sensitive topics WITH YOUR KIDS AT THE FRONT [ attack return ]

[PEBBLEPAW]

(☼) breath rips from torn up lungs as the woven-reed walls of camp appear before him. black spots dance in his eyes as sobs wrack his chest, and tears flow freely. thundering into camp, faster than he thinks he has ever run (faster than when windclan was on fire,) he screeches to a halt, gazing around wildly for moonbeam. "h-help!" he'll choke out, heaving a great breath before attempting again. "lichenstar...dog... cicadaflight..." his words make little sense, but the urgency in them may provide some context for the worried warriors that now gather. "we need.. reinforcem...ments, now!" he thinks foxtail is by his side, thinks shellpaw has collapsed nearby, mothpaw catching her breath as well. hastily. the blue tabby hastily finds moonbeam's pale face in the crowd. "she's really h-hurt!"

breath nearly caught, he'll turn tail, not baring to face hazecloud, nor see the frightened faces of his littler siblings. shellpaw is okay... and now, he has a duty. exhausted paws cry out in pain, but his maw is snapped closed, teeth gritted together so hard he tastes blood as he leads whatever reinforcements and moonbeam towards the bloody scene. he thinks maybe someone is yowling for him to stay behind, but his tufted ears flatten, resolutely ignoring the order, despite what consequences may follow suit. galloping back along the familiar trail, pain becomes a background hum in pebblepaw's mind as his paws churn over sand and stone. if smokestar had lost more than five lives to the rushing gorge, how many lives can now be stripped from lichenstar should she continue to be thrown about in the dog's jaws? he's not loosing another family member. he's not loosing his mom!

sounds of fighting echo through the undergrowth as the patrol bursts onto the scene. pebblepaw's cousins attack the beast from all angles, and he watches, eyelids half shut, as riverclan descends upon their enemy like ocean waves. his mom's body lays almost forgotten near a clump of trampled ferns, and he races to it, breath wheezing out in hisses. she's so still, crimson dribbling from her wounds sluggish and dark. ember eyes find moonbeam again, begging, pleading. "how can i help?"

I DO NOT HAVE WINGS, LOVE ☼ I NEVER WILL

• // okay so this is so late, and i apologize (i should be tarred and feathered etc etc) but here is the lichen-looses-a-life return thread! everyone cheer! (don't.)
  @shellpaw, @Mothpaw, @FOXTAIL, and peb all ran back to camp to get reinforcements and @Moonbeam <3
  @CICADAFLIGHT and @Cricketchirp remain fighting the dog, @lichenstar is dead el oh el
  " #848DAE"
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  PEBBLEPAW ☼ HE / HIM, APPRENTICE OF RIVERCLAN. MENTORED BY FOXTAIL. 8 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a large blue tabby with low white and vitiligo. pale blue fur covers the length of pebblepaw's stocky body, sliced through with darker tabby stripes and spots. baleful orange eyes peer out of heavy set sockets, and his muzzle, paws, and tail tip are dashed with white.

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[CICADAFLIGHT]

How long have he and Cricketchirp been fighting the dog? He knows it can't have been long, not with the speed at which the rest of their would - be " relaxed " patrol had left the scene, but long enough for blood to drench his forelegs, oozing from bite wounds just beginning to sting. The beast is resolute in its determination to claim Lichenstar's lives, and each gnash of teeth meant for a pale underbelly or marred throat has instead met his defending forelegs, leaving them grazed and half - bitten, seeping flesh wounds—he is only grateful no bite has truly connected, for those foaming jaws could snap his leg like a twig underpaw.

At the sight of the reinforcements bursting onto the blood - spattered scene, his cousin safe and ( physically ) unharmed and alive, he could nearly cry in relief . . . but instead, he glances at his sibling and, with a low hard - bitten growl, lunges forward with renewed force. His last charge connects, bared claws locking in already - raked flesh, and the dog has finally had enough. It smacks him aside with one massive mitt a last time, sending him thumping into the dust with a renewed shock of pain through his bruised sides . . . but it turns tail with a whine, heavy paws thumping clumsily through the sparse underbrush as it flees.

" Someone . . . make sure it's gone, " he pants out from his place on the ground, bracing shaking and bloodslick forelegs to pull himself up, fresh ache reverbating through his sides where he's hit the ground with each heavy swing of the dog's paw. He doubts the dog would want to return anytime soon after the beating it had taken from him and Cricketchirp, their wild claws and slit - pupiled eyes speaking to the fact that they weren't worthy prey . . . but one can never be sure, and it would be wise to ensure it's chased well over the unclaimed border.

