SO MUCH FOR STARDUST [ ★ ] PREY-STEALING PATROL

[Bluepool]

It had not been easy, convincing Slateheart to agree to her plan. But she had done it, her words as sharp as an adder's fangs. "Prove your loyalty lays with WindClan and not them" and he had shut right up. She can tell he is not happy about it though, he follows behind her and Dimmingsun like a sullen dog over the twoleg bridge and into RiverClan's territory. Her plan is to be in and out before they send out their dawn patrol to WindClan's side of the border, and if they do happen to get caught they'll follow the River. She is not a swimmer by any means but how hard could it be? They could flounder to the other side and be out and safely on their side before RiverClan even knows they're there... "Keep your eyes out for any prey. RiverClan must be teeming with land prey if all they ever eat is fish" She would try dipping her paws into the river, but she doubts she'll be successful at catching anything.

Her predictions are right and before she knows it she has caught herself a fat juicy pigeon. A stupid creature, it had nearly run straight into her paws. They're near the gorge now, the point where they had agreed to turn around at and Bluepool sets her catch down in order to give her aching jaw a rest. "Someone will be eating good tonight" she says with a satisfied purr, but while she's talking she spots movement out of the corner of her eyes and a warning hiss escapes her jaws. Damnit, they'd been had. "RiverClan, look alive" she growls to her two patrol-mates, scrappy tail flicking angrily behind her as she prepares for a fight.

// WindClan tags : @DIMMINGSUN @slateheart
RiverClan tags : @FERNGILL @claythorn @salmonshade

( ➸ ) test my worth in blood

• 
  
  
• 
  BLUEPOOL WINDCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO SOOTSTAR & MINTSHADE
  

  A small framed moor runner with a blue toned pelt and black stripes. Her tail is cropped and her eyes are golden in color. On her chest, she sports a large 'X' shaped scar.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + isn’t above using dirty tricks in order to win
  

​

 

[slateheart]

Slateheart is teeming with shame as he follows Bluepool and Dimmingsun across RiverClan's bridge. He can only think about the kindness RiverClan had afforded them; the kindness Lichenstar had given him when she let him return home unscathed. And this.. this is how he repays them. They took the same route he had taken over a week prior to meet Troutsnap, before they both got captured. It feels uncannily similar - he can't help but wonder if this serves as a punishment.

Bluepool had tricked him, and for that, he will never forgive her. She said they were going on a hunting patrol; of course he would agree! It wasn't until they were near RiverClan's territory that the grim realization of her true plans had settled upon him. He wasn't easy to convince. He told her he had a bad feeling about it, he told both of them. But even Dimmingsun thought trespassing was a good idea, to prove that they could stand on their own paws. The message reaches Slateheart as WindClan does not need to be given to by other Clans; they can simply take.

When his loyalty comes into question, Slateheart finds he cannot argue. Sure, he could turn around and go home; they would not physically stop him. But his walk would be shameful; he would return with his tail between his legs. It would not be a good look for him.. and he did not want to live out the rest of his days as a 'RiverClan-lover.'

So, reluctantly, Slateheart follows the two lead warriors into RiverClan territory, feeling utterly defeated. Again, he mews, "I have a bad feeling about this.." but his worries fall on deaf ears, and the rest of the trek is spent in sullen silence.

While Bluepool makes her first catch on a pigeon, Slateheart stalks after a mouse. Thriving on RiverClan's lush environment, their prey seem to be lively and plump, much unlike the scraggly young that can be found few and far between on WindClan's burnt moors. Just as he's about to leave, he hears a warning hiss, and pawsteps inbound. Slateheart gives up on the mouse and retreats to his patrol, bracing himself for impact with round, fearful eyes.

His green eyes dreadfully search the treeline for a familiar brown-spotted pelt, or a lack thereof. Forgive me, Troutsnout.

