sensitive topics WHITE ROSES ON A GRAVE \ body discovery

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

"I smell RiverClan." Raccoonstripe's voice is a harsh growl. He'd left camp ill-tempered to begin with; a light rain had begun to fall, and his dense tabby fur is uncomfortably cold and wet. This had been a border patrol, but the scent of prey had been scarce since they'd set paw into the forest, and now there's too-fresh RiverClan scent within proximity to their territory lines. He doesn't want to find one of their patrols again — the last one he'd encountered, with Stormpaw alone, had been maddening. I still want to rake my claws over their ears. He thinks of Beefang, her smug grin and crazed amber eye, and his stomach twists angrily. Over their throats.

No doubt, Scarletpaw and Stormpaw can feel Raccoonstripe's bad attitude. It's a little unfair to Palefire — this is one of her first patrols as a lead warrior, and though he could have let her lead it, instinct had taken the wheel. He is at its helm, tasting the rain-stained air, his frown creasing his white muzzle.

"Is that..." His fur prickles. Blood? He pushes his nose through a clump of undergrowth, his single eye searing his surroundings. There's something too-bright in his periphery, something that lies too-still.

Raccoonstripe stiffens. "No," he murmurs, his tail beginning to lash behind him. "It can't..." He forgets decorum, for a moment, forgets his too-damp fur and aching belly; he rushes for the limp shape crumpled near the border, just a whisker over where it should been. There are signs of a fight — tufts of multi-colored fur, scattered blood droplets, and, most telling, a neck wound that had proved fatal for... "It's Freckleflame." He stares at her body as if willing it to move. "She's dead."

[ tagging apprentices @Scarletpaw and @STORMPAW. and @Palefire by request, but no need to wait :) takes place after this thread. please note it will appear as though there's been a fair fight ]

… ❞​

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[ROARINGSUN]

〔✦〕The air is still. Eerily quiet in a way it makes his stomach churn; the fog from the night before had dissipated come morning - in its place, a light drizzle fell from darkened skies. His fur is wet and he is cold, whiskers twitching irritably as the patrol traverses the undergrowth towards Sunningrocks. His breath billows in front of him, and Roaringsun wishes he could've still been in his nest.

The salty and fishy smell of RiverClan is strong - fresh, even. Fireball eyes narrow, and a growl is caught in his throat. Had they trespassed yet again? He remembers the lot of them that dared step into ThunderClan territory after their spineless snare to take Sunningrocks from them before leaf-fall's end. His claws flex into frosted dirt, itching to sink them into a Riverclanner's flank ( he had never been violent, not really. But sometimes he feels overtaken by something stronger than he is, like what had happened during the uprising when he fought Sproutberry ). This isn't violence for the sake of bloodshed, it's violence to defend what is theirs ( or himself ). But is there a difference, when all leads to spilled blood?

Blood. Comes Raccoonstripe's voice this time. For a moment, Roaringsun wonders if he'd spoken his thoughts aloud, if his patrolmates had heard his hesitance and musings. He sharply glances around, half-expecting to hear someone speak of kittypets in the same manner Skyclaw and his lackeys had - but it doesn't come. Instead, their patrol lead slinks into the wintry thicket, towards RiverClan's newest landmark. No. he hears the tom speak, dejected and bitter; the warrior doesn't need to listen to anything else before he follows, cautious and afraid. It's not an invasion.

But he wishes it was, when he breaks through the undergrowth and sees the scene. It's gory, of course it is. The fiery pelt of Freckleflame is as still as their air around them, battered and bloodied; but peaceful. And that was perhaps the scariest part of it all. He'd seen warriors die with their eyes blown wide, their mouths open in an eternal wail - but Freckleflame only appeared to be asleep. The wound on her throat is more than enough to break that façade, that she'd taken her final breath. Blood pools around her and drips into the sand around the ashen boulders - just as cold as everything around them.

He lets out a miserable yowl. A tear threatens to roll down his cheek as he pads toward the she-cat who'd watched him grow. They shared blood in the way Skyclaw had considered them tainted by kittypet roots. Roaringsun lowers his head to nudge her with his muzzle. Cold. She's so cold. How long has she been here? He can only scent RiverClan ( of course - had he expected anything else? ) and he sees tufts of fur all around. "They killed her," He speaks, finally; his voice catches in his throat, like it hurts to talk. His lips curl into a snarl - had they ambushed her? The cowards. "Let's take her home."

I took a little journey to the unknown ( Ive come back changed, I can feel it in my bones ) //

• ooc.
• ROARINGSUN —— warrior of thunderclan , mentor to berrypaw . npc x npc . littermate to npcs ✦ penned by nocthymia
  ✦ male / he/him / 15 moons & ages every 14ᵗʰ
  ✦ single / orientation & poly or mono / open/closed to romance
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— combat details here / battle notes
  
  ✦ "speech", 'thoughts', all opinions are in character
  ✦ tags — msg on discord (hypmic) for plots — toyhouse
  
• reference image here
  

  a longhaired flame sepia with low white and amber-brown eyes.

