development WITHERING [FALL]

[Palemoon]

Even as her blindness persisted, Palemoon sought to maintain her independence by doing things without relying on others. The lynx point found herself out in the territory as she gazes upon a tree and allows her paws to feel the bark, her nerves tingling slightly. Everything will be fine. She reassures herself as her claws grip into the bark and she scales upwards into the tree, and settles upon a tree branch. A small bird chirps and lands upon the lower branch of the next tree that catches her attention, her blurry gaze having to focus intently to fully capture sight and the distance of her prey. Small ivory paws press into the bark as her haunches tighten and she attempts to leap upon the finch that carelessly sung to the other avians in the territory. As her body launches forth, it's clear that she underestimated her jump as her front claws scratch at to catch onto a grip.

Unfortunately, Palemoon cannot catch herself in time as she tumbles to the ground and hits a smaller branch on the way down. A thud is heard as she lays limply on the ground - almost as if she died until an affected cough heaves from her chest. As the stars say, it wasn't her time yet, and she rubs her side slightly that feels sore from her hitting the other branch until she tries to stand, a sharp pain making her wince. ” ... Ah... I think I landed on my paw...” Pale murmurs softly as she straightens her posture as she leans against the tree, adjusting the weight off her newly sprained paw. Duskpool... She thinks as she closes her ghostly blue eyes to relax and calm her nerves. - she could've died if she went higher.

She would have broken her promise to Duskpool then, and she didn't want to leave the side of her best friend ever. It was Starclan's message. It must've been. Hopefully, Hawkspine was nearby as they went out hunting together and would come back soon to either help her back to camp or get Dawnglare (or Fireflyglow).

/just a small fall that ended up with a sprained right paw + slight bruise on her side
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[DOEBLAZE]

Doeblaze herself is currently instructing her own apprentices in climbing, as the stars would have it—a few trees away, she coaxes Cloudypaw and Primrose up a stout and craggy trunk, perfect for practicing ( by her judgement, anyways ). Her younger charge hadn't taken to it quite as naturally as some of his peers; Primrose, despite her formidable size, seems to be doing quite well. Her ears twitch as she mrrows instructions in an effort to guide Cloudypaw up to one of the stout branches she was perched on.

A heavy thump catches her attention, tattered ears swiveling upright as her head twists in the direction of the sound. She swishes her tail for her apprentices to follow as she drops light - pawed from her own branch and lopes toward roughly where she'd approximate its source as . . . only to find Palemoon sprawled on the pine - carpeted ground. Her limp posture, punctuated by a cough, makes Doeblaze's lilac pelt bristle wolfishly with concern—one that lessens only slightly as the fawn - tipped warrior staggers upright to lean against the betraying trunk.

" Palemoon! " she calls, bolting over in a flurry of pawsteps. Her lone gaze flicks upwards, towards a flurry of falling needles, and then back to the warrior's face, which she scrutinizes with a worried furrow between her brows. Between the disturbed boughs above and that loud thud, she can hazard a guess at what happened. She's not too familiar with the point, but she seems rather close with Duskpool—and she's always admired Palemoon's unwavering serenity, which she certainly displays now. " Are you alright? Nothing's broken? " Her eye rounds in concern—a bad tumble from a tree could break a cat in ways that were hard to repair, after all.

" Your paw? " she echoes, craning her neck to stare at the affected limb. She's no medicine cat, though, and nothing about it looks off to her . . . then again, she hadn't noticed the discrepancy in Slate's hip, either. She winces at the memory, grimacing as her eyes flick towards Palemoon's ghostly blues. She'd taken a couple small tumbles herself after losing her eye ( blame depth perception ), but nothing this bad . . .

" Can you walk back to camp, or should I send Cloudypaw to get the medicine cats? " she mrrows, concern seeping into her voice despite her efforts. She could curse her lack of knowledge; she has no idea if the damage to the other warrior's paw is irreparable, glancing, or somewhere in between. Doeblaze offers, " You can lean on me if you need to. "

OOC : —

✦

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[oakrumble]

-ˋˏ Oakrumble woke up in a sour mood and throughout the day it has only worsened with the irksome overlapping conversations in camp and the monotonous tasks of just being a warrior. As soon as their was an opening for Oakrumble to leave camp, the muscular torbie dismisses herself and strolls out of camp, large paws dragging through the nettles. She intends to find some peace and quiet, maybe a quiet spot in a tree to sit and reflect.

