twolegplace what you bring inside | skyclan patrol

[Cherryblossom]

Cherryblossom's breaths come in gasps and wheezes by the time they reach the edge of the scentline. The odd geometrics of the Twolegplace tower hauntingly in the distance, illuminated in their drab skins by the sweltering midday sun. She bends double, letting wind-tangled locks of fur droop around her steaming breaths as she recovers. She'd run on nothing but the feeling of her paws slapping the floor and the dream of claws slicing through bloodied tendons—now they were here, and there was nothing to go farther on.

A hiss leaves her as tears of frustration pool in citrine eyes. "Rat dirt!" she seethes, taking a kick at the ground. The calico swings her head towards the others in turn, an almost beseeching look swimming in her tight gaze. "This can't be it," she mutters, lemon gaze searing their surroundings. "They have to have left something behind." They need to be punished. Someone does. The fault was someone's, she's as sure of it as trees are sure of earth. And if they couldn't find the ones who were responsible, then the only ones to shoulder the blame were the living.

Dropping to a crouch, she hardly cringes at the way her fine white whiskers brush the dirt. "Come onnnn." The whine quickly turns pitiful. Tears, hot and light, slide down her nose straight into the dirt, whose coolness remains the only thing of solace found in the search.

ooc: @SLATE @DUSKPOOL @Sorrelsong @Florabreeze feel free to have one of them discover the fact that it was definitely rogues! they can't find out anything more though, e.g. where they went or who it was

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[SLATE]

The hulking feline also finds himself huffing and puffing for air as the sudden exit from camp and the instant burst into a sprint came unexpected, only mere moments after Cherryblossom had called on him for a search patrol. Slate had not properly ventured this far into SkyClan's territory since before his stay in the medicine den; it was a bit of a distance, meaning that he tended to lag behind the more lightweight and agile warriors. However, he caught up shortly, thick and scarred chest rising and falling in order to replenish oxygen.

The Maine Coon's jaws draw agape to intake as much air as he could, though only a fading smell of ichor and death linger in the vicinity. Strange, it seems. He lifts his tail warily, pricking mangled ears and turning his head to scan the surrounding trees and bushes. No foxes, no dogs. A sense of relief washes over him, his heartbeat beginning to slow its velocity knowing that a threat wasn't lurking nearby. "I can't pick up a scent." Slate meows, noting Cherryblossom's frantic descent though trying to remain composed and calm so as not to add to any panic. "This couldn't've been the work of foxes... or dogs. You can smell 'em a forest away." Those creatures stunk, and if they had been in the area then it would have been highly obvious. They had teeth and brawn but they had brains the size of rat droppings — they never cared to hide their stench.

Stepping forward a few paces, scouting in a different direction than Cherryblossom, it doesn't take long for his amber stare to land upon a small tuft of fur. "Wait, there's fur here." The lead warrior swishes his tail, bending down to take a whiff of it. Nothing. His irises narrow. Whoever this was, they deliberately hid their scent. They knew what they were doing. "Look around, there might be more." Slate tells the other patrol members as he further scans the ground immediately in front of him.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝙅𝙐𝙎𝙏 𝙉𝙀𝙀𝘿 𝘼 𝘽𝙄𝙏 𝙊𝙁 𝙇𝙐𝘾𝙆, 𝙂𝙀𝙏 '𝙀𝙈 𝙐𝙋

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  ₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾

  slate
  

  — he/him; lead warrior of skyclan
  — a hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — link to full tags; @ on discord or dm @beaaats for plots!​

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[Florabreeze]

Exhaustion had started to rear its head towards Florabreeze. She hadn't let her paws rest since she dawn, they were pushed past the point of aching. Her breaths came stuttering and in rapid bursts as she fought to keep pace. She wasn't one of the fastest in the group by any means, stubbornness had willed her to not fall behind though. The maine coon was filled with determination to help where she could, Cherryblossom had called upon her for this patrol and she didn't want to let her down.

This side of the territory was something Florabreeze was extremely familiar with, she hoped that being a daylight warrior may help here. Despite how frazzled her mind was right now, the pull in the direction towards the Twolegplace border had become instinctual. The familiar sight of the area that sheltered her growing up should be welcoming, she wasn't sure if it was ever going to feel welcomed by the sight again after this morning.

Perhaps the smell of death was clouding her senses because she still couldn't smell anything beyond it. When she couldn't smell another scent the first time she blamed it on the chaos surrounding the circumstances. Yet, here for the third time today she yields no better results. Whatever frustration she feels with herself in this moment pales in comparison to Cherryblossom's seething. Recognising this she exhales, trying to shake it off, she would be no help frazzled after all. “It's good that we can rule out foxes and dogs, right?” Florabreeze found herself asking, glancing at Slate. There was no good in this situation, no positives, short of finding out exactly what had done this. Ruling something out was a start for that goal.

