sensitive topics The Stars Will Guide Us Home | Discovery

[Cindershade]

// cw for description of dead body and drowning

This is a PRIVATE FOR NOW thread. We will announce when this thread is OPEN <3

A simple patrol is all it was supposed to be, a mere gathering of herbs along the river bed while the greenery of New-Leaf bloomed before their eyes, making way for Green-Leaf. The wind has finally began to subdue, no longer pulling the reeds around them by the root nor howling for the earth to bow to it's forceful turbulence. Beesong has often disappeared to be on their own, to go stars only knew. The lead warrior never pried over his private affairs, so as long as he did his duty. She walks quietly beside Ravenpaw, Smokethroat attending to his other side as the border with ThunderClan draws near. A trio of shadows that trek through the foliage, quiet as they shoulder through with ease just as so many times before. Cindershade still seethes over the news of Hyacinthbreath, the molly lole a festering open wound that just wouldn't heal so easily. She trusted her, befriended her and went to bat for her. The lead warrior had been relatively quiet since then, keeping mostly to herself or else out with Sablepaw. She ponders over her apprentice, having seen such a display. Did she worry, for her mother had been granted a similar generosity? Did she think that Cicadastar would be gunning for them next? She should be fine, just as long as she never does anything treacherous such as that. Besides, she saw how fast she reacted—she saw that Sablepaw bared claws and teeth in the name of RiverClan. A true RiverClanner she will be.
As they encroach upon the surging river bed, Cindershade waits as Ravenpaw gathers his herbs, watching the flow of water before her with slight hesitation. She still feels the light stinging on her hind leg from that string that captured, threatening to root her to the bottom of the river and squeeze the air from her lungs. The rosetted molly shivers at the thought, her chest squeezing as those vivid memories flashed freshly within her mind. Verdant luminaries search along the river, noticing something—different. Was the water lower than usual? The shores did seem longer, more prominent. The sheer face of smooth river stones were now above the surface, the current lapping hungrily at them. Cindershade is about to comment on it, turning to face her patrol until—

Until she sees it.

"What—what is that?" Her eyes hone in on the object, nearly missing it within the reeds and canopy of swaying willows. She moves farther down stream, paws tentatively placing themselves in front of the other. As she glides closer, the imahe becomes more and more clear. This was no Two-Leg rubbish, no weird stone of some kind—but a tangle of limbs snd fur. Light earthen tones adorn the frame, slick with moisture and a half scarred face. A face she knew all too well, and no matter how much Cindershade wanted to deny what her eyes saw, she could not. Her eyes had always been sharp and observant. What was a blessing now resided as a curse. "No—no! Stars, no!" She breaks into a fast sprint, kicking up pebbles behind her. She halts abruptly, staring down at Beesong's mangled and broken corpse, mouth agape snd eyes frozen in terror. Her heart falls into her stomach and her muscles freeze. There they lay, sodden and broken. Her helm whips back over her shoulder, attempting to steady her trembling voice as she calls loudly. "Ravenpaw! Smokethroat! Get over here! Please!" Please, a word not often she used in such a manner. A first indicator that something was wrong. She steps away, keeping a paw upon the cinnamon healer's body as she sat there—completely shell shocked as she hears their steps approach in a rampant manner.

Oh, Beesong, what happened to you?

Tagging those present; @Smokethroat @RAVENPAW.

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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​

 

[RAVENSONG]

Perhaps it was not wholly unusual to miss the cinnamon-ticked fur from their place in the nest that morning. But as was with these sorts of situations, the unmistakable gut feeling of something having gone terribly wrong wrenched itself in Ravenpaw's gut. It was so much so that he crawled out of the den, blinking in the dawning light. Beesong would have told him if they were going out for a while. The scent was left from hours ago. What sort of errands did the medicine cat have at such a time—Ravenpaw did not know.

Disguising his worry, Ravenpaw approached the two lead warriors who had been up at this time, asking if he could accompany him on an early patrol. There was no reason apart from his own irrational fear to suspect Beesong was in trouble, or had suffered a similar fate to Gloompaw. With both of these warriors, Ravenpaw assumed stirring up unneeded alarm would be detrimental. After all, who knew how Cicadastar would react?

A simple patrol, a herb gathering—Ravenpaw's head lowered to the ground, whiskers brushing against dew-dropped stalks. Watermint grew by the river. He could check there. Nobody got far enough without wading there. Perhaps he would find a scent.

Cindershade's call shatters the sensitive inner fur of his ears. In that moment, Ravenpaw would only recall his mind going completely blank.