" Pebblepaw— " he calls once his breath's fully back, wobbling on bite - scalloped legs over to his younger cousin. The sight of an unblemished blue - and - white pelt instantly renders the renewed pain burning his forelegs worth it . . . with adrenaline's loss, they're tongues of flame climbing from his paws, but he hurries to press his nose just behind Pebblepaw's ear, half a gesture of comfort and half confirmation his cousin's really there. His voice is all relief when he mews, " You're okay. Shellpaw's okay? "

White lashes fluttering open from a relieved sigh, a swan neck swivels to follow Pebblepaw's frantic orange gaze, settling on Lichenstar's battered form nearby. His heart leaps, whole and beating, into his throat, serpent slithering low in the pit of his stomach. Failure. He'd tried, but he hadn't saved Lichenstar. He's mindless to the wounds seeping blood on his forelegs, swatting aside any concerned glances as he rasps, " Lichenstar, is she . . . ? "

OOC : —

☆

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[shellpaw]

her arrival is more heard than seen amongst the chaos. she is less purposeful than her brother — an unfortunate inevitability where she staggers ahead for only a moment to urge her along before he peels off for help. when they leave, paws like stone churn after them far as she could, a fierce pulsing of pain throbbing low in her forelimbs from a run still too far for comfort that suddenly buckles her joints behind a blissfully stilling crowd.. and her maw gapes when she hits the ground, mimicry of a hungry kitten tipped high in the air as if it would help — her nostrils flare, wet and stuffy and bubbling with sound with each awful, involuntary gargle she makes. all she’d done was run. she’d ran. when copper finally fills her nose, it feels like abandonment.

she heaves in an ugly way, a babbling slurp of gulping breaths that never seem to expand her ribs in the way it should. she is more hound than child, drooling a string at purple pink lips that she wipes away with a clumsy, flailing paw, rubbing at her nose and muzzle as if it would help. as if it would release swollen airways, would cool and grant her fresh air. her sides squeeze and still — the red haunts her. it bloodies the back of her eyelids, keeps the image of wide, salivating maws and yellowed teeth playing firmly in her mind. it’s ugly, labored panting, it’s hot, stinking breath and oily black - brown coat. the sludge clinging to curl clawed paws, odor of wet dog lodged firmly in her nose and preventing nothing else by to surpass it. replaying tragedy blurs her world, blurs the line between her howling and the hound’s.

eyes brim, overflow still with tears she’d shed the entire way, red and bloodshot at the slivers of white edges. she swallows, choked on it and makes a strangled sound into lilac paws and — she is trembling. plucked dove, thrashing like a one - winged songbird against the ground when she finally focuses, and she can see only a battering of viscera through the haze in rheumy eyes. her voice is brittle, scratching when she wails terrible, ” nn.. nuh - ohh! “ because she can’t breathe, she can’t breathe, what if lichenstar didnt come back? what if the dog had bit and torn the soul from their cadaver and thrown it heavensward? it tenses her chest even further and she cannot breathe again, sucking violently through pinhole in her throat that only seems to shrink further with each heartbeat. she can feel it in her ears — rapidfire thrum, thrum, thrum, thrum.. it’s all she can hear.

she lays like a beached fish, flanks fluttering to a gaunt inward press that forces out too fragile ribs and not for the first time, shellpaw wonders if her lungs would simply stop letting her breathe altogether. her lower lip wobbles, the urge to sob her frustration, her fear, her heartbreak into the air tempered only by the lack of oxygen necessary to. it hurts, and she’s scared, and her mom is dead — her mentor is deaf or the first time, the girl faces doubt ; lichenstar, leader? were they truly protected, given solace from final resting? gifted, cursed to die over, and over, and over, and come back all the stronger.. but smokestar hadn’t, and he’d long been dappled glory white in starclan’s favor, stars stretching his very skin.. her eyes screw shut on a pooling blink, opens to reveal her body — her body again and shellpaw’s chest shudders on a pitiful, breathless sob, emitting a high wheeze where she could not howl.. but her energy wanes, begins to drain into the dirt underneath and so the child blindly curls an awkward semi - circle around cicadaflight’s bleeding forelimb, wrapping her bottlebrush tail tight around his black - capped paw for desperate comfort — sniveling and filthy, snot - drenched angel lodged soilbound upon her sudden downward impact.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ° 𓇼 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

• i.
  
