sensitive topics WHY MUST I BURN 𖤓 death

[sandthorn]

TW: death/trampling

the forest was beautiful, barren branches wearing a snug coat of snow, bending under it's cold weight. it was quiet here, but not uncomfortably so. and though her ears were kissed pink and nearly burning from the way winter nipped at them, sandthorn's coat kept her warm, shielded her from it all. she didn't detest leafbare, not vehemently like some of her clanmates at least. it had it's fond memories, like every season. last year she had made the best of it, dug through camp to make the deep snow traversable. some of the clan's reactions were less than sweet, but still she holds the moment dearly.

the hunting patrol so far had been quiet, she had drawn away from her clanmates in a desperate attempt to catch something without having to strain by picking scents apart, working too hard right now would not bode well for her good mood. still, she found nothing. maybe her nose was too cold to decipher a scent, maybe everything was already in hiding.

she didn't have the chance to look for much longer, there was thunder in her ears that betrayed the clearness of the sky. head raised in confusion, her golden gaze settled on something that was fast approaching. deer, a whole herd by the looks of it. sandthorn didn't know what had spooked them towards her, but she couldn't hang around and try to figure it out. her heart thrummed in her chest as she frantically began looking around for her patrol mates, she didn't see any of them. did they know?

"guys, deer!" desperately she shouted as she began to flee, not fast enough, she never was in these unfortunate moments. it wouldn't be long until her shit luck awoke either, white paws tangling in hidden growth. sandthorn met the snow, face buried into it as she frantically pulled her legs to free them. too little too late, the herd was too close.

resigned, hesitant at yet another obstacle, she watched the tree-like antlers of a stag bob up and down as it barreled towards her. it was almost an entrancing sight, she closed her eyes before it touched her. it didn't realize when it's frozen hooves beat down onto pale fur instead of snow, that ribs were crushed under it's weight like snapping twigs. the stag didn't know, it would remain innocent to the life it took. and when the herd finally cleared, sandthorn's body laid limply in the snow, the only reminder that she had been alive was the stream of blood trickling from her mouth, the dwindling warmth of her pelt.

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  SANDTHORN ✩ she/her, warrior of thunderclan, sixteen moons
  ⭃ sandthorn is a stocky fawn ticked tabby with a golden gaze. born a loner, she was abandoned soon after birth and taken into thunderclan by hollow tree. she is a laid back molly with a good heart and a strong drive to protect her clan, but she does have a hot-headed streak that can coax her into irrational decisions. like most thunderclanner's, she is distrustful of outsiders and committed to her duties.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by vayle ↛ @vayl3 on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[FALCONHEART]

The cream tabby's tail flickers placidly as he trails along with his patrol, eyes wide and bright as he takes in the snow-coated land around them. It's strange, hunting in snow, but he's managed to catch something good enough to feed the clan, at least. Overall, the cold is more of a bother than anything—his paws are beginning to grow sore from all the walking in the snow. The patrol is peaceful, and Falconheart finds himself relaxing as he walks. But when a cry breaks through the calm, it seems that everything goes bad very quickly.

He hears Sandthorn shout, but can't see her anywhere. She cries out deer! with urgency, though, and so Falconheart doesn't waste a second. He loses sight of all the other members of the patrol as he runs, darting to the nearest tree and flinging himself up its trunk. Pale paws alight on the lowest branch sturdy enough to hold him, and there the tom cowers, eyes squeezed shut and ears pinned flat against his head. The thundering of hooves sounds loud in his ears, deafening, and his perch shakes so much he fears that the entire tree may topple over. But it doesn't, and after a few moments it stops shaking. Slowly he eases himself down from his place of safety, snow soft beneath his paws when he lands. He can't see the others. But now that he's back on the ground and really looking, he can see Sandthorn—there, a heap of golden fur upon the snow. She must have tripped, he thinks, and rushes over in case she's hurt.

She's hurt, but Falconheart is quick to realize that it isn't an injury that can be fixed. "Sandthorn...?" Hesitant, he steps closer to the sandy-colored warrior, hoping that his eyes are deceiving him. But she isn't moving, and her flank isn't rising and falling like it should. Horror squeezes his chest. "No! Oh no, oh no—someone get... get Berryheart!" Just as when his mentor died, he knows it's pointless. Berryheart cannot save Sandthorn. Blood drips from her mouth, staining snow pink beneath the shet-cat's lifeless form. It's too late. But it can't be too late, because it's—it's Sandthorn, and she's too young to die. She's a good warrior, and she should be standing beside him, relieved that they hadn't been crushed by a deer. She shouldn't be lying limp in the snow, small and cold. Get up. Just open your eyes and get up. He considers pleading aloud, but it would do him no good. His fellow warrior is dead, he's sure of it.​

