Private golden, that's what you are [Dandy]

[COLD]

THE HIGHER I GET, THE LOWER I SINK,
I CAN'T DROWN MY DEMONS, THEY KNOW HOW TO SWIM​

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"D-dammit!" he cursed as his front leg buckled beneath him for what had to be the third time in ten minutes. Cold could feel that he was reaching the end of his reserves. His legs shook with the effort to remain upright, and every clawmark beneath his bloody, matted fur stung fiercely now that the adrenaline was gone. The worst of his injuries, a deep bitewound to his leg, wouldn't have been half as bad if he hadn't been on the run for most of the morning, trying to put as much space between himself and those traitors as he could.

Now, the entire limb burned with a hellish fury as vengeance for not resting sooner. It was a price he'd known he'd have to pay since the start, but it didn't make it any more pleasant as the young gray and white tabby finally paused to catch his breath, gaging his options.

On the positive side, Cold had made good ground. The two cats who'd been following him had been lost in the city after he led them into that dog, and while his common sense told him that nobody was going to come flying out of the tall grass at him, his body remained ready for a fight despite the fact that it was ready to drop, eyes flickering toward every sound, muscles twitching.

On the negative side, he knew he didn't have long to find actual shelter before his body gave out. He needed sleep. And water. And food. Preferably in that order.

So when his pain-glazed eyes landed on a couple hay bales that were stacked a little farther out into the field, he dragged his body toward them and considered himself lucky not to be picked up by a hawk along the way. He pushed himself in between the gap of two of them, wincing and stifling a pained hiss when he finally allowed his body to sink to the ground.

It was both a blessing and a curse to be off his paws. His defeated muscles screamed in relief as he finally took the pressure off of them, just trying to lay still and catch his breath. But without the weary trudging of his paws to focus on he found himself feeling every slice and puncture with nothing to pull his focus.

He couldn't tell you just when he passed out.

OOC- Cold is mostly okay, he's just physically exhausted. Mans been running for hours after fighting for his life. None of his wounds are too bad, save for the bite on his foreleg. It bled a lot because he had to keep moving, so not only is he tired from bloodloss but it's also swollen and is gonna be a pain to walk on for a while. (He's basically stuck here lol)

@Dandelion
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loner/future windclan - male - a tall, muscular dark grey tabby with yellow eyes​

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[Dandelion]

WHEN WE WALKED IN FIELDS OF GOLD ━━━━━━━━━━━

Now, he didn't venture from the farm too often. Maybe he was cowardly in that, but Dandy wasn't a fool when it came to safety. He liked being in the field and he liked being around the flowers, but he didn't like being out in the open; an open place was nothing but a death sentence for a cat and he'd seen it himself before when one of the barn molly let their kits roam out across the fields - it hadn't occurred to him then what that horrific screech he'd heard was, he'd only seen the hawk take to the sky with something clamped within its cruel talons and the pieces only fell together later that night when he caught some cats comforting her and realized her litter had dropped by one. It was a harsh lesson he'd learned young, but thankfully not one he'd had to learn directly; if it had been one of his siblings he was sure he'd never even leave out from under the barn roof itself, but since it hadn't struck as close to home as losing kin might've been, he still clung onto that small daring side of him that desired to explore but with a touch of caution now.

The hay bales were especially fun to climb on, easy to sink a claw into and drag herself up the rough edges of the golden wheat tucked tightly together, even with his lackluster skills in scaling trees he could manage one of those just fine and it made for a nice perch to oversee all the fields out beyond the fences. He'd heard Hare talking about those forest cats again so his mismatched golden and green eyes narrowed as he leaned forward to try and see if he could catch a glimpse of them. The movement was small, but enough for his paw to slip between the two bales and he went face first down, head wedged in the small gap at the top. He hadn't fallen, but the new angle revealed to him something else of interest and he gasped out loud before clamping his jaw shut and scrambling to get back upright. Dandy's head snapped from side to side, trying to see if he could spot Brandy or Whiskey anywhere, but no sign of his siblings could be seen. What did he do about this?

Sliding down from the bale he crept along the side, peeked around it to observe the cat curled up there. He was pretty big, definitely bigger than Dandy was, and he looked real rough and tumble like one of them rogues that sometimes lurk around trying to get into the chicken coop. He clicked his tongue thoughtfully, no idea why he was sizing the tom up, he couldn't fight worth a lick anyways so he was not about to try anything. It was then he caught the scent of blood and his eyes widened, pupils dotting into pinpricks. The gray cat was hurt. Clenching his jaw the long limbed chocolate mink steps forward slowly, his steps light as he gets close enough to examine what looked like a bite wound on the cat's leg. Dandy let out a sympathetic wince and a whistle before he caught himself and puffed his cheeks to hold the sound in as if he could suck it back inside.

Idiot. Don't make noise.

