sensitive topics WHAT'S WHISTLING ANYWAY? &. hunting patrol

[KINDLEHEART]

When he'd been tasked with a hunting patrol, Kindleheart had accepted the change from his usual border patrolling. Though he didn't mind - enjoyed, really - patrolling the borders, Kindleheart probably did need a change in tasks, a break from the dread of the thought of interacting with a WindClan warrior, a ShadowClan warrior.

So, leading a hunting patrol had been a welcomed change. It was just hunting, after all, what harm could come from that?

Kindleheart had been looking forward to hunting. That is, until Shiningsun's patrol had returned with news of something strange roaming the forest. Something the oak-born Kindleheart has never seen before.

"Keep close," the brown and white tom reminds his patrol as they pad through the forest. The dread he usually feels when heading towards WindClan's border rises within him as he scans the area. "We don't know where these things are, or what they can do. So, don't stray far."

Dread only sets in further as he parts his jaws to a labyrinth of unknown aroma - a thick cloud of odor that sets over them. They must be near.

With a flick of his tail, Kindleheart beckons his patrol to follow, trying to lead them away from the scent. To his horror, his navigation skills falter, an olive gaze catching sight of what Shiningsun had seen far later than what he probably should have. Hooved creatures - large and bulky, carrying strange muzzles that graze on ThunderClan's grass. Mothers, he realizes, as he spots smaller ones.

Realizing his mistake, a wide-eyed Kindleheart crouches down within nearby foliage. His gaze snaps towards his patrol, a hushed tone hissing towards them. "Get down!"

// @Roeflame . , @Rabbitnose , @GRAYSTORM !​

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[Rabbitnose]

Hunting offered him a short respite from his thoughts. His stress was forgotten in the undergrowth, senses and mind fully focused on tracking down prey. It was a well needed break from the stress that haunted him, as well as his own spiraling thoughts.

All that mattered in this moment was the hunt.

When he had heard of strange creatures roaming the forest, he wasn't sure what to think. Maybe he would recognize the creature if he saw it. He was woefully unprepared for what he would see today, though.

His nose scrunched at the smell that hit him. What kind of animal smells that bad? Everyone makes fun of Shadowclan for being smelly but this.... This made them smell like flowers.

"Ugh....."

He hears noise up ahead, and Kindleheart tells them to get down. He listens, crouching and creeping forward to join them in peeking through the bushes.

He'd never seen these animals. They were strange. The little ones were cute, but the adults? Hideous.

He remained quiet as he narrowed his eyes at them, not wanting it to be his voice they caught and got mad at. He figured the best thing to do was observe these animals and learn more about them before making any solid decisions.​

 

[ROEFLAME .]

ROEFLAME — break the air to feel the fall.
Roeflame is quiet as she trails behind the rest of the patrol, her demeanor eerily unusual as of late.
Too much had been happening, each a kick to her psyche, sending her spiraling further into her mental cage.
Any words spoken before Kindlehearts abrupt warning had been lost to the young warrior, but the others urgent hiss shattered any invisible fog.
She drops, blinking herself back into the present.
what…?
Searching eyes have to flicker upwards to form a full view of the strange, hulking creatures only a few fox-lengths away.
They snorted and shuffled while they grazed, their young following clumsily in pursuit.
She feels her eyes stretch wide with both curiosity and fear, her head snapping towards Kindleheart for direction.
Surely, they’d be able to just take a step back, to scurry away with the undergrowth as their armor.
”What do we do?” Her question is silent, mouthed to Kindleheart with little breath to support it.
What do they do?
"speech"

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[GRAYSTORM]

[ TW FOR MAJOR INJURY & DEATH ]

Graystorm trails after Kindleheart, his face set into a scowl. Shiningsun's patrol's report had set everyone on edge; strange creatures intruding on ThunderClan's oak forest, as if they didn't already have enough to worry about between WindClan, ShadowClan, and RiverClan.

Whatever those damn creatures are, Graystorm would make sure they couldn't hurt ThunderClan. A brash thought, given how they have no idea what they're up against, but he's always been headstrong and lacking in wisdom. Act first, ask questions later.

Kindleheart warns the patrol to keep close; Graystorm should've listened more closely, but instead he flicks his tail tip and snorts with a stubborn set of his jaw. "Right. Well, if those things cause us trouble, I'll have 'em runnin' with their tails tucked before the sun sets."

Anything else he might've had to say is cut off with a gag, a thick fog of the putrid, unfamiliar stench shrouding the patrol as they unknowingly edge closer to the herd. Graystorm screws his face up and casts his narrowed, one-eyed gaze across their surroundings. Searching for the enemy, the source of this strange, foul smell.

Graystorm's resolve falters when he sees them. Huge, bulky animals—nearly the size of a large dog— grazing on ThunderClan's grass. Their sparsely haired tails flick as they eat, their young plodding after them on clumsy cloven hooves. His narrowed eyes stretch wide, watching the hulking creatures with a growing sense of dread. This is what ThunderClan's up against. Suddenly, his cocky words from before don't seem to hold much weight. Just like the dogs, a small patrol like this alone surely wouldn't stand a chance against whatever these creatures are.

Kindleheart hisses for the patrol to get down, but against better judgment, Graystorm doesn't follow suit. His claws flex, digging into the earth, as he continues to watch the herd graze from where he stands. If he could get a closer look, maybe… Maybe he could spot something that could help ThunderClan drive them off. Gather some kind of information that they could use to their advantage. Anything is better than nothing.

