosts than clanmates, clinging onto consciousness in such a way that made the spotted tabby fear that the fox's consequences were not over yet. His teeth grit together in frustration, now more than ever they could have used a full medicine cat, but with theirs on vacation in a haughty clan, his thoughts turned into prayers that Blazestar's son was skilled enough to save Twitchbolt and Sorrelsong. Broad paws moved Silversmoke closer, on autopilot as he tried his best not to seem as alarmed as he felt. His frown remained stalwart, even as his eyes struggle to find something to look at that wasn't blood.

"The camp is secure," he promised Orangestar with a dip of his head, hesitating to lift it again. Shouldn't it have been him that was bloodied and bruised? His job had been an important one, but it did not stop the guilt and frustration gnawing at his bones, telling him he could've done more to stop this. He cleared his throat through the lump before continuing. "No foxes have been spotted and the kittens and elders have been confined to their dens. You're... safe, all of you." Tufted ears, once flat, pointed reassuredly towards the canopy. 'Maybe I couldn't prevent this, but I can stop it from getting worse.' StarClan knew what might have followed the strong-smelling crimson back towards their camp, should there be anything beyond a simple suspicion, he'd promise to see it off.

​

 

[Howlfire]

Howlfire was only vaguely aware that something was happening. She had returned from the dirtplace just as Twitchbolt led a group of warriors out of the clan. Curious what was going on, Howlfire had to find her answers from another clanmate, who revealed that Orangestar's patrol had been attacked. And worse than that, it seemed as though Orangestar had been struck down by one too.

Like many of the SkyClanners who remained in camp, Howlfire focused her attention on ensuring camp was safe and secure. With all these cats watching the camp there was no way a fox would dare to try its luck. Howlfire is aware of the return of the patrol before she sees them. The smell of blood hits her nose first and by the time she registers what she was smelling, her amber gaze finds the injured cats padding back into camp. Howlfire looks at them with worry - noting the blood and the injuries upon the returning patrol. A glance is spared towards her brother when he approaches, nervous that he would have to deal with such a scene on his own with Dawnglare gone. She's sure he'll be fine though - Dawnglare had taught him well after all.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Howlfire offered, much like Flora had. She looks to the senior warriors of the group for direction.​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

He was dying- but for the moment, he was alive. And this life, he would cling to until his paw-pads blistered.

There were better things to do than give up. More to be done, more to be seen... he'd always thought that, hadn't he? And it was a wonder he could think much at all. Crimson soaked his front, claret coating the white that frilled around his head. Twitchbolt's steps were noticeably staggered, supported by the less injured of the patrol- asymmetrical eyes were blinded by long blinks, as unconsciousness threatened to near him once more.

He had not tried speaking- he didn't know if he could. The puncture wounds were dangerously close to his throat, deep-red fox-tooth ravines pierced through his flesh. Camp was in sight, salvation was in sight... he took a gasping breath, trying to jerk himself into the permanent waking world. The relief of fainting neared relentlessly, though- relentlessly, and what sort of state was this for a deputy to be in? What sort of deputy let this happen, and let a leader die anyway?

Voices rose around him, but everything bounced around an echo-chamber... nothing was defined, anymore. Twitchbolt wanted nothing but to fall asleep... to fall asleep, to see stars as he hit the ground. "Quillstrike," he murmured, feeling as if he should say goodbye...

A gasp. Another gasp, raking through him- sending a shudder through his body. No, no, this couldn't be it. This wouldn't be fair, would it? But what was, in this world... and it was fate, wasn't it, that he should die the same way his parents did?

They had been hunting. They would have wanted him to hunt for them, though... maybe it was him who was meant to be half-eaten while trying to feed them. Karma, at last, for leaving things on such bad terms...

\ asked for @QUILLSTRIKE , clearly in a very very bad way and slipping in and out of consciousness​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[Fireflyglow]

"I'm coming!" A shout, deep and worried was the tom as he gathered as many herbs he could in his jaws. His paws quaked with nervousness, but in the face of his injured clanmates, he knew he had to shake it off and work fast. Many offer aid, but his possessiveness of his herbs comes to light in these moments. Dawnglare's warning of wasting herbs is fresh on his mind, and as Fireflypaw rushes over, he lays his herbs out and organizes them by scent. Marigold, tansy, poppy seeds, wintergreen, oak leaves to be sure, and his single dock leaf for the worst injury present.

