WHAT IS A LEGACY? [ wolf baiting ]

[batwing]

His heart was thudding in his chest, paws moving through the deep undergrowth. His mate, his children would not shadow him today- just fellow warriors and older apprentices who were as swift on their paws as he. Ones who were sure to feel the fear in their hearts just as he- but he did his best to keep his eyes forward, forcing his fur to lay flat. Forcing himself to take the helm on this mission. This was not like the journey. This was life or death in an all-out dash, paws sure to cross borders deep into the heart of another's territory to save their clan.

He would do anything to save his clan.

Batwing's tail twitched as they drew close to the Snakerocks, his eyes pinning forward. He turned his head, voice soft- a final set of remarks. "You run. You don't look at back- you look back, you risk your life and the clan's. We go straight across the border for the gorge." Green eyes swept back and forth. There was no softness in his tone like there had been when he comforted the apprentices after the invasion just a day before. His tone was rigid, sharp. Batwing understood hopefully as well as the next that his words weren't just for them, but for himself as well.

He inhaled sharply. There would be no comfort from his mate, no reassurance in the eyes of his best friend today. "We stick close as a pack. Ready?" He glanced towards the rear-guard scouts, ones who would hopefully be slipping away to fade into the background, hide their scents. Keep them safe. With the sets of nods and soft confirmations they were ready to risk their lives, Batwing looked back forward, inhaling deeply. His paws set in the dirt, and he broke into a run.

Breaking free from the undergrowth through Snakerocks, the pack of wolves had been resting or idling there in the sun snapped their attention towards the prey. Batwing's paws would not, could not falter. Up, over the rock, past them. Quickly. His thoughts willed him on.

Snarls and howls summoned the shadows of monsters from the forest. Just as quickly as the pack of cats had passed through did the pack of wolves turn and follow, paws ten times their size drumming into the ground. Their weight kept them just slow enough that Batwing was confident that they'd be able to do this. Come on!

// this is the big thread where the fastest cats (warriors and apprentices nine moons or older) in Thunderclan will be leading/baiting the wolves out of TC territory into WC territory!
// the pack of six wolves will follow the bait, drawn to the strong smell of cats! please note that these cannot be killed, maimed, or injured aside from some scratches - they are incredibly dangerous. if they successfully attack a grown cat or apprentice, it will lead to death or severe injury (major wounds, broken bones, disclosed joints, maiming, etc.)
// these wolves cannot be deterred from the running cats! they will not be stopping or changing direction.
// there will be a 'rear guard' following further behind the wolves for the purpose of watching and warning camp if the plan fails. they will be downwind, however, if a rear guard cat gets too close they become vulnerable to attack! ​

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"speech"​

 

[Rainsweptblossom]

Mottled dark ginger and white fur fluffed up against the slight chill in the air, Rainsweptblossom gave Batwing a nod, her white tail tip twitching anxiously. Blue eyes flashing, Rainsweptblossom glanced at her Clanmates. ''Straight across the border and towards the gorge,'' The ThunderClan warrior whispered, her voice barely a breath. ''Got it.''
Rainsweptblossom's muscles rippled beneath her pelt as she braced herself to run. She had to keep herself calm. Not just for her own survival, but for the survival of her Clanmates. For the survival of ThunderClan. With a twitch of an ear, Rainsweptblossom remembered the first rule in the warrior code. Protect your Clan with your life, even if it means sacrificing yourself in the process. She hoped her Clanmates were thinking the same as she was. The ThunderClan she-cat took off after her Clanmate.​

 

[COPPERFANG.]

✧˖*°࿐ A deep quiet swept over the forest, as if all of the trees and every small mouse and vole were holding their breath along with the cats of ThunderClan. Whether it was so quiet in reality or not was hard to tell with the blood rushing in his ears, and each of his own breaths and those of the cats surrounding him on either side sounded like thunder, and the same feeling of tension that came with a real storm settled in with ease. With quiet, soft steps, he follows Batwing and the other warriors to the edge of the Snakerocks, listening carefully to his words.

Although he knew this was what they had to do, and that there was no other choice, he could not help but feel afraid, and he was certain that it was impossible for any of them not to be. Despite his courage, despite his desire to do anything that he could to help his clan, his stomach twisted in knots. After all, they had seen what these wolves could do. And now they had seen it at home. The image of the corpse of the deer, the ivory of bone and the scent of iron and copper, the buzzing of flies - it all comes back to him in a flash that he quickly forces out of his mind, pulling his focus back into the moment.

