RUN BOY RUN — call for help

[GREENEYES]

He's never run so fast in his life.

Orange and white paws navigate through snowy landscapes, blankets of white. Panic only further fills him with each step forward he takes. What if he couldn't get there on time? What if help arrived too late? His friends, his siblings, his mother. SkyClan. They all needed him to fulfill his mission. Their safety depends on him.

Paws skid to a stop as he reaches a watery border - the line between SkyClan and RiverClan. Sheepcurl said they were friendly, the last time they'd met a patrol of them on this very border. ThunderClan would have been his first option, would have probably been quicker to reach if it weren't for...

No. No time to think about that. No time to wait at the border either.

But, where? Where could he cross? Greenpaw wasn't born for the river, has no swimming skills whatsoever. Virdian eyes quickly scan for a point to cross over. There. The river is iced over, leaves the stepping stones that usually provide a more riskier bridge between River and Sky a far easier crossing point for the young apprentice. Without further thinking, the boy hops onto the first one, paws shaky on the landing. He steadies himself with a gasp, before going further to the next one. And the next. Rock to rock until he's on the other side, safe on the ground again and within the river-dwellers' territory.

He did it! He made it across! How scary was that?

The tom's celebrations almost make him forget about his mission, but he shakes his head, rushing forward and continuing his sprint. He'll celebrate later, when his clan is safe.

"H-Help!" he calls out as he runs through unfamiliar territory, hoping his shouts reach someone's ears. "Help! We need help!"

// this is a continuation off of windclan's invasion of skyclan, found here and here!​

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[SMOKESTAR]

There was not a bit of prey to be seen and he had already made the comment to his mottled apprentice they would be heading back to camp to find a training spot rather than continue slogging through this frozen wasteland. An actual hunting patrol had already been sent out which would hopefully have more luck.
SkyClan scent strikes him and he is at first confused and then quickly appalled with its presence on RiverClan territory. His blood is already boiling for another fight, newly released from the medicine cat den and free to continue his own path through life and service to the riverside; but it is the cries for help that stall his bloodlust and he feels himself calming down as he pushes through snow covered underbrush in the direction of the sound. A tail raises for @iciclepaw accompanying him and he is only slightly bothered their training will be put aside to deal with whatever it was they faced now.

A red and white apprentice-aged cat is huffing, puffing, lost and screaming and its fortunate they already realized the prey in this area was long gone of Smokethroat's initial response to him might have been a cuff to the ears, "Stop-cease your yowling. There had better be a good reason you crossed those borders. What's this about help?" While a young cat like this was given leniency, if he had scented even a whiff of WindClan they would be blood on the snow at his paws already and a body to be tossed into the moorland as a warning. Once it was apparent there was no other cats, this was not a trap and this boy seemed more harried than vengeful, he allows his gaze to soften only marginally; not wishing to further panic the already frazzled youth.
"Deep breathes."

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[hyacinthbreath]

♚ @LIGHTNINGSTONE

Hyacinthbreath was always happy to follow Smokethroat around, but the urgency of a child's call was quicker to catch her attention. She's quick to pace forward, ear flicking in surprise. "Calm, child. Breathe, as this one says. What is wrong?" She asks softly, confusion in her gaze. Had he ran all the way here? He smells faintly of SkyClan, and she swallows back her own guilt.

Seems her past wasn't fully gone from her memory.​

❝ there are wounds inside me, gaping holes of disconnect.
can you drown inside your own body? can you suffocate within this mind? ❞

 

[GREENEYES]

He fears, for a moment, as no one answers his call. This is it. He's going to have to return back to camp, only to find it destroyed, covered in blood-spill. Washed in green. Six still waits, still schemes its attack on another. Is this it? Is SkyClan the next victim of Greenpaw's curse?

It can't be. Greenpaw won't let it.

In the midst of his shouting, he spots a contrasting form within blankets of white. He's found someone. Oh, thank the stars, Greenpaw has found someone.

His running slows to a stop at the sight of the spotted black tom. Help. It was here, in the form of a one-eyed cat and his apprentice. He does not know of the cat before him, of his rank within the river's territory, but it will have to do.

