TW: Sensitive Content Territory ShadowClan break me and wash away my colors

[Tickpaw]

TICK

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?

They were gone... One by one, they vanished. The siblings bound to him by blood and those bonded to him by choice. Three taken by the Twolegs. Two lost... to death. Death was no stranger to him, for it had taken their mother. He remembered her frail body, remembered the screams clawing from his throat as he sought her warmth. Then, they'd placed him with a new mother, one who looked after him, soothed his wails. But the fear... Oh, the fear had been a constant companion, tearing at him, sinking its claws deep.

He remembered everything.

But back then, he wasn't alone. Now? He was. He felt it, an ache sharper than hunger or thirst. The last of his family was gone, and he had been shoved into another cage. Away from the warmth of a mother. Away from everyone. He was sickly, trembling with anger and exhaustion, but the fear... the fear never left. It festered, growing stronger with every passing moment. He didn't want to end up like Mama. Like his siblings. He was scared. He was alone. Crusted nose, watery eyes, limbs heavy with illness... He tried to fight, but his strength was gone. The dark pressed in, suffocating him, wrapping him like a burial shroud. He clawed, cried, wailed, but the cries grew softer, his voice raw and hoarse until only silence remained.

Too tired. Too weak.

He barely acknowledged it when he was lifted by the scruff, dangling limply in the grip of a twoleg. Their voice was sharp, disgusted, but he didn't care. He couldn't focus. Then, without warning, everything went black. A bag. Tight. Suffocating. The air was stale, thick with the stench of decay. He flinched as his nose pressed against something stiff, something dead. He recoiled weakly, a faint, feeble gesture, and then the world tilted. He was swung, carried like waste, discarded without thought.

And then he fell.

The impact jolted his frail body, a soft whimper escaping as he landed in a heap. Garbage. He was lying in garbage. The air burned in his lungs, his limbs heavy and trembling. For a moment, he just lay there, curled in on himself, the darkness creeping closer, threatening to claim him. But then the panic set in. It wrapped around him, suffocating, crushing. He couldn't die here. Not like this. Not now. A desperate spark ignited in his chest. His claws scrabbled against the plastic encasing him, weak at first but growing stronger with every frantic movement. He clawed, kicked, and tore, the raw, primal urge to live driving him forward. Over and over, he fought until, at last, the bag ripped open.

Light. Air.

He gasped, stumbling forward, shaking violently as his chest heaved. His eyes were wide, pupils blown with terror. Run. The instinct screamed at him. Run. And so he did. He fled, paws pounding against unfamiliar ground. The world around him was vast, overwhelming. The sky stretched endlessly above, so much wider than the suffocating cage he'd known. The ground was rough beneath his pads, and strange, loud noises echoed around him. But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Even as his breath came in ragged, burning gasps. Even as his muscles screamed in agony, begging him to rest. He kept running.

He didn't know where he was going, didn't know how far he'd come. He only knew he had to get away. To keep moving. And then, at last, his body gave out. He collapsed near the edge of a forest, his legs trembling as he hissed weakly. The scent of cats lingered faintly in the air, a final thread of awareness before the darkness swallowed him whole.

═════════════⊹⊱ ⟡ ⊰⊹═════════════

 

[F l e a p a w]

Fleapaw hopped around, paws barely touching the ground as she danced excited circles around her sister. Her words tumbled out fast, spilling over themselves, her face lighter, a little less burdened from the usual shadows that clung to it.

She felt lighter—some of the stones that had weighed her down had been cut loose. A missing fragment of her life had finally fallen back into place. And now there was so much to do. So many places to show her sister—The mud puddles where she caught her frogs. The bottomless pit she and Monster found. Oh! And the monster tree! The monster tree was super freaking cool. Lost would have to see that.

It would take time to get used to calling her Lost and not Worm, but Fleapaw didn't care what she was called, long as she still had a sister.