A nod to Batwing, and then in moments, they're off. The beating of the giant paws of the wolves keeps time as they run, and beyond that and the sound of his own breathing, he can hear very little. Run. Ear flicking back briefly, he catches the sound of the wolves carrying on behind them, and it encourages his paws to move faster. Faster, faster, faster. His mind is hardly focused on running; he's already set into a pattern, the rhythm that the thunder of wolf paws beyond has set for them, his legs carrying him on their own, as fast as they can go. The adrenaline keeps him careening onward with hardly an ache, set in drawing the wolves away, off to the gorge. And then the clan would be safe.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎IT'LL HELP YOU : ̗̀➛ SOME SUNNY DAY ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• speech, thoughts, actions

• 

• COPPERFANG ✩ he/him, warrior of thunderclan, 40 moons
  ⭃ a SH chocolate ticked tabby tom. generally compassionate and friendly, though this can be to a fault.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ⭃ penned by @harmonia ↛ pm for discord.
  

​

 

[leafhusk]

the air around the massive patrol was thick with tension, worry, fear. this was the finale, soon the curtains will close on a deceased wolfpack, or, worse, a trampled cat colony. an audience of squirrels and birds chirped faintly from the treetops, watching as the silent patrol marched onward in silence. all leafhusk could hear from above is laughter, the squirrels and birds sneering down at the cats who have to do this.

leafhusk stuck close to the rear guards, occasionally looking over to check their faces. what they were doing felt like grunt work, lay close to the ground and hide your scent to just watch. if the patrol fails, you’ll be the first to know because the wolves will be gnashing and tearing and breaking— the molly blinks rapidly to bring herself back. no, being a rear guard is just as important, the clan has to know if the plan fails, she thinks as batwing leads them towards snakerocks.

the laughter stops and all she can hear is her heartbeat. the lead warrior says something, most likely asking if their ready, and her head bows. an inaudible ‘good luck’ murmurs past her lips, before slipping away with the rest of the rear guards.

like roaring applause, the wolves chase after their bait. leafhusks eyes widen, tawny fur standing on end, marveled at how quickly it worked. in perfect sync, she follows from the back, keeping her body far away from the hungry predators.​

 

[Tybalt [Stagstrike]]

Tybalt padded near the front of the patrol. His ears angled towards Batwing as the other warrior spoke, but his gaze was fixed on the horizon. He was fast, but he had so rarely run from anything. He had, for all his life, turned and fought any threat he'd faced. But even he knew he wouldn't be able to take down a wolf. The entire clan hadn't been able to fight them off. So if baiting them to the gorge was what got rid of them, that was what he'd do.

Glancing briefly over his shoulder, he caught sight of @leafhusk husk lingering near the rear guards. It had been her idea to lead the wolves over the gorge. A smart idea, better than his own thought of attempting to scare the deer from the territory. He tried to catch her eye for a moment, and then looking over all the assembled rear guards said, "Be careful," as he watched them slip away.

And then he bolted, past the resting wolves and towards the gorge. His paws pounded against the earth, and his claws unsheathed as he heard the canids charging after them. He resisted the urge to turn and fight, instead forcing all of his energy into long forward strides. He could see the shape of the hulking beasts out of the corner of his eye, and a low snarl came rumbling from his maw as he ran.

 

[Marigoldpaw]

Tensions are high as ThunderClan is determined to make a risky play, and Marigoldpaw is not exempt. He eagerly volunteered to be used as bait; it’s not out of a longing desire to die, but because he knows he can do it. If there’s one thing he can rely on, it’s his speed. While he’s been out training himself to be a better fighter, he’s made sure to put a focus on his stamina and swiftness in particular. If there’s any apprentice that is up to the task, it’s him.

(Marigoldpaw doesn’t further his lingering thoughts about how no one would miss him anyways.)

He’s as still as a boulder as Batwing gives the limited party of ones who are swift enough to avoid the gigantic mutts their orders. It’s not time to reveal themselves, not yet. Marigoldpaw only gives the smallest of nods as he’s told to stick close to them. What words could he even say that could help right now? Nothing, that’s what. So when the first paw is launched, he does what his body always craves for him to do, and he runs.