[ find me way out there ]​

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[RACCOONSTRIPE]

What had started as a docile, if mildly unsuccessful, hunting patrol quickly dissolves into a chaotic scramble. Raccoonstripe’s ears flick forward at Sandthorn’s exclamation of “Guys, deer!” Just as he begins to search the treeline, a thunderous roar reaches his ears—and cats begin to panic, splitting into the undergrowth and darting for the safety of the trees. Raccoonstripe runs for a gorse bush, weaving through the needling branches and peering through at the stampede that flows through the forest. Deer with great racks of antlers trample through the undergrowth—and, too late, he notices Sandthorn with her paw caught. Tangled.

“SANDTHORN!” He snarls, preparing to leap to the young warrior’s defense. The deer who steps on her does not even seem to notice she’s there—it’s careless, dancing and weaving around trees and cats. One diamond-hard hoof just happens to connect, and Sandthorn is left in a heap of sun-colored fur, blood trickling from her mouth and reddening the snow beneath her limp body.

He tears away from his hiding place, his heart in his mouth. He feels as though he’s going to be sick as he watches Falconheart wail over her body. “Stars, she’s gone,” he murmurs, grief thick in his voice. “We need to get her back to camp, Falconheart.”

, ”​

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[freckleflame]

it happens quicker than she can really see. a sudden thundering of hooves, a scream from the side that had her head jerking up from where she’d been rifling through the undergrowth to see deer — deer, sandthorn had screamed, and there they were. she barely has time to move, ducking her head and scampering out of the way of a bounding doe, her hooves hitting the snow with solid thump - thump - thumps even with the snowy pillow. she goes for a tree nearby, claws scrabbling against the ice damp bark and never quite finding a place to sink in. she slips, slides against the slope of the bark, but starclan begins to guide the herd past her and further into the forest. she holds her breath, gripping tight to the tree with thick forearms.

raccoonstripe shouts, SANDTHORN ; she looks over just in time. in time, she will pretend she doesn’t hear the brittle crack of ribs and spine the collision made. the stag runs off, oblivious.

she shrieks, a short, high burst of air from her throat that lives only a second before her throat closes. she feels sick, feels nauseous — she’d grown up with sandpaw, sandthorn. she can’t tell when she unlatches from the side of her tree, but she does, wobbly and underwater as she felt, ” oh, no, no, no.. “ she whispers, hoarse as she stumbles to the side of raccoonstripe ; authority. she hovers in the safety of his grief, of the orders he mutters past the tightness in his voice, and she nods, numbly, staggers forward. falconheart wails, but she stares dimly down at the girl she’s once known, blood dribbling into the alabaster snow. shes gone, ” yeah. yeah. we gotta.. we gotta get her home. we gotta carry her home. “ a shaking breath. sandthorn is dead. there was a corpse in front of her, and sandthorn was dead. nausea hits her again, but she merely looks back towards raccoonstripe, towards the patrol, for help — it would take three of them to carry her on their backs, if they were lucky, and the snow already began to collect on her light a toned fur. freckleflame swallows hard, tempering the bile riding high in her throat.

𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝙴 𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙴 -`☀︎´- 𝘗𝘓𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘌 𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘠 𝘍𝘖𝘙 𝘈 𝘞𝘏𝘐𝘓𝘌 𝘕𝘖𝘞

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• 𖦹 . LESBIAN, SINGLE. SMELLS LIKE SUN - WARMED OAK. SIXTEEN MOONS. FRIEND & SISTER TO MANY. NAMED WARRIOR OF THUNDERCLAN ON 8 / 3 / 2023. PENNED BY ANTLERS .. !!!
  f. she / her, daughter of sunfreckle and rabbitnose. large cream - ribboned tortoiseshell with seaglass eyes. larger than life! shades of vibrant russet, dousing swathes of shadow and interwoven with ribbons pale cream come to drape like licks of flame over a thick, broad - shouldered figure.
  
  unspecified maine coon heritage born of sunfreckle's kittypet background shows itself in large, round paws and tufted, long - furred toes set upon thick, tabby - splotched limbs. a characteristic lack of personal space leads her to a slouching, touchy posture, often inclined to lean or bump against her peers, all while bearing a wide, bright - eyed grin. she seems to sing confidence from every laugh, every word.. that can't all be for show, can it?
  
  ——— ˙⋆ — prone to bouts of explosive emotion. all opinions are solely in - character and during these times, often untrue or said only in anger.
  
  

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