His paws mechanically carried him over to the edge of the water where Cindershade was calling attention to. His breath shook in his ribs and he cannot imagine a time he had ever felt so numb. A gasp—a sharp exhale of breath past his lips and Ravenpaw blinks and looks away for a brief moment, his face scrunching in the agony of attempting to keep it together. It had only taken a second for the image to burn itself in his mind and he hates that this will be the last memory he will have of his mentor.

"Get them out," He rasped, unable to move. He is speaking normally, but to Ravenpaw, he thinks that he is whispering.

"Get them out, please!" He shouted. "I ca—ca—ah—" His voice cracked and the bridge of his nose scrunched up again, eyes screwed shut. His chest is squeezing in on itself. Ravenpaw feels as if he has been squashed internally. There feels nothing left. "I can't—"

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[SMOKESTAR]

Herbs were something he never once gave mind to, he could recognize the few plastered to his own frame at times or forced into his maw by annoyed and tired cinnamon paws; but Smokethroat never bothered to learn the names nor did he have any desire to. His presence here was a guard and another set of teeth to help carry anything back the apprentice came across that he could not manage on his own; why Beesong was not the one here parading about with plants, had they taken another brisk walk so early and gotten distracted roaming about in idleness? Sometimes he wondered where that medicine cat's head was, but he wouldn't question them

The dark lead warrior shouts in the distance, he pauses his nosing about odd plants; debating biting one that looked similar to a cattail to see if it too would explode in a humorous cloud of fluffy seeds he could throw at the thoughtful medicine cat apprentice paying him no mind. There is a certain worry in her tone that quickens his pace, an uncharacterstic panic he never heard from her before. Ravenpaw is behind him as he strides forward and follows the spotted molly's gaze outward to the water; it takes an alarmingly long time to realize what he was staring at and when he does fur begins to rise.

Smokethroat is silent, mouth slowly opening as if to speak though he finds no words and it hangs stupidly agape for what felt like far too long before a broken, surprised sound of distress escapes him against his will; it is involuntary, he can not help it nor does he try to stifle the rapid and hectic gasps for breath that fill the void words might otherwise as he darts forward, sloshing through water clumsily and with little care for grace and subtly as he often held. "Bee-" A white paw raises, he remembers laughing over a discussion in the medicine cat den with Peachpaw who did not know if she was dying from the same white spots that dotted his own form, "Beesong!" His voice cracks, head impact on the wooden bridge, he's dying and he knows it but he closes his eyes and wakes up in a den scented of mint and flowers and he's alive despite his best efforts; a disappointed hum from a healer too overworked to scold him properly, "No-no-" A tone chides, a voice sighs, face split from humor and exhaustion but no less skilled and caring for it, "...Bee.." Hyacinthbreath is gone, chased from the river for her dissent, for her refusal to let go of her moorland sympathy; the medicine cat had once mended her too, though Smokethroat knew they loathed doing so-a kindness only befitting StarClan's chosen now battered into broken pieces in the very river he had sworn to protect. "Please..." It is a kitten sound, pathetic and he knows it, but so few cats had left an impact on him; his missing eye aches with the memory of cold moss and burning flora, he thinks back and wonders if he ever thanked them properly and can't remember.
Smokethroat's eye closes tight, he swallows it all down to Ravenpaw's panicked cries. There was no time, he had no time, he never had time. Get Beesong out, get them home...figure out what happened. How had they ended up here downstream so broken? As he ponders it he grabs hold of too cold fur lining a scruff, shoulders Cindershade for assistance to drag the battered body onto dry land and out of the corner of his eye he glances back and then up to the drop of the falls in the distance and the gorge that split their land in two. The winds were so dreadful, had they just been pushed in...? Beesong was small enough he might believe it.
"...we need....back to camp..." He croaks out an order that falters, knows they need to return home but he does not move immediately, still frozen in horror, not quite fully accepting what has happened. After everything, this loss weighted so much more heavily on him that he can not move.
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[Cindershade]

