Open Backwritten Camp ShadowClan its quicker and easier to eat your young 𓍊𓋼𓆏𓋼𓍊 — fleakits sick

[F l e a p a w]

tw - graphic descriptions of sickness, kit death, and neglect of animals

She was back at the twoleg place.

There was something after her—a large brown shape that growled and gnashed its teeth in pursuit—its breath right on her heels. Thump. Thump. Thump. Her little heart beat with everything it had, ready to leap right out of her chest. Fleakit felt weaker than she had in moons. A shamble of bones and skin that hung together by sinew. The hunger hollowed her, wearing her down until there was nothing left to feed.

She skittered down a narrow path, scrambling beneath a wire fence. The wire grabbed her, holding her back as she tried to crawl under. In the distance, the hound bayed—its snarls echoing between walls of brick. She frantically scraped at the concrete, pain shooting through her as the wire bit into flesh, the sharp sting trailing up her spine and through everything.

"Noo!" She squealed, lashing out frantically, trying to break free with everything she had. Nowhere to go. The dog was coming. She couldn't get away. Its head collided with the fence, metal rattling against its poles just as its jaws bent down to snap her up.

Fleakit shot up with a cry that fizzled into a soft heaving sound—crackly, wet. She tried to hold her head up but it felt heavy. Fleakit raised it shakily, bobbing as she struggled to keep it level with her surroundings. A layer of mucus crusted over her vision, cracking painfully as she opened her eyes.

The blurry nursery interior came into view. When she attempted to pull in a deep breath, her nose was stuffy, even the effort made her sneeze. A spray of green substance decorated her nest. Every breath was difficult, her chest heaving with the strain, soft wheezes pushing from her lungs.

Not again.

At the mill, she'd always gotten sick. It was something she'd grown used to—the watery eyes, the leaking nose, struggling to catch her breath. The sickness consumed her, an enemy that she couldn't fight off. There was nothing unusual about it. Nearly all the cats, old or young, suffered from it at some point. Sometimes they recovered. Other times not. The ever-present buzzing of flies would fill the room until the twoleg remembered they needed to be fed, bringing with it dry kibble and a black crinkly thing which to discard the unlucky. The stench of rot was ever present, but now a distant memory.

Even with her nose clogged, she could almost taste the mill air again—pungent and sour.

A small whimper escaped her as she tried to move. She didn't want to get them sick—not Stoatkit, Nightkit—not any of them. Those scraps of fur didn't bounce back like she did. She wasn't sure if they'd make it. Fleakit didn't want them to die. Not like that.

Sluggishly, she crawled forward—a shadow of her usual self. She flopped out of her nest clumsily, slowly twisting to right herself. Every movement was a struggle. Her bones felt unbearably heavy, and even the smallest bit of effort caused her to wheeze even more.

What if someone saw her like this? Would they leave her for the crows?

I don't want that.

Those worries faded as she couldn't even reach the entrance. She had to do something. Distance herself from the others. Instead, Fleakit crawled into a far corner of the nursery, stifling her coughs, ready to wait it out as she had so many times before.

​

shes got a knife ▬ι═ﺤ stab stab

• ooc —— xxx
• 
  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 / FLEABITE
  - she/her
  - kit
  - 5 moons
  - speech thought
  - some physical powerplay permitted
  
  
  penned by user​

​

 

[Flamerunner]

FLAME OF SHADOWCLAN

Flamerunner padded through camp, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief as he poked his head into the nursery. He sniffed once, scanning the den.

Huh… where was Fleakit?

He'd had the perfect prank in mind, one that would require his little accomplice's cunning. But without her anywhere in sight-- Hmm... Hm... Wait a damn minute. His ears flicked as he picked up a faint sound. Wheezing. Shaky, uneven breathing. His grin faltered. A frown settled on his face as he followed the sound deeper into the den, offering halfhearted, almost comical apologies as he carefully stepped around nests. His nose twitched as he finally spotted her, curled up in a corner, away from the others.

