Open The Farm WC our home in the ashes // sort of return?

[Pebblespaw]

Well you do enough talk
My little hawk, why do you cry?
Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?
Or the Fourth of July?
We're all gonna die

.

Weary paws dragged forward, his whole body slumped as if the cat inside had lost the will to live. His tail trailed behind him, brushing weakly through the dirt. Fresh wounds marred his pelt, patches where fur had been torn out, proof of a fight he no longer cared to remember. His once-bright eyes were empty now, holding nothing but dull acceptance. Acceptance that this was it. That there was nothing else to do. The delusion he had clung to, that Alder was still alive, still somewhere... It had finally shattered. Fae was gone. Gorsepaw was the sole survivor of faer decision. There was no StarClan, there couldn't be. If there were, Dustystar would've met Alder there. But she hadn't.

There was nothing left.

Nothing but the naive hope of a kit who wanted his family back. Ridiculous, really. He could see that now.

Almost half a moon had passed. He wondered how WindClan was doing. How Icepaw and Gorsepaw were. Ah... they must be twelve moons by now. He didn't know. He didn't care. Dragging himself toward the only memory of warmth he had left, Pebblepaw stood before the wreckage. The barn was gone. nothing but a broken skeleton of charred wood. The Twolegs hadn't bothered to rebuild, hadn't even cleared it away. His ear twitched, aching from a half-healed wound. There was a tremble in his step as he pressed closer, nuzzling against the ruins that once felt like love. Tears stung at his eyes.

" Home... " he whispered, voice shaking.

He lowered his head, curling into himself, trying to make his body small, invisible. A soft sniff escaped him as he buried his face in his paws. There was no home anymore. The world was twisted and wrong. Everything was gone. There was no use going back to WindClan. They'd scold him. They wouldn't understand. They couldn't. Gorsepaw and Icepaw... surely they were fine without him. Meadowpaw had others now too. more friends. Nutmegpurr, his mentor.. She was better off too. Maybe she even had a new apprentice already.

Nobody would miss him.

A quiet sob slipped from him as he lay there in the ashes, trembling. Maybe, if he stayed long enough, the world would forget him too.

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

12 MOONS

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WINDCLANNER

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SONG

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bio

 

[Hayloft.]

IT'S RAINING, IT'S POURING

MY EYES, OH, THEY'RE STORMY

​

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hayloft & 10 moons & polygender & any pronouns & barncat

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─ ─ Despite Pebblepaws musings, they arent as alone as one might think.

Amidst wreckage and untided leftover odds-and ends, copper gaze peers out in silence. They rarely get visitors here — not now. Not since the fires had caused near everyone to split up and find their own ways. Hayloft had been too little back then to do much, and his mother had stubbornly clung onto a fast-fading hope that the twolegs would rebuild, and that their home would be safe.

Its just her left now... and any other poor soul left clinging to the same false-hope. Still, the twolegs arent completely cruel — shes found herself a ratty blanket and there are still mice aplenty, as long as she avoids the more dangerous areas of the collapsed heap.

'Home'

For a moment, Hayloft feels like an intruder in a private moment — ears folded back against their golden skull, they can't help the unease that prickles at their pelt like claws as the stranger sobs. But the wounds littering their pelt give them pause, and after taking a moment to gather their courage they skittishly ease forwards and out of the shadows on shaky paws.

"

Um... are you alright there? D-did you need a place to stay?

" they ask, voice timid.

─ actions & "

speech

" & 'thoughts / qoutes'​

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( I DON'T WANNA LEAVE THIS BED )

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[Pebblespaw]

Well you do enough talk
My little hawk, why do you cry?
Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?
Or the Fourth of July?
We're all gonna die

.

Pebblepaw startled upright, heart lurching as if he'd been struck. His paws trembled beneath him, and for a moment he looked ready to bolt. His turquoise eyes, wide and glassy, reflected both surprise and the dull glimmer of fear. Tears streaked his cheeks. The dried blood matted along his shoulder told another story altogether. He'd thought he was alone here. He should have been alone. No cat lingered among ruins this empty. And yet, someone had. A small shape stood a few tail-lengths away, a cat near his age. Maybe younger. The sight of her, so unexpected, rooted him to the ground. For a heartbeat, Pebblepaw simply stared, his breath caught halfway between a sob and a gasp.

He looked at her as though she were a ghost. Maybe she was.

Her voice broke through the still air, gentle, uncertain. She'd asked him something. Whether he was alright, perhaps. Whether he needed shelter. " I... " His voice cracked, the word dissolving before it became anything more. She looked familiar. He couldn't say why. A memory tugged faintly at the edge of his mind, a flash of golden hay, laughter echoing through the barn, soft fur brushing his as they played. Maybe that was her. Maybe not. It felt like a dream he wasn't sure he'd actually had. They had been kits then, both of them. Happy. Safe. That felt like a lifetime ago.

His ears pressed flat against his skull, and he shrank into himself, the instinct to disappear overtaking everything else. His chest felt hollow, his heart slow and heavy.

What did it matter? She would fade too, just like everything else. " I'm... Good here... " he managed at last, voice faint, almost apologetic. " I'll leave shortly. I just need to... " He stopped. The words wouldn't come. Need to what? Find Alder? No. Fae was gone. Long gone. A weak, bitter laugh escaped him, barely more than a breath. The sound startled even him. There was no purpose left, no reason, no home, no self. He was a shadow wearing the shape of a cat, caught between the past and the empty place it had left behind.

Once, he had been bright-eyed and curious. Once, he had believed the world was kind. But that kit was gone.

He had tried to be that cat again, to smile, to hope, to keep going. But everything had splintered under the weight of truth, breaking him into something smaller. Something quieter.

He was wrong, he realized.

All of him was wrong.

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

12 MOONS

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WINDCLANNER

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SONG

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bio