Deep breaths, he tells him, and Greenpaw hadn't even realized he wasn't breathing right until then - chest burning, struggling for air. He takes a few - just enough to steady his breathing in the slightest before speaking. Long enough for another to appear. Silver and white, urging him to breathe as well. He should have taken more, but there wasn't time.

"SkyClan... We need help," The ginger apprentice speaks in choppy, trembling sentences. "WindClan, they're invading! They're... in our camp. In our medicine den. My sister's in there. There... There might be more... My mother and my brother, they're not in camp and --" His words trail off, lungs begging for more air. He takes another breath, looking up at the RiverClanners with pleading eyes.

"Please help us."
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[SMOKESTAR]

He glances back to Hyacinthbreath and Lightningstone, not too far behind him and Iciclepaw's impromptu hunting patrol, before turning back to the green-eyed apprentice and waiting for him to catch his breath but the boy sputters, forces his words out-it must be dire if he feel he can not take even a moment to compose himself. He hears WindClan and the alarm bells in his head begin to go off all at once, those fools don't know when to stop-that they're targetting a medicine cat den specifically it seems meant only one thing. They were desperate or they were wanting to put their competition down by removing their access to a healer; was the SkyClan healer even still alive when this apprentice came racing to find them? He had no time to formulate anything more than a curt nod in response before turning to glance down at his apprentice and a rare smirk found its way on his maw.
"I won't send you to camp this time." His single eye glances to the grey tom, he's still smiling and its growing ever wider; almost unhinged with how he's reacted to the news of a clan in need but all he can think about is how much he would love to spill WindClan blood on this day. It's all that's going through his mind, not SkyClan's peril nor their desperation, just the pure adrenaline of being able to rip apart a moorland cat to sate his evergrowing distaste for each and every one of them. Smokethroat offers Greenpaw a knowing stare, his nose pointing to the edge of the river where he knows there's a patrol examining the creeping ice and attempting to fish before the water fully freezes over, "Walk along this edge of the river-there are cats not far ahead, inform them of what you've told me." Like hell he was waiting around or going back to fetch more help; the white-spotted tom had a vendetta to manage.

"Let's go, Iciclepaw." A signal, tail flicked, and he's rushing forward to bound nimbly over the river stones that Greenpaw had struggled with moments prior.
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[cranecatcher]

TAGS — The yowling is enough to draw any cat nearby to the source. Greenpaw certainly has a good pair of lungs; Cranecatcher thinks wryly that, were he not stinking of SkyClan, he might have made a wonderful RiverClanner. He's been fishing in the river, his paws going numb in mere seconds, when Smokethroat leads the young tom to them. His nose wrinkles at the scent. It cuts through the blizzard's icy snow like the scent of rotting fish. Cranecatcher can't help but look up to meet the small group, bicolor gaze flicking over him, then Hyacinthbreath, then Iciclepaw, and finally Greenpaw, a curious grin on his lips.

"That's not a fish," the feathery tom hums, flicking his gaze to the lead warrior present. Not that he doesn't pick up on the obvious distress. Certainly this boy is the source of the yowling that had interrupted his own focus, hunting at the river. He'd even lost a salmon to it. Damned kit. Not that he wants to be harsh, of course, but between the river freezing over and the relentless snowfall, he thinks he's earned the right to be a bit stressed about his own clan's affairs before SkyClan's. "What's this about needing help?" Go figure SkyClan needs it. Kittypets aren't really meant for battle, are they? But then, he supposes he'd been a kittypet once. Technically. Not that he tells anyone as much. Still, Smokethroat looks much too excited for this to just be SkyClan asking for help. He wonders quietly if there's more to the story. Skeptical, his bicolor gaze sharpens, examining the two toms as he waits for Greenpaw's explanation.​

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[CICADASTAR]

