RIDING, RIDING, RIDING AROUND ☀︎ CLOSE CALL

[freckleflame]

she hates to say it still bothers her. on the patrol that had ended sandthorn’s life, freckleflame had encountered thundering hooves and the wind pulling at her fur when she grasped at a tree and pulled herself by the claws out of danger. sandthorn had gotten the worst of it, and truthfully, the tortoiseshell didn’t know if she deserved to be this sick over it — the herds. she’d seen it, though. it had only taken seconds. she’d been poised in a hunting crouch like she was now, head and tail low in wait while she tracked a skittering vole into the tall grass when the molly had screamed and then.. nothing. an abrupt ending to a long, hard life, and a deer bounding away, none the wiser. at times, she scorns herself for it : not hearing, not comprehending until it was far too late.

yet still, she doesn’t hear it coming, not at first. the damned things move too fast, powerful legs sending snow and dirt up behind them with every kicking stride and when she whirls around, she knows again, it’s too late. it looks even bigger like this, all broad chested and long limbed, dark eyes wide and beady all at once. it would be beautiful, if not for its frantic beeline towards her. it doesn’t even seem to register her there, only running faster, faster than freckleflame ever could. her ears flatten, body curling in a semi - circle as if the bulk of her tail could protect her from the thump-thump-thump as it comes her way. she squeezes her eyes, because what else could she do?

crunch. snap.

the molly hits the ground, knocking tbe air from her lungs and for a terrifying moment, she thinks it’s her. that sound, that awful, horrible popping noise. her ribs, her belly, her neck — those hooves had slammed down upon her and the pain would rip through at any second, or perhaps it was the shock keeping her balled in a quivering fetal position until the sound of the herd had moved further along. she would die in the weak daylight of thunderclan territory, surrounded by the fluttering of desperately growing leaves and grazing woodland animals. she hopes she is not as mangled as sandthorn had been. there wasn’t enough mint or lavender in the clans to cover that.

but when seaglass eyes slit open, she sees first her kill ; the vole was little more than a pile of blood and bone shards, broken at every angle where the stag had slammed down upon it at full force. the molly lies splayed still, unwilling to move. her breath comes quick, but when she hears the tell - tale snap of clanmates clambering forward, she finally gasps a ragged, disbelieving, ” d’worry, i’m good. i’m good, still in one piece. “ but if she could just lie there for the next couple of minutes.. her limbs still shook more than she’d felt in moons.

𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝙴 𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙴 -`☀︎´- 𝘗𝘓𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘌 𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘠 𝘍𝘖𝘙 𝘈 𝘞𝘏𝘐𝘓𝘌 𝘕𝘖𝘞

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  FRECKLEFLAME 𖦹 . LESBIAN, SINGLE. SMELLS LIKE SUN - WARMED OAK AND RICH, EARTHY MUSK. EIGHTEEN MOONS OLD. FRIEND & SISTER TO MANY! NAMED A WARRIOR OF THUNDERCLAN ON 8 / 3 / 2023. MENTORING COUGARPAW! PENNED BY ANTLERS --------------------------------------------
  
  f. she / her, daughter of sunfreckle and rabbitnose. large, fluffy cream - ribboned tortoiseshell with seaglass eyes. larger than life! each and every part of her is broad ; wide in everything from her face to shoulders to her feathered tail, something reminiscent of her father’s kittypet heritage in the square of her chin and hulk of her figure. she appears illusionarily fluff - ridden at first, thickly pelted in shades of fire and soot, long & tangled, knotted with undergrowth — seeming soft and pudgy, and she is.. that figure curving into hard, hidden bulk along heavyset flanks and well - muscled limbs. a characteristic lack of personal space leads her to a slouching, touchy posture, often inclined to lean or bump against her peers.
  

  prone to bouts of explosive emotion. all opinions are solely in - character and during these times, often untrue or said only in anger.

  
  

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[Honeydapple]

Honeydapple's heart lurched with terror as the sickening crack echoed, followed by a chorus of stomping. Instinct did its due diligence, and she darted forward, clambering up the side of a tree and sticking to it like a frazzled squirrel. Her pointed pelt bristled as she watched the massive creature zip by without so much as an inkling of awareness. It wasn't her first time seeing one of the hooved beasts, but seeing one so close was horrifying. Once her haphazard breathing settled, concern crumpled her delicate features.

Scrambling down the bark, she looked around to see her clanmates filtering out from the woodline. Silently, she took count, only to notice... Freckleflame! Oh, stars! Running ahead and turning the bend, she spotted the brightly colored molly cowering to the ground. Before she had a chance to even ask, ragged mews reached her ears. Relief fell across her, as well as empathy for her clanmate's frightened state. Carefully, she stepped closer and aimed to gently nuzzle their side with her nose.

Gently, the pale she-cats asks with worry evident in her tone. "Okay, can you stand up? Did it hurt you at all?" She already knew the answer given the remnants of the poor smooshed vole, but Honeydapple couldn't help but make sure.​

 

[WOLFWIND]

She hadn't been there, the day the beasts had first made their grand appearance. Somethin' about ThunderClan was mighty attractive to things with curled horns and hard - cutting hooves at the end of their four limbs. Wolfwind would think they'd be more fittin' for WindClan, where they could gallop to their hearts content. It isn't like the stories journey cats had told, with the other clans being lost within thick undergrowth. These beasts conquered it just the same way that they did. Greater, even, with heart - stopping ferocity and agility that'd leave Sootstar's dogs cryin' in their nests at night.

