camp YOU WILL BE LAID TO REST BY GENTLE HANDS — BEARFLIGHT'S VIGIL

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── He'd flinched every time the sprig of lavender brushed burned skin, despite irrefutable, agonizing proof that Bearflight could feel no pain. His son, his firstborn child too tender to become the formidable warrior Wolfsong and Sunstar hoped for— and now will never come to be anything, spirit untouched by time and unchanging in the stars. He will never teach a bright-eyed apprentice, will never find his heart quickening while watching butterflies make their moorland pilgrimage, will never find them in his stomach for love of another or the birth of his children. Free of the chaos and uncertainty plaguing life, but bereft of its gifts.

Maybe he never would have taken a mate, maybe he wouldn't have kits, but that would have been Bearflight's choice. Perhaps his name wouldn't be Bearflight at all, and he'd have earned it alongside his siblings instead of writhing in the dirt, choking on his last breaths while his father bade him a swift escape. Conjecture, all of it. Fantasy. Bearflight cannot make such decisions anymore— because his ðir chose, and he chose wrong.

A greater coward than his own father, whose abandoned dignity saved and did no harm, but the harm Wolfsong has wrought fills his lungs with ash and the lavender desperately concealing burned flesh.

The bright splay of purple across a motionless side captures Wolfsong's stare. He is afraid to look upon his own son, afraid to confront his own failures, and he knows he will find no comfort at his mate's side, where is not permitted.

He forces his gaze to shift, to study his son, to groom his limp head as he did when Bearflight was no taller than his leg. He counts each toe on each paw, which once flexed at his belly while he suckled.

There are no flowers for your grave. I can give you nothing I have not ruined.
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WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 42 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTAR (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.
  • ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
    ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
  • ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
    ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
  • ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
    ★★★☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart and his own pregnancy, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
  • ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
    ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.
 
AS HE RAISED HIS FIST BEFORE HE SPOKE — Bearpaw - Bearflight, she had to remind herself - had never deserved such a fate.

None of them had deserved the destruction that had come to visit Windclan in the form of the fires, but Bearflight in particular hadn't deserved the violent end that had come to him. The end full of pain and agony that Rattleheart would have wished on no cat, not even the burdensome demon that Sootstar had eventually morphed into. His death had at least been a mercy, saving him from the pain he had been experiencing and welcoming him into the arms of Starclan far above them. Though the tunneler couldn't even think to imagine the anguish that both Wolfsong and Sunstar had to be in, not to mention Bearflight's young siblings.

He didn't want to imagine, not when he had his own little ones on the way. Kits that he might one day end up losing, just as Windclan's leader and medicine cat had lost their son.

The thought of it was enough to yank air from Rattleheart's lungs, leaving him breathless and pained as he approached where Bearflight's body laid, Wolfsong's silent form hunched over him in mourning. The scent of lavender was hanging heavy on the air, a stark contrast to the burnt up, ashy nothingness that had been haunting his nose ever since their return to Windclan proper. It might've been uplifting, if not for the heavy meaning that the scent carried with it.

Unlike Wolfsong, the new queen kept some distance from Bearflight's limp form, not wanting to intrude on the other's mourning. Instead he just let his head fall, slouched over so far that his muzzle was nearly brushing the ground. "I'm sorry, Bearflight. I hope that Starclan honors your bravery, and offers you a home you can love as much as this one." Rattleheart's claws dug briefly down into the dirt, an uncharacteristic feeling of resentment crawling up his throat. He was praying to Starclan, but where had they been while Windclan's moors were aflame? Why had they waited until after Bearflight's loss to grant any of them mercy? "We'll all see you again, one day." At least, if they were lucky.


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    longhaired black and white tom with pale green eyes
    51 moons old; ages the 1st every month
    afab; uses he/she/they pronouns
    homosexual homoromantic; mated to venomstrike
    sibling to scorchstreak, lizardbounce, and rabbitclaw
    currently mentoring downypaw
    somewhat difficult to befriend; wary but kind
    "speech", thoughts, attacking
    peaceful powerplay allowed
    all opinions are ic
 

Dimmingsun does not posses paternal love like Wolfsong, but he can put himself in his stead - impossible not to when torment is written as clearly on his face as a solved omen -, has the chance to pull away from it when it gets too much. He can sympathize, he can imagine, but he cannot feel the yawning depth that parents face when they're forced to combat the ugly monster of grief. His own pain is but a fraction; the loss of young, polite and smart Bearflight opens a hollow inside his chest, but the two kinds of pain are not comparable.

Dimmingsun lost a Clanmate; Sunstar and Wolfsong lost a son; Featherpaw, Rivepaw, Singedpaw and Sunlitpaw lost a brother.

Wolfsong touches Bearflight like he still feels the pain that comes with physical contact. It's so reminiscent of how the apprentice used to be, mindful of his size and morphing into a gentle giant, that Dimmingsun forces his eyes away from the intimacy.

