Out of the Dust (post-Ignition) L0V0S0

[Cloudbat]

OOC:
Flash Event: An event planned and executed quickly, with no planned direction or ending.

Instigating incident: A fire of unknown cause is ablaze in MeadowClan territory, causing panic when it reached camp. Luckily, most cats escaped the blaze unharmed, and now Cedarstar and the survivors are creating a temporary camp by the lake. Some cats are still unaccounted for.

Guidelines:

- This is an event you can drop in and out of at will. You could post once and disappear, and the thread will continue without you. There's no obligation at any point to stay involved. PERFECT FOR BUSY RPERS!

- ANYONE CAN JOIN AT ANY TIME! Participation in the original thread is not neccessary! There is never too many cats!

- There is only one rule – if you want your cat to die or receive a serious injury, PM me to let me know in advance. Other than that, there is absolutely, 100% no direction for this. Just post and see where it leads

- No post order! Ever.

- Include every joinee, early or late.

Other notes
So people, I know some of you have already started post-Ignition threads and there's nothing wrong with that. This is just the official follow-up thread to Ignition Point. The fire is still going, if slowly dying, and most (I repeat, most) cats are out by now. However, some are still unaccounted for!

NB: Please PM me if your cat is dead or seriously injured!

However, if you didn't get a chance to post on Ignition or are new, you can easily have your cat escaping or play them as having been there all along. And by there I mean the river, which is where Cedarstar is now setting up a temporary camp, where your cat can be lying injured, looking on for more escapees, helping, etc.

Anyone is free to join, and the original thread is still readable but closed: Ignition Point

[bg=3b5839][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] BIC: Ugly beauty had become his world. The swirling red and orange eating his home. The so welcome but so sick, so injured forms of his Clanmates whose scents were choked with smoke and vomit. His own paws were heavy, and while his own state was of concern he was still on the bottom of priorities. At the head of it were a few words, his mantra of survival: Keep close to the river. MeadowClanners were not swimmers by any stretch of the imagination, but he trusted them to ensure their individual survival. As I will take care of the whole. "My Clan." He had finally reached the knot of felines. It felt strange feeling flakes of ash instead of worn stone beneath his paws. "I will not pretend that I can fix this immediately. But for now we must make a temporary camp. I understand that many of you need treatment; I will locate will Aldernose or Mottledpaw as soon as possible. Sparrowclaw will lead a patrol to find burrows to use as nests. A watch will be posted to guard our injured. When I have found a medicine cat, I will hear your personal needs, for I am at your disposal." He searched the faces (using scents was essentially useless) for his mate and Littlewhisker - he found his old friend first, followed by his beloved mate. It took so much willpower to not go bury his face in her fur and breathe in her scent, curling up like nothing had changed since he was a kit. But he nodded at her and turned back to his Clan. "Who will volunteer as a guard?"

[Pyro]

"I will stand guard." Elkstep wheezed.

The small tom had followed his leader from the river's edge, head still swimming from the revelation that starclan was real. Or perhaps, at this point, it was less the revelation and more the smoke inhalation that was making his head swim. Each breath sent sharp spikes coarsing down his throat to his lungs. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced in the way of pain.

But.

He couldn't bring himself to sit amongst the injured. Though breathing was becoming more of a chore than it should be, the warrior's senses were on high alert. And his head, though swimming, was so restless he couldn't keep himself down if he tried. A task that would occupy his mind and allow him the chance to calm the freak down was just what he needed. Starclan willing nothing else would happen tonight.

