WE ALL MAY DIE ╱╱ DOGS!

[iciclefang]

◇────────────【☆】★【☆】────────────◇​

XXXXXChaos splits their group into fragments. The hounds are lean, long of limb from sprints across farmland, and the one slavering at her heels is on her before she can find a place to hide. She feels the heat of its breath, the proximity of its teeth causing her to stumble. “StarClan, please make it swift, she prays blindly, her paws giving out to stuttering half-steps. When she turns to look at the creature gaining ground on her, she’s met with a blinding flash of dark tortoiseshell fur, fiery like a sunset—“Iciclefang! Go the other way!”

XXXXXScorchpaw. The young apprentice streaks between Iciclefang and the dog, and miraculously, the beast’s beady dark eyes laser-focus on the WindClanner. It stumbles, too, and hares after Scorchpaw, who flies down the field as though carried on invisible wings. Iciclefang’s throat is hoarse as she cries, “Be careful!” There’s nothing she can do—she’s winded, and no matter how skilled of a warrior she is, she’s nowhere near as fast as Scorchpaw.

XXXXXMercifully, Stormywing is beside her, then, offering her flank. Iciclefang presses herself to her, trying to suppress the tremble running throughout her body from the tips of her ears to her tail. “Fernpaw, I have to find Fernpaw!” But she sees the golden-pelted SkyClanner helping him to his paws—and then she sees Orangeblossom, and Periwinklebreeze shooting in front of her—and she sees Slate, frozen, but for Milkpaw barreling into his massive side—and Duskpool, and there’s shrieks coming from somewhere but she can’t see who they’re coming from—

XXXXX“No, we’ve got to run—we’ve got to get away from them and pray the WindClanners are fast enough,” she says, and she’s running again. Scorchpaw’s sacrifice would not be in vain—and all the while, all the while she prays the WindClan apprentice will outrun the monster breathing down her neck.

─────────​

​

 

[DOEBLAZE]

oh, how she misses the pines. thick boughs of needles and barely-there scrub are fading into memory, initially replaced by trees so thick as to reduce the night to a moonless canvas of black. now that forest has been traded in for an endless plain of grasses and the occasional wildflower, a treeless openness that makes the nearly-healed wounds raked along her neck itch. the sensation of unfettered wind blustering tangles into her fur is new and unwelcome—how does windclan live like this?

it's strange. when the journey had begun, she had been hesitant to so much as brush a shoulder againstg another cat by accident. she had been wary of deep conversation, worried about how they would all get fed. friendly, but cautious, a caution worn away by mountain winds. bobbie identifies cats not by their clan or their pelt color now, but by names she's learned. name she's been calling as easily as her clanmates'—calling for a thunderclanner to join her for a hunting patrol or a shadowclanner to come in from the rain as easily as if they were one clan. she doesn't make conversation now, with jaws occupied by a lungwort bundle, but typically she would.

it's unsettling to think she might meet these cats in battle one day. she might have to—

dogs! her thoughts are broken into pieces by a deep shout. the very word sets her fur on end, and instantly the walking group dissolves, bursting into blood and running and screams. for her part, bobbie bothers not with any acts of heroism, bolting off on white-wrapped paws. she pins the lungwort between pearly canines, tasting bitter herb, eyes wide with fear. she hears braying behind her, feels hot breath on her hind paws, pushes ever harder. for a few strides she outpaces it, but she is not a windclanner.

later, she will be ashamed at her perceived selfishness. she spares nary a glance for those who battle for life around her, focusing on her burning muscles and trembling limbs, hearing the thunder of the wayward dog. bobbie is no windclanner and she takes no notice of the holes pocking the moor, gives no thought to their potential. as she draws near one of them, pale eyes don't even glance at it, though she feels the weighty steps of the dog behind her.

only the sun has come this close ✿ ( only the sun )

• being pursued by a dog, planned to get shoved into a rabbit den by @Mouseflight !!