Her touch against cool skin unnerves her finally, Ravenpaw and Smokethroat's cries sever the string and it snaps at once. She takes a step back, ears pinned against the slope of her helm but her eyes do not leave the body that lay between them. Swelling tears form within her eyes, blurring her vision and she has to yank her head away—she can't show her weakness here, she can not cry when she has to remain strong. But she can't—she can't yield the falling of tears as they drop along the pebble-laiden shore, seeping into the sand below. Her jaw sets, teeth clenching with such pressure that she felt as if they may crack from it. Crack like the walls around her heart that she fortified, now wanting to tumble away. That time she spent in his den after her defeat with Tigerfrost, the scolding he would give her if she tried to sneak out—no more would she hear that nagging voice. It swept away like windswept petals now, forever lost. Back then, she grew annoyed of them, mocked their incessant worrying but in this moment she craved nothing more. She wanted nothing more than to see his form breathe in and come to life, to be granted another chance at life just as Cicadastar. Unfortunately, no such thing came to be.
Hearing Ravenpaw'a frantic cry, to get them out of the river before the current would take Beesong with it once more. She inhales deeply, swallowing that lump in her throat and steadying herself. She had to hide it away, to bottle it up and unleash it another time—just as she did when Clearsight had been murdered. A shoulder nudges at her and she follows, pushing as Smokethroat pulled and hauled their small frame from the depths of the river. That fear that she had felt after almost losing air, now she saw the aftermath of what could've happened and in that terribly selfish moment, she is glad that she was able to escape it. That thought alone made her hate herself right then, causing her fur to prickle. This isn't about you! An inward scream reverberates within her mind before silence the befalls on it. Smokethroat looks to the gorge and she catches it, following his lead to the cliff face in the distance. The rigid edges of the gorge were never a steady place to be, and her own suspicions match his. Could he? Could the wind really have pushed Beesong to his demise? A dark voice pricked the back of her mind; was this StarClan's doing? Was this a punishment of some kind? She wished she could know, she wished they would just fucking speak for once.
The words that utter from the dark tom reach her, but they are distant and faltering. Her attention turns to him and she sees it, she sees that vulnerability that matches her own and that wall cracks further. She empathizes with them both, but she will not comment on it. This was a stunned memory for them all, forever engraved into their mind for moons to come. She takes the first move, sliding her head under Beesong's small frame and lifting them upon her shoulders while Smokethroat does the same. They then move away from the river that took their medicine cat, back to the security of home and grieve for them properly.



Once they crossed the small river that surrounds their water bungalow, Cindershade is the first to push through the reeds with Smokethroat beside her and Ravenpaw in tow. Her paws feel numb from the trek and she ignores it, trudging to the center of camp before finally stopping to set Beesong's body down with a gentleness akin to a mother, beginning to tuck them in gently and she stares at their face with an expression twisted with grief. She places a paw over his face, closing his eyes to look as if he were in a deep sleep. The rest of the clan didn't need to see the frozen look of horror upon their features. A passing warrior takes in the picture, and before they can ask what happened or process, a bark of an order leaves her mouth—though it is much softer than normal. "Go grab Cicadastar." She then looks to the both of the toms, a heavy silence weighing in the air before she breaks it. "We—we need to decorate his body. What—what flowers did he use for vigils?"

// THIS IS NOW OPEN FOR REPLIES!

Feel free to be the warrior that she speaks to!


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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​

 

[Redpath]

Redpath was getting ready to go out, stretching her limbs in the clearing before making a trek down the river. The winds were finally showing mercy, and she wanted to take advantage of it before they decided to start up again.

Hearing a patrol return, she turned to greet them... Only to be struck with more shock and horror than she was prepared for.

Wide horrified eyes laid up on the body of Beesong, and for a moment she tried to fool herself into thinking he was just injured. He's fine. He'll get up any second now.

But she can tell he won't.

She doesn't hear Cindershade speak, she's not even sure it was at her. She is frozen where she is, unable to look away from the body of her friend.

"B.....Beesong.....!!" His name escapes her mouth, and so do her tears.

Her eyes well up and spill over as she trembles, shakily approaching Beesongs body and pressing her face into his fur. It's cold and wet, and she can't stop crying.

She tries to remember his smile. His voice. His laughter. These things she would never hear again.

And it wasn't fair.

"Beesong!!" She cried, as if he could hear her. But perhaps he can, perhaps he is here with them now.

The thought makes her crumble inside. Her weeping becomes louder, and she doesn't have the power to control it.

"What happened..!? How did this happen!?" She choked out.

Who did it!? She wants to say. But she smells no blood, sees no wounds. She has no target to direct her grief into rage. She doesn't want to accept that Beesong took one careless misstep.

All she could do was mourn, her face soaked in grief and her heart in pieces.​

 

[PIKESPLASH]

( tags ) Quite possibly the worst scenario has happened to Riverclan and he wants to ask why? Why did this happen? He was prepared to greet the patrol much like Redpath and very much like her, his smile turned into shock and terror. It's almost as if time has stopped. Everyone's breaths become far too loud, he can hear Redpath approach and cry out the name of what was once their medicine cat, but most of all he can hear the rapid beating of his heart. Pike is unaware that a flurry of tears have already streaked down his face. Not once has his eyes left the mangled body and broken body of Beesong. It didn't look right. No cat should ever have a fate like this. Redpath is doing most of the talking for him, asking the questions he and many want to know.

