( ☾ ) she feels like she's drowning. even as the beads of water from her desperate plunge dry on her pelt, turning it glossy in the bright sun. she glares at it as it fades from the sky, mocking her, gleaming golden over the territory with a crude smile as if to say you fucked up. this is on you. the smoke stares balefully back, tear streaks ruining the elegant fur around her face. she looks broken, and she feels it- her voice is hoarse and hurting from pained wails, her paws sluggishly bleeding due to the sharp rocks she'd dashed over to get to the river. she sits in camp now, in the shadows of the reeds, eyes glossy and dim. ashpaw's scream sounds through her mind over and over again, ringing in her skull the same way the thundering shots do every time they sound. she jumps at one now, ripping her gaze from the sky and scanning the camp for danger.
nothing.
stars, they don't know what to do. smokethroat (dear, kind, gruff smokethroat) has organized search patrols and told willowroot to stay put. they'd argued, hissed at him she's my apprentice, i have to find her! but he'd sighed, looked at her up and down and raised his eyebrows. you need to calm down. go back to camp. rest. we'll find her. and so, not wanting to argue, not when their energy is spent, the ebony femme had. day is fading now, evening coming on fast, the sky is beautiful, and ashpaw is gone. willowroot can feel emotion building in their throat- they want to scream, tear up the territory and every other clan's territory until they find her, bring her home. the search patrols had returned empty pawed. there is little hope for a live apprentice to stumble home.
ashpaw is probably dead. willowroot hates themself.
nothing.
stars, they don't know what to do. smokethroat (dear, kind, gruff smokethroat) has organized search patrols and told willowroot to stay put. they'd argued, hissed at him she's my apprentice, i have to find her! but he'd sighed, looked at her up and down and raised his eyebrows. you need to calm down. go back to camp. rest. we'll find her. and so, not wanting to argue, not when their energy is spent, the ebony femme had. day is fading now, evening coming on fast, the sky is beautiful, and ashpaw is gone. willowroot can feel emotion building in their throat- they want to scream, tear up the territory and every other clan's territory until they find her, bring her home. the search patrols had returned empty pawed. there is little hope for a live apprentice to stumble home.
ashpaw is probably dead. willowroot hates themself.
( THE LIGHT YOU GAVE ME )