• 

• 

  bobbie ; warrior of skyclan
  x. she/her ; 42 moons ; tags
  x. small, scarred lilac tabby and white she-cat with green eyes
  x. played by dejavu
  bobbie is a kittypet-born skyclan warrior who would die for her clan regardless of whose blood runs through her veins. perpetually self-assessing, she often finds herself short of who she wants to be. skyclan gossip, if it's to be believed, hints at something more than friendship between her and blazestar.

​

 

[GREENEYES]

The heavy undergrowth of the forest they’d found cover in as of late dwindles into something lesser, something without the shelter of trees he’d found familiarity in. Now, the path they tread on is vast, wide open in moor-ish hills. Though his tail was prone to getting caught in their former terrain’s threshold, he’d rather be in its midst than here.

But here, despite its lack of familiarity, still carries an ounce of hope in its grassy knolls. Greeneyes can only hope they are closer to home now than they were before, can only hope moors divulge more familiar landscapes when they too come to their end.

Optimistic, he tries to be. It’s merely part of Greeneyes’ nature, a positivity held upfront to shine through darker moments. The tom keeps up with the party with a hop in his step - one that falters at a shout up ahead.

”Dogs!”

When he was a kit, he faced such beasts - small and beady-eyed. An invasion on the nursery he’d fought against beside his siblings. When he was an apprentice, he ran to fetch aid in a time of crisis, paws slamming against cool ground at speeds he’d yet to grow into.

Neither of which could’ve prepared him for this - not as well as he’d later wish they had.

Sanguinity crumbles at Honeyjaw’s call, at the nearing forms that follow, a gaze blown wide with alarm as he quickly scans the area. Figfeather - where is she? He’d nearly lost her in the rubble, a separation he’d feared would be final. Again, he tries to seek his sister out. Again, his gaze fails to capture marmalade fur in the chaos.

“Fig?” he calls out, paws beginning to move forward. Her leg, her leg - she can’t move that fast, can’t run at the speed Greeneyes would be able to. Another name comes to mind, a face that should be able to outrun this - one that knows this terrain better than he ever could - but one that panic-shifting eyes can’t seem to find either. “Per.. Peri?”

Onward he surges, a sprint slowed with burgeoning worry. He can’t leave his sister behind, can’t leave his newest friend behind either. He can’t let them be lost to the journey too, another body to be mourned from unimaginable distances.

If it weren’t for him spotting wayward paws out of the corner of his eye, he would be the one to be mourned. But, had he run faster, Greeneyes wouldn’t have had to duck down, wouldn’t have to make the attempt of avoiding the hulking canine that seeks him out.

He dodges, but it’s too late of an attempt. Jutting teeth collide with his form, an impact that sends seething pain through the nape of his neck. For a split second, it is blinding - perhaps the most pain he’s ever experienced - warmth trickling down his neck, a blurred knowledge that crimson holds such a sensation, as it aims to stain snow-frosted, pumpkin rind fur. A shout erupts from him, a cry as he lurches forward.

He can’t stay here, he knows, though the whereabouts of his sister, his friend, still linger at the forefront of his thoughts. He needs to move, needs to keep moving. For once, he seeks to put himself first.

Run, run, run — The word cycles through his mind, though images of fallen party members paint the background to his panicked chant, as paws rush forward in an aim to free himself from further bloodspill.

✦ ABOUT

• 
  

  
  
  GREENKIT ‣ GREENPAW ‣ GREENEYES, Warrior of SkyClan
  — Daisyflight x Raven Ramble
  — AMAB; He/Him
  — A red tabby and white tom with bright green eyes.
  — Mentored by Sheepcurl; Currently mentoring Falconpaw
  — "Speech"; Attack
  
  ✦･ﾟ: * — Among SkyClan's first born, Greeneyes is a bright tom with an affinity for the world around him. Despite always seeking to be kind to others, the warrior believes he's cursed - a belief brought on by rhetoric that green is a deadly color.

​

 

[dovethroat.]