​

CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER

• 

  slate slatepaw slatetooth SLATEHEART
  ━━ MOOR-RUNNER WARRIOR of WINDCLAN
  ━━ 23 MOONS,, ages every 6th
  ━━ LYNXTOOTH xx ADELAIDE xx SILVERFOOT
  ━━ SIBLING to GRAVELSNAP and ASHPAW
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to BEEPAW | MENTORED by LYNXTOOTH​
  ━━ HEALTH ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♡ | generally healthy, but experiencing shortness of breath.
  
• 
  
  
• speech is #bbbb88​

 

[FERNGILL]

Ferngill wasn't one for getting into fights- though he was no pacifist, and was more than willing to bear his claws if the situation called for it, he'd never really been... praised for combat ability enough for him to be a desirable asset in war patrols. More often than not he was content to guard the camp, to boost morale, to keep everyone there safe while more skilled warriors bit and ripped at enemy flesh. It would not be that way forever, of course. This life, even in the warmest months, brought with it unpleasant surprises.

An offended glint shimmered in Ferngill's single eye of green as he spotted the Windclanners nearby- with a flick of the tail, he signalled his patrol to be vigilant, to unsheathe their claws. He didn't really recognise any of these cats... but they stank of the moors, the Clan that barely a moon ago RiverClan had given shelter to. Was this honestly, truly their repayment?

"Hey!" Ferngill barked, rare hostility twisting his features and running static along his spine. Briefly, he looked back to Salmonshade and Claythorn, giving them a nod of affirmation- this was probably going to get ugly. "That's RiverClan's prey- but I guess you know that." WindClan was not beyong thieving, though he wasn't particularly surprised. "Leave it, or we'll have to teach you a lesson."​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[dimmingsun]

This is his first true act as a lead warrior, and it really does change things. The position has given Dimmingsun an edge; it sheds light on the parts of him that had been always there but were hidden for one reason or another. True honesty is rarely worth it. When Bluepool shared her idea with him, he let some of that loose: his greed, that is, the desire to take and to have more than necessary.

Power had been achieved with Sunstar's decision. Now the time has come for Dimmingsun's own decisions to reap some rewards — in the form of prey fattening their pile back at home, rounding the bellies of his Clanmates in ways the charred moors cannot.

"We will be fine," he assures Slateheart and really means it, too, because how could they not be? All three of them are excellent fighters if it comes to that. Plus, how strong can RiverClan be right now? Their numbers might be full again, but the whole Twoleg fiasco must have weakened them either in spirit or strength. WindClan has had time to recover. RiverClan did not.

Perhaps without the veil and shell his position gives him, Dimmingsun would be more... considerate of Slateheart. It's not that he doesn't care; their quickly blooming friendship makes that obvious enough. He simply cannot let himself be swayed by such simple notions as guilt anymore. His Clan needs all they can get, and he intends to give it to them.

Dimmingsun follows Bluepool's example and gets his own thrush, wings blurring his features in the wild flap-show right up until he delivers the killing blow. Momentary distractions makes him ignore his surroundings, and it's evidently enough for RiverClan to round up on them.

Look alive. Dimmingsun heeds the more experienced lead's word. His size and demeanor are an excellent pair of advantage now; he manages to look intimidating enough to force someone less gifted in the art of combat to hesitate, to wonder if fighting him is really worth it.

Of course, Ferngill won't be the one to back down. Dimmingsun gets it, he really does, because he would not let another Clan trespass on his land... but this is all about perspective, and he is not about to let this chance go. "Make sure it's a fight you're willing to take." His voice is level, as is his stance. Evidently, Dimmingsun is not afraid. "It's best if you just let us take this. The rivers are full of fish anyway, are they not?"
​

 

[claythorn]

Claythorn stalked only moments behind Ferngill- where he wasn't a fan of fighting, Claythorn was. She had survived on honing her battle skills, and now was no different. The dog only a pawful of days ago, the twolegs before that- it wasn't so much that Riverclan was starving, more like they were fiercely protective of their territory. And who would think that the kindness Riverclan showed Windclan in their time of need was going to be seared to a crisp?