He controls his breathing as best he can as he dashes, not daring to look back, just as he was told. Normally he would either want to make sure he’s limiting himself enough, or that the other party wasn’t lagging too far behind, but that would be a death sentence here. So Marigoldpaw allows himself to indulge his element fully, focusing entirely on his destination. These wolves won’t know what’s coming for them.​

 

[BURNSTORM]

He remembers the time when dogs invaded their territory, how they had chased him and his clanmates up trees, how they had taken Wildheart's tail. This was so much different. For one, the dogs had been dumb brutes. They were unorganized cpmpared to the wolves, blundering fools that he has no doubt really would have run right off the gorge if it had really come to it. The wolves though? He has no idea if this plan would well and truly work. The way they hunt, the manuevers he had witnessed one day while watching them take down a deer from a perch in the treetops. They were intelligent in a way the twoleg's pets were not, bred to hunt and kill and their prey? It just so happened to include cats if it was convenient enough and now that they had figured out where they lived, that they could easily break in, what was stopping them from doing it again?

That's why they had to take care of them. They simply couldn't stand around and watch as the whole clan got picked off one by one, they had to do something. Burnstorm just regrets he cannot be one of the ones running, but he knows his strengths and he knows one of them is certainly not speed. "Whatever you do make sure we stay downwind of them" he says to the rest of the scouting patrol, careful to keep his voice a whisper that only they could hear. They could not risk the wolves hearing them, could not risk them turning their way instead of following the runners. He can only imagine the catastrophe that would be. His golden eyes find Howlingstar in the patrol and though he wishes she had stayed in camp, he is glad at least that she is here and not among the runners. She had lives to spare but that did not mean she had to sacrifice herself every time danger reared its head. The Clan still needed her. He still needed her.

( ☼ ) come and take it

• 
  
• 
  BURNSTORM THUNDERCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; HE / HIM ; BROTHER TO MORNINGPAW, MOONWHISPER, HOWLFIRE, FIREFLYPAW, SKYCLAW & DUSKBIRD ; MATE TO ROEFLAME
  

  A large, sharp tongued, tom with long black fur and golden, oval shaped, eyes.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + fights honorably
  

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[Rainsweptblossom]

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Rainsweptblossom carried on running, paws thrumming on the ground. The sunlight dappled her dark ginger pelt, making it glow as if she were flames that hadn't been put out during the last rain the forest had. Barks and howls let the mottled warrior know that the wolves were still hard on her tail. Rainsweptblossom swerved around trees, following Batwing as she leaped hurdles, such as fallen branches and tree trunks. Do NOT look back. Do NOT look back. The ThunderClanner repeated Batwing's words in her mind as she ran. The she-cat gave Marigoldpaw a nod as he caught up to her.​

 

[FALCONHEART]

𓍊𓋼 The snapping and snarling of wolves hasn’t left his ears since that terrible night. All he can remember is the sound, and the rest has faded to a blur of terror. Even now, as he takes his place beside Burnstorm to bring up the rear of their wolf-baiting patrol, Falconheart can’t help the shake of his breath. This is a bad idea, screams his mind. A terrible, terrible idea. All he can think of is the way his mother’s face had contorted with a mixture of pain and relief as she’d cried, tears wetting the fur of his shoulder. He had let her down then, by running off like a coward and not returning until he was certain the threat had passed. He cannot let her down again by hiding away while his clanmates risk their lives. But still, despite volunteering to bring up the rear, he feels a failure. He could be one of those up ahead, alongside Batwing. He’s fast enough to serve his clan in that way. He could be brave, and help rid his clan of this threat once and for all.

But Falconheart is not brave. Not brave enough, at least, for what this plan would demand of him. He can’t… he just can’t imagine putting himself in so much danger. Even at the back of the group, he’s still risking it all. What if something goes wrong, and the wolves turn around? They’ll all get killed for sure. He looks to Burnstorm as the older tom tells them to stay downwind of the wolves, and gives a hesitant nod. This, he can do. It’s just like hunting—if his prey happened to be a group of beasts even larger than the dogs that had injured his sister irreparably.​

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[DUSKBIRD]

↟↟ᨒ   His heart is pounding despite all the bravery he thought he had. What was the point? To prove himself? To be more than Blazestar's son? Or is he simply trying to make himself worthy of that title? Ever since he learned of it he had been trying to forget, and now. . . now the cat he had never called his father is gone for good. What is left is ThunderClan. A family that he is not sure he could trust or follow, because if Howlingstar had hidden this from them, what else might be tucked away?