Openness is nice, but Dovethroat finds he only enjoys it when he knows it is still. Where there is uncertainty, the presence of things that are for sure is much more relieving. In an open plain, all one can guarantee is the earth and the sky. No trees, no brush, nothing of the sort. It's beginning to change his tune as to what he considers the most ideal environment. Even swimming, now, does not seem as fun. The cold of the rivers on the mountain and his inability to fish sting the back of his brain. At the sound of howling, his heart sinks even more. Dogs—another threat he has never met, a consequence of his prolonged apprenticeship.

This time, he does not freeze as much as he has before.

He curses the stumbling of his paws as he lurches forward, not even needing to hear any command to run—he cannot recall if he did or not.

The first thing he remembers hearing is Stormpaw's screeching, and it makes him freeze for a moment. He opens his mouth, trying to find some way to respond to this—his head whips around and he realizes after too many moments that he cannot locate her at all. There is too much frenzy, too much sound; locating her from noise alone would prove impossible. In his pivot, his scanning of the horizon, he is able to focus on the sound of something else—Periwinkle. It's the most gruesome act he has ever witnessed, and his stomach curls in disgust. It makes his pivot turn further inward, trying to reposition himself in some desperate gamble to help. "Peri—" he begins a scream, only for the jaws of an assailant to come crashing down on his behind and make a sizeable—but ultimately non-fatal—impression into the lower half of his torso.

He lets out a screech, a howl in a type that he has never quite produced before; and somehow, it seems to give the beast an instant of surprise enough for Dovethroat to wriggle out of the grasp of its teeth and begin pounding away at the dirt in a frenzied, adrenaline-driven escape. He's faster than he has ever been before.

[⋆]​

​

 

[smogstar]

Awash with muscle-soothing relief, Smogmaw issues an unspoken gesture of gratitude towards his ThunderClan liberators. The overgrown vegetation, the dense foliage, and the labyrinthine pathways etched into the thicket, which were as clear as mud at the best of times, all spurred a profoundly adverse effect on his mental faculties. At his height, he'd simply been dazed and confused. At his worst, the tom had utterly lost his wits. Leaving that forest in the dust was about the best thing they'd done on this journey, even taking their lungwort bounty into account.

Speaking of lungwort. Several bristly strands were clinched in his maw, violet florets mingling with lofty meadow grasses as he plodded onwards. Gums and lips grew numb to the tingling sensation, having held the stems for a pawful of days now. The fellow journeyers in his midst are accordingly spared from whatever cynical interjections may have crossed his mind. Stars know he was swollen with them. His eyes remain low and lethargic, more so directed on the sedge and rush plants bristling around his paws. A promise of a prompt homecoming keeps his flushed mind sated for the time being.

Dogs, Honeyjaw suddenly and sharply cries, and their fragile normalcy is left shattered. What Smogmaw had at first interpreted as a low breeze loudens into a toneless, but brazen snarling. A new current electrifies his veins at a moment's notice. Survival mode. Limbs thrust from the ground and set the deputy in motion, though towards where he could not deduce. His surroundings are reduced to a blur which he made little sense of. What little he fathoms is the group's dissolving, cats - whose names he cannot place during his frenzied flight - leaking out in all directions.

Self-preservation guides his feverish sprint. He hears names hollered and ill-thought plans piercing through the chaos, though he spares not a cursory glance towards whoever's speaking. Peripheral vision reveals many mongrel outlines hard on the heels of a set few.

Heart and lungs inveigh against his efforts, and not so long after Smogmaw finds himself at the behest of his waning stamina. Two lungwort strands slip from his slackened jaw and go tumbling into the underbrush. He lacks the energy to even curse the loss. "MMMMPHFFFF!" he cries out madly, mouth seized so as to keep the rest in his possession. Hanging a right, and then a left, his gaze searches desperately for a fixed point to centre himself upon. Dovethroat's fawn-coloured rump passes by like a hawk in flight, and Smogmaw elects to run after the smaller warrior. At least until he's turned into a chew toy.

//
no planned rescuer, but open to improvisation :3 not sure if there are any dogs actually chasing him or if they've already gone after windclan cats ​

 

[FERNGILL]

With the force of running, the effort to pick his speed back up to what it had been moments before, Fernpaw ached- an encompassing exhaustion that wrung his muscles wet moss, tendons curling apart like split hairs. Pale marmalade streaked to his side- and a raindrop of relief struck his core and rippled through him. A moment of tranquility in an inferno of everything else. If he could, he would have looked at her- but through the blur of focus, adrenaline oscillating the lines of reality, he could only see her in condensed periphery.

