IMPORTANT
It appears the Clan has been separated into small groups in the chaos! Please keep in mind that your character cannot be two places at once and should only reply to one camp thread to avoid confusion! Takes place the night of the flood, Oct. 5th.
Dimmingsun blindly leaves the camp behind, barely able to payi attention to anyone that may have followed behind him. He half-carries, half-drags Merrystalk with him, whose breathing is now steadier. Dimmingsun is not the type of cat to grow tired easily—endurance has played a vital part in his survival, after all—but he feels his limbs grow weaker and weaker as adrenaline leaves him spent.
The dead, yellow monster looms ahead of them like some sort of bad omen... though Dimmingsun doubts that there is room for anything worse to happen. He had no set destination in mind when he had set out, but he supposes this will have to do for the time being. There is no chance to scout the moor now and join the rest of WindClan, not when everybody is too exhausted to consistently put one paw in front of the other. Dimmingsun stops directly before it, staring it down like he expects it to roar back to life. It doesn't.
"We should stop here to... rest,"
he announces, spatting that last word out like it's poison. Merrystalk's body is gently put down so that Dimmingsun can face the other refugees. Any other scenario like this, he would be overjoyed with the chance to command his Clanmates... but now, he simply stares at them like he barely has energy to continue talking. "As much as we can."
His ear flicks, picking up the sound of rain gliding down the worn-down sides of the monster. How eerie. At least predators are unlikely to attack in a location like this. "I want to meet up with the others as soon as possible."
