horseplace THE SKY IS CHANGING — warning

[POLLENFUR]

It had begun to storm on her trek back to the Horseplace. The fur hangs off of her body in wet, disheveled clumps, and the white of her body has become nearly as brown as the rest of her pelt. She has cried her tears—now the sky cries them for her, and her eyes are dry but wide and curiously blank. Pollenfur ducks into the structure where the horses have their nests, inhaling the familiar scents of straw, of peat, of the animals who reside within. There are cats here, shielding themselves from the rain—she can scent them through the rest of the muck.

“Hyacinthbreath is dead.” She glances around, her paws trembling to hold her upright. There are memories here—memories of being protected and groomed, her belly full of kits she had lost, and she works to shove them aside. “Sootstar and Snakehiss of WindClan murdered her, and tried to kill me too. We were nowhere near their territory.” She staggers closer to the center of the barn before lowering herself to her belly. The night and subsequent morning’s events have taken its toll on her—and it’s eerily evident in the way she crouches.

“I suggest you all stay far, far away from WindClan territory. When their patrols come to check their border, hide. They do not care anymore. They will kill you for sport.” She tries to laugh, but it hitches and becomes an empty, painful sob. “Stay away from all the Clans. They are mad—and they hate us.”

She draws herself into a soaked, shivering ball, waiting to see who, if anyone, will emerge from the hay.

, ”​

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[Irispath]

Yewberry hates rainy days. They always make him so sleepy and unwilling to do a damn thing. He lays curled under the hay, doing exactly that, nothing. What is there to do, anymore? He's made peace with his failures and accepted that he does not deserve to be part of the family he agreed to be part of. He lacks the energy to even let his thoughts spiral anymore down the well trodden path his thoughts often go. He's a failure. He understands.

He can't do anything about it, so why bother torturing himself?

The hay keeps him warm and hidden, and he has no plans of leaving any time soon. That is, until he hears Pollenfur arrive with news that opens his eyes faster than they can even comprehend, leaving his vision unclear for a moment.

Hyacinthbreath is dead.

"W-WHAT!?"

He stumbles out of the hay to look at her with wide, mortified eyes. Did he hear her right? Surely he misheard- Hyacinthbreath cant be dead. But looking at Pollenfur as she shivers and sobs, he can tell.... She isn't lying. She would never lie about something like this.

One of his dearest friends is dead at the paws of Sootstar herself.

Tears begin to stream from his eyes as he lowers himself to the ground, no longer having the energy to stand as if the news sapped the strength from him. She's gone. His friend, who he had hunted with, shared prey with, cuddled for warmth at night with.... These memories only make his tears fall heavier. He chokes on his sobs.

"THAT WRETCHED MONSTER!" He cries. "Why won't anyone put her down already!? Has she not angered anyone enough by now?" He continues. "B-but you...You're right. The clans really are just bloodthirsty beasts, aren't they?"

He feels any composure he had slipping quickly. "I tried to keep faith in Starclan, but I realize how foolish that is now. They made her leader. They do nothing to correct their mistake and instead let everyone else suffer for it. It's just a heaven for monsters." He goes on. His heart burns for revenge, but at the same time is too tired to maintain the fire.

"It's not fair... It should have been her, not Hyacinthbreath...." He sobs. "My friend is gone...."

He finds his reasons for continuing on are dwindling, and cant seem to find any others to convince him otherwise. What is he supposed to do now? Is he really meant to sit here and let everything he holds dear be taken from him? He gives up, then. He'll never see his family again and they probably hate him anyways, Dandelionwish is safe in Skyclan, Hyacinthbreath is gone... Pollenfur may be the only cat he can see without risking his life. He feels like he's being punished for existing at this point, punished for setting foot on the moors in the first place. ​

 

[Sunnyday]

☀ - WHILST MY HEART STILL BEATS
The older tom's belly is somewhat full from a recent string of lucky hunts amongst the hay of the barn and he finds himself savouring a pleasant slumber far from the freezing rain pouring outside. However, whatever peace he might have remained wrapped within was cut short as a voice reached his ears. It was enough to rouse him and slowly he eased himself to the edge of the bale he had been sleeping on. Pollenfur, he recognised her but didn't know her all that well. But he knew who Hyacinthbreath was... had been. The news made his heart sink and sadness gleamed in his eyes.

Before he could give any condolences to the she-cat below over her loss there comes an outburst that left him feeling shaken. He doesn't know the tom beyond merely catching a glance of him every so often due to their shared space, but he vaguely recalls that he is another exile from WindClan. Still, the words hit hard and carry with them a tidal wave of powerful emotions. Sunnyday folded his ears low as he dipped his head down out of respect. "I am so sorry to hear that Hyacinthbreath has met such a fate. It was not deserved, especially at the paws of WindClan. I remember her from my ThunderClan days when she had been a RiverClanner, I remember she had always been respectful. A good heart. I hope her spirit finds peace."

