- Jun 7, 2022
- 771
- 224
- 43
tw: blood, injuries, grieving, mentions of death
I will do anything to protect you…and I mean anything.
She kept replaying the words over and over in her head as she stared the dog down. Somewhere out there, was her daughter. She had looked and looked, but amongst all of the fleeing cats, it had been a lost cause. As inevitable death neared her, she clung to the hope that Stormpaw was further ahead in the group. Little Wolf, please protect her. She knew the ebony she-cat was in Starclan, but she knew deep down in her heart that her best friend would try to protect her daughter with any power she may have.
A vicious snarl was pointed towards the snarling canine, daring it to come any closer to her. She may die today, but this would be no easy dinner for the dog. Her shoulder was screaming, but she didn’t care. This dog wouldn’t chase any more of her group mates, not while she was standing here. Her claws were out, her muscles braced, but the attack never came. Something else had caught the canine’s attention, and the rest of them followed. Her eyes closed, and she let out a sigh. She wanted to be relieved, but a grim thought tugged at her mind…if they aren't chasing us, that means they are chasing someone else. “Starclan protect them.” she breathed.
Stormpaw
Now that the commotion had died down, she had to find her daughter. She lifted her paw, taking the weight from her injured shoulder. Every time it began to start healing, they were faced with another obstacle…for once, she was ready to be back home. As much as she hated resting, that seemed like heaven right about now. A figure appeared beside her, Batwing. He had been the one to make her run earlier, she was thankful to see that he had survived the event. She couldn’t bare to lose another clanmate, another friend. “Is everyone safe?” she breathed, scanning the area around them. “Stormpaw…I have to find her, we got separated.”
Cats were starting to regroup, and she still did not see the gray and red figure of her daughter. Something didn’t feel right…something felt wrong. “Bat…Batwing I-I don’t see her.” she stutters out, not caring to hide the panic in her voice. Their journeymates were almost all back now…where was she? The flame pelted tabby parts her jaws, trying to catch any scents that could lead her in Stormpaw’s direction. “Stormpaw!” she calls out, vaguely aware that some of the other cats had started to do the same.
After what seemed like hours, she finally found a scent trail. She followed it, until she came upon a nearby wooded area that was surrounded by undergrowth. Her mouth felt dry, and her stomach was shifting with uneasiness. She lifted a paw, and pushed her way into the ferns. It wasn’t long before the smell of blood pierced her nose. Her veins ran cold, and her muscles stiffened. It was strong, fresh...She felt sick. “Stormpaw?” she choked out through a tightened throat. Slowly she pressed forward, aware of the possibility of the dog that had undoubtedly chased her here still hanging around. The undergrowth looked like it had been trampled, and the smell of canine was overbearingly potent…second to the blood of course.
And then she saw it.
Several fox-tail lengths ahead of her laid a gray, orange, and red lump. The forest around her seemed to collapse. She felt as though she were suffocating. Her lungs tightened, her heart stopped. She wanted to run, to cradle her, and tell her that everything would be alright. But she couldn’t. Her paws were locked to the ground, her legs stiffer than they ever had been.
She was back in the nursery. Flycatcher was beside her, and they were staring down at their two surviving kittens. She gazed lovingly at them, touching her nose gently to each of their foreheads. “Stormkit.” she had said. “She is small…but she will be brave and strong.” Their little fighter. Their little survivor. Born too small, the repercussions of a starved leafbare litter. She took a pawstep forward, crimsony smell twisting through her nose, grasping at her brain.
Underneath a shade tree, she sat with Flycatcher. His tongue rhythmically drew over her pelt. She closed her eyes, enjoying the peaceful quiet for a while. While she enjoyed living in Thunderclan, the loner had never quite fully left her body. There was nothing quite like laying under the trees, listening to the birds sing above them. “You haven't taken up tunneling like a WindClan cat have you?” he had teased, noting the grittiness of her pelt. They had talked about their apprentices, and then later on their kits. “I wonder what their names will be.” She had said, letting her mind wander for a bit. Stormblaze, or Stormheart had always felt like suitable names. Their daughter was headstrong, and brave. There was a fire within her, that she often felt herself. A fire that couldn’t be extinguished. The fire that had saved her just days ago from the jaws of a fox. She was so proud of her…she was so excited to tell Howlingstar about her heroics…she was going to ask their leader to give her a warrior’s name.
