private TRANSDERMAL CELEBRATION ↷ [ GROUP 1 ]

[smogstar]

The passageway is narrow, constricting. Shoulders folded snug into his torso, his body wrought and strung out like one of Garlicpaw's mud creations, and even then, it seemed as though the walls were actively closing in on him. The ground still does not rest, loose pebbles shaking amok beneath his wriggling paws—outside, the rock-storm still had yet to end. The status of his companions was a grim question remaining to be answered, but one he shall not ponder on. His own survival, alongside that of the few who've already made it inside, serves as the utmost priority.

A sense of sanctuary prevails in these confines, comfortless as they are. So long as he has whiskers to shepherd him, and four steady legs to navigate onwards, the absence of light will never come as an obstacle to the ShadowClan deputy.

Hastened pawsteps, not his own, accompany the sound of his own breathing. Ears flick rearwards in the direction of the sound. More have squeezed into this claustrophobic space, and the realisation is both a boon and a bane. "Hello?" he asks, tone dry but measured, "How many of you are there?" Stars willing, this passage will take on a wider berth the further it goes. He takes no issue to squirming around like a worm in the soil, but he does not fancy doing so with one warrior's face stuffed in his rump.

"There's a couple more, just a little ways ahead," Smogmaw announces, eyes squinted so as to make out any figures in the obscurity, yet to no avail. "I think I can hear 'em chatting. Just follow my lead, c'mon."

His lungs welcome more air, his throat loosens, as the grotto grows wider. Not by a large margin, yet a noticeable one nonetheless. No longer are his shoulders squeezed into his ribcage, and his movements come more freely. Shortly thereafter, vague outlines of two small warriors materialise within his scope.

"Alright, let's bring 'er to a halt," Smogmaw instructs to those behind him, before he approaches the two huddled along the wall. "Are either of you hurt?" he asks, before swiveling skull over spine. "Or rather, is anyone hurt? I've a scrape or three, but nothing that needs tending to."

A barefaced lie. The entrance he'd made into the small cave proved less than stellar, having caught his flank on a jagged edge and brought about a long gash. "Names, too. Tell me your names. I'm Smogmaw, and your survival in here hinges on whether or not you can stomach my directions." ​

 

[LIGHTSTRIKE .]

❝ WE HAVE YET TO CRASH ✧°.☀ —————————————————————————————
Light was swallowed up by darkness as Lightstrike squeezed into the crevice behind Smogmaw, aware that there were others behind him as he did his best to keep moving. At one point he let out a hiss of breath through teeth, his haste bringing him to accidentally scrape his face against stone, renewing the burning throb of his wound. Outside, the ground quaked and quivered with the rumble of falling rocks and debris, and it showed no signs of stopping.

The passageway was frighteningly narrow. At some points he had to force his broad shoulders through, grimacing at the scratchy surface no doubt nicking his skin, scar especially. He wasn't sure how many cats had fled into this tiny hole, and Smogmaw soon voiced the sentiment. After a beat of silence he answered, voice carrying an unwilling waver. "I don't know."

Part of him wanted to stop, to sit and wait for the world to stop collapsing so he could wriggle out of the wretched hole they found themselves in, but... Lightstrike wasn't sure he would be able to back his way out, not without turning around. As it was, he saw no chance of it happening. He saw nothing at all, actually. It was a struggle just to see the tip of Smogmaw's tail in front of him.

The ThunderClan warrior let out a puff of breath then, an attempt at collecting himself when the deputy spoke up again, mentioning more cats further in. With no real choice but to keep moving forward, he wordlessly complied, doing his best to keep up the pace. What if they hit a wall, he wondered? Would they be stuck?

All at once the path widens, and he can breathe again. Taking the opportunity to shuffle to the side, listening as those behind him overtook him, Lightstrike sat down. His paw lightly quivered as he gingerly pressed it to his eye, and he winced, fears blooming anew. Pulling it away, he could barely see it in front of his nose, but he knew there had to be blood on it. Is anyone hurt? Yeah. Him. His head was also throbbing something fierce.

