Hello and welcome to Purrgatory! We are an 18+ Warrior Cat Roleplay set in an AU where the clans were unable to leave the forest territories and perished!
It has been 100 or more years since then, the clans of the forest are but distant memories to any cats still alive, stories passed down to kits of strangely named wild warriors and leaders with nine lives but the time of the clans is upon us once more and the stars shine yet again.
{$title} death by horse
Hush moves like a shadow through the moor, their paws whispering over the frost-stiffened grass. The night is heavy with quiet, the wind little more than a thread of breath over the hills. Overhead, the stars flicker, distant, indifferent. Hush does not look at them. Their focus is ahead, on the lone figure standing against the darkness—a horse, pale as mist in the moonlight. They have always known to keep their distance. The creatures are unpredictable, their hooves striking the earth with the force of thunder. But something about this one draws Hush forward. Maybe it is the way it stands so still, its breath curling in soft plumes in the cold air. Maybe it is the quiet between them, the space that does not feel empty but waiting.
Hush steps closer. Their tail flicks behind them, a slow, measured movement. Their breath comes steady, though their muscles are taut beneath their pelt. They do not move without care—never. Their life has been shaped by caution, by the quiet instinct to slip between danger's teeth without being caught. And yet... The horse shifts, a shudder passing through its massive frame. Hush stills, ears flicking forward. They are close enough now to see the damp gleam of its muzzle, the twitch of its skin beneath the moon's pale touch. Close enough to hear its breath, deep and slow, a sound like distant waves against stone. Hush has never been reckless. But they take another step.
The horse startles.
It happens faster than thought—faster than instinct. A sharp exhale, a jolt of muscle, and then the blur of movement as its hind legs lash out. Hush barely has time to flinch. There is no space for escape, no crack to slip through, no moment to twist away. The impact is all there is. A sickening crunch, white-hot pain that flares and then, nothing. Hush is on the ground. They do not remember falling, but the earth is beneath them, cold and solid and impossibly far away. Their body feels distant, weightless, as though they are hovering just outside of it. There is a ringing in their ears, shrill and thin, drowning out the wind. They try to move. They do not move. The stars are above them. Closer, now. Or maybe it is only that their vision narrows, the edges softening, curling inward like the petals of a closing flower. They are aware, distantly, of warmth trickling from somewhere—down their cheek, over their jaw. The scent of blood is sharp, metallic. It should scare them. It does not. Hush exhales, slow. Their body does not feel like theirs anymore, but the night is still here, wrapping around them, and the stars—yes, the stars—are still watching. Their breath leaves them in a whisper, curling into the cold.
They do not take another.