Another pawstep forward.
She stepped into the puddle that had formed around her daughter, snow dipped paws now stained red again for the second time this moon. The mother fell to her paws, a wail escaping her jaws. Above them, the birds flew into the sky. Everything around her was spinning, the ground beneath her trembling. She had failed…again. The wail had given away her location, and there were now voices around her, but she couldn’t hear them. All she could do was stare at her daughter…She had bite wounds on her lower half, and she wasn’t moving. She looked like a left behind dog toy…”My sweet, brave kit…” she breathed, grief drenching her voice. Stormpaw was gone…she had lost another clanmate…she had lost another daughter. Flycatcher…please..I need you.. she couldn’t continue. The world was crumbling around her, and she had lost the will to keep going.
Flamewhisker leaned in and pressed her head into the limp figure’s neck. Tears trailed down her cheeks, and she melted into the ground. “I’ll do everything I can to ensure everyone comes home safely.” Words spoken not long ago now seemed like a lifetime ago…words that she had vowed with such certainly, were now nothing but lies. She had failed Howlingstar. Failed Thunderclan. Failed Flycatcher. They had left Little Wolf behind in the mountains, but she would not be leaving Stormpaw. She would stay here…Thunderclan would not want her back. Nightbird could lead them home.
The fire within her had been extinguished.
I will do anything to protect you…and I mean anything.
She kept replaying the words over and over in her head as she stared the dog down. Somewhere out there, was her daughter. She had looked and looked, but amongst all of the fleeing cats, it had been a lost cause. As inevitable death neared her, she clung to the hope that Stormpaw was further ahead in the group. Little Wolf, please protect her. She knew the ebony she-cat was in Starclan, but she knew deep down in her heart that her best friend would try to protect her daughter with any power she may have.
A vicious snarl was pointed towards the snarling canine, daring it to come any closer to her. She may die today, but this would be no easy dinner for the dog. Her shoulder was screaming, but she didn’t care. This dog wouldn’t chase any more of her group mates, not while she was standing here. Her claws were out, her muscles braced, but the attack never came. Something else had caught the canine’s attention, and the rest of them followed. Her eyes closed, and she let out a sigh. She wanted to be relieved, but a grim thought tugged at her mind…if they aren't chasing us, that means they are chasing someone else. “Starclan protect them.” she breathed.
Stormpaw
Now that the commotion had died down, she had to find her daughter. She lifted her paw, taking the weight from her injured shoulder. Every time it began to start healing, they were faced with another obstacle…for once, she was ready to be back home. As much as she hated resting, that seemed like heaven right about now. A figure appeared beside her, Batwing. He had been the one to make her run earlier, she was thankful to see that he had survived the event. She couldn’t bare to lose another clanmate, another friend. “Is everyone safe?” she breathed, scanning the area around them. “Stormpaw…I have to find her, we got separated.”
Cats were starting to regroup, and she still did not see the gray and red figure of her daughter. Something didn’t feel right…something felt wrong. “Bat…Batwing I-I don’t see her.” she stutters out, not caring to hide the panic in her voice. Their journeymates were almost all back now…where was she? The flame pelted tabby parts her jaws, trying to catch any scents that could lead her in Stormpaw’s direction. “Stormpaw!” she calls out, vaguely aware that some of the other cats had started to do the same.