He goes first by priority, sniffing at Orangestar's wounds- they have stopped bleeding, and therefore he determines she's alright for the time being. He would dress her wounds last. These type of wounds must have taken a life from her, but he did not have the psychic ability to tell just yet- not when he hadn't been graced with his star-blessed name. His tail twitches behind him as he moves over to their deputy. He's mumbling for his mate, clearly fading in and out- Fireflypaw lifts his tail to swat at Twitchbolt's ear. "Stay awake, my friend. Please stay awake just for right now. Take this, it'll make the pain bearable. You can sleep as soon as you're in my den." He commands the tom, eyes squinting closed as he begins to lick the fresh bite wound near his throat- he forces a poppy seed over to the tom, urging him to eat it. He'd forgotten something-

"Fetch me as many cobwebs as you can, someone! Once I get this wound clean an, herbs applied, and cobwebs placed, I'll need someone to help Twitchbolt to the medicine den. I'm going to line his nest with dock to help with the healing." This would be the right move, he knows. This would be the right move. Dawnglare would do this, wouldn't he? Well, he supposed he wouldn't spend as many herbs as he was about to, letting the minor wounds heal on their own- but Fireflypaw knew the risk infection carried. Dawnglare had taught him well on that. While someone rushes to bring him cobwebs, Fireflypaw gets to work on chewing two marigold and tansy to a pulp, plastering it onto the wound then snatching some cobwebs to cover it. Luckily, marigold had its benefits- multipurpose and important. It could be used for preventing infection and to stop the bleeding. Once he's done, he ushers his clanmates in to help Twitchbolt to his den, where he would soon follow after he helped his other clanmates.

Next, he sniffs Figfeather, littered with bites here and there- but they weren't as severe as Twitchbolt's, and could most likely heal with minimal treatment. To be sure, Fireflypaw licks the rest of the wounds clean before he applies a chewed marigold and a wintergreen to them, splitting the poultice into parts to make sure he had enough for everything. He shakes his fur out then, that familiar anxiety ebbing up inside of him- and yet he pushes it down once again, putting on a brave face for his friends. They needed him, and he couldn't fail them right now. Not now. "How is your pain? Do you need something for it? Don't you lie to me now, Figfeather." He looks her directly in her face, hoping his expression was serious enough for her to know he wasn't playing around with her. He could spare the poppy seeds. If she agrees, he'd slide over a poppy seed for her to take. "To my den. Now."

His head swivels in alert, paws shifting through his herbs to count them once more. He was running low on marigold, so he needed to use something else or half the doses.. He thinks to himself for a moment, brain racing with outcomes on how this could go. "Who else? Don't be stubborn, don't try to play savior, the only savior here is me- so let me do my star-assigned job." He knew his clanmates could be stubborn, could try to pass their injuries off as minor- Slate was one of those cats, so was Silversmoke. Many others would assume other cats needed more help than them. His head turns to Orangestar. "Someone get her to my den for now. Don't touch her wounds if you can help it." This would be fine, he just needed to wait for his other clanmates to make their way to him. "If you can walk, get to my den. If you can't, have a clanmate help you. I can heal you, but only if you let me. Am I understood?"

// pt one of healing! will reply again when more respond.<3​

SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE ✦ 21 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS​

 

[SLATESNARL]

At this point, Slate going a moon without receiving an injury of some sort was akin to fish being deprived of water. He was a fighter, first and foremost, a cat who threw himself to the hounds ( or, in this case, the foxes ) in order to serve his clan. However, predators with long, toothy muzzles and snapping jaws struck terror into his heart. He did not will this awful sense of fright—the lead warrior would fear nothing if it were up to him. Slate had too many close encounters with foxes and dogs alike though, too many for comfort. He had frozen up in the midst of battle—had he stood there any longer, what would have happened to Cherryblossom? He hates thinking about it. He hates how vulnerable he was in front of those damned beasts.

