PANIC ON THE STREETS OF LONDON — skyclan patrol

[SLATE]

The charcoal-hued brute stared out beyond the expanses of SkyClan's territory, dull eyes searching the horizon. This border in particular was not shared with any clan, and he could only assume that what awaited in those distant lands were vast seas of hills, trees, and bountiful prey. Would another clan eventually come around and try to lay claim to it? Why doesn't SkyClan just claim it for its own? Then again, they would have endless amounts of territory to patrol if that were the case.

Still, he wonders what else is out there, beyond the sights and smells that he already knows. Slate is no adventurer, nor does he do well with change, but he'd be lying if he claimed that the very thought did not pique his curiosity.

The lead warrior snaps back into reality now, realizing that the patrol was just milling around the border while they waited for Dawnglare and Fireflypaw to search for herbs. Slate grunts aloud, his patience starting to tick, "We should move on soon." The length of the patrol had been extended for a little while longer due to the medicine cat team needing to do some herb-hunting. Would herbs even be enough to cure this mystery illness? Slate refused to believe that a bunch of leaves could be the answer to everyone's problems. Sickness falling upon their clanmates was unfortunate, but maybe Tallulahwing had simply been too weak for her body to handle it. Maybe this would pass if the sick cats just kept to themselves and rested.

// i may have a Random Event occur depending on how this thread goes as well >:3
patrol members: @Cherrypaw @Coyotecrest @MOMOWHISKER @Fireflypaw @DAWNGLARE ​

 

[Cherryblossom]

Tallulahwing's death hangs like a familiar fog over the clan, thickened by its mysterious cause. Spiderpaw had been killed in a strange, unknowable way too, but at least it'd been something tangible. The fear of dogs, the gargantuan creatures brute and vicious enough to have torn her apart like that, is a common one, one infused into most clan cats from the moment they stepped out of camp. For some, like Bobbie's kits, it'd started even earlier.

Illness, though, was invisible. As though StarClan themselves had reached down and snatched the breath out of her, Tallulahwing had just died. Right there, in the safety of SkyClan camp, beneath the watchful gaze of their medicine cats. Her lavender-strewn corpse had been woundless, her face slack, like she'd just stopped for a nap in a bed of flowers. She upped and left the rest of SkyClan wondering if they'd be taken like that too, sudden and quiet. Whether their kin would be the next to hide beneath the mound of lavender, with death worming beneath their still eyelids.

The dead daylight warrior doesn't haunt her as much as the possibility of being like her, and even then it doesn't weigh as heavily on her mind as it perhaps should. As a fresh apprentice, there was really nothing she could do about it. Her words to Lupinepaw, back in the nursery after his mother's second run-in with a dog, ring true to this day. She wouldn't burden herself with a load not hers to carry.

Those who did carry that load have made the trek with them the very edges of their territory. Now half a moon into her apprenticeship, Cherrypaw is vaguely familiar with this part of the territory. The lack of proximity to the other clans would make it appealing hunting territory, save for the everpresent threat of the Twolegplace looming nearby. Cherrypaw can barely see the strange shapes from the patrol's location, but she's seen them enough times to know what they'd look right now: chunks spiraling oddly into the pale lilac sky, an orange glow in their many eyes, maybe a few ribbons of smoke drifting from narrow projections.

Her yellow eyes, softened in the weak dawn light, flick to Slate when he finally speaks again. She lifts a paw to rub the remaining blurs of sleep from her eyes. "Are we going to see anyone here?" Cherrypaw looks back towards the border, at the thick curtain of trees just beyond the Rockpile. It's so similar to SkyClan's territory that she could easily wander over and never notice—if she didn't have a nose. Even twolegs knew SkyClan territory was the best, along with all those loners and rogues. The thought of seeing any one of those makes her heart beat a little faster. Maybe she'd go on more dawn patrols if it meant getting to watch Slate beat up a tresspasser.​

 

[Fireflyglow]

"I sure hope not." Fireflypaw groans as he lifts his head up, a bundle of marigold hanging from his jaws. He carefully wraps it in a large leaf, tying it up as best he could before lifting the newly made satchel up in his jaws. His head turns, swiveling on its axis before he listens to Cherrypaw's chattering with a muffled chuckle. Slate speaks up, hurrying along the patrol; Fireflypaw nods towards him apologetically before turning back to his mentor. Did he have another lesson in mind?