Squaring his shoulders, Graystorm doesn't tear his eye away from the grazing animals as he hisses back, "I'll try to get a closer look." Without waiting for their response, the dark-furred warrior begins to slink closer to the herd, making it a few fox-lengths from the patrol before...

Curse his luck, and his carelessness, a twig snaps underfoot that he hadn't noticed on his blind side. Hackles rise as one of the strange animals jerks her large head towards him, letting out a series of agitated grunts. Her young squeal in alarm, which only seems to agitate the mother further. Graystorm curses under his breath. Get away, his instincts scream.

Before he could bolt up a nearby tree, the creature charges with a ferocious speed that shocks him. How could such enormous animals move so fast?— Graystorm doesn't even have time to think, or time to move completely out of the path of the defensive mother, as she rams into him. The warrior is toppled easily by the hulking attacker, yowling in both shock and fury as he hits the ground.

Hooves trample him, a sickening crack of his ribs breaking under the force echoes beneath Graystorm's yowling. He blindly lashes out at the mother, trying to fend her off by any means possible long enough for him to retreat somehow. He couldn't die here. He wouldn't! His mother, his siblings, his nieces and nephews… They're all waiting for him, back at camp. But despite feeling his claws rake across impossibly thick skin, it does nothing to deter the creature.

Something sharp rips into his throat— the tusks of the mother, Graystorm barely registers, before a horrible pain unlike anything he's felt before tears through him. The pained noise that tries to escape from him is cut off by a gargle as he chokes on his own blood. The mother doesn't relinquish her grip on his throat, even as his frantic blows become weaker and weaker. She shakes him like a dog would its prey, shredding flesh and muscle with ease.

I'm sorry. Graystorm's addled mind whispers through the pandemonium of fear, right before his world goes dark. Mom, I'm so sorry. Stupid was he to think he could be some sort of hero. Heroes always die, don’t they?

The creature does not stop until the body beneath her is limp in a pool of his blood, his mouth agape in a final yowl and his glassy eyes staring at the sky.​

 

[KINDLEHEART]

Perhaps he should have known this patrol would only go further awry. Perhaps he should've expected it to go wrong, to fall into its catastrophic extent the way it does.

Because, even if Kindleheart warned his patrol, even if he urges them to hide at the sight of the beasts before them - Graystorm is among those he leads. The stubborn tom who'd dismissed his first warning, who'd ignored the pointed look an olive gaze had sent back to him.

The snow-splashed tom had warned his patrol without second-guessing Graystorm's presence, his own fears overshadowing the warrior's previous words. It's yet another mistake overlooked, as Roeflame's mouthing a question to him as she hides with Rabbitnose nearby, searching for Kindleheart's guidance.

"What do we do?" she asks him.

"I don't know," the coward in him wants to say back, though Kindleheart knows this isn't the answer of a patrol's leader. Uncertainty wouldn't suffice right now, and yet it fills all his senses. An answer doesn't get to be shared to his patrol members before Graystorm's voice reaches his ears, before the warrior's on the move.

"I'll have 'em runnin'," Graystorm said at the start of the patrol. "I'll try to get a closer look," he says now. An olive gaze widens as Graystorm strays from the cover of the undergrowth.

"Graystorm! Stay down!" Kindleheart starts with the same hushed hissing he'd only just ordered the patrol with. Graystorm's too close to the beasts now - as if he doesn't realize it. As if he doesn't care for their proximity, as if he doesn't care to listen. "Gray, don't --"

It's a snap of a twig that changes everything.

A breath catches in his throat as the beasts pause, as they recognize Graystorm's presence.

And it happens too fast. It all happens too fast for Kindleheart to warn his patrol member, too fast for Kindleheart to look away as bones crunch - as blood spills and cries are choked out. A cry of the brown tabby's own is choked out in the midst of the chaos.

Too fast, too fast. The warrior stands frozen at the sight, eyes wide with horror. What feels like hours is probably only mere moments; the boar finally stops her attack - leaving a mangled Graystorm in a pool of scarlet as she returns to her young, leaving Kindleheart to pick up the pieces of his crumbled patrol.

His lungs feel tight as he pulls his gaze away from the tragic scene before him, looking for Roeflame and Rabbitnose amidst the undergrowth. Did he... Did he lose them too? Did he fail them, just as he had Graystorm?

"What do we do?" Roeflame had asked him before tragedy struck. Kindleheart knows he must answer now.

"We... We gotta get him," he says slowly, despite not fully knowing whether the rest of his patrol is even behind him.

His gaze returns to Graystorm's body, as if to make sure it was still there. The stubborn warrior's fallen form deserves a better fate than to be crushed by the herd of beasts any further. And then they can go straight home. Away from here - from the danger of deciteful beasts.
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[ROEFLAME .]

ROEFLAME — break the air to feel the fall.
Consequences to your actions had once been a myth to Roeflame, or more so as a young Roepaw. She had always narrowly dodged bad situations.
Yet, it all happened too quickly. Graystorm was pulling ahead before Roeflame even had the time to echo Kindleheart.
"Graystorm come back!" Her urge is far to quiet, and far too late.
The crack of the twig is nothing compared to the crack of a felines body as the warrior is thrown, a sickening feeling churning in her stomach as the tabby is forced to watch helplessly.
Horror is shining in her gaze, a silent chant of no…please…no moves on her maw in shock.
Yet, as quick as it had started, it was done. Graystorm was dead.
She hears Kindlehearts words, but her movements are rigid as she’d follow her patrol leader, desperately trying to erase the nightmare of a scene that had just occurred from her head.

"speech"

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