That wasn't right.

Fleakit was always up to something, always bold. But now? She was still, her small frame shuddering. A chill ran down his spine. Without hesitation, he curled around her as best he could, his plumed tail draping over her back. His rough tongue rasped gently over her head, trying to soothe the kit despite the worry creeping into his gut. " Now what's all this, huh? " His voice was lighter than he felt, but there was a small crease between his brows. " Gone and gotten yourself sick? " He wrinkled his nose. What was good for sickness? Cicadabuzz would know. His tail gave a slow flick before he sighed. " We should get you to see Cicadabuzz. " His usual playfulness dimmed into something more serious as he looked down at her.

Still, he wasn't about to let her sink too deep into misery. He leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something secretive. " You need to get better quick, after all… " A sliver of a grin tugged at his muzzle. " I got some amazing pranks lined up for us. " It was an attempt, one to lift her spirits, even if just a little. But one thing was certain: they needed to get Cicadabuzz. Fast.

RUN BOY RUN ——･ﾟ✦​

･ﾟ✦ —— THE SUN WILL BE GUIDING YOU

 

[F l e a p a w]

tw - graphic descriptions of sickness

Fleakit shivered, the cold settling into her bones. How was it even possible to feel both cold and hot at the same time? Like she was burnin' alive, but a frigid wind nipped at her—not from the surface—but from inside.. Fleakit had almost forgotten what it was like—the sickness in her chest, making her head feel thick. Then there was the feeling in the back of her throat—a scratchy, dry sting, like a scab that she couldn't chew. But there was nothing dry about the coughs that wracked through her—every hacking breath splattering the ground with thick, mucusy saliva. Burying her face in her paws, Fleakit tried to muffle the sound. She curled tightly into herself, trying to shrink away from the world. Wishing she could crawl into her own skin.

The next bought of coughs rattled her insides, snatching her breath, leaving her even more tired than before. It wasn't until she felt the warmth of Flamerunner curling around her that she even realized he was there. A growl of protest escaped her in between gasps for air, but she didn't move. If she weren't so damn weak, she would've smacked the whiskers right off his face. Fleakit didn't want all that lovely dovey shit. She was tough. She would be fine by herself. She didn't need…

He was warm.

The chill coursing through her fought against his warmth, but still, she gravitated toward it. The shivering softened, not entirely, but enough to dull the violent quaking.

At the mention of Cicadabuzz, she groaned loudly. "Nooooooooo…" Fleakit didn't want anything to do with that plant muncher. She didn't need any stupid herbs. She had gotten through stuff like this plenty of times. Her claws scrabbled weakly against the dirt, trying to get away, like a half-squished bug. "Used to it. Don't need no smelly…" She trailed off, too tired to finish.

So stupid! "Eughhhhh..." It was all she could muster, a drawn-out noise, a fraction of her usual tantrums. But then he said something that caught her ear. Fleakit went still.

"I got some amazing pranks lined up for us."

Pranks? Fleakit's ears twitched. That was right! They were gonna try out some new pranks. The frog stampede would have to wait until newleaf, but there was plenty else. Coalstrike's nest needed a layer of mud. They could hide frogs in weird places—Oh, and crickets in the warrior's den! Or uh they could dump mud and feathers on some cats to make them look like big birds. She snickered, abruptly triggering another wheezing fit. Her eyes watered, clenched tight. The pain was so sharp she thought a lung might come up with everything else.

When it was over, a shaky whine leaked from her maw. The kit blinked through a stream of eye ooze. "But…" It wasn't fair. Nothing ever was. She wanted to do it now. Fleakit didn't want to see stupid Cicadabuzz!

She wanted to bite something, tear something up—scream. Her jaw parted, and she sank her teeth into Flamerunner, half-heartedly chewing on the warrior's forearm. Jerk. Why did he have to be right? "unt wanna!" She complained through a mouthful of his fur.