"I think I lost my eye," he uttered uncertainly, voice carrying an undertone of fear. "It's- it's Lightstrike. ThunderClan."

[penned by its_oliverr - ☀]

——————————— ☀.°✧ BUT WE STILL MAY AS WELL ENJOY IT ❞ ​

​

 

[STORMYWING]

☁︎

One moment she can see Iciclefang's face, the next she can't. She can't see anything. She cranks her head back towards where they came, her breath hitching in her throat. "Are- are we sealed in?" Her voices rises in pitch, betraying her fear. Trapped. They're trapped. Heart pounding against her ribcage, she listens as pawsteps draw nearer, a commanding voice sounding itself before her. "I, uh, I think this RiverClanner's hurt bad," She offers hesitantly, trying to glance towards the she-cat she'd saved from her own demise but she is blind. There is nothing but blackness all around her. Her own back still stings from being pelted with debris when she shielded Iciclefang against the wall, but it's nothing worth mentioning.

She then hears a familiar voice speak up from behind Smogmaw and she pricks her ears, relief washing over her. "Lightstrike?" She calls, not necessarily needing confirmation as he introduces himself but she's just so glad at least one of her clanmates is accounted for. "Stormywing, here," The tabby then tells the ShadowClanner, parting her jaws to drink in his scent as best as she can. She needs to know where everyone is, and smell and sound are the only ways she can do that in here.

Our survival in here hinges on whether or not you can stomach my directions.

It's a good thing he can't see her chronically rolling eyes. Give me a break. "What, like you can see any better than we can?" She replies sarcastically. Little does she know that, as a ShadowClanner, he in fact can see, whereas the rest of them are stuck in mindless, never-ending darkness.

I WANNA TASTE LOVE AND PAIN ☁︎​

​

​

​

​

 

[DOEBLAZE]

✿—— starclan, help us. her whispered prayers fade into silence, continuing within her thoughts, as she pushes into the crevasse behind a golden-furred tom, eyes squeezed shut for fear of rocks. when she opens them she finds nothing different, darkness oppressive around her and making her heartbeat spike and blood rush in her ears. anxiety spreads through her veins and leaves her paws fumbling in the dark, half-tripping over herself but stumbling after the cat in front of her through the narrow passageway. for once being a smaller cat is useful and she has no need to force her frame through it, though the sense of walls closing around her on all sides remains doubtlessly unpleasant.

she catches smogmaw's voice but keeps silent; whether it was because the other cat had said all she would've or due to the anxiety closing around her ribs like teeth was also left unsaid. bobbie trails after the other cats in silence, exhaling slowly as the passage blessedly widens around them. the darkness, however, remains deep and she cannot see a single trace of....well, anything around her, trying to navigate solely by the sounds of voices and pawsteps. fanning out away from the sound of another cat's pawsteps, she curls close to herself, wondering who exactly she has been trapped with.

the tabby hears smogmaw asking questions, other cats replying; lightstrike of thunderclan, who may have lost an eye, a thought that makes the waves of fur lying against her neck rise with fright. the second cat to reply is stormywing, a name she unfortunately recognizes—the kittypet-hater. well, nearly everyone here is a kittypet-hater, but she is one of the more vocal ones, and bobbie is loath to announce her presence at all. finally she calls into the blackness, "um - bobbie, from skyclan. just a couple bruises and scrapes."

"you don't have to tell me twice," she murmurs. the warrior doesn't exactly trust the other clans, but she has much less ammunition for hatred than many of her journeymates seem to. besides, it's not as though she can see well enough to challenge his leadership—that, and he's a deputy, isn't he? so he must be at least somewhat competent. bobbie shuffles her paws and mews, "i can't see anything."

