Lightning'growl had been blessed with the paws of a cheetah, but cursed with the sleeping habits of a hibernating bear. Not even the raging storm could stir him from his "beauty sleep," sprawled belly-up with soggy paws sticking out at odd angles, his snoring blending with the howling winds battering the camp.
But sleep was a death sentence on nights like this.
His world lurched when icy water flooded his nostrils, shocking him awake with a violent splutter. A muzzle shoved into his side, jostling him roughly, and in his half-dreaming daze he only caught the blur of a Clanmate's soaked pelt before their paws vanished into the frenzied rush at the den's mouth. Lightning'growl blinked blearily, ears ringing with the press of panicked bodies and rain hammering from above. He was about to grumble about rude awakenings when his words cut off into a strangled cough—his mouth filling with bitter, muddy water. The den was flooding.
Fur bristling, Lightning'growl staggered up on clumsy, sleep-heavy paws. The nest beneath him collapsed into mush, carried away in shredded pieces as the current forced its way inside. His limbs felt leaden, sluggish, while water climbed higher against his belly. He forced himself forward, but being tucked in the back of the den—a spot he always claimed for warmth and quiet—was now a trap. The entrance was a crush of pelts, warriors scrambling over one another while the flood shoved in with the force of a tree snapping in a gale.
"Wait—Ripple!" Lightning'growl yowled, heart thrashing as he stumbled over a pile of half-dissolved moss and feathers. He had told Rippleshade to sleep by him, to avoid the chaos of apprentices and the noise of the den. But in the madness, he hadn't seen the tom escape. His gaze darted to the far corners, breath catching—only empty nests, drowned by nature's wrath. Relief struck hard and shallow. Rippleshade must have gotten out. He had to have.
Lightning'growl surged toward the exit, water dragging at his paws like talons. He could see the faint flash of stormlight at the den's mouth, so close he could almost taste the rain-washed air. His claws scraped forward, straining for purchase—
Then the wave hit.
It struck like a boulder, smashing him from the side and tearing his paws out from under him. Lightning'growl was flung backwards, his gasp swallowed by the torrent as it drove him into the wall with crushing weight. The air ripped from his lungs, his body plastered against packed earth while the water pressed tighter, tighter, until he could hardly twitch his tail.
"Rip—! Help—!" His cry burst from him raw, strangled almost before it formed. The flood answered by surging higher, filling his mouth and nose with grit. He kicked, clawing wildly, but the den's floor was no longer earth—only shifting sludge that slipped between his toes. The current dragged at him, relentless, pinning him as if the whole storm had its claws hooked in his pelt.
Panic shot through him like lightning. His heart pounded, each beat a frantic drum that echoed in his ears as the water roared louder. His eyes were wide and wild, darting to the dark ceiling, to the blocked entrance, anywhere for an escape. His chest burned. Every breath he tried to take only drowned him deeper, choking him with cold, bitter gulps. His limbs flailed uselessly, his famed speed meaningless against a force too strong to outrun.
For once, there was no swagger. No pride. Just fear.
He was going to drown here. He had woken too late, moved too slow, and now the rest of his Clan would escape without him. The storm and the shrieks outside swallowed his voice until his yowls were no more than bubbles fizzing at the surface.
His claws raked grooves into the mud as if the moor itself might hold him steady. StarClan, please— His thoughts tangled, incoherent, blurred by the rush of water.
Was this how he would be remembered? Forgotten in the chaos? Swept under as nothing more than debris?
His chest seized with another ragged cough, and in the swirl of fear only one thought cut through sharp enough to sting.
Where was Rippleshade?
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"speech."
"thoughts."
actions.
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LIGHTNING'GROWL he/him, windclanner, twenty-four moons.
☆ a dark chocolate-and-fawn tom with a patchy, chimera-like pelt and a touch of white, always wearing a clover on his fur.
☆ mentoring no one.
☆ no current relationships or family ties.
☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
☆ penned by egg ↛ eggmcbaconboy on discord, feel free to dm for plots!
☆ tagging @Rippleshade (@Patty.B.Bateman)