[Glowy]

Hawkheart opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. It was either shock or smoke that made her unable to speak, and which it truly was she could not say. Her tail twitched, and she rotated her head to look at it, curious as to why it was moving of its own volition. The very tip of it had no fur left, exposing the pink flesh beneath, which was now an angry, peeling red. She also saw holes in her fur, little craters caused by falling cinders. It was then that she realized that she was lying down, stretched out on the sand like she had lost consciousness. Had she? The last thing she remembered was arriving at the river with Shadepaw. Shady Shadepaw. Little Mister Shades. Despite herself, she giggled. Mild hysteria was beginning to set in. The world had burnt down and now they had to make a new one. She wondered if the dirt had burnt up, too, and if it had felt anything. Did burnt dirt taste like anything? Fire. She bet it tasted like fire, what did fire taste like? Orange. Maybe orange. Maybe fire tasted like orange fur. Fur, orange, like Gingerstripe's. Ginger was a plant. Shade was not a plant, but it was so nice and cool like the river, the river that protected them from fire and heat and felt so good on her burnt tail. Breath rattling in her chest, she rose to her paws, favoring her left forepaw for some reason. Maybe it had been kissed by heat, too, but she didn't want to look. All she wanted was to sit in the river. Oh, would Shrewstorm be proud of her! Sitting in the water. Shrew said she was a duckling, but shrews were weaker than ducklings and tasted better, too. Had any prey survived the inferno? Shrewstorm might know. Not Elkstep, though, because you didn't hunt elk. They were big and made funny noises, so you ran away, far, far away like you were running from a wall of living heat. Hawkheart's pupils were dilated far more than usual. How was Elkstep being sane? How was anybody handling this with a level head? The entire world had burnt up, didn't they see? Hadn't they felt the fire bearing down upon them, hunting them mercilessly? No, it hadn't even been hunting. It just destroyed, because that was all it knew. How. Just. They were talking, and her head was spinning, and the whole entire burnt world was spinning, and it was turning black, black like Shadepaw because it had been orange like Gingerstripe. She wanted her daddy. Why wasn't he here? Had the blackness and orangeness and grayness consumed him? The part of the river she was in was shallow, and she lay in it, giving in to her shaking muscles. A small sob escaped her, choked by the smoke she had inhaled. Perhaps if she drank water it would help. Water helped her tail. The water cooled her throat and soothed it for a few heartbeats. But, wait. Things were happening! Cedarstar talked. Always business, that one. Patrols. Medicine cats. As if it would change anything. The world had been reduced to smoldering piles of whatever that stuff was that came after fire. She couldn't remember. Her brain wasn't working, and that maddened her. Why wasn't it working? Her brain hadn't been burnt. Had it? She raised her right forepaw, because the left still hurt, and felt her skull. Nope, no holes! Her brain was intact, not bubbly and sickeningly sweet-smelling, not like her tail. Everything smelled like smoke. Cats were moving, making crackling noises in the grass nearby, and she had to shake visions of the flames from her mind's eye. Elkstep was watching. He was good. Elkstep would keep them safe while Cedarstar did whatever it was he needed to do. Hawkheart sat up, but her muscles still shook. Why was she awake? She should be sleeping. It was late. The sky was dark. But maybe that was just the smoke, clouds that smelled like sweet, acrid destruction. Elkstep. She found him with her eyes and managed to focus. "Whaddya watch'n uz for, Elky? Think we's gun run 'way? Run so, so faaaaaaaaaar 'way, like run from fire?"

[/b] Her voice quavered, rising in pitch. "Nope, not do go places. The world burnt. Noooooooo place t' goooooo. Fire. Big. Hot. Loud. So loud, smelly, icky. I want my daddy. Where's he? Daaaaaaaaaaaaad? DAAAAAAAAAD? He gone? Why? Eeeeeelky. What you did withim?"[/b]

Hawkheart collapsed again, muscles lacking the strength to hold her upright. She lay in the river, crying softly for her daddy, her daddy that she'd hated ever since the day he'd died during her apprenticeship. But she forgot that now. She wanted her daddy! Where was he? What had they done with him? Why wasn't he here for her?

speaking


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[RiiRii]

Sparrowclaw looked around the vast area before listening to her leaders demands.
As her lean ears twitched, she turned her head and lowered her head in respect.

Turning around, with her paws moving heavily. Still exhausted from the recent events as her ears pinned back to her scalp and then looked throughout the cats. Of course her apprentice would be joining her.

