twolegplace THE SMELL OF SMOKE FROM RUSTING GUNS / shelter patrol

[TALLULAHWING]

Tallulahwing murmurs an agreement to Grizzlyridge and acknowledges Sweetybee's frustrated expression with a flick of her tail. The commotion surely can't mean anything good for their noisier counterparts. She hopes there's at least enough time to get some more information -- how to get inside, a confirmation the missing SkyClan cats are indeed within, anything.

The dogs begin to bark, and the fur on Tallulahwing's shoulders rises. There's a clattering sound, then the thud of heavy pawsteps, grit against the street. The Twolegs inside the shelter have been alerted, are racing for them, and the daylight warrior hisses. "Tarnation! Run!" Her yowl is just as desperate as Grizzlyridge's, but it's his that thins into a startled cry.

The Twoleg has him, squirming and yowling in his immense arms. Grizzlyridge is trapped, wrapped tight in a strange-looking pelt. Tallulahwing cries out: "No! Grizzlyridge!" But there are other Twolegs, far too many, spilling out of the nest at this one's alarmed cry. There is no way she can save Grizzlyridge now.

"Retreat! We have to get back to SkyClan!" Her screech pierces the air, debutante softness cracking with fear. She runs alongside Sweetybee, nudging her forward with her flank. "We'll come back for him somehow," she says, though the doubt clouding her voice is all too audible.

// out​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[MOMOWHISKER]

At first, he heard nothing. Then, a sentiment echoed out that caused a relieved expression. Clanmates. They said, and though it was difficult to make out over the sound of stranger cats, his brain connected the dots quickly enough. He looked over his shoulder, spotting the tips of his patrolmates' ears. "They're in here!" Momo called down, pride brimming in his voice. They'd done it, he'd done it. Success was sweeter than honey and it egged him to lean in further to the building, the smell enough to scorch his nostrils. How were they supposed to tell who was a clanmate and who wasn't? Was it ok to leave the loners behind? I can't make that decision. Stars, how could I ever be the one to decide someone's fate? That was a weight so heavy that his spirit feared carrying it, knowing that it took the joy out of exploring the wild world. "Hold on, I'll— we'll—"

Clink. Clink. Clink

Metal on metal, paw steps heavier than a cats and twice as mean. Momo's stomach dropped when he realised what it was. Did he bail straight away? Did he give an impassioned speech? He shuffled back until one paw was dangling off the side of the sill. "We're coming for you! Just not today. Don't lose hope!" Momo pushed that same hind paw downwards, his heart damn near stopping when it didn't find ground. Another leg soon followed until he was only holding himself up with gangly forelimbs, kicking at the side of the building to try and find a grip. Either cursed by gravity, incompetence, or both, he fell. "Ok bye-byeeeeeee!" He wailed as he dropped down, limbs flailing wildly in the air as he tried to prepare himself for impact. An 'oof' sound escaped the winded tom when all four-paws touched the earth, face creasing as he felt himself land with an inelegance that must've looked ugly. Nothing seemed broken (he didn't doubt his limbs would be aching tomorrow), but he didn't give himself time to check, instead scrambling past his patrol. It was like the ground was made of ice, his claws unable to find a consistent grip on anything. If there was an opposite to StarClan, it would be the place his slip-and-sliding body was trying to get away from, he wanted nothing to do with it. "We're running, the twolegs are coming. Come, quickly!"

/ outties!

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