"What is good for sleep, Dawnglare? To quell ones anxieties, calm them?" He asks patiently around the leaf, sitting himself close to Dawnglare's side in curious tandem.​

SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE ✦ 13 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS​

 

[Coyotecrest]

Angry at all the things I can't change

Green eyes skim the horizon for potential danger as Slate led the way. Although part of him remained hopeful to grasp the faintest scent of Thistleback somewhere during their trek. His effort had proven unsuccessful but he would not relinquish hope that the dual toned tom would return to him someday. "We should move on soon." Coyotecrest cants his head in the direction of the scarlet medic and his apprentice, giving the duo a wide breadth of space in the process of walking past them. Thankfully, being trapped with them on this patrol did not prove to be as insufferable as he thought it would be. He had their herb finding to thank for that. Distracting their minds long enough to keep whatever animosity he assumed they still held towards him at bay. Still, he doubted they would find something to cure the sickness spreading throughout camp, if Tallulahwing's situation was anything to go by.

Flaxen paws bring him closer to Slate's side, although he was careful to give the lead warrior a respectful amount of distance. His gaze sweeps causally over the land before them, nose twitching idly at the mixture of smells before focusing on Slate again. "Do you think there are cats with the same sickness out there? And if so...then I believe we should be extra cautious of any cat that may stray too close to our borders." He murmurs to the tom by his side. ​

When you're lost in the universe don't lose faith​

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[DAWNGLARE]

An ear flickers at the idle chatter that sounds behind him. Frankly, he had no need for the audience he walks alongside. His own apprentice was more than enough in terms of unwanted company. The whispers of the leaves are infinitely more interesting than that of the living, and – may he note – infinitely more useful. Sunken eyes scan carefully for the budding of what he needed, and when he spots it– a clump of pale blossoms with pale centers, he snaps it up with a quickness. Just enough to soothe his nerves for a fleeting moment.

A moment, and then his head spins to fix the dark warrior an unimpressed stare, a slight twitch in his eye. “ What is your rush? Want me to pass over this rare grace, do you? ” It is less of an accusation, and more an open worry, the thought sending a nervous tremor down his spine. A flicker of the eye barely scratches upon a tortoiseshell pelt. Cherrypaw, or something along those lines. Another fleeting glance to expanse of trees. Perhaps her friend thought so..

Fireflypaw then takes the opportunity to ask him something utterly irrelevant, and his maw twists misshapen; look of confusion. Out comes a nervous huff of laughter. " Ha ha, anxious are you? " Dawnglare misses the strips of hide his housefolk would tuck within their dens, ripe for the picking and welcome stress relief. He could score his claws down Fireflypaw’s side in their absence. Imagine quelling anxieties! Oh, he simply could not. " We are looking for feverfew, Fireflypaw. Commit the scent to your memory. " He angles his head toward them reluctantly, offering the clump of flowering herb to be scented. " I am certain you can discern its use. Now put your mind to something useful. "

The Medicine Cat shifts his weight uncomfortably. Yes, it seems they would have plenty of time to discuss feverfew and the like, such excitements certainly awaiting him within his den. To the traitor, he would sniff. " We pose more of a threat to them than they do us. " He would know plenty about that, though.

OOC 𓆩♡𓆪 7.18.2023 𝘚𝘠𝘕𝘖𝘋𝘐𝘊 𝘚𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘖𝘕 𝘛𝘖 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘖𝘜𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘏𝘐𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎

• OOC:

• 

• ( 𝙒𝙃𝙔'𝘿 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝘼𝙆𝙀 𝙎𝙊 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂? ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
  —— He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
  —— Currently 54 moons old. 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.
  