  
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  SHELLPAW 𓆉 SHE / HER. SEVEN MOONS OLD, APPRENTICE OF RIVERCLAN, MENTORED BY LICHENSTAR ; SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. HAZECLOUD xx LICHENSTAR, NIECE TO SMOKESTAR. PENNED BY ANTLERS ----------------- ° ❀ ⋆
  frail alabaster molly with lilac striping and watery amber eyes.
  
  she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of dovey lilac curls, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore and plush enough to conceal the juts of malnutrition beneath. tufted elderdown fur conceals a body worn fragile by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with baby fat in others. her face is short - muzzled, framed half mast by eyes coined rheumy, rosen amber. the anemic cold pink - purple at tender paws and nose tell a lifetime of sickness, further made obvious by the feathering weakness in half - whispered tones.
  

  CHRONICALLY ILL ; prone to wheezing, nose at a constant drip from longterm illness - induced nasal polyps. not contagious.

  
  

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[CICADAFLIGHT]

" Nn.. nuh - ohh! " A gasping wail and Lichenstar's viscera - trailing form is forgotten for the moment—by the time his aching head whips to look for Shellpaw, she's already here, wheezing out sobs. A small body wraps around one bloody leg, looking frail and fragile and apt to break, and oh, he remembers another voice, another sobbing cry.

Cicadastar! Cicadastar! Father! A tiny voice's screams echo in his ears, and he remembers a lost boy with a broken tooth, crying and hiccuping; he remembers rogues swarming Cicadastar's limp mottled body like flies to a festering wound; he remembers gasping for Smokestar to help him, Pa, help him; he remembers screaming and sobbing, stumbling and helpless in a tidal wave of bodies. His heart reverberates in his throat, yanked free of his chest, split - lip copper on his tongue, his blood smearing Shellpaw's pale fur as she wraps around his forelimb, sniveling and desperate. The snared organ beats out a conviction: I will not let her hurt like I did.

Heavy tufted paws attempt to half - untangle the sniveling girl from his foreleg, gently as he can manage with slow - scorching hurt climbing them, only enough that he can pull his smaller cousin flush with the tangled curls of a broad chest as he sits, leans low to tug her close with trembling and scarlet - streaked paws. Selfishly, he gives little regard to the state of Cricketchirp, to the worried faces of the reinforcements, even to the doubtlessly shocked Moonbeam. It's mostly familial instinct that has him gathering Shellpaw against him, pressing a blood - oozing nose to a tabby - striped forehead.

" No, no, don't cry, don't cry— " he chokes out, and he's not sure if he's talking to a frail lilac girl or a gawky black - and - white boy. Tufted paws hold his younger cousin close as he makes his paltry attempts at soothing her; he thinks of Smokestar coming back spluttering and his resolve solidifies. She shouldn't see this . . . For now, he just hugs Shellpaw close, feeling the shaking and blessedly alive warmth of her, two - toned eyes watchful for any stirring of Lichenstar's body, ready to pull a snot - smeared face against the dense fur of his chest and hide the lynx point's rebirth from young eyes.

" Shhh, shh, it's okay, it's okay, Shellpaw . . . " he murmurs, split eyes watching the limp body in its smear of blood. He understands her lack of faith in the star's blessings, understands it far too well. A gravelly mew whispers a promise, " Lichenstar will be okay, everything will be okay. "

OOC : WAHHHHH

☆

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[SANDPELT]

ꕀꕀ The day is comfortable. Sunlight shines warm on his fur, a newly-settled calm falling over him in rays of bright light. He likes this—his flank rises and falls softly, and satin-soft fur cushions his perch upon a stony sunning place. With his eye gently shut, he can only hear the bubbling of the river, the splashing of it against the shore, and he’s in the process of slipping off to sleep when a great crashing echoes through the reeds, followed by a shout for help. The small voice is familiar, and Sandpelt darts from his resting place to reach the apprentice. Pebblepaw seems panicked as he cries out for someone to help him.

The blue tabby plays a quick game of word association, gasped out between harsh, heavy breaths than seem almost painful. Tears roll down the younger RiverClanner’s face, and after a moment the words spoken register fully in his mind. Lichenstar. Dog. Cicadaflight. Someone is badly injured according to Pebblepaw, and Sandpelt doesn’t quite understand why his chest tightens in the way that it does. Lichenstar could be hurt, Cicadaflight could be hurt—he isn’t sure which would be worse. His kithood nemesis turned apprenticehood rival, injured, even killed… the idea makes his teeth ache. "Where?" He asks, his voice sharper than it has any need to be. But without further explanation, the boy turns and rushes back out into the territory. A yellow eye darts around swiftly before Sandpelt sprints off after the younger tom.