"My idea of dens." she said softly, but her voice filled with demanding and certainty. "Near here, rabbits used to inhabit lots of burrows before they moved after leafbare." she explained. "Each burrow we could dig out and then fix to make look a lot more like a suitable and comfy area for the clans. These will be temporary until we're able to clean out the old dens back at camp and maybe at the same time we can find the reason to what caused our camps to burst ablaze." she headed past the cats. "Shadepaw, of course you'll be with me. " she said towards her apprentice. "Hawkheart, you can come too." as her jade green eyes watched the she-cat. "And we'll need some other cats so if you want to help, feel free to speak up."

As Sparrowclaw shifted her gaze towards Cedarstar, watching him before looking back around and lifting her head high.
It was time to let the past disappear in the rain of the future.

[Glowy]

Hawkheart looked up and tilted her head, thoroughly confused. Who was this Hawkheart that authoritative cat was talking to? Surely she couldn't mean her? No, that was ridiculous. She wouldn't be given her warrior name for at least another moon. That brown, stripedy, she-cat must be confused. Touched. Addle-brained. Slower than the average worker bee. Bees were fun to look at, until they got scared and attacked your face. Her stripes sort of made her look like a bee. She wondered if she worked like one, too. She looked like she did. Nobody sane would work when the sky smelled like fire. It seemed like she wanted her to do something, that brown she-cat, brown like the color of the sky and all stripey like a busy little bumble bee. What were they doing? She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Her head felt heavy, like it was stuffed full of willow cotton. Stuffed to the brim full of willow cotton and moss and all those heavy, soft plant things. Jobs. Working, working like a bee. Hawk didn't look like a bee, she didn't think. She wasn't fuzzy enough. JOBS. Um. Dens. That was what the bee-cat was talking about. Dens and burrows and digging. Could Hawk dig with her paw in such pain? Bracing herself, she finally looked at her left forepaw. The sight of it was nearly enough to make her lose what she had not lost in MeadowClan's previous camp, outside the Warriors' Den. The fur had been burnt clear off in some parts, exposing flesh that looked putrid, all black and red and white and swollen. The rest of her fur all the way up to her elbow was scorched or covered in ash, she couldn't tell. It was just dark. HAH, and the bee-cat wanted her to dig dens. Likelihood of that... yeah. Just, no. But maybe her burns weren't too bad. She was an apprentice, she should obey the orders of those in power. So she hobbled over to Sparrowclaw on three legs, eyes downcast in respect, just like a proper apprentice. "Pard'n me, miss, but didja by Hawkheart, mean me? Hawkpaw. Funny, hawks dun 'ave paaaaws."

[/b] She giggled, but then her eyebrows contracted in worry.

"Um, 'ave you saw my daddy? Missing. Can't find. Worried. Could I look for 'im? No can dig. Paw. Berry bad, hurts. Daddy could help, he could! Wheeeeere he is? WHERE?"[/b] The exertion was too much. Her muscles burned, burned like there was a fire inside of her, and she hated it, because she hated fire and heat and the world had burned, you see. She wondered if it had been shrieking with pain just as her muscles were, only the fire had been too loud and nobody could hear it. She collapsed, and her burnt paw hit the ground, causing her to cry out as pain jumped up to her shoulder like lightning. One of the bubbles burst, leaking a clear, strange-smelling liquid.

"Hawkheart gun be warrior name for me, miss?"[/b] Hawkheart looked up at Sparrowclaw with shining eyes, smiling. Pain was so nice, it made her feel warm, and the dirt smelled good. It smelled wet, and wet was good. The nice, wet dirt was getting onto her burns, but she didn't care. It was wet and cool, and she was gross enough as it was. What did she care if she got a little dirty?

speaking


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[nightfall]