Long as she wasn't alone anymore

Flea had Stoatkit, but now that she was an apprentice, they barely got to see each other. There was never a right time to sneak out. She didn't have anyone to have adventures with or take with her when she did her patrols. Much as Fleapaw wanted Stoat to join her, it never happened. Maybe once Stoat became an apprentice that would change.

"You're gonna love the pit," Fleapaw rambled as they padded toward the border. "It's really fuckin' cool. Like ginormous! No bottom at all! You can throw whatever in it and poof!—gone." The idea was to head to the boundary and then hit up the pit on the way back. Throw some rocks in or something.

That… was the plan anyway.

Fleapaw stumbled, her paws catching on something in the overgrowth, sending her tumbling forward. Her scraped the ground, fresh muck streaking across her pelt. "Ah—what the—" She grunted, folding her paw under herself for support, peeling away from the sludge-like a slug. Her fur bristled as she turned, ready to punt whatever stupid rock or twoleg trash had tripped her up—


Only it wasn't either of those things. Instead, she saw fur—dirty—mangled fur. She could barely tell what kind of creature it even belonged to. The color greyish and filthy, twisted into the earth like it had been laying there for moons.


A pungent bitter and sour stench reached her nose. The kind that usually meant death. Fleapaw's stomach twisted but her nose twitched. Jaw slackened. There was rot. Sickness. But also… something very familiar. On instinct, she shuffled closer and nudged the thing with her paw—a cat. But then as she brushed away some of the crust from its face, her blood ran cold. She went stiff.

No… no no no no. She was imagining things.

"Lostpaw!" Fleapaw jerked her head toward her sister, strangled with dread. Claws gripped her heart so tight that she could feel it in her throat. She knew him. Even under all the filth, even with his body limp and foul-smelling as crowfood—Fleapaw recognized her littermate.

Tick?

The blue-furred tom wasn't how she remembered him, but it was him. Part of her wondered if this was some trick. With all the strange shit happening in ShadowClan, could it be? Was she losing it?

Fleapaw swallowed hard, like when she found Worm, she was hesitant to accept it. "Lost, it's Tick!" She rasped, frantically looking to Lostpaw. "I swear it looks just like him! I'm not crazy—right? It's him, isn't it?!"

The cinnamon solid trembled as she leaned down, pressing her nose to his filthy fur. She had to know. To confirm the truth of what her eyes and nose were telling her. He smelled like shit. But—He wasn't dead. A thumping greeted her ears, faint but there. Relief and a different type of fear tangled together. A crushing weight pressing down just a bit less. Fleapaw nudged him gently—and then a little harder. "Wake up!" They had to get him help—now.

Please… Fleapaw didn't know who she was begging. Maybe him, or something else—anything or anyone that was willing to listen.

He couldn't die here. Not when they just got him back.

​

shes got a knife ▬ι═ﺤ stab stab

• ooc: —— Sorry if its a mess, I'm tiredddd
• 
  I extend my hand like a mob boss and allow you to kiss my ring but when you lean closer you see its one of those glow-in-the-dark spider rings you win at arcades [MUNCH] you disrespec me - and eat my spooky spida ring! which cost me 50 tickets at funtime arcade and pizzeria. VINNY! Hit her with da sticky hand!​
  ​
• FLEAKIT / FLEAPAW / FLEAFIRE
  - she/her
  - apprentice
  - 6 moons
  - speech thought
  - some physical powerplay permitted
  
  
  penned by user​

​

​

 

[lostpaw]

Lostpaw followed Fleapaw close, staying in step with her sister even while the girl's paws could outrun that of her siblings easily. She recoiled at the stench that met her nostrils, nose crinkling and her ears pinning to her head. "Eww, come on Flea lets get o-- oh." She was suggesting they vacate that area as quickly as possible when Flea had gone stiff, gone quiet. Lostpaw peered around her form, saw what had stopped the female in her tracks. "Is that... it can't be. Is he breathing?" The grey molly bounded forward on sure, swift paws, and got down to her brother's level, felt the air off his breath, scented the filth that radiated off of him.