Eyes flashed as the three Windclanners standing deep in their territory, with a piece of prey between the paws of one them. She was purring, quickly interrupted by Ferngill. Claythorn stood near-level with Dimmingsun- any intimidation tactics wasn't going to work on her, at least. Her lips pulled back to bare her fangs, claws unsheathed thanks to the signal given by Ferngill moments before. "You really think you're going to trespass, steal prey, and waltz out of here while we look away? Eat dung, Windclanner." This is said in response to Dimmingsun's prompt.

Her words were scathing, sharp, cold, matching tone and pace with Ferngill's threats. She had danced this battle before- rogues looking to steal easy prey from the claws of a starving kit. This was a bit different, she realized- three fully trained warriors against Windclan's own ilk. If this did turn to blood, someone was getting hurt.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, eleven moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ no current love interest / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[Bluepool]

The first RiverClanner to show his face is one that she recognizes from the gatherings. A lead warrior, she remembers vaguely but she cannot for the life of her remember his name. She had never really cared to pay that much attention at gatherings. His demands for her patrol to relinquish the prey they had rightfully accosted and she cannot help but to scoff. "WindClan needs this prey" she insists, the corners of her lips pulling upwards to expose her fangs as she talks "You'll have to pry these birds from my cold dead claws"

And with those words, she launches herself straight into action, throwing herself at the earthen colored warrior who appears from the reeds next to the first. If she can she'll dig claws and teeth into anywhere she can find purchase, her goal to incapacitate her opponent as fast as possible so that she and the rest of her patrol could grab their catches and run.. No way was she leaving here with empty paws, not when one face stands so ever-present in her mind.

// attacking @claythorn

( ➸ ) test my worth in blood

• 
  
  
• 
  BLUEPOOL WINDCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO SOOTSTAR & MINTSHADE
  

  A small framed moor runner with a blue toned pelt and black stripes. Her tail is cropped and her eyes are golden in color. On her chest, she sports a large 'X' shaped scar.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + isn’t above using dirty tricks in order to win
  

​

 

[salmonshade]

She hadn’t expected that this patrol would turn eventful- though as always, she keeps an eye out for any sign of her apprentice... Its just a small one shared between Ferngill, Claythorn and her, trudging through the territory. And they’re stopped by sudden movement in front, stopped by… thieving Windclanners! Eyes slightly widen in shock of their audacity, though claws unsheath and ears pin back, beginnings of a snarl pulling at her lips.

Claythorn and Ferngill are quick to confront them. She finds herself agreeing with the sentiment to eat dung.

Theres a cat trying to defend their actions. Enough prey in the river…. Yeah, right! The fur along her spine prickles almost uncomfortably. “Once thieves, always thieves, always trying to justify taking. This prey belongs to Riverclan, not you.” she drawls almost lazily- and then the silver tabby coated she-cat is spitting and hissing, and launches herself at Claythorn. Fools, all of them! Were they really willing to die here as nothing more than trespassers, breaking the warrior code? Regardless, Salmonshade’s eyes glint almost eagerly as she whirls towards one of the others and launches herself at Dimmingsun, the one who had defended this mess before the other attacked, with nothing less than the intent to harm, claws outstretched as she aims for the soft flesh of a cheek.

Turns out its just like she said- once a Windclanner… Always a Windclanner… No amount of leadership change can fix their misdeeds. She’ll knock sense in to this cat hard enough for them to permanently remember.

// mobile post, going after @DIMMINGSUN :)

 

[slateheart]

The patrols are on each other in a mere instant, spitting insults and threats as WindClan tries to coax them into letting them free. Slateheart is bewildered, and all he can think about is that they should just leave; they could look elsewhere.. Horseplace, the loner lands beyond.. but as one cat jumps on Bluepool and one on Dimmingsun, he knows he cannot waste any more time to wish.

There's nothing he can say - nothing he would risk saying. It's a situation he wished he wasn't caught in, between his home Clan and the Clan who had shown him more kindness than he deserved. Slateheart regrets that he must repay it in this way. That he must break the code that he had fought so hard to bring back to WindClan. He burns with shame.