​

shes got a knife ▬ι═ﺤ stab stab

• ooc —— xxx
• 
  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 / FLEABITE
  - she/her
  - kit
  - 5 moons
  - speech thought
  - some physical powerplay permitted
  
  
  penned by user​

​

 

[Timberfrost]

—————————————————— 'Till I can't run no more ✦

The tom had been up for a long while, seeming to rise with the sun itself. He couldn't help but keep the same sleep schedule that he had grown so used to outside of the clan, one where he tried to wake up with the things that would be far too happy to snap up a little white cat, and he was sure whatever was out there wouldn't mind sharpening their teeth on him as well. Of course, these days he didn't have to worry about that as much — 'Well.' He thought to himself as he dipped his head low to one of the many burbling rivulets that ran through the territory. 'It's not like there aren't still critters out here. At least we're not as... easy edible these days.' Timber always found himself thinking things like this when he was out doing his chores, it's almost like his mind liked thinking of all the ways he and those he cared about could die. It especially loved the visceral, large jaws locking on his throat, cutting into him—

'—And I'm going to stop myself there.' He thought with a quick shake to his head, sending droplets of water cascading around him from the previously dried bit of moss he was soaking. It was far too cold and windy during leafbare for those that were actively nursing kits to leave for long, and Timber was more than happy to help out. It was the least he could do for them, anyway. With the sodden plant locked securely in his jaw, he turned easily away from the water and, with careful steps as to avoid the soaked ground around him, begun to make his way back to camp.

It didn't take too long, it's not like he had much of a chance to get distracted by anything. The water wasn't exactly warm, much to his chagrin as it kept soaking into his chin and dripped into the soft fluff right where his fur parted on his chest. Ideally, he didn't want the water to be frigid, it was important for cats to stay warm ... but well, the sun could only heat up the water so much. Wrinkling his nose in tired displeasure, he ducked into the nursery, surveying the small den he had grown so very accustomed to... but something was up. There was a body too many.

"Flamerunn'r?" Timber mumbled through a mouth of dripping moss, brows furrowed in muted bewilderment. "Wh' in the stars' name are you doin'—" As soon as he got the words out, the air was broken up by a hacking cough, one that he had heard before. One that filled him with a sort of dread, and for a moment he felt his blood run cold, far colder than the moss he was holding. His golden eyes peered curiously at Flame, trying to not betray the anxiety that now drummed in his chest. None of the kits were sick, they weren't sick when he left early this morning, they couldn't have possibly...

Right on cue, he watched as a crumpled ball of fur thrashed halfheartedly against the warrior, eventually expressing her displeasure by sinking two needle-like teeth into an arm. He had been on the receiving end of that far, far too many times, though the lack of vigor worried him. He couldn't let himself dwell on worrying, though, and he instead tightened his jaw, heading deeper into the den towards the two. "Must've been the weather." He mumbled thoughtfully, lowering the moss to the ground before the kit. "It's best to see if we can get her to drink, won't do any good if she's all dried up like some forgotten bit o' fresh kill. How's she responding?" He sat back on his haunches, looking with a troubled gaze at the tangled mess of fur. Maybe now someone could groom her, at the very least. He wouldn't be surprised if that had contributed to her picking up a cough from somewhere or something. "Still as feisty and filled with spite as ever?"

It's true, I want to be with you tonight

But I'm a little too late

• 
  Timber
  ✦—Shadowclan Caregiver
  ✦—He/Him
  ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ✦—A large chocolate tabby with pale gold eyes
  #9A775A

 

[Flamerunner]

FLAME OF THE COLONY

She was still shivering, but Flamerunner noted with relief that it had lessened. Good. The last thing he wanted was for the kit to meet a miserable end like this… For a flicker of a moment, he wasn't here... He was back there, a frightened young kit watching his sister tremble, coughing her lungs out. The only family he had left after losing their parents. He could still hear his own desperate prayers, begging for her to survive.