It's isn't to prove himself. He cares little for his own reputation now. He stands between Burnstorm and Howlingstar, his gaze seeking family. In them, there was safety and security, but he's here to be that for them. To try, anyway. They are not runners, but the threat of death doesn't leave his mind. If the fastest are not fast enough, if they get too close, if the wind changes even slightly — his paws dig into the dirt, unease dark and cold. Seeking familiarity, Duskbird shifts to stand near Falconheart. In him, he sees the same thing. He whispers, "It'll be okay," but who is he trying to convince by saying so?

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓  ╱╱ —𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 〚 01.06.2023 〛 ————————

• OOC. —
• 
  BLAZESTAR x LITTLE WOLF, " ORPHAN " LITTERMATE TO SKYCLAW; HALF SIBLING TO BURNSTORM, MOONWHISPER, HOWLFIRE, FIREFLYPAW, MORNINGPAW. MENTORED BY NIGHTBIRD. NEWFOUND THUNDERCLAN WARRIOR.
  ——— recently discovered his father's identity and is withdrawing into himself. seems distant and troubled, going about his duties absently as if sleepwalking his routine. seems mechanical around his family in particular, or anyone that he suspects knew the truth of his parentage. his ambitions have died quietly.
  
  TOYHOUSE ╱╱ AN ATHLETIC, LANKY CHOCOLATE TORBIE WITH DEEP AMBER EYES.
•  

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[batwing]

Everything in his body burned, from his muscles, to his paws, to his bones- his mind and his soul. He could almost feel the ghost of his brother alongside him, murmuring that it would be okay, that he knew the right path. Runners drew up behind him, relying on his pathing to make sure this all went right. His head turned, ears twitching as he listened to the wolves baying behind them. Though they had quieted, their drumming paws had not, off-gait from his own.

A shudder went down his back. These cats are risking it all. He knew that. His eyes shifted back forward, sliding underneath a toppled tree before they were encroaching their borders. His teeth grit, paws still beating into soft, wet ground- still thawing from the winter behind to open for the buds ahead. His breathing shook- it rattled, it rolled, heartrate still rushing in his ears. His mouth split open, wind hopefully carrying his words backwards. "Watch the water! After that, it's the hill!"

He could see the bubbling water approaching- his paws went over water stones, digging in for purchase. The wolves could easily surge through the water, but the cats had to be particular about where there paws were, else they'd slip into cold current. Batwing made it- his paws were precise enough to know ever-changing tree branches and how to leap to and fro. He didn't look back. He couldn't look back. Further. His voice whispered, dashing right past the Owl Tree. ​

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"speech"​

 

[Rabbitnose]

Rabbitnose volunteered for the job without hesitation, even as grief ripped him apart inside. This was the best he could do in terms of vengeance, and he was going to make sure those beasts went right over the gorge and fell to their deaths. He wants to watch as they drown, as their heads smash against sharp rocks. To watch as mother nature does what he cannot. He follows Batwing quietly as they approach the wolves. His speed made him a great choice for this job. If he was going to do anything right, it would be this. And when they approached the pack, anticipation gnawed at him.

Baring his teeth and preparing to sprint, he bursts into action after Batwing. He realized he wasn't afraid, as he bolts like lightning through the trees with snapping jaws behind him. Once, he'd have been terrified. A dog nearly killed him, biting his once luxurious tail off. Dogs killed Emberstar, leaving her in a pool of her own blood. Now? Wolves have taken from him his beloved. Canines are vile beasts. Savage creatures, and these ones will meet an equally savage end.

"WHAT'S WRONG, TOO SLOW?" He yowls angrily at the beasts behind him. "THOSE BIG UGLY PAWS TOO HEAVY?"

They don't understand him, just as he can't understand them, but he needs to shout his anger. It needs to come out. Besides, the wolves need to keep their focus on the runners, and making noise should help with that.

"COME ON, JUST A LITTLE FURTHER. IT'LL BE OVER QUICK." Came his growl. He's never raced through the forest with such precision before. Weaving past trees and over shrubs that normally he'd probably crash into at this speed. But he was suddenly completely aware of the placement of every tree and bush in the forest, and this knowledge helped him speed forward, gliding through the territory with ease.​

 

[COPPERFANG.]

✧˖*°࿐ Batwing's words drift into his ears on the wind, and he hardly needs to think about them for them to register. He can't hear his own thoughts in this state, anyway, not with the blood pulsing in his ears and the wolves tailing the group of cats, the pounding of paws big and small occupying most of the space in his mind. Even if he'd wanted to speak, to respond to anything the other warriors were saying, it'd be impossible. All of his focus is on running, following every turn and move that the lead warrior ahead of them makes. The wet dirt sticks to his paws uncomfortably, but there's no time to account for it.