The site that they arrive to is heart-wrenching; Shellpaw cries out, devastation in her tiny voice. He freezes, lone eye zeroing in on the leader’s limp body. "I," he swallows down the lump in his throat, cold realization a waterfall crashing down onto his back. Lichenstar is dead. Her body lies awash with a pool of blood, only time telling whether she’ll come back form such an injury. I was too late, he thinks, and then brushes away the thought. He wasn’t too late. He couldn’t have known, couldn’t have been here any sooner. But still the idea is sickening, and it turns his stomach like nothing else.

A clear thought bursts to the forefront of his mind—the dog. "I’ll make sure it’s gone," he announces, baring his fangs as he turns to look in the direction the beast had fled in. He can’t do anything for his clanmates, but this? This he can do. On swift paws, the tom darts off after the fleeing beast, not risking a glance back behind him.

𓇢𓆸 you get on my nerves

• ooc: —
• 
  SANDPELT ❯❯ he/him, warrior of riverclan
  ❀ pretty, silky-furred tan tortoiseshell with one yellow eye. calm and hardworking, but can become snappy if angered.
  ❀ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ❀ penned by foxlore

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[lichenstar]

✦˚.✦˚✦˚✦˚ ✧ ˚✦˚✦˚✦.˚✦

CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY ✧

• What glimmering silence... so slowly disturbed by the rising crescendo of blood returning to the vessels of their ears. Fur finds feeling in the prickling touch of a heated breeze, gliding over tender skin where stars had stitched under oozing crimson.
  
  Bubbling snot and kitten-shrill cry becomes muted in the soft sanguine-coated curls of family and comes out like a gurgling stream of dismay that blends in with the soft babbling of the creek nearby. The calm before the stormy tumult of fire that wrings a wire-wrapped wrist, the throbbing ache of underbelly only recently sutured whole- it is what ultimately summons painful consciousness.
  
  A shuddering breath lifts stilled ribs with fluttering uncertainty, as if they're uncertain they are allowed to take another gasp. Her name... someone says her name... and slowly do the fragments of memory weave into quilted remembrance as sensation tingles in awakening nerves.
  
  Pebblepaw- Shellpaw- their tabby-painted faces, dressed in fearful tears in the darkness behind her lashes- "Don't cry..." Visions of a far smaller version of that bird-boned girl, sniveling over scraped paw-pads from playing too rough- how many times had Hazecloud cooed the same gentle plea as Lichentail had rushed across the clearing to inspect their brittle-bodied daughter for greater harm.
  
  "... don't.... cry..." because there is nothing to cry for... and because it is what feels most comfortable to repeat. Brows furrow in stubborn effort to swallow past the all-encompassing soreness of muscles that had been stuck in rigor for what felt like ages. Blearily, it is Cicadaflight's ichor-crusted pelt that first grabs her attention... the way he so hauntingly looks like his father. An echo, like she'd said... but one that would not find its harmony in its original self in StarClan.
  
  Others are here... though their likeness flickers in like individual pixels of a television screen... slow to reveal the whole image. "How...?" Because by all accounts, the lynx point can recognize she ought to have died more than just the once... and the stench of metallic loss suggests a sacrifice she didn't ask for- or maybe just hadn't expected.
  
  Trust, a dying thing that had traveled heavensward in her company.
• about
  
  speech hex code ✧ #6368A5
  
  ooc notes ✦
  tagging ✶
  penned by tieirlys
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[Moonbeam]

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. She did not fully understand how StarClan worked, how they gave leaders their lives and how they healed the leaders as lives slowly were taken from them. She had seen the lives be blessed to Lichenstar, had seen the way each cat pressed their nose to her as they shared their stories with her, but despite seeing it happen she still did not understand. Maybe one day when Moonbeam was dead too, sitting amongst those in StarClan she would be able to understand how it worked, or maybe they themselves did not know how it worked. In the end she knew that it worked, wished that somehow StarClan would be able to one day bless the paws of the medicine cats with such power that they, too, could heal wounds as quick as they managed but it was all too possible that it was not their power to give away. She couldn't imagine either how many cats it must take up in StarClan to stitch the wounds together so quickly, so carefully so that instead of losing all nine lives a leader would only lose one, maybe two if the injuries were bad enough.

She was thinking of these things as she ran alongside Pebblepaw, as her go-to for herbs hung from maw, carefully wrapped in reeds and leaves so that they could be taken with her to the scene. As they neared she watched from the distance as a large shape - one she could only assume was the dog - was ran off, and as the new patrol moved closer she looked around for injuries, for Lichenstar, and upon seeing her leader's body thrown to the side she couldn't help the deep-etched frown that etched itself to her features as she moved closer, following in pursuit of Pebblepaw. He asks how he can help and it takes her a moment to answer as she assesses what needs to be done, what she can ignore, before she motions with her tail. "Wait by her head so that when she wakes up you can give her this, ok?" Dandelion is pushed towards Pebblepaw then, "Make sure she chews it, not swallows it, it'll help with her pain." With that she'd begin her work, cleaning the wounds left behind from StarClan for Moonbeam to heal, applying marigold as cats around her tried to figure out what was going on.