She stared at him, stared at the garbage and shit covering him, obscuring that beautiful pelt of his. She stared at the way his bones jutted from beneath his fur, the thinness of it showing scraps of skin underneath. The molly very nearly puked, but instead of giving into that part of her she just grabbed him by the scruff, pulling him across the ground a few meters before setting him gently on the ground. "One of has gotta go get a big one, okay? Do you want to or do you want me to?"

SHE IS FREQUENTLY KIND ☆ AND SHE'S SUDDENLY CRUEL

• "speech"
  
• 
  

  

• LOSTPAW she/her, shadowclan, six moons.
  ☆ a sh solid grey she-cat with green eyes / lithe and fast, tall and thin shouldered
  ☆ mentored by @/Mothbite
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / always tag @hellybear
  ☆ penned by hellybear ↛ hellycinth on discord, feel free to dm for plots / click for toyhou.se

 

[BONESTALKER]

Death is never so easy to expect. Never so easy to stare into the face of. The woman knows this for herself as she has had to stare at it many times. It always passed over her like a chilling embrace. It's presence choosing to seep into others, family, friends. Perhaps it just is not her time yet but she worries for things she has never spoken about with those she claims are her clanmates. Things she keeps buried deep in her heart. A sharp sigh threads from her maw as she steps against soggy and clogged ground, gaze lingering on nothing at all. The shadow slips with nary a sound as she makes her own lonely path across the muk. Sometimes she wonders if this place, if this clan is the wellbeing she seeks. She does find comfort in some but not in many of the cats here. She misses...other. Her eyes narrow on her thoughts before she pauses as a vile wind blows her way. Sending a disturbing scent on the air and the scent of Shadowclanners on the breeze. It makes her face screw up some before she shakes her head sharply. It smells of rot, decay. And as she approaches she can hear the voices of the two. Pleading, hoping. Praying to something that will not answer.

"Fleapaw? Lostpaw?" She inquires carefully as she comes to finally be within their midst. Her molten gaze shifts between the two before she lowers it to look at the thing with them. Clearly a corpse but so bedraggled, decrepit. Dead. For a moment she stares, eyes focusing slowly before she finally releases the breath she is holding. "If you would like, I can carry them back to camp for a proper goodbye." The woman does not wish to touch the body if they will not allow her to do so.

 

[Tickpaw]

TICK

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?

Tick didn't understand. One moment, there had been nothing, just darkness, exhaustion, a quiet surrender to the cold. The next, there was noise. Too much noise. Voices tangled together in his head, an overwhelming mess that made his ears twitch in discomfort. Everything was a blur, shapes and figures shifting, unfamiliar scents pressing in from all sides.

He just wanted to rest. That was all. Just a moment longer. Just a little more warmth, a little more quiet, before he had to face whatever this place was, this strange, vast world that had already taken too much from him. But rest, it seemed, would not come so easily.

Something nudged at him. Again. A prodding, persistent touch that made a small noise slip from his throat. It was weak, wheezing, rattling. His body shuddered involuntarily, his breath unsteady. He didn't know what was happening, but something in the air, an urgency in the voices, a franticness in the movement around him, told him one thing for certain.

He needed help.

And he needed it fast.

═════════════⊹⊱ ⟡ ⊰⊹═════════════

 

[F l e a p a w]

Fleapaw's head snapped up at the sound of a new voice, eyes crackling with irritation.

Her body moved before she could think, stepping in front of her brother, shoulders squared, hackles raised. "He's not dead, you—" The insult burned in her throat, begging to be set free, but she bit down on her tongue, swallowing it whole.

She took a sharp breath, glancing toward Lostpaw, and instantly, she deflated. They could get him to camp like this—dragging him there like a sack of garbage. But not quickly enough.

And if they weren't fast enough—there wasn't anything in the world that could save him. Not if she couldn't shove down the bitterness crawling up her throat and do what had to be done.

And what if he survived the trip and they turned him away—sparing the resources or the time needed to save him—because of her? Fleapaw knew she wasn't exactly everyone's favorite cat. She didn't care enough to bother until now.

But the clan trusted Bonestalker. They would listen to what she had to say.

