Private Dark Forest stranger in the dark, the lonely night ↟↟↟↟↟ — froststorm

[F l e a p a w]

-

Flamerunner had come to get her, to convince her to come back to camp with him, but she wouldn't go. He didn't argue with her or drag her back kicking and screaming. The flame pointed tom was never like that. Flea didn't know if that was out of laziness or cause he understood, but she was glad for it.

She didn't remember falling asleep. Fleapaw had been curled under the gnarled roots of that tree, its jagged limbs cradling her like the bones of something long dead. The marsh was buzzing and loud, but—here—wherever here was—there was nothing. No wind, no bubbling water, no warmth. Just empty black woods that stretched on forever.

She could feel the soil beneath her paws. The air was thick and stagnating, cloying at her throat, filling her lungs with rot. Flea choked from the intensity of it, clearing her lungs as best she could. The ground was wet—slick with something that didn't quite feel like mud. The dark was so thick that her eyes were struggling to adjust. But little by little, she could make out more of her surroundings.

And why was it so fucking cold?

She pinched her limbs together to contain what little warmth there was. There were eyes on her, she could feel them burrowing into her pelt. The feeling was familiar... like insects squirming underneath her flesh.

Then there was how quiet it was. The silence was oppressive—void of all life. She heard not the rustling of prey or the croaks of frogs or the chirping of insects. It was the kind of silence that made her fur bristle before her head could even tell her why.

Where am I?

She swallowed, her throat feeling dry. Fleapaw didn't know why, but she knew something was out there watching her. The ruddy she-cat turned, worn eyes flickering with her dimmed fire. A cold breath of air swept across her whiskers, and she bared against it. Her claws were unsheathed in an instant. "I'm not stupid, I know someones there." She snarled into the dark, "Come out now."

The light goes down

FLEAPAW

6 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.

@Froststorm

A MARK from god