NO LOVE, HOWEVER BRIEF (✿) 𝑰𝑺 𝑾𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑫

• ooc: ——
  
• nothing here, have a nice day :-)
• 
  — bobbie
  — she/her ; warrior of skyclan ; 40 ☾s
  — "speech" ; thoughts ; attacks
  — chibi by its_oliverr
  — penned by dejavu
  

​

 

[iciclefang]

The collapse had left them in complete darkness, thick as a black cat’s pelt. Iciclefang huddles against Stormywing, though every inch of her resents the proximity. The two of them are buried alive, seemingly—the rest of the rocks fall, and they are left in unseeable blackness. She can’t see more than the blinding white of the paws before her face, and even that is difficult. She hisses to herself—surely this can’t be her ending, dead here with only a ThunderClanner for a companion?

But, there are voices. Her ears flick forward, straining. Smogmaw, she recognizes his voice, though she sees nothing of him at all. Iciclefang does not hunt by dark, not in dense marsh. Her eyes strain to the point she begins to experience a headache. Stormywing introduces her as an injured RiverClanner, and she snaps, “I’m Iciclefang. I can walk just fine.” As if to demonstrate, she falters, a few steps forward, but the hiss she draws in through her mouth is pained and cramped. Stars forbid she broke something with only a half-trained medicine cat apprentice.

Others step forward—she hears their paws scrape against the stone, but sees nothing but the faintest swish against shadow. Lightstrike, one stammers. Stormywing’s Clanmate. Another is the kittypet who’d found the trap—Bobbie. Iciclefang forces herself to relax; even that gesture causes her to wince.

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​

 

[FERNGILL]

Blood and dust mixed unpleasantly in the air. Fernpaw ached merely from fear- by some star-smiling miracle, nothing had injured him. Given the stench of injury that thickened the atmosphere, though... not everyone had been so lucky. Discomfort writhed in Fernpaw's chest like a thrashing eel. He'd followed the ShadowClan deputy's voice, and recognisable pelts in a blur of panic- but now there was nothing but void. All that kept him sure he wasn't dead was the buzz of adrenaline in his veins, the pounding of his heart, the nausea that lingered in his throat and pulled him forward.

Smogmaw introduced himself, though Fernpaw was pretty sure he already knew his name. Good with names didn't feel like much of a good trait at the moment, though. Lightstrike was next to introduce himself- a golden tom, if Fernpaw could remember rightly. There was no way to check...

Stood close together by the sounds of it, Iciclefang and Stormywing spoke up. He was relieved to hear his sister's voice, though he was too obscured to reveal it in his expression and too scalded to admit it out loud. This Riverclanner's hurt bad, Stormywing had said, and Fernpaw felt nerves prickle at his skin. Lightstrike was hurt, too. Bobbie- who he knew properly and was again relieved to hear- too announced her presence. Fernpaw swallowed, eyes fluttering closed. It made very little difference. "I'm Fernpaw," he said, tone muted from its usual luminance.

"If- if Iciclefang and Lightstrike are hurt..." He spoke of Iciclefang performatively, as if he didn't know her. As if she was merely a Clanmate, someone who meant only a little more to him than Lightstrike. Exhaustion, hurt and worry radiated from his tone in the way it shivered, but bravery spurred his speech further than he might have gotten without it. "We- we need to keep moving, right?" Opening his eyes, he moved his head to where he remembered Smogmaw to be standing. He was clueless as to whether he was right. ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[milkthorn.]

He was glad he was a windclanner. The speed across the thunderpath helped, at least temporarily. But water, no hell definitely avoid that aspect as much as possible. But, he couldn't show signs of fear. Even if others did notice, the shaky limbs forward since the river was attempted to be hidden. He had to prove himself, and get his warrior name. But it didn't hide the fact his heart fluttered in his chest.

This journey was in fact going to be long and difficult. But it was survival of the fittest.

And he hoped he was as fit as he had fed his mind to believe.

But, the scruffy apprentice had finally gotten his first bath, and he was displeased about it. His musky smell was pretty much gone, and his fur even felt different as he had licked it up to try to dry his cold fur quicker.

