took the scenic route

[dovethroat.]

Unlike any other member of the RiverClan delegation, so to speak, Dovethroat had been one who had offered to stay back in order to help Stormpaw best get home as safe as possible. Though there was the looming, ever-present threat that had spurred them on toward their journey in the first place, Dovethroat was not the type of person who could see one suffering so plainly and visibly and turn the other cheek. Perhaps that was a weakness—he could tell that some of the people he had been around viewed it as such, or something similarly negative. Dovethroat was not a proud person, but he did try to feel good about the decision that he had made. He had not been allowed to make such a decision when he had been forcibly pushed out of his home by some vindictive psychopath; he was not going to leave being forced into a decision that he felt equally uncomfortable with. Of course, he would never compare Hazecloud to Cicadastar, but he was unable to deny the palpable parallel that was being drawn between them. Probably for the best, he had kept that to himself.

Stormpaw had been transported back with his help among the rest of the stragglers, Dovethroat trailing only minutely behind the rest of the pack—surely. And then, being the only RiverClanner to stick behind, his eventual journey back home proper was alone.

Around that point in time was when Dovethroat learned something about himself: his sense of direction was not the strongest. If he were trying to go for a less delicate way of phrasing that, he would have called it outright bad. Because that is what it was, evidently. The decision to eventually stop mincing words and condemn himself for his failures came a few days ago, when during his solo treks in Highstones—he had been given directions, yes, but now he was being forced to remember them as best he could—he realized at one point that he had seen the same sort of outcropping of rock before.

But surely that was a coincidence.

And then he saw it again, and Dovethroat realized that he had spent the last almost-two-days walking in circles. The altitude must have been getting to his head, Dovethroat tried to tell himself in a poor attempt to soothe his ego. Surely it had been some external factor doing this to him. All he could ponder upon was the raven feather—that dusky, soft conduit of sanity that was the only thing keeping him together. Around two thirds of the first part of the trip, he had managed to convince himself that the feather still smelled like Ravensong. After they had gotten the lungwort, he had snapped out of that.

But now he was beginning to swear he could smell it again.

After recognizing his failure, Dovethroat had spent longer than he had anticipated out on his lonesome. He was so exhausted, and he had slept here before—he had "slept" in a pitch-black cave, so how hard could it be to sleep underneath some non-terrifying shelter? Of course, he still had gotten terrible sleep. Even though he was fed (by himself) and technically rested, by the time he neared the border he was running on fumes and it was evident.

Completely unaware of what might have been thought about his doubly prolonged absence, completely unaware of the goings-on in the clan both before and after the other cats left and came back, Dovethroat stumbled into RiverClan borders with very little fanfare—probably because he was the only person in his party. What a lonely party. "I'm, uh—I'm back," he croaked, as if he were waving his hands like some failed performer. "...H-Hello?"

[⋆]​

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[Petalstep .]

PETALPAW — Keep about your wits.
I’m, uh- I’m back.
It is an unceremonious announcement, but the croak in their voice is what draws Petalpaw’s ever-growing curiosity, chartreuse eyes fixating on the wary figure that has seemed to stumble into their camp.
There is a fleeting spark of surprise in sun-kissed depths at the sight of Dovethroat.
The returning journey cats had warned they he had stayed behind, but as the days passed…
Well, he was here, and the apprentice supposes that was the only thing that mattered.
"You’re back." She repeats back, tone betraying little emotion, but that was simply the way she liked to speak.
"Welcome. Do you need to see Ravensong?" The question is brought with shallow concern as she’d give the warrior a once-over.
Suddenly, she regrets being the first to approach, perhaps there was someone better around to give the tom a warm welcome.
Would it be strange for her to simply walk away, at this point?

"speech"

tags​

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[FERNGILL]

The compassionate part of Fernpaw had wanted to stay, to ensure Stormpaw's return- the knowledgable part of him was insistent that he'd be better off with the split group, storming ahead to get the lungwort home as fast as possible. It had taken him so long to accept that he was not a strong cat- streaking forward with the fastest, knowing that someone he trusted from RiverClan was staying behind to help, had been his best option. Had been the best way to ensure no-one else died.

But it'd still happened anyway. Even the fastest had not been fast enough for Steepsnout and Cicadastar, for Riverwhisker, Stalkingpaw and Reedflower. The lingering regret of whether staying back with Stormpaw would have been more honourable in the end spread across his heart like ivy. Steepsnout- his sister, and the rest of them, had probably already been dead when he had made the decision to help them instead of Stormpaw.

Hello? A familiar voice snapped Fernpaw's attention toward the source, the fawn figure of Dovethroat- relief bloomed in his gaze, a revitalised meadow. The fiery tom wasted no time in racing over to him, gladness flooding through his breaths and shining out of his face like the sun in a cloudless sky. "Dovethroat!" It was a stark contrast to Petalpaw, but he squawked the name with a fair amount of earnest, teariness in his voice. "Thank StarClan, I'm- everyone'll be so happy to see you," he spoke through a wobbling grin, sure the fanfare would soon follow him. Home, alive. They had to cling to who had lived.​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[lichenstar]

⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆

---

Maybe she was a little biased.

But she was not among the 'everyone' that Fernpaw sang of. The truth of the matter was that Dovethroat had chosen to play hero for a clan that wasn't his. He is only lucky then, that Cicadastar had not lived to see his treachery in the flesh. "You wasted a lot of time, Dovethroat." It is an icy comment, not one of welcome or rejoice. He had chosen selfishness in the disguise of helping another. She would not reward him for that.

