SETTING SUN \ return from sunningrocks

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EMBERFLOWER

Guest
[ takes place after this thread ; tagging participants @Petalnose @Aspenhaze @WOLFGLADE @CRAPPIEPAW but no need to wait! ]

Emberflower's limp is slight, and she does her best to minimize it. Her wounds are not deep; the scratch across her belly seeps blood, but it is a surface wound. She'd been lucky to escape with only that -- surveying her Clanmates, she can see some of them had suffered much worse injuries. Her shame clouds her hazel gaze. Should she have retreated sooner? Should she have fought harder against Nightbird?

She let you go, Emberflower tells herself bleakly. She's no fighter, has always known this, but she's proven herself to be more ineffective than thought possible. She's responsible for another loss to RiverClan, and for her friends getting hurt.

As they near the Beech Copse, Emberflower turns to look at her patrolmates over her shoulder. She tries to smile despite her pain-filled and ashamed expression. "I couldn't be more proud of how brave you all were... had we more numbers, we'd have taken those rocks back in a heartbeat." Empty words. What good is her pride?

She sighs, head lowering. She hopes no one's injuries are too bad, is all.​


[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​
 
Unlike the rest of the patrol, Crappiepaw returns back to RiverClan’s horrible camp uninjured, with not a single scratch or bruise to mar their pelt. They feel guilty, of course—they know that they are not cut out to be a warrior. They are not fit to fight, to defend their clan’s land. They are useless. And they are a coward, unwilling to risk their own hide under the threat of being outnumbered by ThunderClanners double and even quadruple their size.

As soon as the fighting broke out, Crappiepaw ran away. They’d considered running back to RiverClan, fetching reinforcements—but what good would that do? They would never have made it in time. They are not a runner.

They are not much of anything, it seems. Wide green eyes are blank as they stare at Emberflower, then across the rest of the patrol. The tabby she-cat speaks, but they are not paying attention, focused as they are on their clanmates, on injuries gained fighting for land that is already theirs.
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[ my my, cold hearted child ]​
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જ➶ They are tired. Each step drips blood along the ground and their eyes are heavy lidded. To them they just assume it is the adrenaline wearing off and exhausting creeping in. It must be. Though they do have extensive wounds from the battle with that Thunderclanner, they hope they remember their sting as well. His neck aches and yet they keep all their pains inside. Face just as empty and stoic, emotions rushing inside. Never show weakness. But they have been silent this whole time. Shoulder seeping blood into a long thick pelt, neck beading from bites. The worst of it is truly their side. It's matted with blood but not a life threatening wound. As the Beech Copse comes into view the warror sags and their eyes blurr for a moment. It takes a couple times of blinking before their vision clears again and they take in a breath.

Emberflower is trying to raise morale. Understandable given the circumstances but they barely yield a nod as they slowly sit down along the outer edges of the temporary camp. A flickering anger still seeps in them. The injustice of Thunderclan but they will get theirs in due time and quietly they close their eyes.​
 
I FIND COMFORT IN THE SOUND AND THE SHAPE OF THE HEART ⋆⁺₊⋆

Petalnose's usual quiet steps were louder, the limp disrupting her once graceful strides as she made her way close beside Emberflower. There was a small scratch upon her forehead, though there were more serious scratches down both her hind limbs. They seeped blood over her legs and stained her white fur. They served a sharp sting everytime she took a step with either her back legs, giving a hop when it was her back leg's turn to move her.

"We'll get them eventually." She meowed, offering Emberflower a small smile which fell as she turned her gaze upon Wolfglade and Crappiepaw. Wolfglade had suffered injured as well as them, but Crappiepaw seemed untouched. She could understand in a way, but she scoffed quietly to herself. It was still a cowardly look in her eyes. She knew he fled. She didn't see him when Emberflower called for retreat. Though, she looked worriedly upon the others. She hoped they were all okay. Her eyes searched for Aspenhaze, wondering how badly her friend was harmed.

The warrior was happy to finally drag her claws against Thunderclan's pelts. She even took on two higher ranks by herself. She would've purred in pride but she decided against it. She did stir the Thunderclanners with her words and her clanmates had suffered from it. There was some regret for that, but her expression was serious and did not move. Stubborn as she could ever be.

Petalnose's legs shook as she prepared herself to lay down, roughly plopping down with a groan. Her adrenaline and thrill had worn off and she was more tired than normal. Her eyes were red and they half-closed. She just wanted to rest.