There were still spots that his fur stuck up in all directions, he was never good at cleaning himself, and it was very obvious.

The blue eyed apprentice struggled to see ahead of him as they entered the caves, the group separated by the collapse of a tunnel, the noise still slightly ringing in his ears. A shadowclanner named Smogmaw led them and demanded names, as well as asked about injuries.

He waited until others spoke from in front of him, his tail draped down on the ground, and his eyes still tried to blink out debris that fell over them. He had hit his pawpad roughly against the ground at one point trying to move past it, but he tried to avoid making his limp obvious, and a few cuts and stings were noted, but he grown accustomed to scratches and cuts across his flank so to tell severity wasn't easy.

He was the tough apprentice of Windclan, he could handle anything, or so he hoped. The tunnel had finally spread out a bit though, and he could finally breathe just a little better. He was also glad he wasn't a tunneler. The tunnels were claustrophobic. Tight. Uncomfortable from the darkness. Despite the urge to not get to know names, he did try to take note of them, but their looks and appearances would not be remembered as easily.

"Milkpaw of windclan," he murmured softly, hesitant as if the tunnel were to collapse again from a loud sound. "I'm fine." Maybe mentally, he wasn't, but physically, besides his paw, he was fine. The metallic smell of blood was strong, and he wondered who all got hurt more than they're admitting. "I'd figure we would keep moving either way. And You're not alone, Bobbie. I cannot see either."

​

 

[smogstar]

Haunches come to rest on the cavern's floor in a painstaking motion, constrained by the recent tear in tissue and sinew. Adrenaline's warmth now wanes away, exposing him to a constant hum of ache. His breathing is shallow, and it sifts through grit, off-yellow teeth at an uneasy cadence—but whatever gasps, grunts, and grumbles he emits, they're drowned out by the wave of names and introductions that he'd solicited from the others imprisoned in here. Some bear wounds of a far more grievous nature than his own, turning them into potential liabilities the longer they remain trapped here.

What gnaws at Smogmaw above all else is his rotten fortune of being stuck in this place without a single ShadowClan cat by his side. River rats, a SkyClan cat, a moor pest, and two forest-dwellers, none of them remotely familiar nor deserving of trust.

The question Stormywing poses sets his misgivings aside, however. Had the tom any recollection of this little cave getting sealed in, it refused to be conjured at this moment. As he puts his eyes in a squint, though, and combs through the narrow passageway they'd taken to get here, he fails to pick up even the faintest shaft of daylight. "I'm all for healthy skepticism, so show us the way if you'd like," he begins, releasing a scornful snort at her doubts. Climbing the clan of shadows' ranks demands a bare level of competence in the dark. "I'll give you credit for one thing, though: we're not getting out the way we came in."

Consensus settles amongst the others present. They've got to keep moving. Might as well, seeing how his initial strategy was simply waiting out the rockfall and crawling from the rubble. He's pretty plumb out of luck in that regard. "We're going to keep navigating through here 'til we find a way out," Smogmaw would affirm, turning to see down the path ahead. Contours and dark outlines coalesce into the semblance of a tunnel, founded on an uneven footway of dry, craggy stone. "It looks like it stays wide from here onwards," he states, "so count your blessings and prepare to follow. Magpiepaw'll tend to the wounded when we emerge."

Heralding along a flock of effectively-blind felines doesn't bother him in the slightest. If you asked him, leading a clan essentially revolves around this very principle. There's a silver lining to it, too. In their sightlessness, none of them could glimpse the display of cathartic emotion visibly imprinted on his features. Lightstrike, that impetuous flea-brain who'd sunk his claws in Sharppaw, now nursed a ghastly wound—and the fear trembling in his words was a feast for the senses.​

⁂​

Time's passage eludes the senses when deprived of daylight. It instead blurs into an indistinguishable fog. It may have been minutes, possibly hours since they'd set off. Certainly not a day, though.