"Back off!" he'd hiss out as he chooses to rush to his golden friend's side. There is a brown-and-white molly launching straight towards him. In a slower yet burly show of strength, Slateheart rushes to Salmonshade's defense by throwing himself side-ways at Salmonshade, in an attempt to shoulder her away from his patrol-mate. They are evenly matched, but he cannot help but worry that Wolfsong's precious herbs will be wasted. He can only hope that they prey they bring home will be worth it.

// attempting to intercept @salmonshade !
​

CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER

• 

  slate slatepaw slatetooth SLATEHEART
  ━━ MOOR-RUNNER WARRIOR of WINDCLAN
  ━━ 23 MOONS,, ages every 6th
  ━━ LYNXTOOTH xx ADELAIDE xx SILVERFOOT
  ━━ SIBLING to GRAVELSNAP and ASHPAW
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to BEEPAW | MENTORED by LYNXTOOTH​
  ━━ HEALTH ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♡ | generally healthy, but experiencing shortness of breath.
  
• 
  
  
• speech is #bbbb88​

 

[claythorn]

The she-cat with the pigeon clutched in her claws takes the bate- and the rage that always settles somewhere between her shoulders flares to life. It is almost with satisfaction does she take the blow, slammed backwards with wounds opening on her shoulders. Claythorn spat back in anger as the pain ignited there, but it only seemed to fuel her as she moved forward.

Talon-like claws aimed to rip into Bluepool's face as she leapt forward, trying to blind or stagger her opponent., and if the did not land there, then her chest or shoulders. Briefly was Claythorn aware of the scuffles beginning to happen around them, but for now, she'd be satisfied knowing she'd leave lasting scars upon a Windclanner. A trespasser, a betrayer to the code they all lived with.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, fourteen moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ padding after otterbite / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[Bluepool]

That this fight had to happen was remorseful. RiverClan could have turned the other way, understood that her clan would starve without this prey, prey that would be left uncaught and uneaten by their fangs. They had always been the most selfish clan though, the most greedy. She let's out a pained hiss as claws dig into her shoulder fur and rip, a large gouge that leaves her staggering and she knows she has to finish this fight quick if she has any hope of winning. She feigns swaying on her paws, makes herself look much weaker than she actually is so that her opponent thinks her an easy target and then, right as the other warrior's face is not far from her own, she raises a paw and she strikes Claythorn's head as hard as she can.

The warrior goes down. Stunned by the sudden move and the force of her blow and Bluepool is upon her in an instant. No triumph shines in her golden eyes though as she maneuvers her paws to the others shoulders in order to hold them down. This scene before her is all too familiar, but wouldn't the cat under her do the same if the roles were reversed? In the world that Bluepool knew, in the world that she had grown up in, it had always been kill or be killed and when given the fighting chance, Bluepool would always choose the former, no matter how much it pained her to do so. No matter how many nightmares this new face is sure to haunt. "Send my regards to your leaders" she says with a snarl just before her fangs flash and move forward to close around an orange throat.

// powerplay permission given (:
@claythorn

( ➸ ) test my worth in blood

• 
  
  
• 
  BLUEPOOL WINDCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO SOOTSTAR & MINTSHADE
  

  A small framed moor runner with a blue toned pelt and black stripes. Her tail is cropped and her eyes are golden in color. On her chest, she sports a large 'X' shaped scar.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + isn’t above using dirty tricks in order to win
  

​

 

[FERNGILL]

Of course WindClan would not back down- of course they woudl fight, teeth gnashing, sticking by their thievery- just as they'd always done. Ferngill's single eye of green burned with seldom-seen fury- Claythorn and Salmonshade burst forward, as did he, fighting for their land like the warriors they were. Maybe- maybe they would have had prey to spare, if only they'd been asked- but WindClan had always been more prepared to bite down, rather than ask for aid. Only when their territory had been cloaked in inferno had they asked for help. They'd rather break the Code than do it again.

To think, he'd thought maybe... maybe they'd changed. That WindClan could be anything but an awful thorn, stealing and lying and snarling. And Ferngill snarled right back- he headed toward the unengaged Windclanner as Claythorn clashed with a silver molly, as Salmonshade and a night-pelted tom clattered against each other. Determination steeled a sheen in his eye, despite his shortcomings. When he heard a threatening mutter, though, the fiery tom stopped in his tracks- in supernova adrenaline, he snapped his head toward the noise.