A soft exhale escaped him as his gaze darkened in thought. If Pollenfur's warning was true then they were all in danger now. "I think it would be wise for us to band together for the sake of safety, especially as leafbare approaches. No doubt WindClan will stray closer to the horseplace in search of food... and amusement. It would be unwise to travel alone." Perhaps it was a desperate measure, but having them picked off for sport didn't sit well with him. At least if they banded together they stood a chance at warding off any patrols they crossed.
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[Pumpkinpatch]

—————————————————————⊰❦⊱————————————————————
Her head lifts from the hayloft, strands of golden wheat falling from his face and ears, a few left sticking out of her pelt in various places. Pumpkinpatch is not sure what woke her from her rest immediately, is only aware that her dreams had been disturbed and there were voices down in the bottom floor of the barn now. The tortiseshell stifles a yawn, paws stretching and back arching as she staggered to stand and shake herself free of yellow debris. Pale paws creep her close to the edge of the ledge, mismatched eyes peering down to see a cat slump into the building and begin to lament. From where she sits poised above she can hear it all like an echo ringing around her, a cry of despair, a word of warning, the flash of a white tail fleeing a predator, the flutter of retreating wings. WindClan had killed one of them. Hyacinthbreath.
She only knew most of them in passing, had witnessed several cats come in to have kits and had kept her distance out of respect but she regretted now not reaching out to befriend them sooner - she felt her heart break for the others loss.
A shudder runs down her as she moves to the slanted ladder, step after stumbling step she rushes down with an urgency and nearly toppled over into Sunnyday as she reaches the bottom in her haste.
"Why-? Why would they? You left! You left...." They left this clan and they had come to hunt them down like this? For what purpose? There was no other reason she could think of other than to simply be cruel. She stifles a cry of horror at the memory of sitting on the fence watching the moorland clan's passing patrols and she is suddenly grateful they never seemed interested in pausing for a talk. Would they have slain her as brutally? For just existing near their land? "Pollen, I'm so sorry..." Pumpkinpatch steps forward and settles into the ground next to the weeping molly, inching close and only moving closer if she felt it was allowed so she could help warm her and dry her as best she could with soothing swipes from her tongue in the other direction of where her fur naturally lay in an effort to calm.
"Yew, Sunny, do we have anything to get her to eat?" Had anyone stashed something recently or was able to grab a mouse where they often cloistered away in a corner during the rain. They were not all very close, at least not yet, but they lived in the same place and suffered the same struggles. They should stick together as Sunnyday suggested, she found herself nodding in silent agreement to his words. The idea of going out alone now terrified her, but even with two of them it was still scary. Afterall, it hadn't saved Pollenfur her grief, only her life.

❦ ——————— I'm in the rafters looking down ❦ —————————— It's cold up here

•  
• 
  
  
  Pumpkinpatch
  —⊰⋅ Barncat/Loner
  —⊰⋅ She/Her
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ LH Chocolate Tortiseshell
  

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[POLLENFUR]

Yewberry’s emotions spill over, rage combating grief, and Pollenfur wishes she had the energy or the emotional capacity to comfort him. Her loss is raw, a wound that has torn her open from throat to tail. Every movement feels like it could be her final one. “It should have been Sootstar, yes… but it was not. I tried to get her to run, but she… she fought them both.” Her defeated tone deflates into nearly a whisper. She longs to curl into herself and disappear into dreams. Nightmare or not, it would be the only place she could see her beloved again before she joins the stars with her.

A lanky cream-colored tabby emerges from the periphery. He is gaunt, but his eyes and voice are soft, and Pollenfur regards him with a subtle nod. “I hope so, too,” she replies softly at his wish that Hyacinthbreath’s spirit finds peace. “She believed in StarClan, and—and I want to believe she’s there.” She shifts, amber gaze falling to her paws. “I agree. Perhaps it is not wise for us to go out alone anymore. Even in pairs, it’s—” She chokes, her flanks heaving. “Before long, my own kits could be defending their borders or hunting trespassers. My kin…”

She trails off, just as another tortoiseshell approaches her, kindness in her gaze, an apology on her tongue. Pollenfur allows Pumpkinpatch to crowd in close to her, to groom the wetness and mud tangling her thick pelt. “I don’t think I can eat, just yet, but thank you,” she murmurs, lowering her chin to her paws. How long, how long will it take before you fade from everything I do? Even the act of sharing a mouse with another cat brings her pain. “She would hunt for me, before… she protected me…” Her whiskers tremble—and tears catch in their silvery web. “I can’t believe she’s left me alone.”

, ”​

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