Private Border we first met in the summer ✦ meadow

[Deadwood]

{$title} deadwood visits a place he'd much sooner forget

——————————————— Skin and bones, and brains and blood ☾

He couldn't believe he had tricked Froststorm. Well, it was sort of a trick. He was teaching Meadowpaw things, sure, but he certainly wouldn't call her his apprentice or anything. He was only... well, he felt nineteen moons, he was in no position to have a proper apprentice. If he was lucky, hopefully Meadow would never meet his father.... but of course, he has to act like he has an apprentice now. Like Froststorm had done so many times, he had to start meddling—and meddling started with getting out of this star-forsaken place.

The first thing he felt was... a bit sick, really. His head spun with the sudden smells, the sudden colors, the brightness of the world he had long left. Deadwood let out a low whine of pain, pale eyes scrunched up from the sun beaming through the leaves, illuminating ghostly, tangled fur that had not seen light for a very long time. His ears rang, and he could just barely parse the song of birds through the noise. It was... strange. It was so strange, he almost forgot what birds sounded like. The only reason he could still remember what songs sounded like was because he refused to forget, but he always had to hum the songs to himself. He could never sing very loud, not in the Dark Forest. That would practically be asking to be ripped apart—he couldn't remember the words to any of the things he used to sing when he was younger, but at least he knew the melodies. If it was good enough for the birds, it was damn sure good enough for him.

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, the ringing in his ears fading to a dull hum—ah, insects. That must be what that was. It was still bright as hell, sure, but it was slowly becoming more bearable. Slowly, his eyes opened to a heavy-lidded crack, and finally the details of the world started to flood in. The trees were luscious, the grass and weeds beneath his feet looked soft, though of course he couldn't really feel it. He could sure imagine it, though. Between his feet, a small rodent scampered—yep, that was enough evidence to prove to him he was still as dead as ever. No mouse would ever get that close to a normal cat. Deadwood took a deep breath of the air... but something, something was wrong. Something felt sickeningly familiar, the warmth of the area was inviting to him, like a home he had long since forgotten. He couldn't... no, he wouldn't be—

The tom stumbled back, and his back connected with rough bark, paws becoming entangled with the gnarled roots of some great tree. Deadwood spun, and his pale eyes opened far wider than they should've.

He was back. He was back where he had died, his bones were underneath his feet. He had bled here, had suffered here, he was still....
With a small whine, the tom stumbled away from the tree, instead scrambling into the heavy undergrowth. He had to get out of here.

They followed us into the trees

Wearing crowns of twigs and leaves

• @Meadowpaw come get your ghost
• 
  Deadwood
  ☾—Dark Forest Warrior | 19 Moons
  ☾—He/Him
  ☾—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ☾—A thin, dark brown tabby tom with pale eyes
  #A68040 #ACAB9C

 

[Meadowpaw]

Every so often, when Gladebloom sent her out to practice foraging, she snuck off alone. She was supposed to have someone accompany her, but just for today, she wanted a bit of adventure by herself. It wasn't often these days she could just be[/color], without someone hovering. Meadowpaw loved her clanmates dearly, but sometimes they could be a little overbearing…

Meadowpaw picked her way through the underbrush, listening to the distant trill of birds. The sun was bright, a gentle breeze rustling her whiskers, carrying the scent of goldenrod and dry soil.

A tune tumbled from her lips—a song without rhyme or words, yet sweet enough to rival birdsong. Her friend hummed to her sometimes, and it was through him she'd inherited the habit. She let it fill the silence each morning in the garden. Evenings in the medicine-den. When she worked or lay to sleep. Most of all, it was a good way to ease her nerves.

As she pressed aimlessly into their territory, trees clustered. Roots and leaf litter replacing the brittle grass that she'd grown accustomed to. She slowed, taking in her new surroundings. Where am I? Did she cross the border somehow? She had never been to this part of their territory before.

As she turned, she saw it. A large tree, but it was hardly like any other—a gnarled thing that rose from the dirt, old and rickety—roots warped and thick, some breaking the surface as if to claw for breath.

She limped toward it slowly. By all accounts, it was strange, but there was something else. A weight or that was the only way she knew to describe it. The air pressed down on her shoulders, heavy and still. Now, as she listened, the birds had gone quiet. Wind swept through the clearing, raking its claws through her patchwork pelt. The rustling leaves overhead far louder than it should've been.

Her eyes flicked to the forest floor—and caught movement. The tail-end of something as it slunk off into the undergrowth. That should've been enough to turn her back but she felt… drawn. Meadowpaw didn't know if it was curiosity that pushed her forward or something else entirely, lifting her paws despite her fear.

Soft humming fizzled up and down in volume. She pushed through the bramble, small thorns tugging at her fur. Waiting for her on the other side of the brush, a dark shape loomed before her. The calico yelped, stumbling back onto a stray root, gravity pulling her into the dirt...

______________I believe that there is a courage ✿ but its burnin' like ash in the wind_____________

• "speech" - thoughts
  
• ​
• Meadow she/her & windclan
  ✿ Three-legged black and red tortoiseshell with green eyes.
  ✿ A light crisp-sounding voice
  ✿ Loves flowers and always has some woven into her fur
  ✿ Peaceful and healing powerplay permitted. All others DM.
  ✿ Fur smells floral and mildly sweet.
  
  
  penned by Scarlet​