And Smokethroat had tasked her with keeping their borders secure in his absence. He was going to be leader.. would return to them as Smokestar. But until then... "To help ThunderClan." What help did they deserve after the theft of Sunningrocks? And what a fool this dusty-furred tom was to put RiverClan lives at risk for those same self-centered bird-brains.

"As kind as Fernpaw is being, not everyone is going to be thrilled with your little stunt." He would suffer the weight of his blindness in the names listed in the death toll. How many faces he would expect to see and would not. "Ravensong nearly died waiting for your slow paws. There will not be a next time, am I clear?" She didn't particularly care if he hated her for her rigidness. For pointing out all the ways he had failed them through sheer lack of forethought.

But he needed to understand the weight of his actions. And clearly, if the feather tucked neatly in his fur was any indication, Ravensong's life was the only motivation worth dangling in front of him.​

 

[Moonbeam]

Moonpaw didn't know how to feel, she was excited to see another member of the journey - the last one that was - home, but the reason he hadn't been home was to help a ThunderClanner. She knew how it was to help the other clans now - she had helped the best she could when they were ran out of the territory and into SkyClan then ShadowClan's, but that was when they had no choice. The only thing they could do was work together to get back the territories.

She came up behind Lichentail, offering Dovethroat a little smile as a welcome home. She was still happy to see him, still glad that they had another paw to help out in leafbare, happy that Ravensong would be able to see him once more. She didn't know what their relationship was but it didn't matter, when the medicine cat had found out that the journeying cats were home the first one he asked about had been Dovethroat. "He asked about you, I think he'd be happy to see you." It was all she would say, letting the other know that he was wanted.

☾₊ ⊹ give me a ghost of a smile

• mentor tag @salmonshade
• 
  ⋆ ratkit - ratpaw - moonpaw - moon???
  ⋆ female - she/her - 6 moons
  ⋆ homosexual - not looking
  ⋆ apprentice of riverclan
  ⋆ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ⋆ attack - "speech" - thought
  ⋆ penned by tikki

​

 

[dovethroat.]

Dovethroat nearly jumps out of his skin; he is so tired that he does not seem to have even remembered his senses to realize when people were coming close to him. Shaking out his stood-up fur, he blinked. "I, h-hello—yes, yes, I n-need—need t-to see, um, him—I wanted to s-see him," silently, he was praising whatever power on high that there was that he was fine; the phrasing Petalpaw chose to use implied that he was not even sick. He turns to Fernpaw next, lighting up to see another member of his journey safe and sound. "Yes, I—I g-got... I got t-turned around, I—I don't have... a-any sense of d-direction when I'm alone, I—" any sorts of niceties and jubilation vanishes when Lichentail arrives.

"...I g-got lost. I'm s-sorry," he mumbles like a scolded child, in spite of his supposed adulthood. That is, after all, what he actually thinks he is being scolded for. When Lichentail reveals her true meaning, however, an uncharacteristic scowl overtakes his face. Maybe it is that he is so tired that he cannot care to be polite, or that there is a great deal of resentment that had been bubbling under their surface ever since Hazecloud tried to stop him from helping Stormpaw back then.

He does not growl, but his voice is shakily angry. "I h-helped a p-person. I'm s-sorry I'm not so b-blind to that as y-you are," he tries to sound as even as possible. "It's—wh-what?" The phrasing of Ravensong nearly died makes him cut her off entirely, any sort of grace to her severed as he seems to regain all energy. He doesn't even listen to her warning, breaking into a sprint and bounding past her and Moonpaw, who he did not even greet, toward the medicine den.

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

It was true that Ravensong had asked for Dovethroat first the moment he had heard the patrol return. Stayed behind to help a ThunderClan cat—he had been told. Betrayed, even. Ravensong had to wonder how injured this ThunderClan apprentice was in order to have caused such a delay. He waited, of course, what more could he do as he lay in his den sick and tired. Little by little, the strength had returned to his bones and his muscle began to thrive again underneath a dull coat. Ravensong was almost to his normal self.

The commotion outside the medicine cat den was not far from his sensitive ears but he perked the moment he recognized a voice that had only existed now for two moons in his dreams only. It was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time and Ravensong's heart immediately rose as he struggled to his paws to join the little group that had greeted Dovethroat at the borders of camp.

A sharp exhale immediately left his tormented lungs as he stepped outside of the medicine den, coming face to face with Dovethroat's eyes and wayward fur. Ravensong felt a chill down his spine as he froze immediately, nose to nose with the last member of the RiverClan party who had returned.

He had played this scene over and over in his head for Dovethroat's arrival, but at that moment, he never would have guessed it would be the one where he would freeze on the spot entirely. Ravensong looked upon him with wide eyes, as if he were frightened a single wrong move would shatter the illusion and confirm that it had all really been a dream.

"I was... told... you betrayed us..." He muttered, thinking of Hazecloud's words.

☾₊ ⊹ темная ночь — dark is the night

•  
• 
  RAVENSONG of RIVERCLAN
  — LH BLACK POLYDACTYL MALE (CARRYING CINNAMON, DILUTE) a tall, slender creature with pitch-black feathery fur, large ears, and a sharply angled skull held up in an aloof manner. smells of dried herb, speaks with a low and rumbly accent and walks with an elegant slinking gait.
  
  — born in twolegplace and orphaned at a young age, he joined riverclan at its inception and began training as a drypaw warrior known for a bitter temperment until beesong made him his medicine cat apprentice. after his mentor's untimely death, he had been named ravensong at the moonstone, young heart revitalized with anger and guilt. he is a somber and thorough medicine cat that guards every word spoken in the confines of his den.
  
  — secretly loves "the stars but not so much what inhabits them"
  — openly suffers from chronic migraines
  — single, but "it's complicated"

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