  Currently in an era of questioning; upset and uncomfortable by things he should not be.​

  Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads

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[SLATE]

Like a vigilant watch guard, Slate scans the distant lands for any signs of life. There is plenty of prey roaming around out there, he's sure. Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to consider journeying all the way past the edges of SkyClan's borders should a long and harsh leafbare befall the clan again. This stretch of unclaimed land should be open for them to hunt in; none of the other clans were as close in proximity, except for ThunderClan. Slate narrows his eyes in thought. They could fight them if they needed to.

He barely bothers with the effort to meet Dawnglare's stare for long, an equally uninterested expression fixed onto his features. Were randomly plucked leaves always the answer? What if they were only wasting their time?

Cherrypaw inquires about the possibility of running into other cats ( or other creatures, for that matter ) while out on patrol, to which Fireflypaw answers her. He keeps looking out; watching, waiting, anticipating. A cat could never be too careful, especially while this close to loner lands and the Twolegplace.

The large Maine Coon only acknowledges Coyotecrest's words with a flick of an ear before he rumbles aloud, "If Blazestar is smart, he won't be letting anyone into SkyClan right now." Why would SkyClan need the stress of more mouths to feed right now, especially now that an extreme sickness was going around? Talullahwing must have picked the illness up while in the Twolegplace, surely. No other cats from outside of SkyClan should be joining, bringing their sickness with them.

Suddenly, movement on the horizon. At first, the lead warrior cannot make out the exact shape of whatever it is, but it quickly becomes clear what danger this patrol is in. "Twolegs in the distance." A hiss escapes from under his breath, sure to keep his voice leveled so as not to alert the bipedal beasts to their location. They appear to be walking parallel to the group; not toward them, not away, but seemingly toward ThunderClan's direction. Still, who knows what they would do if they saw the cluster of felines across the way. "Doesn't seem like they've noticed us yet."

With an anxious twitch of his fluffy tail, Slate grunts over his shoulder toward the medicine cat duo, "Gather your herbs. Quickly." The quicker they got out of here, the better. Slate would not become a victim to the wickedness of the twolegs, not again. Not ever.​

 

[Cherryblossom]

Fireflypaw is quick to answer her through a mouthful of amber-edged flowers. "Whatever," is her murmured acknowledgement. His ghostly eyes hang still in the early light, twin moons not yet ready to leave this sleepy world. He and Dawnglare share a quick exchange of something she spares herself the details of, as it's right then that Coyotecrest speaks up. Eyes of faded petals glance back towards him. She knows he's a WindClanner, and that he's an all-around nice guy, but nothing much past that. An ear twitches, and she blinks back towards the dim trees ahead.

It's true, she'd never given the origin of the fallen warrior's illness much thought. The burden of such hard thinking belonged to the broad shoulders of the herb-pickers besides them; she gleans the unspoken need to protect them and their precious minds, so much more vulnerable outside of camp now. Nevermind the fact that the bulk of Dawnglare and Fireflypaw easily rivals Cherrypaw, Coyotecrest, and Momowhisker's. "That's dumb. I like the new ones," she remarks, almost for no reason other than to make conversation while contradicting Slate. Besides, newcomers were always easy targets to gossip about with Lupinepaw or Edenpaw.

Slate's hiss jerks her out of the momentary fog of smugness. "Twolegs?!" she whisper-exclaims, head snapping around. "Where?" Cherrypaw drops into an ungainly version of the hunting crouch, belly fur almost brushing the pine litter while her neck strains to give her a view of the creatures. Slate's form blots out most of it, but from between his legs she spies some brightly-clad movement. Her tail lashes excitedly, swish, swish, swishing softly across the tender forest floor. If Slate is stiffer than usual, she doesn't notice. All she notices is the strange, exciting jangle of the twolegs some tree-lengths away.​