//rushed before work post!!!
Tags​
 
The unpleasant smell of blood hits his nose and it's enough to make him panic. Something horrible happened. His answers come in the form of his battered clanmates. Blood on their pelts save for one cat, but he doesn't feel anger towards Crappiepaw. Thank Starclan you're all alive. The need to rush over to him clanmates is strong, yet he knows all of them need medical attention right now. And as luck would have it, he was not Beesong. Kestrelwing is beside him. The pair were going off together on patrol, but that's not important right now. He knows Kestrelwing still feels some guilt over what had happened with Lakemoon. If this was any time for the young warrior to feel like they'd redeemed themselves, it would be by getting the medicine cats. Cicadastar would without a doubt have some words about this, but even Cicadastar knew that what was most important was for these cats rest and heal with the medincine cats.

Kestrelwing still stands there frozen, so he turns to the younger warrior. When he notices he has Kestrelwing's attention, he begins barking out orders, "Kestrelwing, run and bring Beesong and Ravenpaw. Tell them four warriors are bleeding and need help now. If Beesong and Ravenpaw need help bringing the herbs, help them. Now go!" Maybe he's stunned the warrior, considering he was on the quieter side. In any case he sees Kestrelwing nod before running off to get the medicine cats.

Once that's done, he's bounding over to the mostly bloody patrol. If Crappiepaw thought he was going to be scolded, that would never come. As much as he wanted to ask what happened, he was more concerned about his clanmates. Out of the bloody cats his friends were Wolfglade and Petalnose. Emberflower he was not particularly close with, but the scratch on her belly sent prickles of fear down his spine. If that went deeper... NO! Don't think about that! Aspenhaze is not a cat he is close with either and they've had different opinions on... Certain matters, but he would never want Apsenhaze hurt or worse dead either.

"Kestrelwing is bringing Beesong and Ravenpaw. Just hold on a little longer," he tells the battered group. It sounds cold, but what was there to say. For them every moment spent speaking about what happened, meant more time for blood to seep from them. He glances at Petalnose, and he finds himself being angry and terrified all at the same time. Something ugly stirs in him. Petalnose is a friend and to see someone as brutish as Petalnose come back covered in blood doesn't sit right with him. When she closes her eyes, he can't help himself from automatically moving forward. She's dead. Petalnose is very much not dead thank you very much, yet his mind decides to leave him with such a terrifying thought.

However, he stops in his tracks when he sees Wolfglade. Wolfglade is younger than him, but very much a dear friend. They've known each other for awhile that he would say that if Wolfglade were to die he would not be the same. His friend dazed, bleeding, and very much struggling is another spark for the ugliness that stirs within him. It's with a heavy heart that he tells the battered party "I'm glad you all came back."

There is no need to say anything further. The weight of those words are heavy. They'd lost others before and the grief that followed hadn't gone away yet. Clayfur was not the same after his mate passed. Was this part of why they wanted the Sunningrocks again? To honor the dead by wining back what they'd lost as a means to say, your life was not in vain? He wasn't sure anymore. All he knew is that he wanted to be by Petalnose and Wolfglade's sides. He took a seat next to his friends. The ugliness inside him hasn't gone away, so he allows just this once for it to slip. I'll rip the Thunderclanners who did this to shreds. We'll cover the rocks with their blood.

// @BEESONG @RAVENPAW. ​
 
Aspenhaze is quiet as they trudge along, face a mix of emotions as their mask has been ripped clean off. The shock hasn't warn off yet, but even then they know that they probably got off lucky despite the seemingly random strikes. Sure, they said some mean things about ThunderClan, but it felt...different. They really don't know what to make of it, but it still lingers in their mind as the patrol sluggishly makes their way back to the makeshift camp.

They see Petalnose's clear worry for them, so they make their way over to her specifically and nudge her side in assurance. "No need to worry," they say, voice however wavering a bit, "I'll be okay, just a bit shaken." There might be some actual damage to them, but adrenaline still courses through Aspenhaze despite how worn out they are. Either way, they join their friend on the ground, willing their body to calm down as they all wait for the medicine cats to check them out.​
 
Nothing was ever peaceful anymore.

The soft murmur of wind through trees, the way the cattails shifted in the breeze.

Nothing about silence meant security, a longing for which was making RiverClan sore.

Perking her ears from a nap snuck between patrols, pale eyes winked open in curiosity at the sound of distant fumbling. Was someone home already with a particularly heavy fish? Or maybe it was the awkward gait of Iciclefang, who was stubborn and sure to have gone for a walk if only to test her limits of recovery. They were pleasant enough assumptions... harmless and inconsequential. It was a vain hope tainted by the smell of copper.

The smell was enough to set her fur standing on end, driven by a need to intervene as her legs found movement without conscious thought to do so. Pikesplash saw something before she could, being closer to the entrance of their makeshift camp and all the joy from his voice is gone. It is.... almost alien to hear him speak like that, a voice so gravelly and strained he sounded more like a growling fox than a cat. It was a demand for aid, one masked by duty though the physical sensation of his anxiety came off him in waves.