She hears the ragged breathing from Shellpaw as she crawls towards her cousin, hears the words of Cicadaflight trying to comfort the fragile girl before Moonbeam speaks to them next. "Bring her here please." She does what she can with Lichenstar, wraps her leg up in the leaves that had once housed her herbs set for travel, the only thing left a single leaf and a small bit of honey carefully wrapped within it. When Shellpaw is brought near she would move the honey towards the girl - Shellpaw knew what to do with it, how to carefully lick it to sooth her breathing, this Moonbeam knew from her time spent in the medicine den - before a white tail would sweep over Moonbeam's own paws. "She will be okay, do you see the healed wound on her flank? It means StarClan is healing her, they're going to send her back to us, I promise." The words are aimed to Pebblepaw and Shellpaw, though any who are near were free to listen, to gain assurance from the medicine cat's words.

Soon after they are said, Moonbeam watches as chest begins to rise and fall once more, as consciousness flows through Lichenstar's body and her eyes open, her small assurances and question drip from maw. She asks how and Moonbeam motions towards stomach now healed and scarred over as if the wound did not occur only moments prior. "You're safe now, so take your time but when you're ready we need to get back to camp." Let her have her moment to process, let Shellpaw have her moment of her own healing, let all here have their moment of acceptance and relief to know that another leader was not lost to them so quickly after the last two.

LET THE VALLEYS AWAKE ꕥ LET THEM RATTLE AND SHAKE

• --
• ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ flesh wounds
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ infections
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ aches & pains
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ illness
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ breathing
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ traveling
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ broken bones
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ kitting
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ poisons
• ꕥ SH white masking cinnamon torbie w/orange eyes & small ears
  ꕥ 14 moons old; ages the 17th every month
  ꕥ homosexual homoromantic ; mated to beefang
  ꕥ currently mentoring none
  ꕥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ꕥ easy in combat unless in water, focuses on defensive tactics

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[PEBBLEPAW]

(☼) his cousin's voice reaches him through muted ears, as adrenaline floods his senses. he feels as though he's underwater, watching every movement happen with the syrupy slowness of submerged swimming. it's as if bubbles pop around his ears, accompanied by black spots that dance before his eyes. cicadaflight's nose presses behind his tufted ear, its warm touch shocking him back to reality. blood runs sticky around his snowstrewn paws, not his own, but in spirit, that of his kin. "cada," he gasps, turning to lean into the touch, welcoming the worried vocals of a cat he feels he needs to know better. ragged breaths cut through shocked silence, the familiar keening wail of shellpaw as she collapses at their paws. cicadaflight scoops her in an embrace and pebblepaw will run his tongue across her face, licking away hot tears that stream from bloodshot berry eyes. "we're okay, we're okay."

moonbeam works with steady paws, sliding a familiar yellow plant towards pebblepaw, who will scoop it up and, with a last nuzzle into his cousin's fur, will move to sit by lichenstar's head, worried copper gaze peering down at the unmoving body. within seconds, she twitches, chest beginning to rise again, and relief floods the river-hued tomcat like a tidal wave. "mom," he whispers, "mumma," carefully, he will coax the dandelion into her maw, paws soft but shaking. "chew this, moonbeam says you have to." he will not break into relieved sobs, nor bury himself in her curled fur. softness decorates his features now, relief at the knowledge that she is not crumpled at the bottom of the gorge, or thrown to the mercy of rogues. starclan has healed her, sent her back to them, a gift for the sin of stealing away two leaders before her.

still, tears leak from unwilling honey eyes, dampening pale fur as they fall onto the ruler. a white capped paw scrubs at his face, desperate to stop at lichenstar's orders. "you're okay?"

I DO NOT HAVE WINGS, LOVE ☼ I NEVER WILL

• // " #848DAE"
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• 
  PEBBLEPAW ☼ HE / HIM, APPRENTICE OF RIVERCLAN. MENTORED BY FOXTAIL. 8 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a large blue tabby with low white and vitiligo. pale blue fur covers the length of pebblepaw's stocky body, sliced through with darker tabby stripes and spots. baleful orange eyes peer out of heavy set sockets, and his muzzle, paws, and tail tip are dashed with white.

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