Briefly, he feels lucky for his grace. Rocketing across the bank, he leaps across the river stones and between branches with an ease and quickness that only this kind of adrenaline could supply. It's hard not to look back, to check to make sure that everyone was following, that no one had gotten caught up among the wolves, but he couldn't. The only way was forward, and there was no going back.

Across the river, the rhythm resumes, and forward they continue on.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎IT'LL HELP YOU : ̗̀➛ SOME SUNNY DAY ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• speech, thoughts, actions

• 

• COPPERFANG ✩ he/him, warrior of thunderclan, 40 moons
  ⭃ a SH chocolate ticked tabby tom. generally compassionate and friendly, though this can be to a fault.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ⭃ penned by @harmonia ↛ pm for discord.
  

​

 

[HOWLINGSTAR]

// TW: a rather gruesome death. Cats in the rear-guard, please don't interfere as there is something plotted <3

Her heart pounds as she creeps behind the main group of cats, her shoulders brushing between Leafhusk and Duskbird. Green eyes are locked onto Batwing as he leads his patrol closer and closer to Snakerocks, and each step they all take brings her more waves of nausea as nerves take hold. This is perhaps the most dangerous mission ThunderClan has ever served, even more frightening and deadly than the dogs at Sunningrocks. These creatures...they're smarter, they're larger, they're stronger. She had seen what they did to Sunfreckle in a matter of heartbeats. How they'd left nothing behind for them to bury for Acornwish and her own son. Vengeance is coming, Jackdawflight, She promises in a swift prayer upwards, eyes narrowing. I promise.

The runners begin their sprint suddenly, leaping over Snakerocks in powerful bounds, and fortunately the wolves follow. It's working! Eyes glinting, she pushes onward at a slower pace, leading the rear guard with careful, measured steps. But the runners pick up speed, and so do the beasts. Her paws thrum faster to try and keep up, her and her companions still bathed in shadows. As long as they stay farther back, they should be fine. That is the plan. And this plan can work.

They continue towards the stream, the Owl Tree looming in the distance. She pants as she casts glances to those with her. They've still got a ways to go, but so far, so good. But now, her group is beginning to separate, each taking their own courses through the trees. It's what they've been ordered to do - spread out, don't stay in a pack. It would make them harder targets should any wolves notice them and decide to turn their fangs on them. Her eyes trail after one of the last wolves in the pack as the group of them crosses the stream, and this one slips, then stumbles with a yelp. Green eyes widen as she and the others grow too close; others are more agile than the old woman, though. Her aged paws don't slide to a clean stop; they stumble unsteadily, and she falls forward unceremoniously until she lands in a slump.

A golden eye catches her, and all at once her breath catches in her throat. It's coming at her now, running full-speed so it does not lose its pack, but there is blood-lust in its eyes. Howlingstar can't get away fast enough, so she resorts to pressing her belly to the ground, ears flat to her head, and sending a spitting hiss up in the beast's face. She swipes at it, trying to scurry backwards, but she isn't fast enough. Teeth sink into her shoulders, like she's nothing more than a plaything, and the world around her grows blurry as she is shaken.

SNAP!
SNAP!
SNAP!

Ribs pierce her lungs. Her neck falls limply to the side at an angle it should never naturally droop. She is already dead when she hits the ground in a sickening heap of blood and fur, throat at an odd angle and body bent. With a gasp, she awakens in StarClan, finding herself alone in a glimmering clearing.​

 

[DUSKBIRD]

[ tw: death and some descriptions of maiming </3 ]

↟↟ᨒ   A sickening crunch, and Duskbird howls– "No!" He had made his own turn on deft paws, leaping towards the safety of a vantage point, but his gaze scans the area around him. His clanmates. Most of them have split past where he can see them, and that's good, it's safe, but the relief does not last more than a moment. Howlingstar is caught with her paw lashing towards a hulking beast. He can see her eyes but not the wolf's — wide, defiant — and it is the final image blazed into his mind before those great jaws swoop downwards. The crunch of her bones does not register. She can still be saved. Whatever pain he holds in his gut could never be worth the wisdom of ThunderClan's leader. Even if Howlingstar has lives to spare, who could say that this wolf would not greedily gobble them all?

His paws skid in the dirt, flight-footed as a WindClanner in sheer panic. Before him is a wall of muscle, and Duskbird, for all of his fury, bounces right off of it.