For now, he can only focus on providing stability to the leader as the patrol drags themselves into SkyClan's camp. Slate's heart was still twisted into tight knots, the adrenaline that was rushing through his veins still trying to simmer down from everything that had happened—Cherryblossom's leg had almost been mauled, he'd almost gotten his insides torn out. Orangestar had been the only cat to succumb to her injuries, falling limp and lifeless one moment and then getting back to her paws the next. The image of the fox tearing out the molly's throat is still burned into Slate's vision—he had just witnessed a fox murdering his friend. She is destined to live once more, but the lead warrior doubts he will ever grow fully accustomed to her star-blessed "powers". It had not been easy to watch and it likely never would be.

Slate was not too sturdy himself, even as he trudged through the hot pain that seared his chest and ear. The adrenaline had kept him from stumbling completely, that and his stubbornness. He had licked his wounds and dealt with them before, he figures. Other rogues had given him nastier scars. However, that does not discount the fact that the punctures on his chest sting like hell.

Too much is going on, Slate decides, as his focus strains. The Maine Coon heaves a few breaths and glances around, trying to take note of who was injured. They had all made it back, hadn't they? He looks for Cherryblossom just to make sure, and then his gaze lands on Twitchbolt. He had sustained a gash, too, which had turned the tom's cream-colored chest crimson. The deputy looks... weak. He was losing blood, Slate figures.

His head throbs now. Slate can't stand around for much longer; he needs to sit or lay or something. His adrenaline won't keep him awake for long. Fireflypaw orders Orangestar to find a place in his den and he's certain that he would tell Slate to remain there as well. Another stay in that starforsaken place was not even on his mind right now; Slate would begrudgingly swallow any stupid seed that Fireflypaw threw at him if it meant he could rest.

"C'mon," The Maine Coon rumbles, looking to the bloodstained she-cat beside him and readying himself to walk with her if need be. His amber eyes cannot help but briefly study her torn throat, eyes narrowing at how deadly her injuries looked. It was as if he were speaking to a ghost, a cat who would have not lived otherwise. His stomach churns.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝙅𝙐𝙎𝙏 𝙉𝙀𝙀𝘿 𝘼 𝘽𝙄𝙏 𝙊𝙁 𝙇𝙐𝘾𝙆, 𝙂𝙀𝙏 '𝙀𝙈 𝙐𝙋

• attempting to assist @Orangestar to the medicine den

• 

• 

  ₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾

  slate
  

  — he/him; lead warrior of skyclan
  — a hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — link to full tags; @ on discord or dm @beaaats for plots!​

  ​

​

 

[Sorrelsong]

