Private ShadowClan clawing for survival // flea

[Tickpaw]

TICK

I've been strong every day of my life

The world still didn't make sense.

Tickpaw didn't understand how he'd ended up here, in this place that reeked of unfamiliar scents, caught somewhere between darkness and light. It wasn't the mill. It wasn't the suffocating heat of pressed bodies, the fear of disappearing, of never waking up again. But it wasn't safe either. Not yet. His limbs ached, and his fur was unkempt, but he was alive. Somehow. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was something else. He didn't know. All he knew was that he should have been dead. He should have stayed in that bag, still and quiet like so many others had. But he hadn't. His body had fought. He had clawed and bitten and struggled, driven by something beyond sense, desperation, instinct, stubbornness.

Now he was here. Alive, but angry. Afraid.

Tickpaw pressed himself against the wall, orange eyes narrowed into slits as his hackles bristled. His torn ear flicked at the faint sound of pawsteps. His heart pounded, but he held his ground. Then... " Flea…? " His voice was hoarse, rough from disuse, from exhaustion. " Is that you…? "

His breath hitched. Hope and fear twisted together in his chest, tangled like briars. If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up.

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[F l e a p a w]

A deep scowl was engraved onto Fleapaw's muzzle as she dragged a stick into the medicine den, scraps of moss dangling from it. Fresh bedding for Tick and something to scrub muddy paw prints off the floor.

Part of her the new responsibilities that she accepted after bargaining for her brother's life. Now she was expected to clean the floors and tidy piles of herbs. An irritating, tedious, and boring as shit task—but a small price to pay. Honestly, she would've given a lot more but it never came to that.

Her paws shuffled against the dirt floor, but she halted when she realized Tick was awake. Fleapaw flung the stick down, not caring where it landed, and padded over to him. "Tick!" She rasped, eyes softening, suddenly soft and watery. The name cracked from her throat.

He was pressed into the shadows, frightened, and confused. He looked like a pile of bones, thrown carelessly into a corner—as if the world had discarded him a second time. She had seen it before. The way Webkit had hid in the corner of the nursery, trying to make herself small and invisible. Flea had been that way too, bristling at the newfound attention, wondering why Pa left her there when she thought they were family.

She still didn't understand why he left her behind. But Tick was here now. She wouldn't abandon him. He wouldn't have to go through it alone. "It's okay." Her voice was gentle for once. "Nothing's gonna hurt you. I won't let it, alright? You're safe here." She crept closer, careful not to squish him, careful not to move too fast.

She swallowed hard, saliva feeling thick as mud. Her throat ached, but she didn't look away.

I left him in that place. I'm a shitty sister.

Worm and Web forgave her, at least, to her face. But Tick, she didn't know. If he panicked, if he got angry, if he set his claws on her—she wouldn't blame him. She wouldn't fight and risk hurting him, not when he was so frail. Besides, anything he inflicted on her Fleapaw knew she deserved.

____________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

 

[Tickpaw]

TICK

I've been strong every day of my life If she wants, death could take me this time

He couldn't believe it. Couldn't understand it. She had been taken. And taken meant gone. Taken meant never to be seen again. It meant you were out, either dead or… or something worse. Yet there she was. Standing right in front of him. Was she real? Or was this just another trick of his mind, the final unraveling of his sanity before death claimed him? Ah… Well, if that were the case, at least he got to see one of his siblings one last time. That was something, wasn't it? A small mercy. At least he wouldn't die alone.

With a weary sigh, his head flopped back against the ground, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. He was hungry.

Oh.

He hadn't even noticed until now. Had they given him food here? Water? He thought they had, but everything was a blur, slipping through his grasp like water through cracked paws. How long had he been lying here? Where was here? He remembered running. Running until his legs gave out, running until there was nowhere left to go. And now… now he was here. Wary eyes flickered open, settling on Flea as she crept closer. He blinked slowly, exhaustion pressing heavy against his bones. He must have looked awful, patchy fur, crust clinging to his eyes, his body a mess of neglect and survival. But he was still breathing.

Still alive.

" Safe…? " His voice rasped out, barely more than a whisper. His hackles lifted briefly, a reflexive defense, but when she pressed close, he let out a slow breath and slumped against her, too tired to resist.

" Ah… at least I don't die alone. "

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[F l e a p a w]

He looked so tired.

Like she was staring at a ghost—a hollow image of the kit she once played with and slept beside.

What have they done to him?

What had he been through to get back to her?

His body was frail, all sharp edges, his breath thin, shallow. His fur clung limply to his frame, and his eyes—They were pale, dull, as if someone had bled the life from them, as if the Tick she knew had already died, leaving behind this withered shell.

For a second—a horrible thought wriggled to the surface. Flea wondered if she had made the right choice. Keeping him alive, was that really right? If he was hurting this much… Would it have been kinder to let Cicada just feed him something? So he could just drift off to sleep.

Felt like a pile of bricks was laid on her chest. The room was warped, going fuzzy. She eased into the nest, leaning gently against his frail frame. Through the fur, she could feel his ribs, like stones under thin earth.

