camp what you are inside [injury]

[FALCONHEART]

𓍊𓋼 Falconheart doesn’t remember the season that he’d been born in, having been too young to know how he and his siblings had struggled in the cold. This may not be his first winter he’s experienced, but it’s the first he can remember living through. And it is… not fun at all. He’d thought it wondrous at first, with sparkly snow floating from the clouds and coating the branches of trees throughout the territory. But as the cold had settled more solidly into the land, the weather had quickly grown to be a hindrance. As a warrior, he is allowed to eat after everyone else has been fed, but on days with few hunting successes, he has no choice but to go hungry. Between the grumbling of his stomach and the aching of his paws, Falconheart can say with certainty that winter is awful.

The wind ruffles his fur and bites at his skin with icy fangs. He’s just returned to camp with his last catch of the evening, having spent all day pushing himself to do more for his clan. The squirrel he’s brought back is thin, but it will surely feed someone who needs it. He deposits it into the prey pile, keeping his eyes down so he doesn’t think too hard about how small it is. Then he turns to trudge back to the warriors’ den—hopefully tonight the snow will let up, and they won’t get trapped in there again.

His paws ache at the memory of digging at packed-in snow, but he supposes that’s a problem for tomorrow morning, not right now. Two-toned eyes shift to the sunset, the sky streaked in pink and gold. It’s beautiful; maybe winter isn’t all bad, with no leaves to block out the view of the sky.

A shard of pain cuts through his paw, and he gasps, lifting it on reflex. hee glances down and there, smeared across the snow, is a streak of red. Oh no. Thoughts of a terrible paw injury, of time spent lying useless in a nest in Berryheart’s den, of his paw falling off—all pass through his mind, but are swiftly replaced by one more tangible thought: Mom can’t see this. Flamewhisker would freak out if she saw this, wouldn’t she?

He spots another clanmate walking by, and winces as he sets his paw back down to hobble toward them, paw held cautiously in the air. "Uhh, uh—hey, can you help me?" If he can just get to the medicine den, and can convince Stormfeather to keep quiet about this, then he’ll be ask fixed up before Flamewhisker even knows about this.​

​

 

[Shinebug]

Shinepaw and Falconheart had the same position on leaf-bare, it seemed. The apprentice had been born in the middle of the season, and with all the privileges granted to kits, he’d absolutely adored it. Shuffling about in the frost, catching flakes on his tongue, the fog of his breath in the air, it was all tinted with nostalgia thanks to his childhood.

Now on his second leaf-bare (and his first with actual responsibilities), Shinepaw could see the season for what it was. The snow was like an anchor, attempting to drag everyone in thunderclan to early graves. After failing his assessment, though, it was hard to feel like he wasn’t already dead.

Shinepaw was trying to move some of the snow when Falconheart’s request made its way to him, and sky-blue eyes turned to see what was wrong, only to widen at the sight of crimson contrasting the frosty white. “Oh, uh, um-“ Falconheart was Flycatcher’s son, his mentor’s son. It was hard not to treat him differently, the boy supposed. From how the shaft of sunlight saw it, he was obligated to help the other’s family however he could (though he would’ve probably assisted regardless)

“Let’s - I mean - I’ll get you to the medicine den.” The ball off nerves proclaimed nervously, pressing against the other’s side to support him.​

 

[GENTLESTORM]

I SEE A SONG OF PAST ROMANCE — The snowy giant steps out from the medicine den with both of his ears pricked forward, his hearing catches onto the voices of both Falconheart and Shinepaw before his eyes settle on the pair. His nonexistent brow furrows slightly wondering what could be wrong noticing that the warrior was struggling only to catch the sight of crimson on the powder white floor of snow that covered the camp clearing. It takes a few strides to make his way to the injured warrior and the apprentice, his eyes sweep over to the tom speaking in a gentle tone "Lean against me, I'll help you to the den."

He nods to Shinepaw hopefully the apprentice would help with Falconheart's other side especially if the tabby tom didn't want to put weight onto the injury, "How bad does it hurt?" A soft hum leaves Hailstorm as he tries to access the injury but it would likely be easier once they got to the den and he would have access to herbs to help.

I SEE THE SACRIFICE OF MAN ✦ I SEE PORTRAYALS OF BETRAYALS

• 

  MEDICINE CAT IN TRAINING;
  — ✦✦✦✦✦ FLESH WOUNDS
  — ✦✦✦✧✧ INFECTIONS
  — ✦✦✧✧✧ ACHES & PAINS
  — ✦✦✧✧✧ ILLNESS
  — ✦✧✧✧✧ BREATHING ISSUES
  — ✦✧✧✧✧ TRAVELING HERBS
  — ✧✧✧✧✧ BROKEN BONES
  — ✧✧✧✧✧ KITTING
  — ✧✧✧✧✧ POISONS
• 
  ✦ longhaired blue sepia tom w/low white and brown eyes
  ✦ 51 moons old; ages the 27th every month
  ✦ bisexual demiromantic; mates with little wolf
  ✦ currently being mentored by berryheart
  ✦ easy to befriend/interact with ; hard to anger/upset
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✦ semi-difficult in combat; relies on strength, his large size, and wits
  ✦ peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[BERRYHEART]

Berryheart's mind only navigated that which was most logical- he thought not of embarrassment, of uselessness. When warriors strayed from their patient nests, he looked upon them with merely a lopsided spark of bewilderment. You'll make it worse was all he could think of the wanderers. Snow-spots' nervousness, therefore, sailed over his head like a bird of prey- when he poked his head out of the entrance of his den, still reluctant to leave because of the incessant creak in his throat, he merely figured Snow-spots was gingerly approaching due to pain.

Snowy had leapt ahead, dutiful healer he was; beneath palimpsested concern lay pride, both for his apprentice and for himself in an odd way. A good choice... a good apprentice. When the time came, he would make a good apprentice.

Fingers of sunlight lit the mossy-green of Berryheart's eyes within the entrance of his den, a gaze for Snow-spots to hopefully catch, and know the healer was prepared despite his recent fever-induced reclusiveness. ​

PENNED BY PIN ☾​