Well, he didn't know what to do about this but you should probably clean it or something and he couldn't very well leave the cat here without some kind of help? So off he scurried back to the barn to get a mouse and then he could probably bring water by soaking it in moss? It took a bit of back and forth and creeping about to not get caught (he wasn't sure if the older barn cats would take kindly to a stranger) but eventually he settled on his belly outside the bales, low in the grass and head on his paws to wait. A mouse lay as close to the sleeping tom as he dared to push it and a wad of moss was glistening with water droplets just near it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ You can tell the sun in his jealous sky.

―╭༊·˚ tags here

•  
• 

  Dandelion

  
  — Future WindClanner (Barncat)
  — He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  — tba
  #feb43a
  
  

 

[COLD]

THE HIGHER I GET, THE LOWER I SINK,
I CAN'T DROWN MY DEMONS, THEY KNOW HOW TO SWIM​

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His sleep was fitful. Filled with dreams that felt more like memories, and the voices of cats he'd never see again. Within them he fought invisible foes, figures slinking from the fog to take cheap shots at him while he tried to find the others. Where were the others? Had they- had they left him here– again??

He awoke with a start, amber eyes shooting open to walls of yellow that had him staggering upward only to let out a hiss when he put weight on his bad leg, sinking back down involuntarily. As he looked down at his injury it all came flooding back to him; the storm, the ambush, the endless running and the thunderpath, they field witht he hay bales in it…

Shit, how long had he been out?

Between the pain, the exhaustion, and the momentary panic, it took him a second to notice the mouse. And then the moss.

When he did, his gaze lingered on them longer than he was proud to admit, normally sharper, normally more aware, but it was just confusion that furrowed at his brows as he tried to wrap his head around why these things were there. His stomach grumbled at the smell of fresh prey, but it felt too easy. Wrong. Prey didn't just lay down and die beside a hungry cat. And the moss…

He forced himself to his paws, keeping his weight off the front right one as he stepped around the offerings and cautiously poked his head out to make sure he was still alone

And then, he saw him.

He stiffened in surprise at a figure crouching just beyond the opening to his makeshift den. Hackles rose on instinct, pupils shrinking to slits as he tried to lower his bad leg, knowing it couldn't bare weight all that well but not wanting this stranger to see just how badly hurt he was.

He already does, stupid. He was in your den.

"I was just leaving." The words were clipped, strained with the effort to not tell them to mind their own business and leave him be. Cold didn't want to be seen– not like this, and not so soon after what he'd just lost.

But he couldn't afford a fight, not even with a soft looking stranger that he definitely could have beat on a better day. So despite his urge to snap at the stranger for bothering him, he didn't. This cat–whoever he was- definitely wasn't one of the rogues he was running from. And they were young, too, which meant the smarter option was to leave while he still could rather than let this odd-eyed stranger think he was trying to claim their territory.

So he tried to ignore the bone deep exhaustion that still clung to him, tried not to feel the endless stinging and throbbing of his many cuts and bites. And he willed his leg to hold him when he tried to step out from between the two haybales only to feel his limbs give a traitorous shake beneath him, threatening to send him back to the ground.

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loner/future windclan - male - a tall, muscular dark grey tabby with yellow eyes​

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[Dandelion]

WHEN WE WALKED IN FIELDS OF GOLD ━━━━━━━━━━━

His smile falters briefly as he observes the cat stepping around his gesture of good will, but he maintains it with a wavering confidence in face of the larger tom who had a look as if he could shred Dandelion to shreds and not feel a sliver of a remorse. His every instinct warns him to keep his distance, but his good nature combats it more fiercely and he rises to stand on too long legs he hasn't grown into fully and a light skip to his paws as he trots forward just enough that his mismatched eyes can get a better look at the tabby's wounded leg; he was obviously struggling to put pressure on it so his efforts to leave would only end in him hurting himself more if he managed to even leave at all. "Ye ain't got to go and lookin' at that leg ye don't look like ye'd get too far anyways."
His voice is pitched, soft, light, the twang at the end of each word making the wheat stem clenched between his teeth twitch in his mouth, "Ain't too smart with wounds and the like, but rest and a good cleanin' ought to help." His long chocolate tail flicks, head nodding in the same direction as it with a tilt of his body to gesture to the barn, "Lots'o cats end up 'ere sometimes! Plenty o'mice and such, ye can come stay in the hayloft with me an my littermates if'n ye like." He wasn't sure how well Brandy and Whiskey would like the suggestion, but surely they'd understand he was helping a cat in need and would be alright with it in the end. Especially if he laid on the big eyes real thick when he pleaded with them. Dandelion scooted around the dark tom, careful to keep a distance to avoid spooking him and he picked up the discarded mouse to turn back and toss it once again at the wounded loner's paws, "Ah'm Dandelion, reckon ye can call me Dandy - erryone else does and I don't mind it none."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ You can tell the sun in his jealous sky.