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[bg=000000] Everything smelled like ash and smoke. Rhea hated ash and smoke. The elder limped slowly around the groups of smoky-smelling cats. Cindertail was gone, whisked away by Aldernose. Lichenheart was nowhere to be found. While Rhea's original course was towards Cedarstar to ask what she could do, she found herself distracted by the river. She was thirsty. Cedarstar could wait a moment. However, as she ambled towards her destination, her course was changed once again. She watched in complete confusion as Hawkheart collapsed at the paws of Sparrowclaw, giggling uncontrollably. It unbelievably out of character for the usually sharp she-cat. Rhea approached the giggling cat. "Hawkheart, what in the world are you doing? Stop acting like this at -" Rhea cut herself off. Hawkheart was babbling. Her father. She wanted her 'daddy'. Rhea's heart ached. She didn't know Hawkheart's father, and she damn well didn't know where he was. But she couldn't actually say that. Hawkheart was clearly in shock, and upsetting her further could prove disastrous. "Hawkheart, are you alright, dear?" It slipped out by accident. She couldn't help it. And the warrior was definitely not okay. Something was very wrong. Rhea moved closer, pushing Sparrowclaw out of the way to look Hawkheart over. The she-cat's fur was blackened with ash and soot, and she was trembling like a leaf in the wind. The elder flinched at the sight of Hawkheart's burned paw. It looked absolutely terrible. The fur had all but burned off, exposing bubbled, blistering skin. One of the blisters had actually burst, and was oozing pus. Rhea racked her brain for the small amount of healing she actually knew. Blisters. Russ had gotten several when he was little. Let the pus come out, it'll heal faster. Keep it clean. It had to stay clean, and they were next to a river. Good. Rhea nudged Hawkheart's flank. "Hawkheart, dear." She started gently. "Come walk with me to the river. It'll make that paw of yours feel nice, and you can clean up." Rhea struggled with the urge to take Hawkheart under her wing, and lost immediately. Fathers be damned, this poor cat needed someone, and Rhea was sure she could be the one to help her.

[ambird]

Sharing a glance with Cedarstar, Gingerstripe turned to face her Clan and saw turmoil. Everyone was either on the brink of panic or already past reality. She herself wasn't sure of her sanity at this point. This all seemed too surreal. It made her think of...her parents. And after they died. You had an empty feel in the pit of your stomach, and nothing felt as if it would ever be right again. The first time-round had been bad enough, losing her parents. But she had had a home to go to. A place to curl up and sleep and mourn and be depressed. With the fire, though, it was destroying the only place she had ever felt truly safe. Sunset after sunset of trying find a new place to live, and never knowing what day might be your last. That's what the journey was like. Cats' did the best they could to protect everyone, but there was still no guarantee. Gingerstripe remembered hopeless nights of thinking she would die on the ground she slept on, and the land seemed cold and unforgiving. This went on for days, until they found their camp. It had been perfect. Of course some things need fixing and whatnot, but it had been a home. She had seen kits born there, and elders led out the entrance to go onto live with Starclan. Gingerstripe had hoped to raise her own kits there...someday. But looking back in the direction of the camp, she feared that was just a pitiful whim. The camp was still burning, strong as ever, and she cringed at the sight. This simply couldn't be happening. It was all a cruel trick her mind was playing on her, right? And...and her parent's would come out of the shadow's at any moment now. Gingerstripe looked around, searching for them. But nothing came. Why would I think they would? she thought bitterly, shutting her eyes, resisting with all her might the urge to cry out in sorrow. She did the best she could, and only a whimper could be heard. But that wasn't good, either. Gingerstripe couldn't look weak. Not when everything else was breaking at the seams. Her world. It was breaking, shattering, disintegrating. Whatever you wanted to call it. "What is this, hmm? Wasn't taking my parents away from me the worst you could do? Of course not. You had to one-up yourself and take away my home as well. I hate you." she murmured to the ground. [bg=b97335][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Cloudbat]

Cedarstar looked at the smaller tom, calculating. He appreciated Elkstep's offer, but the warrior looked like he could barely stay on his paws. Yet, tragically, his rescuer was in better condition than many. Thank StarClan I have a new life. What would we do if I had sustained as much damage as everyone else? Yet as he looked over his ragged Clan, his heart panged and he would have given up all of his lives at that moment to heal their wounds, physical...and mental. Hawkheart was clearly hallucinating and he was no medicine cat, nor very good at comforting others.

