- Jan 15, 2023
- 567
- 142
- 43
༄༄ The horseplace looms just past the next hill, and the black-patched tunneler picks up her pace. She's nearly there, and it will only be a few moments before she reaches the barn now. Exhaustion weighs heavy on her limbs, but she cannot stop to rest now; she is on a mission, and she has pushed herself even harder than this in the past. Rest will come when her clan is safe, when all who remain are sheltered once more within the gorse walls of their camp.
As soon as she steps through the doors, the scent of straw hits her, and she feels the beginnings of a sneeze tickling at her nostrils. A paw swipes over her nose as it wrinkles, and she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment to ward off the oncoming sneeze. When the feeling passes she opens them once more, and at her paws a kitten seems to have appeared. It looks as though it's only just woken up from a nap, with heavy pink eyes and a tired yawn stretching its little maw. "Hello, Blizzardkit," she greets the scrap of white fur with a tap of her nose to the top of its head. It trots right back off, continuing on its merry way after greeting her—an odd little kit, but it will surely fit into the clan once they are whole again. Rattleheart seems to have taken a liking to them, anyway, so it can't be that much of a bother.
Attention drifting away from the kit, Scorchstreak sweeps her gaze across the other cats who are lying or sitting about. In the light that filters in through the structure's doors, fiery eyes glint with a tired sense of pride. Her tail lashes once, chin lifting triumphantly. It does not feel entirely like they've won, but they have succeeded. Their camp, their clan, is their own once more. To those left behind in the barn, kits and queens and the injured and sick, Scorchstreak announces in a bone-sharp voice, "WindClan is ours once more." She gives them all a few heartbeats to absorb it, and then continues on. "Sunstride sent me to bring all of you back to camp. You should all gather anything you need, then we'll head out," she says, already looking around for anything that needs carried back to camp. She'll lend her aid to anyone who requires her help, as well, eager to lend a paw or a shoulder to lean on as they walk.
As soon as she steps through the doors, the scent of straw hits her, and she feels the beginnings of a sneeze tickling at her nostrils. A paw swipes over her nose as it wrinkles, and she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment to ward off the oncoming sneeze. When the feeling passes she opens them once more, and at her paws a kitten seems to have appeared. It looks as though it's only just woken up from a nap, with heavy pink eyes and a tired yawn stretching its little maw. "Hello, Blizzardkit," she greets the scrap of white fur with a tap of her nose to the top of its head. It trots right back off, continuing on its merry way after greeting her—an odd little kit, but it will surely fit into the clan once they are whole again. Rattleheart seems to have taken a liking to them, anyway, so it can't be that much of a bother.
Attention drifting away from the kit, Scorchstreak sweeps her gaze across the other cats who are lying or sitting about. In the light that filters in through the structure's doors, fiery eyes glint with a tired sense of pride. Her tail lashes once, chin lifting triumphantly. It does not feel entirely like they've won, but they have succeeded. Their camp, their clan, is their own once more. To those left behind in the barn, kits and queens and the injured and sick, Scorchstreak announces in a bone-sharp voice, "WindClan is ours once more." She gives them all a few heartbeats to absorb it, and then continues on. "Sunstride sent me to bring all of you back to camp. You should all gather anything you need, then we'll head out," she says, already looking around for anything that needs carried back to camp. She'll lend her aid to anyone who requires her help, as well, eager to lend a paw or a shoulder to lean on as they walk.