Molewhisker Molewhisker
From far away whispered a breeze
From far away whispered a breeze
WindClan
Purrgatory
Warrior
Tunneler
—————————— Does the wind feel a gladness at the work that it's done?
TRIGGER WARNING
Discussion of death, surviour's guilt and a cave-in (no descriptions of suffocation).
For such a detached-seeming figure amongst the clan, Molewhisker had been indescribably affected by the death of their apprentice. Those who did not know it would not see much of a change, but the grief clouded their eyes and clung to every solemn word they spoke. They had tried to continue, persisting in spite of it. But the last Molewhisker had beheld such grief in their heart, and it still blazed into their mind.
Molewhisker was not always alone in this world. With a father like an iron fist and a distant mother, the only cat they could rely on was their littermate. In the silence that filled the tunnels, they could almost convince themself she was still there, padding at the side of Charitypaw, talking their usual poetry as a gift unto the earth.
But it was the same earth that wrapped tendrils around what remained of their bodies and released their souls to whatever came next. Maybe Charitypaw was with the stars, maybe Crane was in every root and leaf of the trees. Molewhisker knew the cats they cared about were not truly gone, but their absence still stung to the core.
They could not rescue Charity, just as they could not rescue Crane. The monster had veered into her before it could do anything; they would not forget the heart-wrenching cry of their only family as she was swiftly taken away. Molewhisker did not even get to know Charitypaw's final thoughts, but they hoped the apprentice was happy, safe now. They had failed twice, and that agony weaved itself into their very core.
Part of them ached; to know they lived where the two had died. Perhaps everything would be different if they had been the one to be struck by the monster, or to have withered away in Charitypaw's place. They would have willingly given their life for either to thrive, and yet, they persisted. In their stead, they would continue.
The chimaera was distracted, wandering the tunnels. There had been good progress in repairs; they had taken to inspecting them as they had taken a step back from patrols, the presence of cats too painful for them. But the tunnels needed repairing, and they had a duty to Windclan.
They pressed oversized paws into the walls, delicately shaping the earth, grateful to the tunnels for being kind to the cats, to allow their escape before collapsing. Molewhisker turned to retrieve some woven grasses, the ones Weaselchirp suggested to reinforce the still soft earth, but something stirred their attention.
Pawsteps.
No one was to be within this tunnel, which hadn't been fully repaired, as had been discussed. Something tight wound around their throat, dread at the idea of someone getting injured down here. Especially when there were new apprentices, foolhardy apprentices too clueless, heading brazenly into delicate tunnels which would not stand for disrespect. Their ears pinned back, not yet speaking as they walked along the length of the unrepaired tunnel, crumbling walls and uneven floors.
Long, deep breaths, trying to identify who stood amongst the labyrinth. But the mottled air, soaked with dregs of rain, scents clung to the wetness and made it indescribable. They picked up speed, fear prickling at their pelt; another cat couldn't die, not because of them. Never again.
It wasn't until in the dark of the tunnel that they finally found the other wandering spirit, a figure they did not recognise. "These tunnels are not built for those not aware of the dange-" Their voice low, fearful, but not of the cat. But the stranger did not seem to understand that, shadowed pelt standing on end as if with no regard for the delicate state of the tunnels, the figure lunged forward, yowling in a frightful state.
The tunneler cried out as pain bloomed across its face, claws raking deep into their flesh, drawing blood that seeped into the earth. Molewhisker slammed into one of the walls, wet earth crumbling around them, scattering around their paws. A gasp slipped from their maw, pain and terror. The stranger lunged again, crying out in a frenzy, fangs sinking into their throat as Molewhisker's yelp quickly melded into a gurgled noise, the foul taste of blood seeping onto their tongue and past their lips. Molewhisker did not know if they had bit their tongue or the stranger had pierced something dangerous, but they found themself pinned to the floor with their maw slowly filling with blood.
The cat stood above them, shaking, not much larger but stronger, far stronger. Claws sank into their flesh as the chimaera writhed. "No- I don't- I'm not-" Molewhisker desperately tried to crawl away, as the cat seemed to back up, blood dripping from their lips. They did not quite understand why, not until it sounded as if something was shifting overhead.
Molewhiskers' breaths became laboured, their pelt soaking crimson and blooming in a sudden warmth, though the rest of their body felt so... So cold. Their gaze managed to flitter up to the stranger, who simply stood there, motionless. Were they waiting for them to die?
Their chest heaved in a painful gasp of breath, tunnel saturaing with a streak of the tunnelers' blood. The cat took a step forward. "P-Please. I-" Blood dripped in rivulets down their chin, they tried to speak, but louder shifting silenced them. That cold sensation became deeper than felt, chilling their soul.
'The tunnel.'
Molewhisker had not realised how hard they had been thrown into the walls, but crumbling dirt began to scatter all about them, from a small scattering to larger and larger chunks. They tried to stand, desperately they tried to, but their paws gave out, too much had they already bled out there. Tears pricked at the chimaeras' eyes, fear clouding their vision. They picked their gaze up and looked to the stranger.
"Run. Save yourself."
It was all they could utter. Their final words, their final plea, for their own murderer to save their pelt. The last thing they saw was the cat standing there, an expression they could not understand, before everything fell dark.
Death came swiftly for Molewhisker. The weight of the earth granted them mercy, snuffing their existence from this plane just as quietly as they entered it.
Molewhisker died as they lived, cradled by the earth they revered as holy, and their body too would rejoin the great everything from whence they were created. Creation is not without loss. Destruction partakes in what is made anew.
- With that, Molewhisker is officially dead. I was planning on dropping them temporarily, but given I have no plots with them and this is playing into something else, Molewhisker is now dead. This thread is open for speculation on Mole going missing, or if any tunnelers would want to have found their body, feel free. The assailant is unnamed on purpose, and by the time anyone finds them, any scent is long gone. Goodbye Mole <3
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Molewhisker
✦—Windclan tunneller | 29 moons
✦—They/It
✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
✦—A soft-spoken, small, red and blue chimaera with overly long whiskers.
#9D9D9D