Smogmaw's stomach growled at him for food between the occasional directions he gave to the cats following in tow. Sporadic snippets of conversation would also arise, though the ashen tom almost always abstained, instead opting for the comforts of his inner musings.

Thoughts of his kits kept him company. Swanpaw dosing off in inexplicable moments. Wee Garlicpaw. Valerianpaw trying to fit her stubby paws in the tracks he left behind. Applepaw's games of make-believe, invariably casting herself as the leader and her peers as the underlings. And envisioning his mate, her beautiful bi-coloured strands untouched by illness, was a flame to fend off the environment's frigid grasp. They were the warmth of his days, and every step towards getting lungwort was taken in their names.

A foreign sound startles him back to awareness. Rattling. Poison drips into the wellspring of his courage. Back in his youth, when cats roamed freely, and the colonies' policies for joining were nebulous at best, he became acquainted with stories of snakes bearing rattles on their tail. A single bite, if he's remembering correctly, was enough to send even the healthiest to an early demise.

"Move no further!" the deputy bellows, trying to plant his paws in place - but to no avail. Of course, his followers are as blind as bats, and one of them inadvertently collides with his rump.

Every pawstep stumbled forwards makes the rattling grow louder. As if by divine intervention, he finds purchase on the floor shortly thereafter. But, upon looking up from his paws, he glimpses a serpentine outline coiled up along the cave wall. Death stares at him through slit eyelids, just three or four fox-lengths away.

With breath held, he steels himself to give further direction to those in tow. "Hug the wall, now!" he spits, voice not rising beyond a harsh whisper. Slowly, he too moves rearwards until he's out of striking distance. He goes no further than that, though. "Keep moving, slowly, but don't move a whisker's length off the edge. There's a dangerous snake on the other side, and you won't be going home if it gets you." Another pawstep backwards. There's no taking the lead here; he must track from behind, guiding them onward with functional eyesight in hushed urgency.

To illustrate the danger this rattling-snake posed, a single bite would spell doom for them all. The most fortunate among them would simply succumb to the venom—the rest would have to contend with the ensuing stampede or get forever lost in the darkness.​

⁂​

// OOC & tl;dr:
- The group has encountered a venomous rattlesnake, which hugs the side of the cave.
- Someone bumps into Smogmaw after he stops abruptly. sending him stumbling forward.
- This agitates the rattlesnake further.
- Everyone has to blindly hug the cave and move forward, slowly.
- Smogmaw will guide them from the rear.
- If worse comes to worse, the snake attacks (or at least attempts to).
- This would turn their slow travels through the cave into a mad, chaotic scramble.​

 

[DOEBLAZE]

✿ | the riverclanner with stormywing snaps out a name, one bobbie can only assign to a vaguely familiar voice—the icy-toned tortoiseshell, whose name is appropriate in retrospect. the sound of falling rocks begins to fade; whether from the waning of the rockslide or their shrinking proximity to the outside world, she cannot tell. the last dregs of light are locked away by immovable stone and the group is left in a darkness so deep and endless bobbie can barely see her white-soaked paws, and then only when she lifts one so close to her muzzle she nearly hits herself in the nose. the darkness is, in short, crushingly absolute, and she can feel the familiar serpent of anxiety weaving its way between the notches of her ribs.

forcing her fur to lie flat, she catches a cramped hiss from the direction of stormywing and iciclefang, head swinging to where she can guess their location to be from sound alone. the tabby murmurs, "are you alright?" she realizes how redundant a question that it shortly after and inhales sharply, settling for remarking, "i hope we can find magpiepaw soon...."