Only for a moment, however. The fallen deserve their attention.

Rattleheart offers her own condolences, and Dimmingsun takes a seat beside her to offer his own. "I hope StarClan takes good care of you, better than we could have done." He thinks of the heartbreaking screeches of pain torn from Bearflight's mouth, white-hot pain driving all thoughts away from his frenzied mind. Nobody should ever fade from this world in such a way. "Free from pain, so that you can look after your family from the stars."
 
The stench of lavender weighs down the atmosphere around them. Scorchstorm finds herself falling in with the funeral crowd, particularly at Rattleheart's side; in these uncomfortable moments she seems to gravitate towards her family in any way she can. And StarClan, is it uncomfortable to see Bearflight like this. She remembers him best as a kit — small, but soft and tender, almost unable to do any harm. Some cats might question whether he was truly the son of Wolfsong and Sunstar were it not for the pelt he bore that resembled them so strongly. Warm gold like sunlight dapples; deep, woody rosettes; cream streaks; all of that vibrant color stills now, piled under purple fronds to keep the smell of rot away.

Wolfsong hunches over his son. Dimmingsun and Rattleheart murmur condolences. Better than we could have done? she catches, but we did the best we could! So why did Bearflight die anyway? Berry lips purse as she ruminates on the question; her white-tipped tail flicks, wired with anxiety. She presses a shoulder to her aunt's side. StarClan must have a plan for them all, musn't they? There must be some reason they claimed Bearflight before the fires could be extinguished; there must be some reason for piling grief upon their leader and medicine cat in this way. Scorchstorm glances skyward briefly before bowing her head at last. If he had to be in StarClan now, then so be it — but please keep him happy up there.

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    scorchkit . scorchpaw . scorchstorm
    — she/they ; warrior of windclan
    — short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
    — "speech" ; thoughts
    — signature by dreamydoggo, template art by sixbane
    — penned by meghan
 

"TAKE ME TO YOUR ORCHARD, SO SWEET"
// retro to new name

Rivepaw is silent as she does what her ðir allows her to. If she was allowed to weave the lavender, what little remains, into her brother's fur, his limbs, tucking it near his nose- she does so, her breathing unsteady. Eyes dipped red, her ears near-permanently lowered since she witnessed it. She is silent as she picks a spot against her ðir, leaning in close to what warmth Wolfsong offers, to what warmth did not remain in Bearflight's body.

Grief was a strange thing, but she did not like making acquaintances with it. She did not like this- no, she very much loathed the fact she ever needed to say goodbye to one of her siblings like this. That it was not old age that captured her gentle brother, who was bewildered with the beautiful sights of a now ashed moor. That it was instead the very thing that destroyed the beauty that he loved so- the very thing that Bearpaw could dream upon and watch for hours.

Rivepaw sniffled again as she pressed her nose to Bearflight's shoulders. Cold, the lingering and growing scent of death just barely covered with that of lavender. "I- I hope... I hope that you are safe. I hope that you are surrounded by meadows full of flowers and insects." I will not cry. I cannot, for Bearflight can't. A dry sob racked from her as she spoke, voice cracking like that of light upon dawn. "I hope that... that you know you are loved."

She inhaled sharply, eyes squeezing shut. They watered regardless of her telling herself she couldn't cry over this. Thoughts of her father's screams echoed in her head. "I'll miss you." She managed. A moment longer did she press her nose against her brother's corpse, before it turned and plunged in against Wolfsong's fur, hiding there. Regardless of the clan's eyes upon them, regardless of the Stars peering down upon camp.
"yuh"
 
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Reactions: WOLFSONG
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Exhaustion tugs at her limbs, makes her movements heavy and her eyelids even heavier. She wants sleep, she wants her nest, her mate. But there are other things to attend to before she can finally rest. Bearflight's vigil. Her heart goes out to her apprentice, to her leader, her friend. She does not know what it is like to loose a sibling in such a way. Images flash in her mind of blue on smoky gray, of her paws holding down a writhing form and of the life seeping out of green eyes. She had watched her sister die and yes, a part of her mourned the loss but she had known in the end that Sootstar had not been the cat she had once known. She was a stranger to her, someone that looked and sounded like her littermate.

Still, her heart goes out to those who were most affected by this loss. Bearflight was a good cat (despite his.. odd.. nature) and he had been taken from them far too soon. It was always the greatest tragedy when someone young went to starclan far before their time.

She says nothing as she comes to join the small group in mourning. What could she ever possibly say that could heal such a loss? But she bows her head respectfully and sends a silent prayer to StarClan, asking to keep him safe, asking to watch over them and guide them and help them to heal from everything they had endured.
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    BLUEPOOL WINDCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO SOOTSTAR & MINTSHADE
    A small framed moor runner with a blue toned pelt and black stripes. Her tail is cropped and her eyes are golden in color. On her chest, she sports a large 'X' shaped scar.
    Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + isn't above using dirty tricks in order to win