𓆝 . ° ✦ Blood clings to her pelt just as much as the fear and rain do - maybe more. She is aware of her paws moving, being placed, shifting weight, being placed again. The ground passes underneath her, her shadow darts over twigs and sticks and leaves. A familiar warmth leans on her, sturdy as a tree. Was she near a tree? Had she been? She leans back. The molly doesn't remember moving. She remembers things in flashes. Her back is warm. Is that why Flora was covering her?
"Orangestar... isn't dead." The words tumble out of her, scratching her throat raw on their way out. "Not gone." There is no hint of despair at seeing her leader like that. No fear at the revelation. No awe in the star-blessed magic. Just a simple statement. Just a simple, unsaid prayer. Orangestar isn't dead. We lost no one.
One eye feels heavy, two ears ring, three paws ache, but the fourth is hard to move. A hind paw, she recognizes faintly. How did that happen? The.... She'd just hit a tree, nothing grabbed her.
She is at camp. Things feel wet and dark, she squints, straining to hear. She stumbles if and when Flora comes to a stop. She finds her head on her friend's shoulder. Were they mad at her for being so weak? Were her clan mates going to....
Iron hangs in the air, clinging to everything. More and more cats come. Safe. They are all safe. She allows a smile. They are safe because of the others. Because of Slate, and Flora, and Cheeryblossom, and Twitchbolt and Orangestar and the other hero's on the patrol. Many she saw but did not know the names of. She will make sure to thank them later. If she could.
Twitchbolt is hurt now. Or had he always been? Bad timing, if he hadn't been part of the patrol. The mud beneath her sinks into her paw pads, stabbing underneath her claws and seeping into her coat despite it feeling dry. Fireflypaw's mouth moves, but he really needed to be louder if anyone was to pay attention to him. A blink left things darker then expected before the scene settled again before her. Exhaustion crawled under her pelt, prickling and plucking her fur. She recognized that was very sleepy, apparently. Not sure why, she hadn't done anything warranting the rest.
Her nose felt wet. Eyes furrowing, the molly glances up. Her head lifts from it's perch, heavy like if she were in a dream.
Where were the stars tonight? A hiss rips out of her chest as a drop lands in her eye. Reflexively, the molly's tail flies through the air over her friend's head, a makeshift shelter from the pain she doesn't wish to share.
"Don't... up," she tries, the words coming out more like a whisper, "Hurts."
They're still there, is the only thought that comes to her, they have to be. If Sky Clan could survive a fox attack, then Star Clan could surely survive a storm.
She blinks again, feeling more Sorrelsong now. Her chest hurts, her breath is quick, she realizes. Is it the rain or the ringing that is making it all seem so far away? Things feel murky.
It's late. "Home." She mummers to Flora, softly but that is more intentional this time. "Get someone.... to walk you. Safe." The words still hurt, but she bares it. "'m fine." Her paw moves, and she bares it. Had the foxes pulled her apart and strung her back together again with stars? She feels longer, disconnected from the normal confides of her body. Lanky, she thinks the word is, but squished at the same time. Was this normal? The ringing subsides a little bit, enough to realize it is still raining. Enough to hear the murmur of her clan - if they are still her clan after her traitorous cowardly acts - but the murmur of a safe clan. She can't complain there, she supposes with a smile.
Her eyes fall to Twitchbolt again. She knew him, briefly, but not enough to witness this, she thinks. His loved ones where here She could provide no comfort to any of them. The least she could do was get out of the way.
With a sniff and a suppressed groan that dies somewhere between her head and her heart, Sorrelsong pushes herself forward on shaky paws dutifully towards the medicine cat den to wait her turn.

✧　°　.　✶　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: She's out of it lol. Having a little bit of a panic attack, but trying to get out of the way and not worry anyone and just see Fireflypaw in a bit after he tends to the cats that need more urgent help.
  
  • Injuries; She got body stammed into a tree, so she has little bits of bark and some other minor scratches on her back to the base of her tail. Her back hind paw got tweaked so it hurts to put weight on it, but it's not broken or anything. Likely to be one of Fireflypaw's lower priority cats but will still need to be treated to prevent infection and bleeding.
  
  
• 
  
  

  SORRELSONG— SHE/HER･ 43 MOONS ･ WARRIOR OF SKY CLAN･ PENNED BY @KEEEKEEEY!

  Once a rather pretty brown smoked molly, Circe is unnaturally lithe and is missing large chunks of her fur. She has an oddly muscular and feminie build and small paws. — physically easy && mentally easy — Attempting to learn Sky Clan's ways — NPC x NPC : Sibling to Duskpool, Shadowfire and Smokefang

​

 

[Cherryblossom]

Rain blurs all. Distantly, she knows her leg should still be bleeding. Pale crimson threads through the delicate white of her haunch, held aloft and crooked. Each quiet thud of her limp sending white jolts up the leg. Her better side presses against @LUPINESONG 's storm-dark pelt, finding solace in the warmth through tangled, soaked fur. Through the corner of a washed-out eye, she spies the red crawling down her white chest, dribbling down heron limbs and seeping into the battered muck.

She should be worrying about the molly she leans against, or Slate, or Twitchbolt, but—She died. The calico stares into the forest deep, for moment resolute but now resigned. I watched my mother die.

Mud and dessiscated pine needles cling to the feathered edges of her limbs, but her disgust isn't as all-consuming as it had been on the trek out. I watched her die. The statement is marvelous. She holds it gingerly in her mind: an adder wrapped around her arm, a paw pressing down on inevitable fangs. She could let up, relinquish the thought upon the tender flesh of her psyche. She could also stay upon it, and maybe the pressure of her all would be enough to kill it. For the time being, her heart deserves to remain free of the weight her eyes bear.