―╭༊·˚ tags here

•  
• 

  Dandelion

  
  — Future WindClanner (Barncat)
  — He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  — tba
  #feb43a
  
  

 

[COLD]

THE HIGHER I GET, THE LOWER I SINK,
I CAN'T DROWN MY DEMONS, THEY KNOW HOW TO SWIM​

---

Cold's eyes narrowed as the younger tom approached, too bright and open for his liking. He shuffled his weight uncomfortably, his bad leg trembling but holding steady—for now. The gentle twang of the other cat's words grated against his nerves, not because of their tone but because of what they carried. Concern. Kindness. Two things Cold didn't trust and didn't think he deserved, not after what he'd just run from, not when he was still half-coated in blood that wasn't all his.

He didn't answer right away, tension visible in the stiff set of his shoulders and the way his claws flexed into the dirt. This "Dandelion" was soft. Softer than any cat Cold had seen since before the rogues showed up and shattered what he thought was home. The sight of it churned something bitter in his chest. A mix of resentment and envy twisted together, aimed at nothing but the past and maybe a little at himself.

He couldn't help but stand a little taller when his injuries were called out, refusing to be seen as weak and vulnerable. He'd be damned if anyone was going to look down on him again. But, almost frustratingly so, there was no sign of mockery in their words or expression as they spoke. He wished there was. It would have made whatever selfish impulse he felt to make them feel as shitty as he did a little more justifiable.

"Lots'o cats end up 'ere sometimes! Plenty o'mice and such, his gaze slipped past them to take in the stretch of farmland properly for the first time. If what this stranger was saying was actually true, it might not be the worst place to–

" ye can come stay in the hayloft with me an my littermates if'n ye like."

Yellow eyes snapped back toward the sepia tom, widening in shock for just a moment before narrowing in disapproval. "Are you insane? You can't just bring a complete stranger back to your den- are you trying to get you and your littermates killed?"

Cold had been right. This soft, naive cat had no idea how the world actually worked. If he did, he wouldn't invite a stranger covered in blood into their home with their loved ones.

He kept a close eye on the other as they scooted around him to retriever the mouse, frowning as it was tossed to his feet.

"You should be more careful about who you invite into your home, Dandy." he muttered, but he wasn't stupid enough to turn his back on an offer either, not when his leg was a hair's breadth away from giving out entirely. His teeth grit, frustration biting deep, as he reluctantly dropped back down onto his haunches.

The flicker of relief in his injured leg wasn't enough to stop the sting to his pride though, as sharp canary eyes fled from the chocolate point. "Name's Cold. " he returned, the greeting reluctant, like pulling teeth, but the closest to a 'truce' this cat would get from him. He didn't want to admit he needed help. He didn't want to be met with a friendly face when all he could feel right now was fury and resentment and hate. But he knew it was what he needed; a break, a stroke of luck, something to give him a fighting chance.

At what? he thought bitterly. His family, his friends, his home– it was all gone, now.

"You said there were other cats here- how many?" he asked, leaning down to sniff at the mouse and feeling his hunger return full force. He did his best not to snap it up too quickly, not wanting to betray just how long it'd been since he'd last eaten, but it'd been a good while since he hadn't had to worry about someone trying to snatch his kill from him.
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loner/future windclan - male - a tall, muscular dark grey tabby with yellow eyes​

 

[Dandelion]

WHEN WE WALKED IN FIELDS OF GOLD ━━━━━━━━

If he noticed the blatant distrust in the other he didn't seem to care, watching with a smile as the offered mouse was finally devoured with a bit too much eagerness for someone who seconds before refuse to accept it but he held his teasing back because Cold didn't seem like the kind of cat who would appreciate it. At least not now. He hears the other speak plainly, stranger-danger and all that, but the best solution to turning someone from a stranger to not was a simple introduction and they'd already done that, "We ain't strangers anymore, I know you're name is Cold and you know my name is Dandelion! We know eachother now!" It was perhaps a foolish way to go about the world but he preferred to think the best of someone before the worst, his mind could always be changed later but being openly hostile never suited him; Dandelion likes peace and he liked to maintain it even if it made him look like an idiot on occasion.

The question gives him pause and he mulls it over with a paw raised to his chin and his whiskers quivering as he tried to keep tally of all who was around now, some cats had left over time and some were new; the barn was every shifting with familiar and unfamiliar faces. "Well there's a good bit of us! I got my siblings, there's Swift and 'is kids and then there's Honey and Sassafras. Hare's been around a while, Goldy and his lot, um-Coyote's been 'round forever and he's got his grandaughter Dusty. Alder is 'bout as old as Coyote and she got a few kits she adopted in." He lifts a hindpaw, counting now on his hindtoes as he tries to name more, "Uh, we got Gorse, an Lark, an Fallows-then there's Buck, he's a nice guy and Nutmeg...I think...I think I'm missin' some of'em." Losing his balance the point tom tumbles onto his back with a chuckle before rising back up to stand and shaking hay from his pelt, "We get a lot of strays, ye can stay if'n ye want! Ain't no one gonna mind unless yer a real arse."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━ You can tell the sun in his jealous sky.

I never made promises lightlyxx & there have been some that I've broken.

• 

  Dandelion

  
  — Future WindClanner (Barncat)
  — He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  — Chocolate mink w/one green eye & one gold eye.
  #ffffa9