GUTTA CAVAT LAPIDEM : the snow has been relentless — he watches it fall with ever - increasing dismay, tries to peer through the haze of white and blue mist that’s pelted the riverlands. behind him a small patrol mills about, sniffing amongst the powder snow for any hint of lingering prey scent. piercing eyes slide towards where @RATTLING WASP. stands, expression blank, calm despite the lingering gaze that could give away his rioting nerves underneath. there is nothing here, not a single scrawny, struggling vole to put out of its freezing misery. he’d not land hunted of his own will in moons, no reason to veer from the waters that kept them so well fed during the warmer seasons, but the rivers beyond the mass of still - gathering ice are low, frozen solid enough to see nothing but the scuff of ice over murky waters. it looms behind him, a presence seeming to shadow his every waking second since its discovery and he is still no closer to a solution. he is just about to signal to his patrol to back off, a tail lifting to draw their attention — when his ears suddenly crane forward, head shooting up and . .

screaming. from just a little down the way, and he moves, expects those behind him to follow. the river king split the reed to find a handful of warriors present already, though his gaze is locked on the one outsider, reeking of pine and terror. the man blinks, lowers his head as not to tower over the panicked little one. his maw parts and its then, spoken are words that have long since haunted his nights. words he has feared, dreaded, considered a worst - case scenario.

windclan, theyre invading!

willowroot’s words burn in his mind — there's no saying what a hungry windclan would do, given the chance. his ears pin, lips pull into a snarl and he does not want to frighten the child, not more than he already is, but the arch of his spine lifts, bristles with bicolored curls. they shouldve been dealt with before now. “ theyre WHAT? “ anger, thunderous about the fluttering snow. it layers his ivory - splashed pelt, coats streaks of mottled black silver until he is nothing but snow - dusted shadow. his teeth grit and he looks back, judges the run to camp as greenpaw continues — theyre in our camp, in our medicine den. in the medicine den? his head snaps back towards him almost instantaneously and no, there is no time. his paws itch to run, heart thumping hard in his slim chest, adrenaline pumping beneath his curls and warming him more than he’d been in days. he’d have his chance, he gets to sink his claws into their wiry pelts and take them home to line their nursery. volatile, wretched things, wouldn't he be doing starclan a favor?

in his beat of thought, smokethroat was already bounding over the stones, a blur of black against the heavy blizzard mist that draws his attention away from the child. its the panic — the sudden kneejerk possessiveness that forces him to step forward, paw meeting the low, iced - over edges of their riverbeds, “ smokethroat, bring your ass back here this instant! “ its his mothers voice. breaking on the edge of a scream to be heard over the flurries, he needed to think, he needed to —

whats this about needing help? cranecatcher. pallid eyes snap to him, though he speaks first to the ones around him. his patrol, those gathered, “ all of you — lightningstone, hyacinthbreath, with me. “ following his damned lead warrior into the dark, but starclan if he would not do it over again. his tail sweeps toward greenpaw, in what he hopes was a calming, or at least non-threatening way, “ cranecatcher, lead this little one to camp. let beesong look them over, tell @BUCKGAIT. to send able warriors towards skyclan immediately. “ he hoped his brother could fight, at the very least. with one last, desperate glance towards wasprattle, the man tilts his head, “ @leechpaw., stay close. let’s go. “ his apprentice . . he would be watching closely, but they would need all the paws they could get. with that, cicadastar turns, making to leap fluidly over the frosted stones towards skyclan.

− ♱ information visual reference out of character translations ♱ −

• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−−−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• 
• none.

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[leechpaw.]

At this point, he was downright sick of the cold. Sick of the snow, the ice, all of it. Even with fur thick enough to constantly tangle, the apprentice still found his paws growing numb. Would he get frostbite because of this hunting patrol, the foolish endeavor out into the beginnings of a blizzard? Would his paw pads darken and blister from the snow he forced them to stand in? Leechpaw lifted a forepaw, studying the ice-scraped and raw flesh for imperfections like scanning warmer waters for the flicker of scales. Chunks of ice were stuck in his claws, though he hastily shook out his paw to temporarily free their needle-sharp points.

