Private Dark Forest now. . . arise ↟↟↟↟↟ coalstrike

[FLEAFIRE]

-

Traitors and snitches, the whole lot of 'em. Now she had to sleep in a nest that wasn't hers and be force-fed herb slop that tasted like shit. The worst thing about it all was Cicadabuzz. Their cold eyes skittering over her flesh. Having to bite her cheek every time their paws poke and prod. Bug was the last cat she ever wanted to have touch her, but the choice to avoid them was taken from her. She thought they might tell her she was a lost cause just like Coalstrike. But they didn't. Huh.

For once, she was glad to be so sick. At least the haze over her mind dulled the torture. The den smelled disgusting. Bitter herbs mingling with the sickness on her breath. Despite whatever she was given, she still felt fever burning her up from the inside out.

She didn't fight sleep. The shadows in the corners of her eyes folded in until all she could see was pitch black. She tumbled into it… falling… fading… consuming.

When she opened her eyes again, she wasn't in the medicine den. She recognized the place immediately after spending so much time there with Froststorm. It'd been a while, and as creepy as the place was, part of her was relieved to see it again. After all, that meant Froststorm was waiting for her. She could tell him about the fight. Fleafire didn't know if he had watched, but maybe he'd reward her again for fighting so well. That made her feel a little better.

She groaned, pushing herself upright. Even here, she had no control over her body. Pain throbbed across her side, lungs crackling with each breath. She stumbled forward and braced against the nearest tree for balance. "Ughhh… fuck." She swallows hard. "Froststorm?" Somewhere in the dark, she was being watched. Eyes she couldn't see but could feel, burning holes into her pelt.

The warrior set her jaw and pushed off the tree, taking to her own paws despite her body's weakness.

@Coalstrike

Call unto me, strengthen your hand

FLEAFIRE

14 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

Against the storm, rise to the call of war drums

 

[Coalstrike Coalstrike]

That's the price you pay
Leave behind your heart and cast away
Just another product of today
Rather be the hunter than the prey
And you're standing on the edge, face up

.

Darkness surrounded the massive tom, thick and endless and he welcomed it. He had always thrived in shadow, it was his element, his sanctuary, his kingdom. Here, his vast shape was swallowed whole by the gloom, only his eyes burning faintly... Twin embers of gold watching the young warrior stir in a place she did not yet belong. Perhaps, if fate had its way, she never would. The Dark Forest. He had not expected to find himself here, yet when he had, it had felt almost inevitable. If Sablestar drew his strength from this place, then surely it was the only fitting afterlife for one who had protected him. He could no longer guard his leader, no longer shape his kits into warriors worth their claws... But there were others who could carry the torch. And if not, well... The dead could haunt just as easily as they could guide.

A low flick of his torn ear. His gaze never wavered from Fleafire as she awoke, her form torn and battered. A flicker of disdain twisted his muzzle, she looked hideous, fragile, but it softened, just barely. She had fought. She had survived. That was more than could be said for many. She had adapted. Learned. Bled, but not broken. Still... That stubborn pride, that refusal to accept aid, was idiotic. Even if she hated Cicadabuzz, she should have known better than to spurn survival out of spite.

" No. " his voice came at last, deep, rumbling, and cold. He stepped forward, peeling himself from the shadows as if the dark itself released him reluctantly. " Though I have met your... Mentor. " His amber eyes flicked over her, slow, unflinching. " You look horrid. " he remarked flatly. He hardly looked better himself, blood eternally darkened his pelt, every scar frozen in place like a story written in rust. Yet the sight only made him more formidable, his very existence an emblem of violence sanctified.

" That little stunt of yours--" he went on, tone dropping to a low, cold rasp. " With SkyClan? Foolish. Reckless. You acted without thought. " Then there was a pause. A faint curve tugged at the corner of his mouth. " ... And yet... " he continued, quieter now. " You came out victorious. You learned. " His eyes narrowed, gleaming faintly. " The best lessons are carved into flesh. You've earned yours. "

He circled her once. Slowly, deliberate, predatory. " You came out stronger. " he said at last, his voice the roughened echo of pride twisted through cruelty. " Even if it doesn't feel like it yet. " A long silence followed and then, softer, the hint of a smirk. " Well done. But next time. " he murmured, his tone lowering to something darkly approving. " Remember that strength is wasted when you die before using it. "

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

69 MOONS

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DARK FOREST

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SONG

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