After what seemed like hours, she finally found a scent trail. She followed it, until she came upon a nearby wooded area that was surrounded by undergrowth. Her mouth felt dry, and her stomach was shifting with uneasiness. She lifted a paw, and pushed her way into the ferns. It wasn’t long before the smell of blood pierced her nose. Her veins ran cold, and her muscles stiffened. It was strong, fresh...She felt sick. “Stormpaw?” she choked out through a tightened throat. Slowly she pressed forward, aware of the possibility of the dog that had undoubtedly chased her here still hanging around. The undergrowth looked like it had been trampled, and the smell of canine was overbearingly potent…second to the blood of course.
And then she saw it.
Several fox-tail lengths ahead of her laid a gray, orange, and red lump. The forest around her seemed to collapse. She felt as though she were suffocating. Her lungs tightened, her heart stopped. She wanted to run, to cradle her, and tell her that everything would be alright. But she couldn’t. Her paws were locked to the ground, her legs stiffer than they ever had been.
She was back in the nursery. Flycatcher was beside her, and they were staring down at their two surviving kittens. She gazed lovingly at them, touching her nose gently to each of their foreheads. “Stormkit.” she had said. “She is small…but she will be brave and strong.” Their little fighter. Their little survivor. Born too small, the repercussions of a starved leafbare litter. She took a pawstep forward, crimsony smell twisting through her nose, grasping at her brain.
Underneath a shade tree, she sat with Flycatcher. His tongue rhythmically drew over her pelt. She closed her eyes, enjoying the peaceful quiet for a while. While she enjoyed living in Thunderclan, the loner had never quite fully left her body. There was nothing quite like laying under the trees, listening to the birds sing above them. “You haven't taken up tunneling like a WindClan cat have you?” he had teased, noting the grittiness of her pelt. They had talked about their apprentices, and then later on their kits. “I wonder what their names will be.” She had said, letting her mind wander for a bit. Stormblaze, or Stormheart had always felt like suitable names. Their daughter was headstrong, and brave. There was a fire within her, that she often felt herself. A fire that couldn’t be extinguished. The fire that had saved her just days ago from the jaws of a fox. She was so proud of her…she was so excited to tell Howlingstar about her heroics…she was going to ask their leader to give her a warrior’s name.
Another pawstep forward.
She stepped into the puddle that had formed around her daughter, snow dipped paws now stained red again for the second time this moon. The mother fell to her paws, a wail escaping her jaws. Above them, the birds flew into the sky. Everything around her was spinning, the ground beneath her trembling. She had failed…again. The wail had given away her location, and there were now voices around her, but she couldn’t hear them. All she could do was stare at her daughter…She had bite wounds on her lower half, and she wasn’t moving. She looked like a left behind dog toy…”My sweet, brave kit…” she breathed, grief drenching her voice. Stormpaw was gone…she had lost another clanmate…she had lost another daughter. Flycatcher…please..I need you.. she couldn’t continue. The world was crumbling around her, and she had lost the will to keep going.
Flamewhisker leaned in and pressed her head into the limp figure’s neck. Tears trailed down her cheeks, and she melted into the ground. “I’ll do everything I can to ensure everyone comes home safely.” Words spoken not long ago now seemed like a lifetime ago…words that she had vowed with such certainly, were now nothing but lies. She had failed Howlingstar. Failed Thunderclan. Failed Flycatcher. They had left Little Wolf behind in the mountains, but she would not be leaving Stormpaw. She would stay here…Thunderclan would not want her back. Nightbird could lead them home.
The fire within her had been extinguished.
-
takes place immediately after the dog event!
important to note that some things have been dramatized -
FLAMEWHISKER of THUNDERCLAN
LH red tabby with low white (masks black tabby, carries dilute, solid)
— Lead Warrior of Thunderclan ; currently mentoring Acornpaw
— she/her ; mated with Flycatcher
— mother to Stormpaw & Falconpaw
— 25 moons ; ages on the 20th
— Smells like dirt, old leaves, tree sap, faint hint of flowers
— will start a fight, will finish fights, will kill (case depending)
— "speech" ; thoughts ; attacks
— penned by Icey ! ; link to tags
— link to toyhouse
— funny guy art by waluigipinball