He was relieved, though- and when calico at a stone-striped side streaked nearby, he felt almost as if a gale had blown a bit of breath back into him. We can't stop running, Figfeather said- and they couldn't. Fernpaw felt like sparks could have flown off his feet; though he was no Windclanner, he refused to be a burden to them. Run, run- don't look back, trust in WindClan. Words he'd never have considered reasonable, good, merely a moon ago.

"We won't, we won't," he assured Figfeather, but silenced himself before he risked running out of breath. He needed every gulp of oxygen he could get.

/ @FIGFEATHER ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[batwing]

.i'll be your calm, —————————

————————— before the storm!.

▵ ———————— ◮ ———————— ▵

He remembered when he was very, very young. In one of the colony's, the way that a dog pack passed through. Cats had slipped into the tree, stayed extremely quiet. Scent was caught, and fur was raised, but they survived. This time, though? The dogs were on them in instants, and they had no choice. No protection, no cover. And they couldn't run across this moor like they were Windclanners.

Thoughts flashed and rumbled through his brain, and all he could do was turn forward- away from the quickly approaching pack- and start running. Further away, Flamewhisker was rooted to a spot. He flattened his ears, and ran straight into Flamewhisker. He'd apologize later for the lack of tact, apologize later for nearly knocking her over, but now was not the time. "Run, Stars be damned! Turn around and run!" He snapped at her, before taking off after the rest of the cats.

And so his paws drove into the ground. If he was born a horse, maybe he would have been fast, but in this age, he was named for that of a shadow. A webbed bird, one that dipped and dove in the ink of dusk, in twilight. His ears twitched and turned, looking over his shoulder. Flamewhisker had stopped. He inhaled sharply, turning on his paws and heading back towards her. "Flamewhisker! Keep going!" He shouted. Useless, useless. He'd never make it.

// this is getting continued in the finding stormpaw thread!

"speech"​

​

​

 

[hazecloud]

Countless sets of paws trail through what looked like endless pastures across equally everlasting skies. The scene that greeted her as she rose up the curve of a hill fascinated her as it did overwhelm her sights. The land before them was barren and dried but it stretched further than she could see, not even a hint of what laid ahead poked over the rise and fall of hills. Their horizon descended directly into meadows of blue and for a moment, Hazecloud believed they might actually drop right into the sky.

Is this what the moors felt in WindClan? Did they always feel their heart expand with every breath of air? Or like the sky was about to swallow them through their eyes? There was so much to look at- too much to look at!

Unfortunately her awed state was short-lived as what she thought was the gentle Howl of wind reformed into aggressive dirging and guttural barks. Her paws turn into frozen roots against the brittle grass underneath. Her eyes are widened to pitch saucers, teeth clenched around the bundle of stems in her maw. She felt like a caged bird in her own body, fluttering frantically to escape iron bars melded with petrifying fear.

Snapping jowls were all she could see. Jaws open, threatening to tear her through until she was just shreds of fur. Teeth to not make their mark on her body but rather she is entirely trampled beneath the hulking paws of a hound. Her body took a tumble and she nearly coughed up the precious herbs from her grasp. In the chaos of their attackers its the only thing she can keep her focus on- she can't lose them. Not a single dose can be spared. She braced herself for the hounds return, ready to die at the expense of her own stupidity when a stream of pelts dart past her and the hound, catching her assailants attention in leading it away. Shock has still claimed its hold over her body as the WindClanners lead the pack further away into the distance.

It's not until they are mere specks in her vision that she can feel herself begin to breathe again. Hazecloud stood on shaky paws and coughed, sputtering the stems from her mouth and heaving as panic settled in her stomach. Her sides hurt, breathing felt like she was trying to stretch stone around her lungs. The danger was gone (for now), the WindClanners had led them away but she couldn't shake the trembling sense of dread that wracked through her body.