Claws dig into thick, dense fur. Maybe they find skin. He can't tell. The sight of Howlingstar paints his world a sickening red, its maw still filled with her blood.

Had this been what it was like, when she decided to hold Little Wolf's secret? This reckless sense of loss, and love? Knowing that nothing good or kind would come of this, but maybe it was for the best, and that's all that any of them could ever try for. The wolf is uninjured and unfazed, but its gaze turns from Howlingstar's corpse to his own with intelligence unlike anything he has seen before. Its teeth snap; his claws lash out. Silver against silver and into red as Duskbird claws into its muzzle and and its fangs, in turn, sink into the upper part of his limb.

There's a crunch, and pain sings. Once, twice again it chomps down, and he can see the bloodied mess that had once been the place of a limb, but numb, his mind distant and soft, sees none of it. As his body falls still, it bores of them, he thinks. Though blood still weeps from its curled lip, it is the baying of its pack that turns it away. A tossed away toy, they are left on the forest floor. And that, in the end, is all that he could ask for.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓  ╱╱ —𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 〚 01.06.2023 〛 ————————

• OOC. —
• 
  BLAZESTAR x LITTLE WOLF, " ORPHAN " LITTERMATE TO SKYCLAW; HALF SIBLING TO BURNSTORM, MOONWHISPER, HOWLFIRE, FIREFLYPAW, MORNINGPAW. MENTORED BY NIGHTBIRD. NEWFOUND THUNDERCLAN WARRIOR.
  ——— recently discovered his father's identity and is withdrawing into himself. seems distant and troubled, going about his duties absently as if sleepwalking his routine. seems mechanical around his family in particular, or anyone that he suspects knew the truth of his parentage. his ambitions have died quietly.
  
  TOYHOUSE ╱╱ AN ATHLETIC, LANKY CHOCOLATE TORBIE WITH DEEP AMBER EYES.
•  

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[batwing]

He could hear the snapping behind him.

Mournful noises arose in a chaos as they sped through Windclan's border. The pack of cats he lead to the gorge's edge likely to stumble, or to feel the shock and pain of losing not one cat, but their leader's lives as well. Batwing couldn't look back. He couldn't. He couldn't leave the clan to the wolves, he couldn't let them drown in the ashes of death. He would do anything to save his clan.

Green eyes swept backwards, sighting all six of the wolves hot on their trail. Copperfang. Rabbitnose. Stagstrike. Rainsweptblossom. Marigoldpaw. The quickest cats they had that would voluneer themselves, lay their lives on the line- he saw them running just behind him, digging paws into wet ground, now with long moor-grass surrounding them. His breath hesitated as his mind raced as fast as his paws did, vision shifting back forward as they sighted the gorge- tall, far above rapid water, the noise growing closer and closer to them, louder and louder.

What happens when we get there? The wolves were smarter- he knew this, as well as other cats. They wouldn't fling themselves to their deaths, even as cats slowed as they reached the edge of the gorge. Batwing teetered at the edge, the wolves fanning out, lips pulled back in a snarl- one of them with their jaws painted red with the lifeforce of their leader, of their fellow warrior. Batwing inhaled sharply. Jackdawflight. Acornwish. Sunfreckle. Words came from his mouth as if from a recording. He wasn't listening to himself, was he? Was Batwing thinking these things through?

"Get out of the way. All of you." Batwing ordered. "Do not let them get you."

The lead warrior snapped forward from the group of cats standing at the edge of the gorge, roaring at the wolves. A taunt. Gentlestorm's words itched at his ears, and tears were welling at his eyes as Batwing's lungs hungered for air through the roar. It felt as if time slowed down as Batwing solidified his decision.

Sad eyes stared at him. "You must promise me that you will not endanger yourself. The fox from the journey was one thing... But these are wolves... You must stay safe. For Leopardtongue and for your kits. Both here and unborn."
Batwing had turned to look at him. He couldn't have ever made that promise. He told Gentlestorm that. The pain was palpable from both of them that night, a few nights before the wolf attack on the camp.

Stars, what would Leopardtongue think? His kits? His son, who was so like him? The kits he hadn't yet fathered, still growing within his mate's stomach? His mate? The roar ended with an echo, bouncing off of the walls of the gorge, a stunned silence collected before the wolves began to advance. His head turned- all of the cats behind him should have cleared out, turned to watch from the edge of the situation. Relief would sweep him then. Batwing turned to stare at the jaws of death as he slowly stepped back, once, twice.