He was powerless to help the loyal she-cat. Where is Aldernose? He thought bitterly. Why is StarClan's chosen gone? The leader felt a sudden surge of uselessness. What could he possibly do? What could anyone do?

Justice. He had to lead. He had to make things right.

"Sparrowclaw." He said in a tight voice. "Allow Flamestorm to look after Hawkheart. She is unsuitable for work at the moment and is excused because of her disabling injury. Comfort is not the priority, nor is investigation. Further digging will be only be executed when necessary to save energy and time. Please speak to me if you feel it is necessary. Gingerstripe, please assist the deputy. Littlewhisker, you as well."

Ordering his mate to work when she was clearly traumatized ripped at his conscience. But she was among the least injured, and hopefully his old friend would help comfort her. The black she-cat was unusually strong in mind.

He cast a glance back through the flakes of ash and haze of smoke now surrounding the remains of his beloved camp, the fire ever so slowly dying. As he tried not to breathe too deeply, and addressed his Clan again with some of his old strength and conviction even as he tried to ignore the returning pain of his singed whiskers and pelt.

"Sparrowclaw will be overseeing shelter with Gingerstripe, Littlewhisker and Shadepaw assisting. Elkstep will be standing guard against predators. Rhea and Hawkheart are to be left alone. I will now seek out Aldernose or Mottledpaw and return soon. StarClan bless you all."

He nodded to his Clan and cast his squinted eyes around the barren and charred trail back to his former home, seeking a gray or calico shape.

[Piewonder]

Fire.

Pain.

Water.

Hawkheart.

Those where the only thoughts running through Bearclaw's mind. As he stumbled through the charred lands, the large tom's body heaved with each breath. All in all, he was okay. Being so large his lungs could handle more, but, on the other side being so large meant he was right in the smoke. Pausing to hack up more of his lungs, each breath seared down his throat and fired up his lungs.

"Rat tails and foxdung..." Narrowing his eyes, the brute kept moving until he heard his clan. Ears pricking forward, Bearclaw picked up his pace until the cats came into view. His heart seized for a moment. It was obvious the clan was still scattered and he didn't see Hawkheart. Trying to keep his breathing level, Bearclaw wheezed some more and made his way to MeadowClan. Blindly he found his paws moving toward the water, his mind foggy. At first he didn't register that he had actually touched the water. He stared at it for a minute, marveling over the feel of it and how cool his paws felt. Chances were he burned the pads pretty badly. Aside from that he seemed okay, even though he was unaware of his shoulder bleeding and the splinter sticking out of it.

Then, his hearing focused in and he could hear Hawkheart, or something similar to her. Snapping his head around he saw her. She looked utterly confused and sounded demented. Before he could stop himself, Bearclaw shouted her name. "Hawkheart!" Finding that he was splashing through the water, Bearclaw kept moving not having a care about it. He was a red mass splashing water about like a freak as he made his way to her.

Something twinged on the inside...it was a passing thought really. A thought his brain thought on its own, warning him.

She might not remember you.

The fear of that thought ripped through him like a thorn, but he pushed on.

[ambird]