So she's been insistent. Insistent at sniffing at cats who waltzed through camp and accompanying on patrols when she could. It's how she lands here, ears pricked. Even if her eyes didn't work quite the same way — even if she had an ear split; another torn, what had been built in them still worked. Though it doesn't stop herself from swinging her head around like a madwoman, eye gleaming fierce at anything that enters its sight.

And it comes. Thundering. Like a rumble upon the Thunderpath itself, a great beast hurtles toward them, towards her, Freckleflame. And she's too far away. Too damn slow. Wolfwind's voice cracks. " Freckleflame? Freckle — " panic rising quick; a flash of of blue - grey fur and her eye blazing toward the tawny creature that probably ran too fast to even see her. And then the dust is gone. Freckleflame is... alive, panting. Her prey is forgotten. Wolfwind couldn't possibly care. Honeydapple is clamoring toward her in the exact same way, and Wolfwind pushes harder as if it were kinda competition.

" S-shit. Freckleflame, are you okay? Are you sure?" she frets, sayin nothin' productive, nothin' that Honeydapple didn't say already, but she asks anyway, tail whipping up a storm behind her.​

 

[freckleflame]

she supposes there is a moment somewhere in all of this that her ears stop ringing, her bleary eyes blink and clear the sudden thousand - yard stare she’d fixed herself in. she feels honeydapple nudge her flank and giggles despite herself, an odd, breathless thing, wriggling her body in an arch that has snow lodging into the dark of her coat. the cold suddenly feels nice, knowing she were still alive to feel the spikes of frost grow along her spine, ” yeah, yeah, i — uh, i’m just winded. nothing hurt, except maybe my feelin’s. “ standing? sure she could, soon as her knees stopped knocking enough to hoist herself to her paws. honeydapple frets over her and the molly goes to let out a brief, rusty purr to let her know she was okay, shocked as she was. it still felt unreal ; the remnants of her prey glow red aside her. she wonders if her head would have looked like that, should the buck have landed mere inches to the side.

but suddenly wolfwind appears over her and she is haloed against the morning sun, the patchwork of scarring over her skull beaming rosied pink against yellow backlight. the tortoiseshell blinks slow at her. a miracle she’d already confirmed herself alive, or this would make her wonder, ” there you are.. the great protector. “ its meant to be teasing, said with a waggle of eyebrow whiskers, but she misses the memo in her stasis ; too soft, too reverent. one of her first patrols back, and this. she was always there when trouble reared it’s head, wasn’t she? her tongue is too soft, or maybe she just doesn’t care all that much, in the wake of such thundering hooves. freckleflame laughs then, a little late, a little bashful because she should get up, shouldn’t she? she takes another breath, feels her smile curl at the apples of her cheeks, ” ‘m sure, yeah, it’s okay. sure as the sun on a hot day. don’t go worrying over me. “ more than usual, at least.

she takes a deep breath, lets it go slowly from her chest, gazes at that same look of alert concern in blazing orange that she knew well despite there being one less of them nowadays. the tortoiseshell draws her paws up to her chest, nearly lost in the orange - black fluff there before she’s flipping, feeling her stomach turn at the sudden motion. her throat clicks against the sudden nausea but still, she bats her eyes and mews, ” or.. maybe y’ can a little. “ a coy, sing - song tone, tempting a paw to the face so she can find something less tender about the way the blue molly’s tail lashes something fierce and afraid behind her.

𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝙴 𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙴 -`☀︎´- 𝘗𝘓𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘌 𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘠 𝘍𝘖𝘙 𝘈 𝘞𝘏𝘐𝘓𝘌 𝘕𝘖𝘞

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  FRECKLEFLAME 𖦹 . LESBIAN, SINGLE. SMELLS LIKE SUN - WARMED OAK AND RICH, EARTHY MUSK. EIGHTEEN MOONS OLD. FRIEND & SISTER TO MANY! NAMED A WARRIOR OF THUNDERCLAN ON 8 / 3 / 2023. MENTORING NO ONE! PENNED BY ANTLERS --------------------------------------------
  
  f. she / her, daughter of sunfreckle and rabbitnose. large, fluffy cream - ribboned tortoiseshell with seaglass eyes. larger than life! each and every part of her is broad ; wide in everything from her face to shoulders to her feathered tail, something reminiscent of her father’s kittypet heritage in the square of her chin and hulk of her figure. she appears illusionarily fluff - ridden at first, thickly pelted in shades of fire and soot, long & tangled, knotted with undergrowth — seeming soft and pudgy, and she is.. that figure curving into hard, hidden bulk along heavyset flanks and well - muscled limbs. a characteristic lack of personal space leads her to a slouching, touchy posture, often inclined to lean or bump against her peers.
  

  prone to bouts of explosive emotion. all opinions are solely in - character and during these times, often untrue or said only in anger.

  
  

​