Killer teeth glinted in the sunlight, deathly intent in the resolved face of the Windclanner who pinned Claythorn. Ferngill was running before he even knew it- ginger paws blurred, a line of fire as he sprinted. "No!" fled from his maw as he rammed his head into the she-cat's side, too focused on saving Claythorn to see what he was pushing her toward. The mouth of the gorge yawned hungrily.

"No! No, no no!" The same word, again- but panicked, this time. Desperately, he followed the she-cat as she toppled away- sunset paws grasped out at nothing, trying to mend a mistake already made.

\ powerplay permission granted B) ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[Bluepool]

// tw : death

Suddenly, a weight slams into her side, knocking the breath out of her and she is pushed off of the cat under her paws with the weight of the sudden force colliding into her ribcage. During the scuffle, she had not realized how close they had strayed to the edge, how many paw lengths she was from stumbling to a certain death. but as her back feet go over the edge, her golden eyes fly open wide and an almost shocked expression settles over her face and then she is gone.

On the way down, she does not scream, does not cry out for help. The face of her enemy peers over the edge, single eye desperate and a paw reached out to save her of all things. The sight of it would have shocked her to her very core had the circumstances been different. Instead, she stares up at him, tears blurring in her vision and floating upwards in her decent.

This feeling of falling, the way the rock walls blur around her and the river rushes to meet her, it is not unfamiliar. She has had plenty of nightmares where she wakes after being enveloped in the water's cold embrace. This time though, there would be no Scorchstreak to wake to, no paw to wipe away her tears and tell her everything was going to be okay, that it was just a bad dream.

She squeezes her eyes shut and prepares for the end.

// and that's the end on Bluepool. I wanted this post to be very short but sweet because I knew I was going to cry while writing it. Thank you to everyone who made this plot happen! She died nearly on impact with the river and her body will not be found </3

( ➸ ) test my worth in blood

• 
  
  
• 
  BLUEPOOL WINDCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO SOOTSTAR & MINTSHADE
  

  A small framed moor runner with a blue toned pelt and black stripes. Her tail is cropped and her eyes are golden in color. On her chest, she sports a large 'X' shaped scar.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + isn’t above using dirty tricks in order to win
  

​

 

[claythorn]

Bluepool's feign catches her off-guard. It had been too easy, Claythorn things, just as the paw is blowing the side of her head. Eyes widened as light became too bright, as sound suddenly faded and she stumbled. Losing? A first and final thought before she was knocked onto her back, pinned down underneath the Windclanner. Ears ringing, mismatched golden eyes stared up at the Windclanner. Send my regards to your leaders.

Teeth glinted in what sunlight she could squint through. Otterbite. Her chest struggled, heaved with breath, but her limbs felt too limp and useless- she couldn't gather any power to knock aside what fate had in store for her. Seafoam eyes she had carefully selected a rock for, ones she had just barely begun to find comfort in- would she see them again? Orange flashed in her vision and the weight was off of her body. She rolled onto her side, then on top of her paws, vision chasing where Ferngill stood.

Her shoulders heaved, staring at Ferngill and where Bluepool should have been. The gorge swallowed her, as it had swallowed so many others. Ears flattened to her skull, and Claythorn wobbled to her feet, a paw lifting to press to her head as she made a noise of pain. She barely had time to think of the repercussions. Her head hurt, and everything was blurry. "Ff.. Ferngill?" She questioned, unsure of where the other half of the battle was.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, fourteen moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ padding after otterbite / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[slateheart]

Slateheart is acutely aware of the conflict brewing around him, between their patrol leader and her chosen enemies. He sees her pin the fiery molly with much success, and sees the other's charge towards her. Oblivious to the possible outcome, he turns a blind eye to Ferngill's advance, and continues to aid his friend instead - he discovers that he can be a spiteful man, and he is angry at her. For manipulating him, for leading them all into danger, for forsaking a bond that was beginning to form; she is ruining WindClan's era of recovery. He decides, in his own remorse, that she can hold her own ground for now. If she's in danger, he would hear her ask. He'd never thought.. that a cat could die in a skirmish like this.