"fernpaw?" her voice is a soft chant of excitement, if only to be hearing the voice of a friendlier cat—those already present are sorry company if you're looking for understanding. she doesn't know the riverclan apprentice too well, but he's proved to have avoided kittypet jabs and spats with journeymates like the rest of her shadowed companions, and so the relief in her voice is clearly evident. she can barely see her own paws and so she's not guaranteed any friendlier companions than the ones already present; the grassy scent of a windclanner makes the fur along her neck bristle involuntarily. all he does, however, is introduce himself and even agree with her. the tabby nods, then realizes belatedly nobody could tell, and replies, "i can barely see a whisker-length ahead of me, so, uh - lead the way, smogmaw."

said cat's hoarse voice breaks through the overlapping voices of the group, snorting in scorn at stormywing's doubtful words and then dealing out rasping directions. the tabby opts to remain silent and trail after her tunnelmates, her occasional trips over her own paws puncutated by soft yelps. each new stumble makes her ears heat with shame, but she pushes ahead, thinking of lupinepaw ailing in her nest and her clanmates in need at home, hoping they think of the journeying cats now. hoping they pray for them, in light of recent developments, and though she tries steadfastly to keep bruised eyes and golden fur from her thoughts, she fails. panic has, for now, drained out of her mind like the last dregs of a storm and left space for him to creep into.

focus on the journey. focus on getting out of here, she chastises herself. time oozes past without the arcing sun above by which to figure it, leaving them all padding along in a timeless fog that sets her fur prickling again. she focuses on keeping her paws in line, heeding smogmaw's occasional directions, though she pointedly abstains from any conversation. bobbie is a social creature, but she doubts the darkness will do anything to help stormywing's venomous tongue and she has no interest in inviting another kittypet jab. unknowingly like their temporary leader, her thoughts are mostly occupied by the cats left at home—lupinepaw feverish in her nest and hopefully on the mend, crowpaw recovered by now (he must be, surely?) and trailing after silversmoke, drowsypaw probably napping without a care in the world.

as they seem to travel only deeper into the caverns, though she has no way of knowing if that is true, her mental scope expands. does skyclan feel the absence of the cats they'd sent on the journey? she can only hope the healthy left behind are sufficient to keep their borders marked and their cats fed, and hoping does little. while she knows she is doing the best thing for the clan by going to get the cure (or at least she hopes), she feels distinctly powerless and hollow without the comfort of a tightly knit clan around her and the smell of pine. instead, she's whiling away stars only knows how many precious minutes in a dank, dust-scented cavern with near-complete strangers.

immersed in thought as she is and already prone to stumbles, she finds herself colliding with smogmaw's bellowing form, stiffening with her fur rising at the sound of an alien rattling noise that pulses louder as the two of them grapple for purchase on the ground. backing up a couple pawsteps, bobbie tries to get her bearings in the darkness, which remains as consistently absolute as ever - the only thing consistent under current circumstances. embarassment scorches her fur and the tabby murmurs, "sorry—"

hug the wall, now! something in the shadowclan deputy's voice drives a cold shard of fear into her heart and bobbie plasters herself to the wall so hard and fast she can feel grit digging painfully into her cheek, though she remains motionless until smogmaw's harsh whisper commands it. a dangerous snake, he speaks of, and his words carry that haunting implication - death. it's what is promised them if the snake strikes, and so her small paws are pressed to the ground with the lightest of touches, the gentle steps she typically would make use of for unusually thin or fragile branches. she can feel raised bumps of rock digging painfully into her side with each whispering step, but she keeps herself pressed against the stone wall.

after all, their very lives depend on it.

OOC ✿ I FELL ONTO LOVE LIKE A SWORD

• OOC:
  

• 

• 

  ( BOBBIE ) ✿ WARRIOR OF SKYCLAN.
  x she / her ; 40 moons.
  x mother to lupinepaw, crowpaw, & drowsypaw.
  x a small, pretty lilac tabby with a red collar & sage-green eyes ; sweet, sociable, and somewhat naive to certain aspects of clan life.
  x currently in an era of self-assessment and trying to figure out exactly who she wants to be.

​

 

[LIGHTSTRIKE .]