"I-I'm alive... I'm alive I'm alive I'm..." A chant to convince herself, it seemed. Hazecloud pressed her paws to her body, feeling her pulse rapidly pace against every inch of skin. The fur that framed her face had become wet with hot tears as she began to bow, praying and stuttering praises to the stars for keeping her alive. ​

 

[Mosspool]

"Dogs!"

Hearing the cry go out, Mosspaw felt her fur stand on end. She had never seen the creatures before but the stories she had been told had taught her to fear them.

Glancing behind her at a familiar cry, Mosspaw saw the bloodied mess of Stormpaw getting dragged away screaming. She let out a strangled cry of her own. For a moment, she stumbled. The dogs on her heels got closer. Mustering all her will, she turned away from the horrific scene and kept running. That was the smart thing to do, she told herself numbly. The only thing to do.

Her mind was awash with panic as the monster closed in behind her. She was fast, she had always been fast; That was the reassurance she gave herself the barking and braying threatened her nerves. Already she had faultered once, she could not afford to do so again.

The memory of sprinting all the way from the Windclan border and back to camp to call her clanmates to battle came to her unbidden, as did the praise that Smokethroat and the others had heaped upon her once the battle was won. It was proof that she could do this. At least she hoped so. She pushed herself to go faster, felt her legs begin to burn beneath her, but still she heard the hounds behind her closing in. They were faster than any cat could hope to be, she thought, and felt terror in her throat.

They couldn't fail, not now. They were so close. Surely, the stars would not allow a fate that cruel.

Mosspaw found one last reserve of hope within her faith, and was rewarded.

The Windclanners, the last ally she would have ever expected before this journey, lead the dogs away. She did not stop running, even as the barking got further away; not until she felt she had made it a safe distance. Then she stop, and took ragged, panicked breaths. Her eyes drifted closed as she relished in each one. She sent up a small prayer to Starclan for her safety.​

 

[SCORCHSTAR]

The chase is on. The voices of others, the barking of dogs, continues on in the distance—they are running, scattering, escaping. Good. The calico faces down a dog much larger than herself, red-patched pelt bristled up in a panic. She has nowhere to run now, too slow to escape, too far away from the last burrow she’d spotted to hide in. What else is there? The dog lunges, and she mirrors its movement, albeit a bit slower, scrambling backward on stiff legs. Teeth snap shut a hair’s width from her face, the telltale stench of rot filling her nostrils. Death. There is only one option if she continues. She cannot face this beast down, not like this.

By some miracle, she catches sight of her saving grace a few fox-lengths away—a dark shadow in the land that marks the familiar entrance of a rabbit’s burrow. The tunneler turns, chest heaving, terror driving her dirt-stained paws faster than they’ve ever flown before. But still, she isn’t fast enough. She’s going to die here. She can only pray that her kits, her clanmates, have managed to escape the wrath of the hounds. Teeth snap shut around her tail, the banner that it forms as it trails behind her rushing form, and the calico is forced to snap her mouth shut to avoid screaming. There’s a yank at her captured tail, the harsh scent of blood spilling onto dirt, and Scorchstreak only barely manages to rip her tail free of the dog’s jaws before it’s advancing upon her again, a beastly snarl rattling even the fierce tunneler’s heart. She will die here.

// @milkpaw ​

[ BE A FIRE, BURN THIS DOWN ]​

​

 

[milkthorn.]

he had hopefully broke the trance of the stranger, still in his own as the world tilted and spun from the anxiety of it all. everything moved too fast, screams echoed through the air. he was running, stuck in a daze and trance of fear and anxiety.

he was behind Scorchstreak a bit of the ways, his ears ringing with the best of his heart on faster speeds than his sore muscles wanted to let him go. it was supposed to feel good, the cold wind flowing through his scruffy pelt. the grass of free lands beneath his pelt. no longer did he feel claustrophobic. but his lungs were tight.

it was a split second, of letting his pace slow when he seen the dog. and a mix of pure terror and disbelief washed over him.

you're not a hero, milkpaw.