A sharp shake of his head pulled him free from the past. No use dwelling. Instead, he smirked.

" Nooooo? " He stretched the word out dramatically. " Smelly, yes. Very much so. Ugh, it's horrible. " He rolled his eyes before pulling Fleakit close again. She still had fight in her, definitely, but it was a little easier now. " It's dumb, but who knows? " he continued, raising an eyebrow at her. " Maybe there's some stuff that can get ya back to health again, y'know? " Fleakit groaned in protest, and honestly? He couldn't blame her. Being sick was awful. Maybe this wouldn't last long. Maybe she'd be better before he knew it and--

The snicker turned into a wheezing fit. Concern hit him like a stone to the chest. He stared down at her, swallowing hard before forcing a small, lopsided smile. " I know, I know… " he sighed as her teeth latched onto his fur. Less bite than usual, lucky for him. " But the sooner you're better, the sooner we can get our pranks back up, right? " His voice was quieter, gentler.

Then, his name.

Timberfrost was here.

" She's sick. " he said immediately. " Nothing this lil' warrior can't handle, of course. But we have plans, so we need to get her back to full strength ASAP, ain't that right, Flea? " He winked down at her before nodding toward Timberfrost. " Drinking could help. But maybe Cicadabuzz should take a look too? Some herbs might do some good. " A smirk tugged at his lips. " Not that I think anything could dim down this fiery kit. "

A light nudge. " Go drink something, Flea. "

RUN BOY RUN ——･ﾟ✦​

･ﾟ✦ —— THE SUN WILL BE GUIDING YOU

 

[F l e a p a w]

tw - Profanity. Descriptions of sickness

Flea chewed lazily, her jaw working at a sluggish pace, blinking through her mucked-up eyes. Everything felt hazy, distant. She was fading. All she wanted to do was sleep. Her head was full of fog, limbs weighed down like stones. Flamerunner's voice rumbled in her ears. Why was it kinda… soothing?

She grumbled, drooling onto the warrior's forepaw as she closed her eyes. But then—another voice. Familiar. A dull sound against the rushing in her ears, but it cut through enough that her eyes opened to a blurry shape past the pale orange of Flamerunner's fur.

Timber was here. She let out a squeaky growl, once again trying to skitter away. Her limbs flopped around sluggishly, like a diseased fish.

"Still as feisty and filled with spite as ever?"

Fleakit didn't make it very far, resigning to her fate by angling her head back and releasing a long gargling hiss.

She wanted to fight. But her body betrayed her. Flamerunner was right. She needed to get better. But Cicada? Her stomach churned just thinking about having to swallow a mouthful of bitter herbs. Wasn't there some other way? Couldn't she just… sleep it off? Sometimes that helped. Just lying there for a while, waiting for the sickness to pass…

Her head lolled back, but she jolted awake. A nudge brought her back, and she scowled, face scrunching deeper into the good already smeared across her fur. Ugh. She didn't want to do any of this shit. If she were better, she'd be fighting. Kicking. Clawing. But right now she could barely keep her head up.

They had plans.

She exhaled a soft, defeated grumble. "Fnnnnn…. ine" Reluctantly, she leaned forward, her teeth latching onto the moss like a leech. Fleakit's nose wrinkled at the earthy taste, but the cool liquid that ran down her throat was nice. It coated her throat, easing the scratchiness, making it easier to breathe—even as a snot bubble wobbled at her nose, inflating and deflating with each breath.

The moss felt good on her teeth. She chewed. But before long she forgot what she had been doing, head bobbing as she struggled to stay upright.

So sleepy…

​

shes got a knife ▬ι═ﺤ stab stab

• ooc —— xxx
• 
  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 / FLEABITE
  - she/her
  - kit
  - 5 moons
  - speech thought
  - some physical powerplay permitted
  
  
  penned by user​

​