It is not until Ferngill's sudden, frantic pleas that Slateheart finally turns his head, bewildered. Has Bluepool killed their warrior?

When he looks, he doesn't see her. His heart drops in the same instant that he sees her assailant at the foot of the gorge - he knows. No, no, no.. his head repeats. At last, Salmonshade is forgotten about, for now; Slateheart rushes over to the gorge's edge, leaving Dimmingsun to fend for himself, and takes his spot some tail-lengths away from Ferngill, who looks about as panicked as he feels.

Slateheart is there just in time to see Bluepool's striped pelt, for only half a second, before it is swallowed by the rushing water. "No.." he gasps out defeatedly. He closes his eyes once, twice, three times - willing that the falling cat he saw was a trick of the mind, or perhaps that this is all a dream. But the roar of the gorge suddenly seems all too loud, filling his head and overwhelming even his own heartbeat. Slateheart looks to Ferngill with round, fearful eyes - would he kill him, too, while he stood over the edge and mourned for his fallen Clanmate?

He wasn't going to take the chance. Slateheart spins on his heels and clambers away from the edge, towards Dimmingsun and Salmonshade, and hisses urgently towards his Clanmate. "We have to get out of here. Now." There was no recovering a body consumed by these waters. The warriors, as far as he can see, are stunned; shaken by their own murder. They need to leave, now.. before they take Dimmingsun and Slateheart, too.

Slateheart's heart is sunken and beats heavily with fear, rage, and sorrow. A part of him, the guilty part, doesn't want to return home to WindClan.. to see the looks on their faces as the wait for a blue-pelted molly to pool into camp behind them, only to realize.. she isn't with them. How would they tell Scorchstreak? Sunstar? Featherspine?

Would Dimmingsun run away with him if given the opportunity, absolve them both of their guilt, and save them from the inevitable hatred and mourn that awaits them in WindClan's camp?
​

CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER

• 

  slate slatepaw slatetooth SLATEHEART
  ━━ MOOR-RUNNER WARRIOR of WINDCLAN
  ━━ 23 MOONS,, ages every 6th
  ━━ LYNXTOOTH xx ADELAIDE xx SILVERFOOT
  ━━ SIBLING to GRAVELSNAP and ASHPAW
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to BEEPAW | MENTORED by LYNXTOOTH​
  ━━ HEALTH ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♡ | generally healthy, but experiencing shortness of breath.
  
• 
  
  
• speech is #bbbb88​

 

[salmonshade]

Damn these Windclanners- she hadn't expected one to protect another, her body roughly hitting the toms as he sideswipes her, almost disoriented as she swings her head towards him, hitting the earth below. Okay, fine! If they want a fight, then they found one in her. Ears pin back as she pushes herself up from the dirt, just about ready to attack once more...

Almost ready to swing until the silver tabby tumbles from Ferngills headbutt and over the gorge she goes. Slateheart disengages. Ferngill is panicked- for what reason, she cannot tell, because these were thieves and obviously were willing to die for the prey- and chases after the tumbling body before it disappears for good. What a joke... This is pathetic, they were about ready to let that same she-cat dig her fangs in to Claythorns throat.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she hates Windclan. They hadn't changed a bit and they paid the price for it and have the audacity to be shocked.

The dawn-pelted feline lashes her tail once in triumphant victory, an almost wild look as she turns back to the dusk-coated tom. He scrambles towards the edge and Salmon lunges at him to reenact the others death. If he so desired to go with her, look for her, then she'd certainly help. He's quick on his paws and backs out quickly, causing her to slide to a stop instead. She barks out a snarled, heated, "Run back to your leader and tell him of your failure! Riverclan will always prevail, you leeches!"

She cannot help the anger that surges through her bones, heavy exhales leaving through bared fangs. Her head spins with the leaving adrenaline that beings to dissipate. Paws guide her swiftly to Ferngills side, nearly protectively- "Come on, Lichenstar needs to be told." its silent code for get away from the edge.