But he wouldn't, he could never just stand there and watch his clanmates die. he looked up to Scorchstreak. she was a respectable Windclan warrior. he looked up to all of them, one day wanting to just be accepted.

the dogs teeth snapped on her jaws, his feet pounding faster against the dirt. faster than ever before. the fear didn't vanish- but he would rather sacrifice himself, and throw his ambitions. Scorchstreak had a family to go home to.

with all the force he could muster he would shove hind legs back and throw himself foreward. claws and teeth bit and dug into the dogs face, teeth met ears, claws met muzzle. "RUN, GO," he howled to the other. "DO NOT LOOK BACK."

it was not a question, it was a command. the growl of a voice ripped from his throat as he could on for dear life to the dog that swung his head back and forth. he just had to buy the tunneler time. no matter what it took.

finally his body would lose its grip, propelling him off to the side into the dirt. fur stood on end, quickly taking no time to get back on paws and for a moment, that fear kicked in. eyes black as night, no emotion behind it. Blood mixed with saliva and foam escaping its mouth as teeth came straight for him.

his signature move, or so he wanted to call it as just before the dog snapped at him, he leaped up. his body landed on the dogs head, jaw colliding with dirt, and milkpaw aiming to bite at his scruff.

it's skin was thick here, his teeth seeming like nothing compared to even make the beast whimper. this time, it threw him off with ease, and as he got up this time, his eyes froze as the dog was on him faster then before. Pain ripped through his side as teeth met flesh and wrapping over his side. A caterwaul of pain and emotion ripped through him as it's head swing back and forth. a toy at the beasts disposal.

he was waiting for a snap in his spine, for his life to leave the blue optics, for the blood to stop burning his nostrils. and all he could think, was at least it wasn't Scorchstreak.

-

but suddenly, there was a release. not a snap, not even a pop had escaped. a breath he had not known to be holding escaped his lungs all at once as he tumbled and rolled across the grass. he had never experienced pain like this. windclan trained their warriors to expect the pain.

it was Scorchstreak in his spar against snakepaw for his very first one, in fact, that told them to unsheath their claws. it was snakepaw, who gave him his very first scar.

and for a moment, he thought, he'd be happy to die like this, an entire moor in front of him, curled in the grass. the pain seering his side would go away if he just closed his eyes. and for forever, he could hunt here.

for a moment, he let memories take over, and let all of his feelings subside-

and then his own voice broke the silence of his ears, and everything came back. he could feel the dog pounding closer to him, vibrating the earth under his whiskers.

he didn't want to die yet. he couldn't die yet. today, was not the end.

all the pain he ever would feel, his lungs wheezing for air, blood dripping out of his mouth, down a white chin, and under his paws as he began to race the death clock, the ticking suddenly roaring from a near stop.

i will be a warrior before I give up and die.


he'd push forward, and at first as the world spun worse before, a headache forming that pulsed from where he collided against the dirt. a nausea in his stomach made him want to have. but he had hope, he had drive.

he wanted to go home.


//tldr : he distracted the dog from Scorchstreak, but gained major injuries from himself. facing a near death experience, he had settled on the thought of dying, before he snapped out of it.

he is currently concussed, and bleeding heavily on his sides. no broken bones.



​

 

[Mouseflight]

They were almost home, he could feel it. Even with the delay of having to go around due to the rockslide that had plagued them weeks ago, they would be home soon and they would be welcomed as heroes to the clans. Even if Mouseflight's mindset on certain cats had changed through the weeks they had been traveling together, he was glad to be going home now, glad to be able to soon get away from those that he did not properly belong with.

Walking with the others along the long stretch of moor, finally Mouseflight felt at home in an area on the journey. WindClan's territory was better - there were more tunnels and he hadn't seen a place for the cats to properly make camp here if needed - but it was still nice. It reminded him of home and made the need to get back all the more stronger. For a moment he thought his homesickness caused him to hear the sound of dogs, but then cats were scrambling and screaming, the scent of blood filled the air all in a moment, and Mouseflight found himself soon running, ears pinning to his head as he quickly looked around. That's when he noticed Bobbie, trying her best to run from a dog that was quickly gaining on her, and without realizing it the tunneler found himself changing course and sprinting towards Bobbie as fast as he possibly could.