Quickening her pace as Kestrelwing brushed past in a hurry to find Beesong or Ravenpaw, the bodies belonging to that sour scent came in unsteady... slowly... The tom had already picked the two he could most readily support and that left a few others- what had happened? Why were they so battered, covered in scratches and bleeding?

With a passive glance she could tell that Crappiepaw was unscathed- You weren't ready... But you shouldn't have had to be.

Coming to Emberflower's side, the blue point leans slightly to offer a shoulder of support, searching the crowd of returning felines to make sure every whisker was accounted for.. Petalnose, Wolfglade... They looked the worst for wear. "Let's get you off that foot," she suggests, offering a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. It was only with Pikesplash's affirmation that everyone was accounted for that Lichentail could afford to relax, if only by a incremental amount. No one was missing from the group... that meant no one was dead.

"You're all safe now..." It was a half-hearted reassurance at best... What good was safety in an alternative camp... They weren't even really home. What comfort was there in that?​
 
The young black cat had only been a medicine cat apprentice for less than two moons—and in that time frame they had only dealt with minor things or already recovering cats. Ravenpaw had watched Iciclefang mend in their den with patient observance, trying to commit the methods all to heart. When he was informed that four warriors had returned bleeding, his pelt bristled with unease. The culprit could have been any Clan, given their poor relations with everyone.

When he slunk quickly out of the den, the scent of ThunderClan and Sunningrocks washed unpleasantly over the roof of his mouth despite the thick scent of the herbs he carried in his mouth. A large ear twitched in question, but he held back any questions of what had happened. There were more important things at hand. "Uh—" He cleared his throat, clearly wishing to wait for Beesong's guidance as he had not been faced alone with four bleeding warriors. His eye scanned them over briefly—neither looked to be in permanent injured condition.

At the very least he knew wounds should be cleaned. "Let me examine each of you. You," He turned to Petalnose, the sense of rivalry they had shared gone for the time being. "Your legs in particular. And you." He glanced at Wolfglade, noticing how despite the warrior's thick fur, blood was coming from his neck. "Come closer, I need to see how deep that is." He swallowed. Did he sound like a confident, good medicine cat?

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Petalnose's smile is enough to ease some of the sting of defeat, but then her eyes fall to her friend's hindlegs. Both are scored with claw marks, concerning-looking wounds that cause her heart to patter. "You all need to get looked at," she murmurs. A rush of guilt floods her; had she been the least injured of them all?

Then her hazel gaze flicks to Crappiepaw, ahead of them in camp, unscathed. She can't find it in her heart to be resentful. It hadn't been a battle worth fighting. The less injuries, the better, she thinks sadly.

Pikesplash greets them as they stumble toward their makeshift camp, and his face is bright with alarm at the state of their patrol. Lichentail follows, their eyes skimming over Petalnose and Aspenhaze's injuries.

Emberflower dips her head to them wearily. "I should speak with Cicadastar and the lead warriors," she sighs. She dips her head gratefully to Ravenpaw as he begins to work on Petalnose and Wolfglade's injuries.

// @CICADASTAR @Smokethroat @Cindershade @willowroot @Snakeblink i just tagged all the leads since they're splitting deputy duties lol optional ofc​


[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​
 

Dark paws moved swiftly over, the timing could not have been better to return to this hovel of a camp at the same time as the Sunningrocks patrol had and he did not even pause at the freshkill pile to drop his catch; choosing to instead unceremoniously discard it at the edge of camp for any of the apprentices who had been hunting to pick up. He heard a few grumblings, knew one of them had accepted the task begrudgingly and he continued forward without a moment's pause. The group of cats filing into the camp were worn, torn, the scent of blood heavy but thankfully not so offending he worried for any of their lives; just another list of wounds for the medicine cats to tend to in their broken home. Smokethroat inhaled, padded along to stop next to Lichentail and just before the gathered cats crumpling and dropping now that they were back in the sancurary of their territory even if this camp did not feel like home still. He was so tired of losing, it seemed all they did as of late was lose and he longed to deliver unto their enemies the claws that would sing victory.

His lone eye narrows, fiery gaze locking onto the leader of this outing, Cindershade's much less volatile sister "Emberflower, what happened?" He offered Ravenpaw a brief look, was unsure of where his training lie but he had not called for his mentor and so Smokethroat chose to not do so as well; obviously the younger cat felt himself confident enough for the time being and no one was half a paw in StarClan either.