It was strange. Beesong was just with them the day before. The medicine cat didn't go out late as far as he knew. Beesong would ask for an escort in some cases, yet no one has come forward to say they were with Beesong before they passed. With how mangled the medicine cat's body was, it couldn't be said that Starclan took him peacefully in his sleep. With shaky paws he slowly draws nearer to what was left of their medicine cat. His eyes were closed. If his body is this messed up... Why does he look like this? It didn't make sense. Beesong didn't seem like the type to be content with an end like this. Something was wrong and he couldn't tell what it was.

Cindershade's orders or the first part is missed by him. Tears continue to run down his cheeks while his ears tilt at the question of what flowers he used for vigils. The truth is he couldn't remember at the moment, or know exactly what plants they were. Riverclan used flowers in the past, but herbs were frowned upon. If it was a herb of some sort he wouldn't know the true meaning behind it. "...I d-don't know. W-w-what about forget," The words are strained. It's clear that he is trying not to break into sobs that would make his words hard to understand. He opens and closes his maw multiple times, forcing himself not to let out a whimper that would turn into full blown wails. A sniffle can be heard before he continues, "F-f-forget me n-nots?" He isn't sure if these are the flowers Beesong used in the past. What he knows is the flowers he suggested means remembrance. Beesong was an important member of this clan and he was dear to many within the clan. They wouldn't be forgetting him any time soon.

Ravenpaw was just an apprentice and hadn't completed their training. He wasn't thinking about that right now or how Riverclan and Ravenpaw most of all would struggle from this loss. How would Riverclan move forward from here?​

 

[Petalnose]

I FIND COMFORT IN THE SOUND AND THE SHAPE OF THE HEART ⋆⁺₊⋆

Petalnose heard the crys and yowls and she bounded over, dismissing her hunting, bounding over as if she was about to spring into battle. Her muscles were stiff, claws unsheathed and she made it over in lightening speed. She slowed to a trot and then a walk, no slashing claws no stretched jaws. Weeping. Yowling. Tears. She pushed her way through the crowd, brows creasing in concern. "What's going on?" She demanded, dark colored eyes searching and then pulled upon the scene the crowd weeped over.

She saw them.

She saw them, bloodied and mangled. A body with a soul no longer. The crimson blood made her heart twist, and the sight of Beesongs face made her stomach twist. She felt sick. Sick as when she injested that foxglove. Sick as when she looked upon Beesong's face in question. In grief. She felt those same emotions she felt that night, lost.. confused.. angry.. helpless. Beesong was the first face she caught that night, the only face she was both terrified of and adorning over. She held back her bile, refusing to spill it as she had that same night. How could Starclan do this? How could they do this to me again? Are they punishing me? Taking away all I know and love?

"No... No, no, NO!" Her limbs shook and she felt weak, physically and mentally sick. She was paralyzed in the moment. Sweat seeped through her paws and she slowly started to back up, "I can't-.." her voice cracked and tears started to well up in her eyes and make them glint. They carefully dripped down her cheeks, soaking them. "I can't be here. I need a moment. I.. I'll be right back. I'm sorry-.." her voice cracked again as if she almost lost herself in helpless sobs and she whipped around and shoved her tall figure through the group, hitting a couple of shoulders her way but she did not stop, bolting into the undergrowth. It wasn't common see the strong feline break, she held herself well and did not let weakness show. But tonight... Tonight was different.

She would join the grievance later but for now she believed she needed to deal with it on her own. Beesong wasn't there to touch her shoulder and comfort her. They weren't here anymore. They never will be. She will never see them again.

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[RAVENSONG]

Much as he wanted to bare his teeth, shake, growl, fume at the stars for any answers as to how Beesong died—or even projections of what his mentor would or would not have done in any situation that would have led to his death, Ravenpaw did not find the heart. It was simply a tragedy, and the trauma of seeing Beesong's broken body washed up on the shore was something he could barely stand.

Ravenpaw trailed after the warriors. He was physically old enough and large enough to help carry Beesong to camp, their medicine cat did not weigh much at all, but he knew the moment he had to carry the weight of his own teacher on his shoulders, he would buckle. He did not know what he would have done if he had came alone.

And then as soon as they get to camp, they are greeted with wails. Ravenpaw bristles internally, defensively, possessive over the limp form of Beesong. There was no move from him to snap as Redpath lunged forward to disturb the resting place Cindershade had put them in—and Petalnose's cries fell on deafened raven ears. They were grieving. Every cat would grieve differently.

He wished he would scream and cry, but all he can feel is a hollow emptiness. Beesong would not get to see the fully-trained and realized cat he had put his faith into. He would never again have those quiet moments. In truth, indeed, the two did not talk much to each other. But all the same there was a shared understanding between them that Ravenpaw was certain was more real than anything he could have ever known.

"You were like a parent to me." He whispered under his breath, leaning down to lick the filthy river water from Beesong's fur.

"Mint. He used mint. For..." He trailed off. The others.

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