Fleapaw twitched when he spoke, like the words themselves were thorns that had drawn blood. She couldn't look at him. Her eyes burned, but she fought to hold it in. "You can't die. I don't want you to." Her voice came out crunchy and fragile, like dry leaves. But then it takes a jagged edge.

"Won't let you."

Fleapaw leaned back, jaw set tight. "Worm told me you got taken away. That you were real sick." Fleapaw turned away, staring hard at the stick she used to drag moss in. There was nothing interesting about it… She just couldn't look at him right now. "You know how fucked up it is to think you're dead—only to find you again? Layin there like crowfood, smellin' like death." She sniffled sharply frantically rubbing at her face. "I was sure you were gone, but then you weren't. Then the cat that patched you up told me you couldn't be helped." Nothing mattered when she thought she was going to lose him—not anything. She would've crawled and begged at Cicada's paws if that's what that bastard wanted. "But I wouldn't hear it." Her claws flexed into the nest, kneading into it to vent some of what she was feeling. "I fought tooth and nail to make them see otherwise—and here you are. Alive." Her tail lashed, but it was weak, exhaustion weighing down her movements.

She would've done it for any of them. Without them, wasn't much else to live for, cept for fighting and trying not to die.

____________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

 

[Tickpaw]

TICK

I've been strong every day of my life If she wants, death could take me this time

His eyes had closed for only a moment, the warmth of familiar fur pressing against his cheek. And only then did it register. She was here. Not a figment of his imagination. Not a dying hallucination, taunting him before the darkness claimed him for good. Orange hues snapped open, wide, disbelieving. His head jerked, eyes locking onto her like he was truly seeing her for the first time. He didn't speak. Not yet. He just listened. She told him he wasn't allowed to die. That Worm had told her he was taken. That he had been sick. That she had thought he was dead. He had thought the same.

And yet... She was here. She was alive. And Worm... Worm was here too? His throat bobbed in a thick swallow, his dull, weary gaze drinking her in, processing... accepting who was beside him. Who he was leaning against. Flea. Feisty, relentless Flea. Flea who pounced on him, tumbling and scrapping, always pushing, always testing their limits. Flea who bit back. Flea who never let the world break her. Flea was here. And so was Worm. His breath hitched, a raw sting burning at the edges of his vision. He shook his head, as if the motion alone could steady him, keep him from unraveling right then and there.

" I thought... I was alone... " His voice was a whisper, hoarse and wavering. " It was dark, and Ma... she... " A swallow. " She had no answers. Just sadness. And then... then it was darker. And I felt... " He exhaled shakily. " They tossed me. You were all gone. I thought you were d e a d. " He reached out, hesitant, uncertain... Until his whiskers brushed against her face, grounding himself in the reality of her presence.

" But you're not. " His voice was barely more than breath. " You're here. "

And then, he moved.

Rough, desperate, real. He butted his forehead against hers, holding there, as if pressing hard enough could make sure she never disappeared again.

" You're here. "

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[F l e a p a w]

TRIGGER WARNING

Mentions of death and animal neglect/abuse.

Her claws pricked at the moss and peat, scraping at the fragile bedding until scraps littered the floor.

She couldn't look at him. Not at his hollowed face or the way his eyes peered right through her, as though she were a ghost. So, she tried to remember how he used to be—the way she last remembered.

A small kit, the color of a sky she had never known, tumbling at her paws, ears caught between her teeth as they wrestled. They slept in piles, comforting one another in their suffering, dreaming up grand adventures, of a world beyond their cage. But they didn't know. They couldn't know that the cruelty stretched beyond that dark room.

None of them thought they would be separated. That she would be taken first, and they would have to go on without her. Would she have ended up the same as him, if it had been her who stayed?

Her claws dug deeper, clutching the nest's edges as the den blurred beneath her gaze—blurrier and blurrier until she could barely make out anything, but she didn't blink. Because if she did then it would all spill over, like a storm drain bursting after the flood. Flea held her breath, knowing what came out would sound broken, like glass crunching against a hard surface.

So, she just listened. Ears twitching at the paper-thin sound of his voice.

He talked about their Ma. Being thrown away. Fleapaw remembered the two legs going cage to cage, carrying that black crinkly thing around, tossing cats inside like soda cans—limp—misshapen with hunger or disease. And the wailing, those that lived howling as what they loved was ripped away.

Was being taken while still alive any different? He thought she was dead. And for a long time, so did she. But there was no bag waiting for her—just another cage. Plastic walls. A scrap of rough fur beneath her. Then the rumble of a monster, carrying her far away to a place she had never seen before. A place that was better. Somewhere she once thought they all could go, so they could be happy together.

It wasn't fair.

Her lungs screamed, begging for the air that she denied them. When fur brushed against her face, she finally let them have it. She sucked in a breath that crackled in her throat.

"I tried to g-get to you a-an break all of you out of there." Her breath hitched, coming in shaky, uneven bursts as she tried to speak. Warm droplets spilled down her cheeks, leaving shining tracks against the floor. "Please believe me."

I failed.