Suddenly, they are in camp. A voice rings out, and her ears flatten. The rest of the world washes over her like a cold wave: the panicky hum of camp reacting, the shapes of the patrol scattered hapzardly in the vicinity, the scent of blood incongruously sharp against the softness of home.

Blinking rapidly, she stumbles away from Lupinesong and stares around. "What happened to Twitchbolt?" she blurts. The deputy gives another wobble, then keels over into a heap. It feels like Fireflypaw would never be quick enough, but he's there when she blinks, stuffing herbs into the bloody crook of his neck. Great StarClan. The whole snowy plain of his chest is flooded with crimson, trying and failing to dry into his usual spikes on account of how much lingers, even after the rain's attempts at diluting it.

Somehow, she tears her eyes away from him and remembers everyone else. Orangestar's condition is a foregone conclusion. Slate is still standing, though the earth beneath him is slowly turning red. He trying to help Orangestar—whatever, let him try. Tightened eyes land on Sorrelsong, or more Sorrelsong's tail as she obstinately hobbles towards the hazel bush, then flick back to Lupinesong in the bizarre hope that she hadn't suddenly deteriorated to the older warrior's condition as well.

As though to remind her, her lame leg brushes the floor and sends a teeth-gritting twinge up her spine. "We need help over here too!" Cherryblossom groans, tail lashing. "Whenever you have the time, I guess," she mutters after, bitter pity coating the look she gives Sorrelsong.

ooc: shallow bite wound to the right thigh, low priority!

skyclan warrior | "speech." | tags​

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[Owlheart]

Hearing the call from nearby clanmates did little to quell the rapid heartbeat Owlheart had but it helped knowing that everyone was back. That her sister and her mother had returned presumably as safe as they could be. She immediately joined the crowd of warriors gathering to witness the patrol's return, squeezing in as much as she could so she could get a better view. The tabby just needed that visual confirmation that Cherryblossom and Orangestar returned safely, everyone else too, of course she didn’t want anyone to not be safe.

She was letting herself be selfish just this once, she could prioritise making sure family was okay right? As she peers over to the returning group she blanches at the sight, wide eyes moving from the injured Twitchbolt. She wasn’t sure how a cat could be covered in that much blood and somehow still be standing. A part of her did hope that it was not all his own. Seeing Cherryblossom brings her a rush of relief, yet it doesn’t last for long. There's something distant in her sister's eyes, something she doesn't recognise. Owlheart's own eyes stop at the sight of her mother, she shouldn’t be emotional, she knows that. It wasn’t her out there after all but she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pain that doesn’t belong to her as her eyes transfix on the wound that presumably the fox had made. Her maw quivers and she just wants to cry as she begins to think about what everyone must have gone through, but she holds it back. The last thing anyone needed was her babbling like a kit.

Instead Owlheart follows Fireflypaw's request for cobwebs. Parting from the crowd to bring the medicine cat apprentice what he needed. Trying to not meet the eye of anyone from the patrol as she returned with as much as she could carry, lest she be drawn in to stare at their injuries more. She would have to find time to check on her sister and mother later. The tabby was sure that they were going to need space, at least for a day. Wrapped up in her thoughts about how her family was coping through this tragedy she wordlessly approached Twitchbolt. Leaning against him with another cat by his opposite side to keep him upright, giving enough space for him to potentially mention if he didn't want the help right now. She thinks to ask if he would be okay to walk but she wasn't sure if he would be in a lucid enough state to reply.

//gave Fireflypaw the cobwebs he wanted and is attempting to help with moving @TWITCHBOLT to the medicine cat den!​

 

[LUPINESONG]

❀‿ Lupinesong marches through the forest in silence, and she is remarkably clearheaded even as the rain pours down on them and the rip of gnarled teeth ghosts a painful reminder on her chest. Today's death march is not so grim, their leader walks beside them back to camp, and there is no strange cat to throw to the crows. Twitchbolt, too, would survive, she assured herself. He had to, he was young and brave and he won his battle. If Starclan really were able to put their paws upon the living, Lupine hoped they would deem him worthy for it. She, too, had found bravery within herself today, unlike the last time, and had not gotten herself killed for it. Were the others as surprised as she was?