The patrol had already stalked further ahead through the bleak landscape by the time he was interrupted from his stalling, the scream falling upon his bat-like ears just as it did everyone else's. A figure, difficult to see through the flurries, was yowling about Skyclan and its camp. The black-furred apprentice bounded to catch up, dull eyes wide with rare interest. An invasion, now that was dramatic. In this weather? Leechpaw grumbled under his breath. Of course, Cicadastar would send everyone as reinforcements ― oh, and there he went now. Less than amused to freeze his tail off for kittypets, Leechpaw stayed behind long enough to cast a look at Greenpaw, easily mistaken as a withering glare. He shook out his pelt, soon hopping across the slippery stones to follow his mentor into the fray yet again.​

 

[cranecatcher]

TAGS — Cranecatcher's whiskers twitch as Cicadastar reacts with such anger to the apprentice's news. His own flippancy feels, suddenly, like something to be ashamed of- but the young warrior's grin doesn't falter, wrung dry of any comfort though it is. The cream-hued tom stands silently as his superior addresses his immediate patrol, and for a few brief moments Cranecatcher considers himself one of them. But then Cicadastar turns to address him directly, and the young tom's bicolored gaze sharpens against the whetstone of responsibility.

"Got it," he meows with a nod. StarClan guide you all. If WindClan was crazy enough to send a raid in this blizzard, he supposes he's a bit nervous about their own odds- but then, at least RiverClan is healthy. It will be fine. His focus slices through the SkyClan apprentice; his eyes squint scrutinizingly. "Stick close and watch your step- a fall in the river in this cold will send you to StarClan sooner than any WindClanner will." Not that he wants to scare the poor thing- Greenpaw was clearly scared enough as it was -but safety first, and all. He doesn't stick around long, darting towards camp with Greenpaw in tow, making sure not to outrun him.​

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[iciclefang]

Iciclepaw's nostrils flare at the intrusion of SkyClan scent on their land, and she regards the huffing and puffing red and white apprentice with cold, flat blue eyes as he exclaims he needs help. "RiverClan doesn't help other--" but she's silenced by the adults who begin to speak, Smokethroat included, and she's glad she is.

WindClan attacking SkyClan. A curious rush of exhiliration flushes the blood in her veins, comes to sparkle in her eyes. She gives her mentor an eager look as he tells her, "I won't send you to camp this time." "You couldn't keep me from this," she says with a rare, tight smile creasing her pretty features. She offers no other commentary, though her ears flatten when Cicadastar arrives. Will he stop her, send her back? Will he tell all of them this is SkyClan's business?

No. She's underestimated him, the wild look in her leader's untempered pale eyes, and the excitement returns to her. Her tail begins to flick excitedly as she turns back toward Smokethroat. "Lead the way," she says, her paw pads itching, claws burning.

She gives Leechpaw, the only other apprentice on this patrol, a look of mischief. "Ready to claw some rabbit-eaters' fur off?"

// out, with this patrol.​

 

[GREENEYES]

Maybe Greenpaw reads too far into it, but the RiverClanner that initially spoke to him acts far too thrilled about the idea of WindClan attacking SkyClan. To eager. The apprentice doesn't know why but doesn't dwell on it for too long, before he's granted permission to go further into their territory and find more help.

"Thank you," he quickly says with a bow of his head, before the ginger tom aims to bound forward along the pathway the dark-furred tom instructed him to follow. More RiverClanners, he needed to find more RiverClanners.

However, he doesn't have to look far. He's barely strayed from the other river-dwellers when another patrol finds them.

Cicadastar, the leader - Greenpaw thinks - stands tall before him. The apprentice looks up at him with wide eyes. Would the leader turn him away? Tell him that SkyClan could fend for themself? He doesn't know what he'll do, if help from RiverClan is denied.

He doesn't have to worry about that, though. The tall, patch-worked tom starts giving out orders, starts putting names to the faces around Greenpaw. Smokethroat. Hyacinthbreath. Lightningstone. Cranecatcher. So on, so forth. The apprentice expects to go with them, to return back home to fight and defend his own clan, but a tail sweeps over him, orders Cranecatcher to take him back to RiverClan's camp.

"W-Wait --" he starts to protest, ears flattening against his head. He should... he should be going with, shouldn't he? He shouldn't be staying in their camp! But the patrol moves too swiftly, and, maybe it's for the best he stays here - lungs still burning for air, limbs beginning to feel strained from all his running. He looks to the RiverClan warrior he's assigned to and nods his head at his directions - to stick close and watch his step.

To RiverClan's camp, he goes - silently begging the stars for the river-dwellers to save his home.
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