Open Camp And I Don't Wanna Let 'em Down || Return From Fourtrees

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This thread takes place inside the clan's camp.

Sealdawn Sealdawn

I'll Keep Them Close
I'll Keep Them Close
ShadowClan
Warrior
Trapper
79
10
Freshkill
0
Pronouns
She/They
Profile
TAGS
Played by
Shinyotachi
Plant some seeds when you're alone
Let the blossoms
grow

.

She is as bewildered as she is unnerved by the entire encounter, the tabby's pace only slowing once she was past the thunderpath. Safe. Beyond the reach of that frankly insane cat. Who drags someone across a border and then tells them to run as if they'd crossed it purposefully???

Her shoulders burned and itched with dried blood where Cygnetscratch had dug her claws in, Sealdawn did not want to know how they looked nor the left side of her face which hurt just as much if not moreso. At least she could still see out of that eye, even if she was currently squinting through slowly drying blood. She was sure her ear had also been torn at least a little based on how it stung.

The descent into Shadowclan's camp is usually an easy thing for the young warrior. Instead she finds herself nearly tripping down the incline when a misstep sends pain lancing up a shoulder. "I need Cicadabuzz," Sealdawn manages through frayed nerves, glancing around camp for the medicine cat, squinting. "Some Skyclan cat tried to drag me across the border..."

She shakes her head- widening her stance almost immediately after with a wince because the movement alone made her dizzy and the last thing she wanted was to fall face first into the mud. "I don't know why."


15 moons
shadowclan warrior
she/they
bio


Inside Your Chest
SEALDAWN

— Shadowclan Trapper
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
— Grey Rosetted Tabby With Blue Eyes And A Bobbed Tail.
#70d8e5

 
In the morning when I wake and the sun is coming through
Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness and you fill my head with you

.


Shock coursed through Marbleshine's body as she dashed forward, muscles taut with panic. Her precious child, Sealdawn, blood dripping from her face. Her heart skipped, tripped, and fell at the same time. What had happened? Who had done this? Was it RiverClan, seeking revenge? Had Sealdawn stumbled into danger on her own? Were they under attack right now? The questions came faster than she could answer them herself, and a trembling breath forced her to steady her racing mind. No. Calm down. Calm down!

" Sealdawn! " she called, her voice shaking with both worry and motherly love as she hurried to the young cat's side. " SkyClan…? " Her words caught, perplexed, as the truth sank in. SkyClan had dragged Sealdawn across the border? Why? Why would they do this? Sealdawn had done nothing wrong. Her daughter was kind, gentle… a heart of gold in a world that could be harsh. " Shh, shh… don't worry about that right now... " Marbleshine soothed, pressing her nose gently to Sealdawn's fur. " First, let's get you patched up. " She limped carefully forward, supporting Sealdawn as best she could, every step deliberate despite the ache in her shoulder.

Then her voice rose again, urgent, sharp with the need for help. " Cicadabuzz! Cicadabuzz! " Her blue eyes were wide, fear and determination shining through. " Sealdawn needs you, she's been attacked! "

Speech, thoughts/emphasis


6 MOONS
𖧧
SHADOWCLANNER
𖧧
SONG
𖧧
bio
 
-

Fleafire froze, tongue mid-rasp over a filthy paw streaked with prey scraps, when she saw Sealdawn. Something is obviously wrong. She lurches upright as Sealdawn stumbles and tails after Marbleshine, who'd beat her to it.

"A SkyClan cat did this?" She hissed, grit grinding in her throat. She circled to the other side of the dappled warrior, eyes narrowing at every gash and clump of matted fur. Her claws flexed, scoring little trenches into a mossy pincushion. Figured those cats would be on some kind of power trip after the gathering. She didn't give a rat's ass what they did to the other clans, but attacking one of theirs for no damn reason was the line.

"I outta drag one of them into the swamp and see how they like it." Fleafire grunted, wedging her shoulder against Sealdawn for support on the side opposite to Marbleshine.

In the pines, in the pines where the sun never shines
FLEAFIRE
14 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson
Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.


We'll shiver the whole night through
 
Cicadabuzz slips through the stir of the camp with the same quiet intent that always keeps it half-hidden. It smells fear before it sees it—copper and wet fur and the sharp tang of violence—and the rest of the world narrows until only Sealdawn's staggered shape and the cluster of worried voices remain. It moves without hurry, paws steady. Cicadabuzz does not waste words to soothe; its voice is a low tool it uses when necessary. "Come with me. Sit. Breathe slow," it tells Sealdawn, not unkind, but precise. It gives a wave of its tail, turning to guide into its den, to coax her to the flat stone in the center. Only once she is settled, it steps forward to part her clotted fur to see the wounds properly.

It notes the wounds with the same clear, practical eye it brings to every sick or injured cat. There are ragged scratches across both shoulders where claws tore the skin; a shallow but ugly scratch over the left eye, close enough to possibly have stung the sight; and the left ear is split where the flesh has been torn. None of it is immediately catastrophic, but the eye is the most in need of care. First, it cleans. It grasps a clump of damp moss, and gently washes away the crusted blood. Cicadabuzz does not fuss; its movements are efficient and exact, because fussing wastes breath and attention. It gathers a sprig of horsetail and one of marigold, chewing them together into a pulp. It spreads some within the shoulder wounds first; it carefully presses some into the wound on the ear; and then, it uses what remains to carefully spread on the scratch over the eye.

It takes cobwebs, a small portion only, to press a thin layer over each wound, to both secure the poultices in place and keep the wounds clean. To have dirt enter the wound would be to court infection. Only once this is done does Cicadabuzz ask Sealdawn its questions. "Is vision in your eye blurry or obscured, or is your sight as clear as always? it questions, voice even as it lifts a paw to lightly tilt her head, getting a better look at it. It lets its paw fall back to the ground after. Regardless of the answer, it then asks, "The pain. Is it unbearable, or within tolerable range?" If it does not need to fetch a poppy seed for her, it will not; to use it now means to not have it later.