Her heart was pounding in her throat. She had already left him behind once, to fester in the hell he crawled here to escape from. And now he found his way back to her, just like Worm did, barely breathing, clinging to the last scraps of life—and she was standing over him like she had any right to act like his sister now.

Now, she looked down at Tick, inhaling the rot that clung to his pelt, nausea coming on thick and making her drool.

He would die… and it would be her fault.

Her tail flicked, paws shuffling uneasily. Her jaw worked— lips parting—closing—parting again, words slipping between her teeth like they were too bitter to say outright. Finally, she spat them out. "He's breathing but we can't carry him on our own. Help us get him to Cicadabuzz."

In a smaller voice, smothered pride and desperation seeped up to the surface. "Please."

____________IF I COULD PAINT THE SKY 𓆏 WOULD ALL THE STARS THEN SHINE A BLOODY RED?

• ooc: —

• 

• FLEAPAW she/her | shadowclanner | 6 moons
  → FLEAKIT / FLEAPAW / FLEAFIRE
  → mentored by POSSUMGRIN and FROSTSTORM
  → former mill kit and kittypet
  → some physical powerplay permitted
  → speech thought/emphasis attacking

 

[Mothbite]

Still so young, Desperate for attention!

indentttMothbite follows behind Bonecrusher, approaching the small group surrounding the pile of twoleg trash. He walks past Fleapaw and Lostpaw, making a beeline to investigate the frail body amongst the trash. Sure enough, the kittens chest still rises and falls with shallow breaths. Gently, he touches his nose to their soft fur, and finds it cool. Quickly, he begins to lathe his tongue across him, trying to warm him up as much as possible.

indenttt"Fleapaw's right, he's still hanging on." It might not last long, though. The chill wind of leafbare whistles though the trees and past the kitten, sapping more warmth from the delicate body. They would have to move fast. "If we get him to Cicada now, there might still be a chance." Mothbite is loathe to interact with the cryptic medicine cat more than absolutely necessary, but the rare show of vulnerability from Fleapaw and Lostpaw spurs him on to push past his distaste for the tomcat. This is 'family', right? I don't want to see something precious like that torn apart.

indentttMothbite reaches down to grab the kitten by the scruff. The stark lack of meat on the kitten's bones means there's quite a bit of loose skin to cling to. "You two run ahead and let Cicadabuzz know we're coming." He addresses the sisters, speaking around the scruff in his mouth. The sooner the cats at camp know what's happening, the sooner they can start getting stuff ready. Every moment counted. He turns to Bonecrusher next. "Bonecrusher, can you stay with me? I'm not the strongest, I might need help carrying him." Mothbite is rarely the sort to ask for help or acknowledge his own weakness, but there are special circumstances. Defending his own kittish pride could get someone killed, here. Bonecrusher's more powerful body might just be the key to keeping the kitten alive, and Mothbite isn't going to pass up the opportunity to save a life.

ababaugfbiufhufbdfduibabababa

Mothbite | 19 moons | Shadowclan Nightguardbababbnihfibnfdifdhfhabbabab

 

[lostpaw]

Lostpaw glanced between the gathered cats-- now her clanmates and then turned on her heel. She waited a few steps away from Flea, waiting on her to make her decision on whether or not she wanted to leave with Lost or stay with their brother. She knew, logically, that none of the cats present would dare touch Tick, but that probably wouldn't stop Flea from going to that place automatically. Cats were mean. Cats were bad, Lost knew that from personal experience. Everyone could do something bad, would do something bad, it was just the point on when it would actually happen. "Flea, ya comin' or what?"

SHE IS FREQUENTLY KIND ☆ AND SHE'S SUDDENLY CRUEL

• "speech"
  
• 
  

  

• LOSTPAW she/her, shadowclan, six moons.
  ☆ a sh solid grey she-cat with green eyes / small and fast
  ☆ mentored by @/Mothbite
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / always tag @hellybear
  ☆ penned by hellybear ↛ hellycinth on discord, feel free to dm for plots / click for toyhou.se