The knowledge that fur had been found turned her to look back to the ground. Wondering further beyond where Slate had found the original tuft of fur in an attempt to find more. One of her hind paws brush against something soft. It felt different to ground that had been compacted by the different paws that trekked over it every dawn and dusk. Whirling around to look at the source of the unfamiliar texture, her eyes widened in surprise. Sure enough, there was another tuft of fur, with no scent to be found. “I found some too, it's not normal to have no scent, is it?” she hadn't experienced anything like this, her knowledge was too limited. Her gaze found itself looking back at her clan-mates, maybe one of them had an answer for this strange issue.

‎‎ ‎From far away 𖧧 Stays for a day ‎

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  SkyClan Daylight Warrior⏐ She / Her ⏐ Info
  
  
  ❥ A large black tabby maine coon with low white and bright green eyes, always wearing her mushroom print collar if she can.
  ❥ 32 moons old { Ages realistically on the 12th per month }
  ❥ Mentored by Sorrelsong
  ❥ “Speech”, thoughts, attacking
  ❥ Penned by Juice ⏐ouijeejuice on discord {open to being dmed for plots}

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[DUSKPOOL]

don't raise your voice . improve your argument .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

His chest rumbled, heaving from the race, Duskpool surveyed the ground with a characteristic scowl, deadpan hues scanning the familiar upwalker establishments dusted with ichor — a grimm reminder of what transpired and the bodies currently laid out in SkyClan’s clearing. His maw parted, tongue peeking out to brush against his teeth in agreement, smelling nothing that reeked of dogs or foxes. “Good ain’t the best way to describe it, but it ain’t better than thinkin’ cats did this, or worse, some upwalker out for blood.” He mutters, wooly tail flickering grimly.

Duskpool gravitated forward, gaze lingering on the tuff of fur. Whatever happened here, knowing that someone deliberately did this — hiding their scent is downright concerning. He frowned. With heavy pawsteps, the battered warrior gravitated away from the lead warrior, noting Florabreeze had done the same, cryptic hues scanning the outcropping for something that could clue them in to whoever, whatever did this. It was bad enough. SkyClan needed no more misery slathered on like herbal salve intended to heal, but burned like wildfire, hungrily consuming everything until nothing but ash remained.

He sighed, gaze thoughtful, slitted hues narrowed. “No.” He responded, glancing toward Florabreeze with a calculative expression, searing holes into the area beside her helm. “Ain’t normal, meanin’ whoever did this knew what they were doin’.” He rumbled, gaze drifting to Cherryblossom from over his shoulder, retreating to stare at the unfamiliar texture emitting no aroma. His frown deepened. “Doubt we’re gonna find anythin’ else, not unless we scour the entire neighborhood, but it ain’t practical, not with the five of us and barely nothin’ to go on.” He grunted, mangled ear swiveling in disdain. Rogues. It was a logical conclusion, but not nearly enough proof, but what else did they have than tufts of fur that held nothing but more questions? He grumbled, annoyance flashing briefly through his chest, mingling with the throbbing headache that thrummed easily behind slit hues. “Can’t say for sure, but we’re lookin’ at the work of rogues, or somethin’ else.” He voiced his thoughts, sure that some of ‘em had to be thinkin’ the same thing. Not with this kind of skill at play and this far out from the other neighboring clans. ​

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thought speech​

 

[Cherryblossom]

The calmness of her seniors is mud to her wounds. Anguish runs inflamed and unchecked over her, ravishing her composure till raw and shambling. At Slate's muted exclamation, she hurriedly wipes the more egregious of her tears off with a paw before scrambling to his side.

Red-rimmed eyes stare blankly at the meager strands of hair. That's all? She wants to scream it at him. That's all? You think that'll help? She wants to stomp her paws like a kit, gather his words in the mud and chuck it at his face.

Instead, she straightens up, her gritted teeth a barrier to the flames she fears she'll spew. Behind her former mentor, one of the other Maine coons opens her big, fat, fucking mouth— As if blessed by StarClan, Duskpool responds before she can. She glowers at the scraps of fur instead. Though Slate suggested they look around for more, hopelessness roots her neck in place. "They're dead." The deputy opens her mouth. "Just because it's a fun mystery to you and not someone you love dead doesn't make it good."

Guilt immediately sears her stomach. Instead of apologizing though, she stubbornly glances away from Florabreeze. Duskpool's analysis is a welcome distraction from the rising flames in her gaze, but she looks not at him but into the distal Twolegplace as he elaborates. "I thought we drove all the rogues out." Her voice is bitter and plaintive, a kitten's desperate plea for reassurance from her olders and wisers. Nearly stumbling under the wave of exhaustion, she remembers she is, under StarClan, the older and wiser. Supposed to be, anyway.

She hides the fresh prickling of tears by glancing back into the forest, a hot sigh leaving her jaws. "If that's all we're gonna find, then we should just go back now." To bury our dead. The defeatism in her voice stings, but not enough to penetrate thee fog of grief.

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