Open Backwritten you summon storms, you play with nature // return with a loner

[Copperstorm]

You walk along the edge of danger
AND IT WILL CHANGE YOU

.

Copperstorm pushed his shoulder harder beneath Requiem's weight, teeth gritted as he guided the wounded tom through the camp entrance. Each step was heavy, deliberate... He was well aware of the cat's ragged breathing loud in his ears, the copper scent of blood mingling with the wet earth beneath their paws... The fact this cat survived was a miracle to say the least... Then, with Rowanpaw's help, Stars forbid he prayed that the tom might actually l i v e instead of just survive... " Easy... " he mumbled,, his tone gruff but careful. " We're almost there. Just a few more fox-lengths, and you can rest in a nest instead of the wet ground. " he spoke, mostly to himself, unsure whether the tom was conscious enough to hear.

He knew the moment his paws stepped into that camp, voices would start... He knew it and yet, he pushed on through... He took a deep breath and braced himself as he entered the camp ground together with the others, golden hues flitting around for a moment. A murmur here, a gasp there... He saw the young apprentice Heartpaw, saw how her eyes widened in shock at the sight of the injured stranger, half-draped over the Storm Guard's back. He knew this wasn't the last of it... Kits were curious, so were apprentices... Warriors would want to know who entered their camp.

Copperstorm's head snapped up, eyes blazing gold in the dappled light. " Back to your duties, all of you. " he meowed, his tail lashing once, tone commanding and sharp. " It's a wounded loner. That's all you need to know. " He adjusted his stance, tightening his grip beneath Requiem's shoulder to keep him upright. " We'll deal with him appropriately once he's stable. But for StarClan's sake... " his voice lowered, rough but edged with fatigue. " Let the tom rest before you all start gossiping like crows. " He gave a small nod toward the medicine den.

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

33 MOONS

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THUNDERCLAN

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SONG

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bio

Tagging: @rowanpaw @Requiem @Flurrypaw @Seafoambelly

 

[Seafoambelly]

SEAFOAMBELLY

, 83 moons / THUNDERCLAN RANGER
A long-furred blue-gray she-cat with blue-green eyes.
Sister to URCHINSPINE
Solemn and distant. She doesn't talk much.
SPEECH || THOUGHTS
Tagging none

---

Once again, she helped bear a cat back to ThunderClan camp. Were she someone with a sense of humor, she might joke that she take on a new position as Rowanpaw's designated patient carrier. While she would gladly serve their medicine cat in whichever way she deemed fit, she wasn't certain many of the others would enjoy her nestside manner.

With Copperstorm's help, she walked the stranger into Rowanpaw's den, breathing in the calming, dusty scent of herbs. Here was the border between life and death, marked by earthy scents. After all, the earth bore life to the Clan in form of prey, and the earth was the final nest into which they were laid when they joined their ancestors in the stars. Stars willing, this cat would not find himself among their hunting grounds quite yet. Copperstorm fended off the onlookers, and Seafoambelly grunted as she shifted under the weight of the loner.

"Rowanpaw?" she meowed. "We need your help."

 

[Requiem]

Requiem was eroded with blood loss.

In some silly sense, a more sentient Requiem, met with the same statement, would have met it with one of his seldom-seen jests. 'I haven't lost it,' he'd have said once, 'It's right here, painted across this brown tom's coat'. He didn't think he would have found it funny after the fact.

Somewhere between the jerk of a shoulder into his ribs and the grunting collapse of his soft underbelly over a back, Requiem had found something resembling consciousness and had seized it with undying obstinance, finding a will within him bordering on animalistic to possess this little scrap of presence and keep it close enough to see out of. When Requiem's vision proved grayed and flawed, to hear out of. Hearing proved more servicable to him, for the gruff voice and calling questions implied that his rescuers were communicating with someone who had not yet been present.

That had to have been enough.
It wasn't.

"Stop," came the half-slurred, deep rumble of the loner's voice. Somewhere within the same vein of stubbornness that he held his consciousness, he had managed the miraculous act of raising his head up off of his patrol stranger's back. His newfound vantage paired itself with his mottled visibility to scrape together a scene that he could be confused about, then upset about, and finally, defiant about. Eyes peered at him from behind woods-worn pelts, adorned with plants, and bone, and snail shells and feathers of unrelenting variety. He squinted in vague scrutiny, then his amber eyes dropped open in recognition, then tensed at the edges in disgust. Requiem veered his head to the side, meeting more eyes, and prompting a jingle from the stupid bell collar that hung, poised and leathery, around his ribbony neck. Not a loner, then. A house cat.

"You took me to a.. a...?" Requiem inquired in hissing undervoice directly into the ear of the tomcat, whose back he was gradually slipping off of. A blue shoulder met his side to prevent this from happening, but the brown tom heaved with the hurt of it. Half-upright, he had made himself a sorry sight for the clan cats that crowded in the clearing, half-devoted to their work in attempts to disguise their attention with motion.

A tomcat, bony brown with a mane of fluent, glossy pelt that only came from the privileged oil-rich diets of house cats and fish-eaters. He didn't smell of forest, or of water, or of riverclan. He reeked of blood, and of road, and of human. His fur, though shiny, was bedraggled with oozing blood that had dried around clumping crevices into browning glue. His body was crumpled and caved in areas that should have been firm with bone, and bruises festered along the right half of his face, encapsulating. Heaves bracketed his sides with the half-intake indicative of broken ribs. Maybe he would have been tall and slender once, but his right forelimb was collapsed in fracture and would be unable to hold him to the pride implied by such an appearance.

He glared at them, as though confusion battled with distasteful recognition, eyes crumpled with scowling pain.

In the absence of anything else to look at, Requiem only wished he had grabbed his pebble when he had the chance.


Tags: @rowanpaw , @Copperstorm , @Seafoambelly , @Flurrypaw , @anyone

 

[rowanpaw]

☆ Rowanpaw is sorting through herbs when Copperstorm and Seafoambelly enter her den, smelling strongly of carrion and the thunderpath. Her head turns immediately, panic rising in her chest— not Copperstorm, surely? Not before he got to see his kits. That would be too cruel.

But the cat that the smell clings too is a stranger. Matted and bloody fur, badly injured. She gets to her feet at once and hurries to his side, eyes moving fast over his body.

"I'm gonna need a stick, as straight as possible," she says to no one in particular, "and water, plenty of water. Please," she adds, looking up at her clanmates. "I'll do everything I can in the meantime."

She turns around and pulls a few things from her stores; poppyseeds for the pain, thyme to keep him calm. She wraps a generous amount of cobwebs around one of her paws, then returns to the stranger's side, she pushes the herbs towards him.

"Eat," she says softly. "It'll help. I promise," then, she begins to push the cobweb against the injuries. His eye socket is bruised but not bleeding too badly, not like Thunderflash was, so she leaves it alone for now. Cold wet moss would do better than cobwebs, most likely.

☆ ROWANPAW. 14 moons
mentored by serpentberry,
adopted daughter of serpentberry and thornstar
peaceful powerplay allowed
ooc - anyone can feel free to fetch what she needs!:3