She remains in this odd, clear space until they enter camp, perhaps her blood slows down enough to have a more coherent thought now. Cherryblossom is leaning against her, warm and alive though she could feel the phantom pain of her limp with every step forward. The calico leaves her side to turn to look at Twitchbolt with an exclamation, and Lupinesong stumbles at the lack of pressure suddenly taken from her flank. "Oh, he's-..." much worse off than she thought he was. Sorrelsong, too, stumbles and deteriorates in the general direction of the medicine den and Lupinesong suddenly feels like a fraud for being so ignorant of the deathly situation her clanmates were still in.

Suddenly, the wound dripping blood down toward her feet seemed like little more than a kitten scratch. And then, like clockwork, came the wave of guilt at wanting there to be more wrong with her. She kept her eyes trained carefully away from any onlookers, but instead found them drifting back toward Cherryblossom, who was looking at her with a glazed-over sort of concern. Right. Her mom just died. And she was bound to die again. Lupinesong couldn't fathom having to bear witness to such a thing.

"I'm alright," she says softly, though she doesn't know exactly to who. Did anyone really care? (Why was she thinking about this?) She flicks her eyes down to the injured ankle of her friend, "You're going to be alright, too. Let's, uhm, let's go sit in Fireflypaw's den."

LOVE ME MORE, ⊹₊°❀‿ LOVE ENOUGH TO DROWN ME OUT.

• OOC: minor bite wound on her chest ! low priority!
• 
• 
  — lupinekit . lupinepaw . lupinesong
  — trans she/her. 12mo warrior of skyclan. formerlu mentored by dandelionwish, padding after falcongaze
  — bobbie x duke. littermate to crowsight & drowsynose. older half-sister of hollykit, lionkit, and candorkit
  — a tall, pretty, long-haired black smoke with low white and green eyes
  — smells like sweet lupine flowers and young pine needles
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — fullbody by pikaihao and funnyguy by pin
  — penned by eezy

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[edenberry ?!]

It seemed more and more consistent than not... and if it weren't for the grim nature of knowing which of their friends they stood to lose this time, they might've laughed for all their prophetic certainties. Hadn't it been a whispering little monster at their shoulder not that long ago... that had said it would be their peers to walk in hollow-eyed procession... carrying with them the empty body of a friend they'd spent their whole lives with?

There were far more moons of their life spent in the giggled song of gossip, amongst fiery tongues clashing their petty disagreements... than there were in the silence of a Twoleg home. It should be a blessing, that as they see the feathery coats of fiery-honey and shadowed-rook, they are not the ones barely clinging to the physical world around them... but not all their loved ones come in the shape of young, fresh warriors.

Some of them come in rattling burr-furred terror... stained scarlet where a crest of white had stood as a target for rough headbutts and jokes about protection from the snow. Lupinesong has Cherryblossom... and they're both talking... and breathing and fine and staring at each other (and not looking for Edenberry, not seeking support from anyone but one another) but he-

"Twitchbolt!" Unceremoniously collapses under the weight of his own mortality and several of them rush to lift him from the muddied earth. More of them, though silent, pray that whatever power that exists above them will offer the same divine affections that keep Orangestar standing now. The sight of him conjures image of similarly bark-colored fur, though that had been wrapped in darkened vine-like stripes; they'd had the same kind face... the same gentleness.... Panic rises in their chest in the form of bile.

It couldn't happen again. It wouldn't, as Fireflypaw insisted. He's no small tom either... especially not when soaked to his bones in rain water and blood.... Owlheart would need their help- more than Cherryblossom did, even if it felt wrong for it to be true. "H-hey, find your feet Twitch.. We can't carry you by ourselves," the teasing tone feels tinny and insincere even to their own ears. "It's gonna be okay... You're gonna be alright..."

Maybe... maybe they could manifest this into reality too.

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𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 〰 i can still hear you sing

• assisting in moving @TWITCHBOLT
• -- edenberry / skyclan daylight warrior / any pronouns / 12 moons
  -- mostly white with black pinstripe and green eyes / scarred face and back
  -- color #728c69​

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