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[FLEAFIRE]

{$title} warriors or council only unless asked!

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She slept like shit. Fleafire held out at the graveyard for a day to wait for the wounds to close, but she was still spent. All she could think about now was crashing out in her own nest.

The wounds sealed, but they looked ugly. Sure to draw attention if she didn't hide them. So, she did. Fleafire slathered herself in mud. A crusted shell of filth sealed over her back and shoulders like she had that night to mask her scent. That wasn't so unusual. If anyone did ask, she would be able to cover her ass by saying it was for hunting.

She didn't know how long she had been walking. It felt like forever. She was sure she was zig-zagging, rather than walking in a straight line. Her head hung, nose nearly rubbing the ground as she walked. The muffled sound of her steps sounded farther away than it really was.

Her balance went out from under her without warning. She hit the earth shoulder-first—of course, it had to be that shoulder. The marsh tilted sideways, her ears ringing as she lay half-submerged in a puddle, watching the ripples quiver over her reflection.

What a joke to survive being dived on from a fucking tree only to die a short walk from camp. Lucky, she was stubborn. Too stubborn to lie there and let the marsh swallow her. She would live. She would fight.

She pushed herself upright, legs wobbling before staggering on. Before reaching camp, she stopped to coat her shoulder again, awkwardly folding herself down like a newborn fawn. She rolled in the mud, gritting her teeth through the fire in her ribs. Only when she had a nice thick layer over her body did she start walking again. Slowly dragging her paws, like a corpse trying to remember how to walk.

By the time she reached camp, it was long past dusk. She hoped to make it back sooner to avoid the patrols, but somehow she never ran into any.

Fleafire kept her head down, ignoring the eyes she felt on her. Her head buzzed faintly, heat licking at the edges of her thoughts.

Everything was so distorted... faces... dens... the crunch of her own pawsteps. She reached the den before her legs finally buckled, folding into the first nest she could find. Fleafire didn't know if it was hers or not but fuck it. She just wanted to sleep. Breathing was hard. Moving was hard. Every breath like she was sucking in the sparks off a bonfire. Her eyelids shut, the soft, dark, warmth of camp welcoming her back.

(Fleafire has returned home after this thread. She hasn't been at camp for a full day and a half (not too unusual for a thief, I suppose), but has passed out in someone else's nest! Warriors or council only unless you ask first! Backwritten for October 20th.)

Blood spill to gold, that's the cards they have shown

FLEAFIRE

14 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.

Live for today like tomorrow won't take me home

 

[Marbleshine]

In the morning when I wake and the sun is coming through
Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness and you fill my head with you

.

Marbleshine had not expected to find a very muddy warrior in her nest. For a long, quiet heartbeat, she simply stood there, tail tip twitching, blue eyes wide with disbelief. She had taken such care to keep her nest clean and orderly despite the endless rain, always washing her fur before settling in, always brushing away stray bits of moss or mud. But now? Now there was mud everywhere. Her gaze dropped to the culprit: Fleafire. The warrior was sprawled half across Marbleshine's bedding, streaked in muck from nose to tail. For a fleeting, petty moment, Marbleshine wondered if Fleafire had chosen her nest just to spite her. But that suspicion melted almost as quickly as it came, because beneath the grime, Fleafire looked utterly exhausted.

Still, that didn't explain why she was covered in so much mud.

Marbleshine's ears flicked, her head turning as if searching for someone else to quietly solve this puzzle for her. She opened her mouth once, as though to ask another warrior nearby for help, but then thought better of it. No, this was her nest... A battle waged inside her chest. Kindness whispered that Fleafire needed rest, that she could just clean the nest later. But practicality and maybe just a sliver of irritation, reminded her that this was her nest, and she had every right to ask why the other cat was sleeping there in the first place.

And then, as her gaze lingered on Fleafire's still form, another feeling crept in, unease. The mud wasn't just from rain. It looked... Wrong. " Uhm... Fleafire? " Marbleshine's voice was soft, tentative. " Not to be rude, but... You're not in your own nest. I could, um, take yours, I suppose, but-- " Her words faltered as she looked closer, concern chasing away all traces of annoyance. " Where have you been? " she whispered, the question trembling between worry and fear.

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

28 MOONS

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SHADOWCLANNER

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SONG

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bio

 

[FLEAFIRE]

-

Fleafire didn't know how long she was out. She could hardly make out the words, but the sound was grating enough to drag her back. Irritation creased along her muzzle instantly. A growl rumbles in her throat, tail flicking weakly in her irritation.

She didn't bother opening her eyes. She didn't need to. Fleafire knew exactly who that annoying voice belonged to.

A rough sigh shuddered through her nose. Fleafire does give her something, hoping the answer will be enough to send her away. "Hunting." It came out softer than she meant it to, rolling against the roof of her mouth. Of all the cats in ShadowClan, Marbleshine was about as loose-lipped as they came. She didn't need to know. It was none of her fucking business anyway.

Later. Ask later. Annoy me all the fuck you want later. Fleafire keeps that to herself. Getting into it with Marbleshine now would only string their conversation on longer than she wanted. "Tired. Go away." She growled louder this time, mucus crackling in her throat. A familiar itch stirs in her chest, and she stiffens, trapping it in her lungs.

It takes a moment, but it settles. When it does, she coils tighter, shoving her face into the moss.

Blood spill to gold, that's the cards they have shown

FLEAFIRE

14 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.

Live for today like tomorrow won't take me home