This is what she intends, but not what happens. As a thump of a body reaches her ears, Oakrumble quickens her pace, diving through the sparse undergrowth. She emerges to see Doeblaze beside Palemoon, who leans against the trunk of a tree for support. The torbie's jaw gapes in surprise and she swiftly observes the scene, coming to the conclusion that Palemoon had fallen from the tree above them.

"Palemoon? My dear!" She croaks, tossing herself towards her injured friend. Oakrumble pauses only a few pawsteps away, neck stretched forward to get a closer look at the injured paw. Well, no bones are sticking out... That's surely a good sign. She turns her brown eyes to Doeblaze, nodding towards her counterpart swiftly, she hardly noticed their presence. "Mmm, we can help you to camp...?" Oakrumble lingers for several heartbeats before stepping forward and positioning herself beside Palemoon. "Lean on us."

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌──HOW DO YOU SEE ME? ⋅⚘⋅ AM I WHO I USED TO BE ──┐‎

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  OAKRUMBLE ❋ she/her, warrior of skyclan, 56 moons.
  ☼ lh chocolate torbie, stout and muscular she-cat with an overbite.
  ☼ important relations blah blah idk
  ☼ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ☼ penned by @ken_Unot, feel free to dm for plots on disc!
  

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[FIGFEATHER]

A crashing sounded several fox-lengths away. Then sounds a yowl of pain followed by several panicked voices crying ’Palemoon!’

Her heart pounds against her chest as dread embeds itself into her stomach. She begins to picture the worst, a vivid, gruesome scene of Palemoon laying shriveled up on the ground. Her bones shattered and jutting from her skin, dislocated in the areas they had not completely snapped. Figfeather abandons the prey scent she had been following and races towards the sounds of Doeblaze and Oakrumble.


The she-cats are gently trying to assist Palemoon to her paws. The scene is not nearly as morbid as she had pictured in her head. Palemoon’s fur was dirty and roughed up, maybe a scratch here and there, but any other injury she bore was hidden under her pelt. ”What happened?!” Figfeather asks, glancing between both the older felines.

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[DAWNGLARE]

A small blessing for Palemoon, that his meanderings bring him to the scene of her injury. Her fellow SkyClanners swarm her like crows... and their likeness does not end there, as they squawk their whats and their whys. Dawnglare had only heard the moment of impact — but he need not take in the full breath of her foolishness to discern the issue. It would be written in skin and bone, blood and sinew... from the pine trees, Dawnglare steps. His voice carries like a sigh, something not expressly for anyone there. " I heard... " ...something. He would like to believe it something other than the pop of her muscle or worried musings of her clanmates... A sigh on the wind, perhaps, even if Mother is quiet, as of late...

Arriving beside Figfeather, Dawnglare passes her by with heavy steps. Claws peek achingly from their sheathes, seeking out stability that only the earth itself could provide, held onto Her heels... Palemoon is offered backs to lean against on either side, and Dawnglare looms upon them dead - center. Catching the tail - end of Bobbie's word ( concern held out tot he wrong people, the wrong things. She ought to ponder who she has already damned; or was it that her distress always came alongside fangs? ), he murmurs, twinged with taunting quiet, " Lucky you. " And his gaze would hold onto Bobbie's with an insistence.

...She was nothing, in the end; and Dawnglare needed no reassurance in regard to Oakrumble... He looks to Palemoon, and wordlessly requests the brandishing of her paw... " Not broken, " he affirms to himself. " Fixable. " Though... did he have the means to fix it? No deficit of skill, but parasitic crutch, bathed in green.

His gaze flickers to Oakrumble ( he is unwilling to glimpse Bobbie for much longer ). " ...Keep doing what you're doing. " he would return to root through his stock, and he supposes, prepare a nest... He wonders: Is preparing nests what he'd be doing for the rest of his miserable life?​