Running past the dog he ignored the hot breath on his heels as he flew into Bobbie, quickly shoving her into the closest rabbit burrow and shoving her deeper until they were far enough down for the dog to not be able to reach them. Quickly he tried his best to let her know to stay quiet as he turned around, ears pricked and flicking around as he listened above them now. The dog that had been chasing them had tried to get in the burrow, hot rancid breath reaching the calico's nostrils, but soon got bored and went off to chase another cat. When all was clear he let out a sigh of relief and finally spoke. "Stay here, it'll be safe." Small promise in the dark as he quietly moved up towards the entrance once more. "If you see any other smaller cats get them in here too... even if you have to drag them in by their legs." The more safe and out of the way the better, that way the WindClanners could do their work.

With those final words the tunneler dart out from the dark burrow and he ran towards the nearest dog trying to get it's attention before darting away from the rest of the group. Hopefully the dogs would get bored of chasing them soon enough so they could double back and get the rest of their travel party.

⋆｡°✩ threw my voice into the dark

• shoved @bobbie in a rabbit burrow then dart out to help distract and lead dogs away
• 
  ⋆ mousekit - mousepaw - mouseflight
  ⋆ ftm - he/him - 12 moons
  ⋆ bisexual - open to relationship
  ⋆ tunneler of windclan
  ⋆ attack - speech - thought
  ⋆ penned by tikki

​

​

 

[SEDGEPOUNCE]

Fwoosh. Like the drawing of a curtain, the deep canopy of the forest was ripped away into the open, wide nothingness of the fields. He's more sure-footed here; more comfortable. He's traveling with good company, and the cool gray sun warms their weary backs. He's gotten used to the rapidly changing scenery of the journey, but here almost feels like...

Home. Luckypaw says it before Sedgepounce even thinks it. The thought clicks like a puzzle piece as he gazes out at the grasses and thinks of the moors. Something warm spreads through his tired bones; a feathery balm to his weathered, battered soul. They're almost home. And then, he thinks. Things will be better.

Before then, though. Chaos.

It's been weeks of struggle. Weeks of stumbling through obstacle after conflict after near death experience. And now, hell crashes in out of nowhere—stray mutts sniffing just close enough to catch, descending on their already hobbling little group like moths to a flame. Instantly, everything falls apart. Cats are running, screaming. There's the sound of barking and wailing and hopelessness. But this is not the first time Sedgepounce has faced death in the moors, and this time, same as the last, he jumps.

"LET'S GO!" he hollers. WindClan cats spread out in all directions, herding cats and dogs alike. Sedge's feet hit the deck and he's off. Flying across the field, kicking up dirt and grassblades. Others are tumbling their ways to burrows but he's on fire. This is what he was made for.

He zeros in on @smogmaw and the slobbering mutt hot on his tail. Shimmering leaflets escape his grass, fluttering to the ground to be trampled by the chase. Sedge lurches forward, intercepts the dog—almost too close. "C'mon, stupid!" he shouts. It feels ugly and exhilarating. He's grinning like an idiot—a wide-eyed, teeth-baring thing that's been scraped out of him, cracking through his face like a weeping bloody wound. Adrenaline keeps him light on his feet. He ducks out of the way of the thing's snapping teeth, jutting edgewise and careening to the left.

It works! The dog abandons Smogmaw, keeping after Sedgepounce with all his insults and laughter. He leaves a trail of name-calling behind him, though "ugly" and "dumbface" are probably not his most creative, they do the trick.

He flies forward, and with every glance over his shoulder the distance between himself and the dog grows larger. A laugh bursts out from him. They can do this! They're gonna make it!

Then he catches glimpses around him, and the elation is short lived. Scorchpaw, Peri, Milkpaw. "No!" Sedgepounce wails. But there's nothing he can do.

// helped smogmaw with his dog and is currently leading a dog away from the crowd! ​