sensitive topics THEY HOLD YOU LIKE A GOD [ rogue attack + injury ]

✵ ღ ☾ IT TOOK ME BY SURPRISE - Stars, she wants sleep, prays for it even. The restless night pacing outside of the medicine den for Lilybloom, and now the nightmarish intrusive thoughts at cause her to toss and turn, the thoughts of a Fox’s claws sinking into everyone close to her, what could have been Houndsnarl’s fate, thank the stars he seemed to be invincible.
So, like as any horror story began, she couldn’t take it anymore, and slipped out of camp under the pastel pinks and purples of dusk.
Soon enough though, it turned to a black night, her path only partially lit by a waning moon.
Turn around.
The voice in her head was low, but Lakepaw obeyed nonetheless, her only trouble now was finding her way back to the island, her brain fogged by her ongoing lack of sleep, her vision only the slightest bit fuzzy.
Something cracks from behind her, followed by something that almost sounded like.. sniveling? Panting?
She stops in her tracks, an ivory forepaw hovering over the ground in hesitation. Yet, she is Lakepaw, and of course she investigates.
Pushing away the shrub barrier that blocked her from whatever ungodly creature had made those noises, slitted eyes squint against the the darkness.
A figure, another cat, is hunched over something. The stink of rogue and disease similar to a rain cloud in its thickness hits Lakepaw, her nose scrunching up.
They are abnormally scrawny, and their fur is patchy, a dire consequence of starvation. Confusion scrunches in Lakepaws brow bones, it is barely leaf-fall, how could one cat end up in such a state of famine?
❝ Hey. ❞ Her tone is firm, commanding. ❝ This is Riverclan territory you need to le- ❞
Two bulging eyes whip around to face her, scraps of whatever poor vole they had been devouring sloppily scattered across their gaping jaw.
“My prey!”
Their screech was guttural, loud enough to stretch across a good portion of the territory.
They charged Lakepaw before she could even think twice.
The apprentice stumbled back, confusion morphing to shock, which morphed into anger.
They charged once more, this time aiming to side-swipe at Lakepaw, but their form was sloppy, and only managed to graze the scarred skin across her chest.
Now, Lakepaw sprung, grappling onto the deranged rogue in a fit of anger, trying to pummel them with her forepaws.
Teeth sunk into her left paw, and with a growl Lakepaw stumbled and fell, crashing onto her shoulder, giving the rogue the advantage.
Lakepaw blinks, staring up at the rogue in bewilderment.
White-hot pain.
Warm vermillion.
Blood spills onto her right eye, and down her left cheek bone.
❝ You… did you just fucking slice my face open? ❞ Through the pain of nerves being split in two, she grits her words, the metallic taste of her own blood making her stomach churn.
She rolls onto her belly, tail sweeping across the floor as the rogue drops into their own defensive stance.
Lakepaw sluggishly pounces once more, aiming for a good bite to the shoulder- a bite that should have sent this rogue running back to whatever food-barren place they must of come from.
Lakepaw is blinded in her right eye, but the pain drives her, the refusal to fall unconscious from blood loss and to be at the claws of this rogue drives her.
Her jaws sink into something softer than a shoulder, she knew that deep down, that she missed, but she doesn’t stop. A choked cry leaves the rogue, they pummel at her shoulders, her limbs.
By the time the blue tabby had let go, it was too late, she had already delivered the killing bite.
She stumbled back, blood dribbling from her jaw, the entirety of her face, the small scratches that littered her flank, and with horror she watched as the rogue bled out at her paws, their eyes fixated on her with their own different kind of horror.
The rogue is dead. Driven to insanity by starvation, but Lakepaw had been the one to stop their heart.
The blue tabby can only stare as the adrenaline begins to fade, and the real pain begins to settle in, tearing at her facial laceration. A trembling paw pushes up at her left cheek bone in a weak attempt to keep the skin together.
Finally, she could hear the faint thundering of running paw steps, closer…

She wants to call out, but her voice finds no words.
By the time her knights in shining armor would find her, her forepaw would still be held up, the tremor now gone. ❝ The… rogue, attacked me… they got my face pretty good. ❞ She would mumble out, turning to face the others, ❝ Beesong… uhm, I think I need Beesong. ❞
❝ Speech. ❞

[tldr; while out on a walk, Lakepaw encounters a starved rogue devoting a vole (most likely coming from the carrion place or twoleg place) when Lakepaw tries to get them to leave, they attack, and Lakepaw ultimately ends up killing them. Lakepaw ends up with a pretty severe laceration stretching from the top of her right eye to the bottom of the left side of her face, she is currently in shock. @BEESONG just in case Nico wants them in this thread!]


Frostpaw had took the earliest patrol with @Smokethroat and her co-apprentice @iciclepaw and in truth, she had been tired, uneasy rest the prior night before but wanting to get back into things the girl had agreed (reluctantly) to going on an early patrol, and had been a good thing that they had come when they did. The form of Lakepaw and her disfigured injury came to a wide shock as she quickly bolted to the other apprentice's side attempting to press herself against the other to give them something to lean on "Ok, it's okay! We'll get you back to camp and checked on by Beesong, to us okay? What happened?" her voice was frantic as she looked from Smokethroat and Iciclepaw.

"Someone get Beesong, quick" she said worriedly before fixating her attention back onto the other worriedly as her fluffy tail lashed side to side attempting to help guide the other as she took small steps in hope Lakepaw would take them too . "You're going to be okay Lakepaw, everything is going to be fine" she said reassuringly, the scent of rogue and death clinging to the air and her heart was pounding in her chest. Oh by the stars she hoped they could get her to Beesong quickly.

Quite honestly he himself was tired and wanted a moment's rest, so an early patrol had been suggested to his apprentice duo who both heartily agreed. The moment they got back he planned to nap himself into oblivion and enjoy it, slowly adjusting to the idea of not being productive constantly. They were on their way back to the camp now but his blissful thoughts of dozing away were all but screeching to a halt the moment he scented blood; it was Frostpaw who bounded ahead first and he swore after her, fearful something might be dangerous nearby but the danger had already been neutralized it seemed.

"Stars above, Lakepaw-! What hap-" Her fractured and alarmingly calm explaination caught his words in his throat and he turned sharply from her to the dead rogue on the ground before moving to stand alongside her opposite of Frostpaw with a careful nudge of his shoulder, "Easy does it. Iciclepaw, run ahead and get Beesong-let him know we've got an apprentice with a pretty bad face laceration." How bad, he couldn't tell, there was too much blood to actually make out the exact details of the wound and he was too afraid to mess with it-not trusting his brutish paws with any kind of delicate work. Besides, it would be best for the medicine cat to handle it, but if Lakepaw began to seem worse as they helped her along he'd bite down his unease and see what he could do. They could probably stop the bleeding at least somehow? Clean it some?
"Frostpaw, keep her talking...." Smokethroat wasn't the best at idle chitchat and Lakepaw would most likely focus better and give more attention to her peers than some older cat.

"I'm here," murmurs Beesong as they come into view behind Iciclepaw. The healer studies Lakepaw's bloodied facial features with an expression that continually shifts between exhaustion and calculation; the laceration is deep, from what he could see. On top of that, she seems to be going into shock... Judging by her dilated pupils and shallow breathing. Beesong nudges a sprig of thyme towards her, urging her to eat them before cobwebs are unraveled and pressed against the gushing wound. Small paws steadily apply pressure in order to encourage clotting.

He tries not to focus on the corpse nearby. There is nothing that he could do for them, now. Lakepaw is the one who still has a beating heart, not the rogue.