"My love. Take your time." He whispered, staring past the hackles raised upon the wolves intent upon their prey. That was silly, wasn't it? Leopardtongue couldn't hear him. She'd be... inconsolable, wouldn't she? He couldn't think about that. He wouldn't. Batwing inhaled sharply, then turned, leaping into the misted air above the gorge, plunging towards the water just as the wolves raced forward to attack him. His body twisted midair, vision briefly recognizing that all six pelts of death had followed after him. Slowly, a grin found his face, despite the sobs that racked his body in midair.

He'd see his family again. That's what he wanted, right? He never got to find their killer. He could see the spirit of his mother following him to the water, and his eyes closed just as his body hit the water. I was never meant to be ready, but I have to be. A sickening crunch arose, followed by the noises of six wolves dying just as he had.​

​

"speech"​

 

[Tybalt [Stagstrike]]

The wind howled in his ears, and Tybalt gritted his teeth at the sickening sounds of death coming from behind him. The wolves had gotten some of the rear guard, and his claws itched with the urge to whirl around and fight as continued barreling forward.

Marigoldpaw. The apprentice was still behind him. Wasn’t he? Tybalt had seen him briefly just before they had taken off, and a lump rose in his throat as he realized he hadn’t had the chance to say anything to him. The only cat in all of ThunderClan he had been able to allow himself to love, the boy he had grown to consider a son, could die today and Tybalt hadn’t even had the chance to tell him to be careful.

Ears pinning flat against his head as his clanmates died behind him, he twisted his head around, eyes searching desperately for the boy’s pale cream coat as his paws pummeled onward.

He darted out of the way as they reached the edge of the gorge, his paws scrambling to a clumsy halt as pebbles went clattering down the ravine. He reached his neck out as @Marigoldpaw came up behind him, aiming to sink his teeth into the smaller cat’s scruff and yank him out of the way of the approaching canids. If successful, he would stumble slightly under the apprentice’s weight before regaining his balance well out of the way of the wolves snapping jaws.

His golden eyes grew wide as he watched Batwing dive over the edge of the gorge, the pack of beasts tumbling down after him. “Batwing!” he screeched, craning his neck to look down into the water and search for a shape that would never resurface. Batwing was gone.

 

[leafhusk]

crunch, crunch, snap. fur stands on end, fear rising in her stomach yet she keeps moving. when the job is done, they will count heads and trail back to who they lost. if there was anything left.

the forest thins out into open plains, beautiful flowers dancing across the moors, pollen swirling in a ballad of spring. oversized, bloody beasts trample the flowers, bringers of harm and death advancing further, unaware of their coming doom. leafhusk starts to think they can actually do this, yes, they can- the gorge sets into view and her heartbeat begins to mix into the running applause.

leafhusk suddenly stops, underbelly pressing against the hard ground of windclan. it was hard to tell what was going on, the molly stood a safe distance away, and the six beasts were much taller than her. between thick legs she could see a familiar silhouette, one that began to roar- and the realization finally came as the bodies tumbled off the edge for the big finale.

no! it’s all she could think when her body shoots up, aching legs carrying her over to the group now that it was safe. "he didn’t just-" she says hoarsely, lungs beginning to burn. her job hadn’t been stamina inducing, but she misunderstood how difficult it would be to run so purposefully slow. so many more bodies, and another that they couldn't properly bury, leafhusk feels awful for the loved ones of those affected. newleaf is supposed to be of new beginnings, but the flowers around them drip with blood.

was this her fault? she wants to wonder, since the final plan was originally hers, but they all knew the risks. unlike the warriors who left their post, she (and howlingstar, flamewhisker) communicated what had to be done. so no, she comes to the conclusion- it’s not. everyone did their job. a selfish part of her is grateful she won’t live with unnecessary blood on her paws.

"wait- the-" the gruesome snapping back near the owl tree drum in her ears again, syncing with her breathing. silently, she counts, her stomach dropping when she finishes. "we lost duskbird and howlingstar. we have to go back."​

 

[COPPERFANG.]