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[ROEFLAME .]

-ˋˏ ༻ ☀ ༺ ˎˊ-

Normally, Roeflame wouldn't have bothered to accompany a patrol that already had two Lead Warriors at its helm, but when she had seen the patrol leaving… oh, perhaps it had just been her instincts had pushed her to ask to tag along- the memory of RiverClan hunting on their territory still so fresh.

Having had no interest in taking Raccoonstripes spot at the head of the group, her senses are alert, but Roeflame has allowed her thoughts to wander beyond her body as the patrol neared the RiverClan border. When Raccoonstripe speaks, her mind has to do a double-take to properly process what it was the older tabby had said. RiverClan scent. Had the deputy's intuition been right? They were awfully close to the scent-line…

Is that… as Raccoonstripe begins again, a frosted breeze ruffles through Roeflame's whiskers, carrying with it a scent that makes every hair along the deputy's back ride in alarm. "Blood?" Roeflame finishes his sentence, slipping her way to the front just behind where Raccoonstripe pushes his way through the brittle clump of dead foliage; at first revealing only glimpses of the horror they are about to stumble upon.

He rushes forward, and suddenly Roeflame can see it- everything he does, and she cannot choke back the gasp that escapes her; but her throat doesn't begin to tighten until-

It's Freckleflame.

Those two words have Roeflame lurching forward, icy dread pooling into the pit of the deputies belly. "Move… move!" The brassed warrior commands, because she cannot believe it until she stands where Raccoonstripe stands, where she can hold her dearest friend's head in her paws and be faced with glassy chartreuse eyes.

Heartbreak cracks at the round edges of the tabbies expression now, and for a brief moment there is nothing she can do but stay in her place- a brindled crown cradled between her two paws, waiting- willing- for her eyelids to close and open again. "Oh… oh, Frecks." The rosetted tabby whispers. They killed her. Roaringsun snarls, pulling Roeflame's eyes away begrudgingly. To Raccoonstripe and Palefire, "we must let Flamestar know at once." A pause before she glances to Roaringsun, "they won't be getting away with this."

With a sharp inhale, Roeflame forces herself to stand upright, but only in order to use her nose to lift and slide herself under her friends upper-body, teeth gritting under the weight of Freckleflame's brawny build. The weight of a true ThunderClan-borne.

Through gritted teeth; "Help me carry her home."

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── I GOT A POCKET ⋅✴⋅ A POCKET FULL OF SUNSHINE ──┐‎

• 

• 
  ROEFLAME ✩ she/her, Deputy of Thunderclan, twenty-seven moons.
  ⭃ petite cinnamon silver ticked tabby with murky green eyes & a small scar over her left eye.
  ⭃ mate to Burnstorm ☀ mentor to Dovepaw & Dwindlingpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted ☀ underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

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[Scarletdust]

Scarletpaw's steps falter before they ultimately freeze, her paws suddenly glued to the wet earth as Raccoonstripe pushes through the undergrowth. The sharp tang of blood in the rainy air turns her stomach, but she forces herself to creep closer, curiosity and dread warring within her. And then she sees it, the crumpled mottled body laying in a pool of blood. The sight makes her breath hitch audibly. She's…oh stars, she's dead. The tortoiseshell's ears flatten, her claws unsheathing reflexively. The older warrior's limp, bloodied form looks nothing like the fierce, powerful cat she remembers. She looks so small all of the sudden, so weak.

The rest of the patrol reacts with grief and anger, but the apprentice's mouth feels dry, her voice lodged somewhere deep in her throat. Roaringsun's snarl and Roeflame's command echo dimly in her ears as she can do nothing but stand there and stare. Her orange-and-blue eyes are fixed on the scattered tufts of fur, on the crimson streaks against Freckleflame's black and ginger pelt. It takes her a moment to find her voice. "RiverClan did this?" She whispers, the words trembling with uncertainty, her gaze darting toward the others. They don't need to say it - she can smell it, and they're on their border - but voicing the thought makes it all the more real. Her chest suddenly tightens with fury and fear. How could they?

Her still-unsheathed claws scrape against the earth as she forces herself to step closer. "Let me help." Her voice is steadier now, though her tail lashes with agitation. She lowers her head to Roeflame's, determination glinting in her split-colored eyes. "I can carry some of her weight." It's the least I can do, She thinks grimly, guilt worming its way into her heart. Freckleflame's death is a loss for all of ThunderClan, but there's a small, nagging part of Scarletpaw that remembers when she'd stood on the side of Freckleflame's exile, the same as Roaringsun's, too. I'm so sorry.
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