❝ WE HAVE YET TO CRASH ✧°.☀ —————————————————————————————
As the group sat in place, prattling off status and names, he found his attention wandering, words going in one ear and out the other. It wasn't on purpose. In fact, as soon as he'd realized he couldn't recall anything said in the past minute or so, the warrior snapped back to attention. Concentration was difficult, his throbbing wound battling for dominance with his throbbing head, but his ears angled forward to dutifully catch the rest of Smogmaw's words.

One by one they walked, deeper and deeper into the darkness, although to where he wasn't quite sure. At some point Lightstrike noticed he'd lagged to the back of the group, Stormywing and Iciclefang ambling along at his side. How much time had passed already? Ages, at least. He'd tripped over his own paws several times by now, typically the moment he stopped focusing, but his mouth remained firmly clamped shut unlike—what was her name? Bobbie? The one with the twoleg collar.

Stars, it was cold in this wretched darkness, wasn't it? The chill was seeping into his paws. It also felt as though there was a strange pressure in the air, weighing on his head and ringing in his ears. It didn't help his headache much. He knew that stupid rock was the reason he had one to begin with; it had knocked him pretty good, but it felt as though the longer he was in the dark tunnels, the worse it got. At least his wound had stopped bleeding. He was pretty sure, anyway.

Up ahead, Smogmaw abruptly bellowed, piercing his ears painfully and making Lightstrike flinch hard. Something rattled, like a hundred pebbles scattered across stone, and there was something distinctly ominous about it that he didn't like. Wrong.

With no choice but to listen to whatever was happening at the front, the shuffling of paws and the tense pulls of breath, it wasn't long before the ShadowClan deputy barked another command, this time thankfully much quieter. Hug the wall. Which one? He heard cats shuffle, and he shifted in their direction until he bumped it himself with a grimace. Snake, Smogmaw warned. Great.

With a sense of dread weighing in his belly, the ThunderClan warrior leaned against the far wall, doing his best not to let his face scrape against the rough stone as he slowly placed one paw in front of the other. Inch by inch, they moved forward. In the darkness hid a snake. Certain death.

[penned by its_oliverr - ☀]

——————————— ☀.°✧ BUT WE STILL MAY AS WELL ENJOY IT ❞ ​

​

 

[FERNGILL]

"Yeah," he answered Bobbie, a little breathless with what could either be fear or relief. It felt like a healthy helping of both. Though he couldn't see her in the midnight-cover of this wretched cave, it was good to hear her voice and know he wasn't entirely surrounded by cats who found him unimpressive. And, that he wouldn't have to oddly navigate a strain that seemed too tight to soothe away between him and Iciclefang.

In silence and sightlessness, Fernpaw had to keep his mind on other things. Once before he'd been blinded by blood and agony, but Fernpaw could not neatly say which was worse- for at least he'd been soon saved from that injury[/I]. None of them had any idea how long this would take, if it would ever be over at all. He cast his thoughts to more pleasant ideas... of home, the glimmering river embracing a camp of familiar faces. Maybe Sablepaw stood, guarding a pair of luck-infused stones. Doubtlessly, Ravensong worked to keep those in his den as healthy as he could manage. His father and Steepsnout... it soothed him to think of their breaths unhindered by wheezing.

As soon as an order flew from Smogmaw's mouth, punctuated by something elsewhere in the cave- close-by, its call like hacking phlegm. Fernpaw grimaced at the noise, his fire-striped fur feeling infected at the mere thought. Bristles ran a trail along his spine, and his whiskers twitched as he moved to heed the deputy's advice. Every breath that heaved from him seemed too loud in this sort of tenseness- with every shuffle forward, he felt as if he was doing something wrong.

A shaky breath wavered through his lips, but he let no other sound escape him. He hugged the wall as tight as possible, any grazing pain drowned out by adrenaline and focus. Because he wanted to go home. Wanted to make it, and knew he could. ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[iciclefang]

She hears her brother’s voice, and she can hear the distance in it. If Iciclefang is hurt, not if my sister is hurt. Stubbornly, he refuses even to go to her, to ask her if he can help her. This bruises her in a way she hadn’t expected, but she refuses to acquiesce. If her littermate wants to play this foolish game, she will give him a worthy opponent.