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it’s exhausting. it’s haunting, a dredge of sullen black hanging over his head and weighting his long neck down, slicks tall audits back to his skull. an ever constant back - and - forth pitfall of anger - rage within the chasm of his chest and he feels more voidlike within than he should, feels the plummeting space where his heart should beat grow deeper. thunderclan sent washes over him and he lets out an audible snarl - snap of frustration, feels his veins alight and pour into a thin, trembling limb. in a swoop the leader swats out — catches a vole in his swinging path, launches the lax corpse into the pile with force enough to rip open the crusted killing bite layering it’s thick neck. there are no words to come from his mouth, not yet ; dark lips part, heady growl in the back of his throat and he paces. only for a moment, a brief back - forth of rapid, thinking pawsteps before his eel - like form is pivoting towards the injured patrol. @WOLFGLADE looks as though they could topple over at any second and ravenpaw prompts them forward, but he isn’t quite sure they can get to their paws. their lids flicker, looking blank past the haze of pain.

smokethroat approaches a beat before him, asks the question lingering at his tongue and thus he turns his attention to wolfglade. their neck seeps crimson and it’s why the leader approaches his side, aims to use himself as support despite the way his figure quakes with a muddled rage - worry, head dipping to speak low to them " can you stand? " a simple question, not quite as warm as he’d intended, but he watches blood paint his sands again and wants to sink claws into the wretched soil — does, at some point, only noticing when grain slips between the pads of his sharp toes.

˗ˏˋ 𓆩  OOC ✟ VISUAL 𓆪 ´ˎ˗
  • i.
  • ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
    58782460_YqlZfgzWBE3fACI.png
    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, mated to smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
    ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 43 moons, ages every 50 posts.
    penned by antlers​

  • cicadablueoutline.png


  • "speech"
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beesong follows ravenpaw as swiftly as he could after gathering herbs, coming to his uncertain apprentice's side with a brief glance towards the other that says, you're doing fine. the cinnamon tabby doesn't feel he has time for anything more; his own gaze rakes over the wounded, examining injuries and the severity of them until he has a general idea of who needs medical attention first and who can wait for others to be treated. he thanks the stars that none of the patrol members seem to be mortally wounded—though it's still far too easy for frustration to stir in the pit of the healer's stomach as he looks over each injured clanmate. sending hunting patrols to sunningrocks to antagonize thunderclan... it's the kind of recklessness beesong has learned to expect from cicadastar, yet loathes all the same. but he would never dare to voice his criticism aloud.

wolfglade appears to have received the worst of it. blood cakes the warrior's dark pelt, and it seems as if they could barely keep themselves upright. beesong turns their attention onto wolfglade, dropping their bundle of herbs. "start cleaning up their wounds, starting with wolfglade, please," the healer instructs their apprentice. it would save them precious time while they chew the marigold into poultices.​
 
Her steps falter as the patrol returns, eyes keen within the dim light as the rustling became apparent. Emberflower is the first to emerge, her lighter colored sister—a copy image of her mother she was. Cindershade had approached as the crowd gathers and her gaze is dragged to their wounds, while they weren't deep, but still there. Eyes widen slightly in shock, ivory claws instinctively slipping from their sheaths as she app closer. Look what you've done, a small voice chides from somehwere within the depths of her mind. It pricked and prodded at the back of her skull as if a thorn had been embedded within her. Her patrol had been successful before, but it seemed ThunderClan had been on edge and ready. They had ambushed her sister's patrol, put claws on her and injured them all. A brewing rage stirred within her, bolts of lightning electrifying her toes and her pelt raises on end as she stood there, completely shell shocked.
She had started this, under Cicadastar's order and she had sent that second patrol into a trap. It was completely foolish of her; the molly's own pride consuming her thoughts and had let her clanmates get injured. Beesong and Ravenpaw are already at work, Cicadastar and Smokethroat already delving into questions. Her jaw clenches and goes rigid, shaded knuckles flexing against the soil and she remains silent. Her gaze lingers upon Emberflower, wishing to meet her eye and apart of her wondered what would linger there. Anger? Disappointment? Embarrassment? Only StarClan knew.
If only Emberflower would just learn what I teach her—ugh! At the thought she grimaces, agitation flowering and her ire becomes apparent. Perhaps it's a cover for the failure she had sent out, she should've known sending a second patrol who have made things risky. But yet, she did anyways. The shrouded woman takes a step towards her sister, reigning back her conflicted emotions and revealing nothing but a neutral gaze. "Emberflower, are you alright?" Her tone is full, betraying the look on her face and she curses under her breath. She hated this. She hated feeling vulnerable. StarClan forbid if she found out whoever did this to her. "I—I'm sorry." She whispers low, barely audible and the stone wall around her cracks just a bit. She was supposed to keep her safe, she had vowed that in their youth and she had went back on that word.

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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​
 
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