✧˖*°࿐

When they arrive at the gorge, and most of them dive away, the running begins to catch up to him. His lungs realize the lack of air that the adrenaline hadn't let him feel, and he begins to breathe heavily, his muscles screaming and begging for a rest. Finally, he gets to take a look back, and just as he turns his head, he hears Batwing, and sees him go for the edge. He can barely feel his legs, but his eyes widen in horror and he moves automatically as if there were any way that he could catch the lead warrior. Even with the way time seems to slow, the way that seconds turn to hours, there's nothing that can be done. Standing at the edge of the gorge, he watches helplessly as the cat-shaped blob falls down, down, down into the water. Between the cracking from behind, and the splashing, what is there to do? He has no breath with which to yell with, but instinct says to anyway, and he tries to yell, tries to cry out for what he knows is already lost, but he barely manages to get out a name, letting out a choked sound before launching into a fit of coughing and trying to catch his breath. Quickly, frantically, he looks around at the cats still around him, taking a quick headcount of the rest of the runners.

Then, he moves back, away from the edge, even with his legs burning as if flames were lapping at his fur, looking back towards the rear guard, unsure where to go next. Unsure what to do next. What was there to do, with all of the loss they'd suffered? The snow had begun to melt, and the flowers were beginning to come to life, just in time for the loss of so many who would never smell their sweet scent again. What kind of exchange was that?

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎IT'LL HELP YOU : ̗̀➛ SOME SUNNY DAY ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• speech, thoughts, actions

• 

• COPPERFANG ✩ he/him, warrior of thunderclan, 40 moons
  ⭃ a SH chocolate ticked tabby tom. generally compassionate and friendly, though this can be to a fault.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ⭃ penned by @harmonia ↛ pm for discord.
  

​

 

[Rabbitnose]

He runs. He races, tunnel visioned on his destination. He has to stay focused, one misstep and he's dead. This has to work, and so he gives it his all, pushing himself to his limits to keep ahead of the wolf pack. This is for his family. His clan. For Sunfreckle. If he's going to do anything useful, it will be this. He will see this through and return home to his family victorious. He must. His family cannot go through another loss. No matter how badly he wants to see his beloved again, he can't leave his friends and family here.

The gruesome sound of crunching bones reaches his ears and his blood runs cold despite the exertions he's making. Who was it? Who would he look back to find dead? Tears are stinging his eyes as he chokes back a whimper.

Keep running.

Just keep running, don't look back.

He has to tell himself this or else he'll falter. No matter how haunting the sounds behind him, he knows that should he be the last cat standing, it will be up to him to finish it. The thought horrifies and sickens him. That can't happen.... It can't! Should the wolves catch them all, the devastation to the clan will be irreparable. His thoughts are back on the mission as his paws hit moorland ground, and he hopes Windclan is far away. He hopes they are safe in their camp, away from this near suicide mission. He can't hear another death by these beasts.

It's not long before they reach the gorge, and Rabbitnose is staring down six wolves as he stands as close to the edge as he can. Bloodlust and hatred shine in his eyes as he stares into the eyes of the wolf who had first attacked Sunfreckle, the one with the driest splatter of blood on it.

Come on. Come closer. Try and get me.

But Batwing orders the group away, and he looks at him with confusion. What is he doing? Rabbitnose obeys, there's no room for disobedience right now. He rushes off into tall moorland grass as Batwing roars and grabs the attention of the pack. "What is he doing....?" He mutters as a pit forms in his stomach.

Eyes widen as the wolves surge forward and Batwing leaps into the gorge, taking all six wolves with him. "NO.....BATWING YOU IDIOT!!!" He screeches, running to the gorge after the last wolf fell. "What about your kits, what about Leopardtongue...." The words fall from his mouth, broken and soaked in fresh sorrow. Tears fall as he stares at the bottom of the gorge. "They need you...."

Leafhusks words feel like another hit to his soul. Duskbird and Howlingstar. Those were the deaths he heard. "Stars damn it all....." he whimpered. His body hurt from the sprinting, his heart still pounding.

But its over now, isn't it?

Everything will be okay. He should rejoice, he helped avenge Sunfreckle. Howlingstar. Duskbird. Acornwish. How many.... Had they lost to these beasts?

And now they have to tell the clan of their newest losses. He's going to see Leopardtongue break the same way he had. The way he still is. Duskbird's siblings, too. Its not fair. And Howlingstar..... Would she come back? Did they do to her what they had done to Sunfreckle? Sickness takes him and he's forced to change his thoughts. He walks from the gorge and begins the walk back, dreading the moment he finds Howlingstar and Duskbird's bodies. Perhaps he'll find a secluded spot on the way to scream his pain away.

And yet the sun still rises on a beautiful newleaf morning, with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves on the trees and flowing through moorland grass as if nothing had happened at all.

A morning he could have spent in red fur, a day he could have spent picking flowers to decorate it with. Ears he could be whispering the words I love you into.

It's not fair.​