She knew he needed her strong, but she felt her control coming apart. Seam by seam, before she had enough time to put all her insides back in. She pressed her forehead to his, forcing herself to look at him. At the brittle shell of a brother that crawled back into her life, by some stroke of dumb luck.

"I am here, and so is Worm a-an Web. So are you." She leaned into him, sniffling, trying so hard to steady herself. "You won't ever be alone again. I'll fight—harder next time." She wasn't strong enough to protect them before. But she would become someone who could. Even if she had to train every single day and listen to the stupid crap her mentor said and pick fights with every cat she saw. I'll get strong so I can protect us.

"All of us will stay together. I promise." Whatever she had to do. Anything it took. She would bring it all down before she let anything tear them apart again.

____________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

 

[Tickpaw]

TICK

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

His sister was explaining things to him, telling him she wanted to break them all out of there. Tick could only give a hollow chuckle in response. Staying there had been a death sentence, it always had been. No one kit could have changed that, could have saved them all. He had never expected Flea to do the impossible. He had only wanted her back. He had wanted all of them back. Safe. Whole. Not sick. That was all he had ever wanted. But that wasn't what he had gotten.

The dark had crept in, hissing, whispering, curling around him like it meant to devour him whole. He had screamed for help, for attention, for love, until his voice had given out. Until his mind had fractured. Until he had become nothing but a trembling shadow of himself. But he wasn't there anymore. He was out. " I believe you. " he finally rasped, his voice weak but certain. Slowly, his tongue brushed over Flea's tear-streaked cheek, wiping away some of the sorrow spilling from her eyes. " Of course I believe you, Flea... I know you. I know you would've wanted to, I know. "

He pressed against her, his body fragile but desperate for warmth, for reassurance. A rattling breath shuddered through him as he let his head sink into the nest, nestled close to her. " I know. " he murmured again, as if saying it enough times could make it real. She wanted to get strong. She wanted to protect them all. Web and Worm were here, too... What a cruel joke fate had played, throwing them all into the same place after everything. But still… perhaps it was a sign. Perhaps life had finally stopped fighting them.

A thin, hopeful smile flickered across his face as he looked up at Flea. " Ah... I'm glad to hear that. " he whispered. " Are they okay...? Will I see them too? " His voice was fragile, barely more than a breath. But hope... Hhope that had been buried for so long now gleamed in his tired eyes. And then, with all the strength he could muster, he gave a shaky grin.

" Always and forever. "

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[F l e a p a w]

The chuckle takes her by surprise. There's no bitterness in it, no resentment, but it makes her sink all the same. Guilt is a vice, and it has her by the throat. It gnaws at her, the way it always does—day after day, even before they all crawled back into her life. A whimper seeps past her maw as Tick tries to reassure her, tries to tell her that he believes her. That he knows. She wants to accept that she's forgiven, but she can't. Looking at him right now, there's so much that she can't overlook.

She closes her eyes, sniffling, burrowing herself in the darkness behind her lids. It's not usual a comfort, but right now, it shuts out the cruelty she sees clinging to her brother's pelt. It's too much right now, even for her.

They were kits once. Hopeful, even with all the hardships they face because they had each other. Now, she's not sure what they are—after what's been done to them. Flea tore herself apart trying to get over losing them, but now she has them back. Somehow, it's more terrifying that way, the idea of losing them twice over.

She clings tighter, as if holding him close might keep that from happening. Her thoughts soak into her like slow-acting poison, burning in her veins. She doesn't want to think about it, so she forces herself to focus on his voice. On his exhaustion. On the way, he looks at her like she's still something good.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," She tries to silence her thoughts, forcing a smile as he looks at her. "Lost… she was with me when we found you. Web knows too. I'll tell 'em to come see you soon." The words scrape her throat. Flea isn't sure how Web is going to handle it. Lost is fine—she's always fine. But with her softer sister, she's not sure.

She sniffs, stifling a choke, her nose pressing into his fur. "Always and forever." She echoed and leans down to plant a few licks over his head.

I'll protect you this time.

Flea draws in a deep breath. He needed to eat too but hell if she could walk out of here like this. "It'll be okay from now on." She sniffles again, rubbing her eyes against a shoulder, trying to wipe away any trace of the tears. For now, she curls next to him, tucking her paws under her bony frame, letting her tail rest over the side of his nest. "Get some rest, okay? I'm not goin' anywhere."

____________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

 

[Tickpaw]

TICK

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

Tick let out a soft breath, leaning closer to Fleapaw as he listened. Slowly, he closed his eyes. " I'm glad... I was... so worried. " he muttered, his frown deepening. Their poor ma was still there. But-- " Mite and Roach... " he finally whispered, ears pinning back. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would erase the image burned into his mind. Lifeless eyes. Skeletal figures. The way everything smelled--

He survived. He survived.

Web and Worm, no Lost. They'd visit him too. He was glad. He didn't want… He didn't want to be alone. " Please… please don't leave. " he murmured, his body trembling for a moment. " It's dark… dark here… and it smells funky… " He huffed, tilting his head slightly as drowsiness pulled at him.

" Together. No longer 'lone… "

A quiet sigh slipped from him as sleep finally took hold.

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