They need to get Claythorn up and away, cause even though shes on her paws, she seems disoriented (not that Sal blames her). If Ferngill can get that, she'll run these moor-rats straight out of the territory, eyes narrowed as she waits for their next move, poised, wary.

𝙼𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙴 𝙸𝚃𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 ଳ⋆｡˚ 𝙼𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙴 𝙸𝚃𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚁

• rip bluepool </3
• 
  ❥ salmon ,, salmonshade
  ❥ cis female ,, she/her ,, 40 months
  ❥ warrior of riverclan
  ❥ fluffy & dainty chocolate tortie smoke with white, blue eyes
  ❥ "speech, fd9367" ,, thoughts
  ❥ lesbian ,, single
  ❥ smells like warm flowers & freshly cut grass
  ❥ chibi by pin ,, penned by chuff

​

 

[dimmingsun]

Everything happens too fast for his mind to comprehend.

The first few seconds do not matter in the grand scheme of things; Dimmingsun takes the hit Salmonshade aims at him — a scratch under his eye is nothing, and only aims to rile him up further —, and he shoulders past Slateheart to return the favor. After the whole fiasco, he would glance at his friend with appreciation. Right now he just wants to cause as much damage as he can. No time for such softness.

And then-

Dimmingsun sees it all in slow motion. While the three of them begin to scuffle, Claythorn and Bluepool exchange blow for blow. He sees the glint of her fangs from the corner of his eyes, and when he gets the chance to look, he is wholly aware this might cost Claythorn's life. Would that be worth it? Was that what they set out to do? There is no time to ponder, but when life crawls to an almost stop around you, you might as well take a moment.

They agreed to feed WindClan, not shed RiverClan blood on their own territory.

But they started it, he thinks, train of thought akin to a kit's, we gave them the chance to back off.

Ferngill does not back off.

His head connects with Bluepool's flank, something that should not warrant anything horrible in its wake. But she sways with the unexpected weight and strength that slams into her-

And just like that, she tips over the mouth of the gorge.

The eerie silence that follows is what makes Dimmingsun's fur stand on edge. There's a chill in the air that gets past his defensive layers of fur and skin, burrows between the hollow parts of his bone, and pulls at his muscles like he is made of lead. Wary pawsteps lead him to the edge- or at least, that's what he thinks he should do, but he freezes before he can get there. With each frantic blink, he sees Bluepool's body behind his eyelids; broken and bloody and unmoving. Does he want to see that?

Slateheart says something- Salmonshade too, the former so much gentler than the latter, but it all becomes just noise. Blood roars in Dimminsun's ears.

Anger is an easy feeling to fall back onto when you are lost.

"YOU!" A roar flees from his chest — Dimmingsun whips around to face Ferngill, rounds up on him like he is a much bigger predator than he actually is. There is no sense in what he does now; only revenge dictates his actions as he flings himself at the RiverClan lead warrior, fangs and claws flashing in the sun.
​

 

[FERNGILL]

It was too late- he'd know it in his heart the moment he'd realised where they were, when the red mist of battle had dissipated. Ferngill watched as the Windclanner tumbled, his paws trailing after her- there'd not been time to grab her but he would've, he would've- what Windclanner would believe him? He was a murderer- a murderer, even if he hadn't meant to. Did that cat have- have a mate, a family? She was- she was someone important, he knew it- she'd been at Gatherings before, and now- and now...

Claythorn stammered out his name. Ferngill's expression was blank- in silence, he stared at her for a few long moments, nothing said between them. Everything- everything was nothing, collapsing, dissolving. When Dimmingsun leapt at him, Ferngill did not make any move to dodge- his head struck the earth, but no yowl of pain burst from him.

After a few blinking moments, he realised this situation mirrored Claythorn and Bluepool- one pinned, the other surrounded. This- this could end the same way- this could only go more downhill, stomping on and shattering fragments into more fragments. "Stop it! Go home!" Ferngill roared suddenly, attempting to smack Dimmingsun across the face with a clawed paw. "I didn't mean to! Just go away!" ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​