A WindClan cat speaks up—an apprentice, Milkpaw. He and Fernpaw agree that the group should continue to move, and their de facto leader verbalizes humorless agreement. The ShadowClan deputy is accustomed to darkness, to hunting and training by night when the rest of them are often curled in their nests asleep. The tortoiseshell has little faith in his ability to save them all, but she is at her most pessimistic when injured and isolated.

A cat shifts beside her—she just scents the leather of Bobbie’s collar. The queen tentatively asks if she’s alright, and Iciclefang bites back a sharp retort. Instead, she nods, realizing there’s no room in this group for animosities. “I’m okay, really,” she says instead, her tone a fraction softer than normal. “I won’t slow us down if I can help it, but I might need to lean on some cat for support. I cleaned the wound the best I could, but I can’t even see it,” she murmurs.

Soon, they are on the go, all following Smogmaw with hesitant blind faith. She allows herself to lose herself in the quiet, in the slight dragging sound her paws makes against the stone as she limps. The pain is dulling now, becoming background noise in her mind. Like her patrolmates, she begins to think of the cats she’d left behind. Is Mudpelt’s breathing still bad, is Steepsnout getting any better? Ravensong, poor cat, has likely worked himself to the bone. She thinks of weary Cicadastar, of Smokethroat resuming his duties at such a time, of Cicadapaw who trains without her.

The ensuing panic snaps her tranquility like a branch. “Move no further!” The ShadowClan cat barks his order, and the rest of them freeze accordingly. She hears a terrifying sound—scales slithering against stone, and a heart-stopping rattle. Smogmaw tells them it’s an adder making the noise, and the fur begins to prickle along her spine. After Bobbie, Lightstrike, and Fernpaw, she does her best to flatten herself to the nearest cave wall, but every step she takes is just a little noisier than her companion’s, due to her injury…

ooc ✧ 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦

•  
•  
• 

  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​

 

[milkthorn.]

Milkpaw walked in silence, carefully and hesitantly as he couldn't see that well either. He couldn't lie to himself anymore. He was scared. He was scared for different reasons. He was scared of death, and failing his clan. He didn't want to fail at all. He wanted to bring this cure back to his clan, with the rest of his group alive.

He wanted more than anything to be named a warrior and finally be proud of himself. But he still would have to reassure himself. He'd be okay. He'd make it through, he had to.

Iciclefang had asked for a bit of help, somebody to lean on. For a moment, he considered not helping the other, to remain quiet and alert. But this was a team effort. "You can lean on me," he offered to the femme, hiding the hesitance. If she would or wouldn't take it, he did not know. It was a genuine offer nonetheless.

With the agreeance, he would approach beside her, smelling the feint smell of riverclan on her pelt as he neared close enough. Another silent hesitance, feeling a bit of betrayal towards her. Knowing, that Sootstar planned something for Riverclan. He blinked away the thoughts, feeling her form press into his own. His steps were even steadier now to make sure he would not fail his current task.

Smogmaw had sent a hushed command following a rattle of what sounded like.. he couldn't decipher the sounds similarities. But it didn't sound good, especially if everyone else showed concern in the matter. When it was confirmed to be a snake, his heart dropping to his paws. He would quickly pause, before adjusting himself to be on the outside of Iciclefang. If the snake did lunge, it would hit him rather than her. She would be safe. Uneasiness spread through him, an ear swiveling to focus on it's sound and how far away it was. What kind of snake made that noise? He didn't feel like he's heard it before.

Maybe, a part of him felt like he had nothing to return to, and he was unsure what the femme had at home. So it was safer than sorry at this point. If she did have children... he would feel guilty. And the guilt would eat him alive. A breath escaped his maw, as if accepting a new counter to his own self.

If he could prevent others from dying, he would. And to himself, quietly, he swore it.

​