[bg=c6c6c6][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] Littlewhisker nodded to Cedarstar, and glanced to Gingerstripe, who had begun mumbling to herself. Sighing, she collected her thoughts and headed over to the ginger she-cat. "Gingerstripe, I know your startled and hurt, but right now you need to be strong for yourself and your Clan, they need you and they need shelter. Come along, and we'll help Sparrowclaw look for some suitable shelter for the Clan." she said soothingly, helping the younger she-cat stand up and walk over to Sparrowclaw. After guiding the younger cat over, she motioned for Sparrowclaw to come closer to her. "I don't think Gingerstripe is emotionally ready to come help look for shelter, but if we don't get her up and moving again, I fear she'll only get worse." "My family...my home...all gone...no more...t-this isn't fair..." Gingerstripe padded up to the two cats, muttering to herself under her breath, her tail drooping and head down. Littlewhisker cast her a worried glance, and looked to Sparrowclaw. The black she-cat had feared Gingerstripe might do this, but she had to know her out of it. "Starclan doesn't always control our fates, Gingerstripe. Nor do they control every fire that comes through the forest. What we need to do right now is find the Clan a save place to rest for the night," Gingerstripe nodded to her, but her eyes still looked dull and hopeless, Littlewhisker sighed and turned to Sparrowclaw, "Where do you want to start looking for shelter first?" She looked back to the rest of the Clan, and where she looked she saw hurting cats. Whether it be psychical pain or mental shock from the ordeal, everyone was feeling sorrow. Littlewhisker bit her lip and sighed. Though everyone was disgruntled and disorganized now, she knew that they could pick themselves and start right where they left off as a Clan. They were strong, and even their camp burning to the ground couldn't stop them. The black she-cat turned back to the direction of the camp, and all she could see were billows of smoke and embers shooting out from the dying fires. She looked away, and tried not to think about the camp. Where were they to live? The camp...no, it had to have had survived the worst of the fire. It had survived worse than a few little forest fires. But it hadn't just been a little for fire, had it? It had sprung from practically nowhere and nearly taken the Clan with it. You can't think like this, Littlewhisker, everyone else's minds are already filled with the same thoughts. The camp burned. Move on and help protect your Clan, she commanded herself. She had to move on, because if no one else did, none of the Clan would.

[MONSTER <3]

[bg=faf0ee][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true] Labored coughs came from the smaller she-cat as she padded around her clanmates. Her eyes moved quickly from one pile of fur to the next, making sure they were all still breathing. She told herself that if they weren't she could help. But thats just what she told herself. For a moment she stopped, her eyes lingering on the injured and the unstable, silently thanking her lucky break on only having a bad cough, singed paws, and some missing fur. She carefully moved to the water nearby, drinking up the cool liquid for all that it was worth. If it was possible to drink it dry, she probably would have. When she finally stopped, she waited a moment to look into the water. Her eyes focused on her own, and she stared into them. A patch of fur missing from the left side of her face, a bloody scratch on her ear. She closed her eyes, the fire's heat still lingering on her pelt. Her memory recalled her old home, the fireplace, the heat that it had always given her. But this heat had been so much worse, so different. This one had been angry, while the other was calm. Her humans had captured it, made it their own. But now she knew exactly what hunger the fire held within it. Her eyes opened, glancing back at the still burning remains. It had swallowed their home, their lives, leaving nothing left behind. Russetfoot stood up, shaking off the worst of her memories, and her fur. She was glad that she wasn't self conscious about her fur, otherwise she might be having a panic attack right now. Her clanmates shared wounds with her, and seemed to mostly be holding it together.. A small sigh escaped her jaw, leaving her with a overwhelming feeling of weakness. Suddenly frustrated, she began walking around her clanmates again. Weakness, what kind of pathetic feeling was that. She refused to feel such a thing. Maybe another cat would accept it, but not Russetfoot. She was stronger than this, she was not about to let a fire take her home and her strength. Her eyes flickered to Littlewhisker and Sparrowclaw, who seemed to be trying to get some kind of organization together under Cedarstar's words. Approaching them, she cleared her throat and mewed. " Im here to help. Let me know what i can do. " She was not about to be bested by the flames. If her humans had been able to tame it, then the least she could do is fix what it had destroyed. She made it her own command, to help fix this. What means she was going to go by to do this, even she wasn't sure. But that didn't mean it would stop her. “speaking color.”

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[Cloudbat]

[bg=3b5839][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] Shock had fled, an odd sense of wonder replacing it. It was if his emotions could trouble him no more and his eyes were as wide as a kit's, merely absorbing the devastation of ash that coated his tongue and irritated his ears, shortening his breath. And if these minor inconveniences were what a regenerated leader suffered, he could only shudder at what his Clan must be going through. I must be strong. I AM strong. I led them here. I will not let them down. Even at this distance a faint surge of heat washed over him, and he recoiled in the still-too-vivid memories dancing in his head. It seemed they prevailed even through death. The burrow...it was uncomfortable, yes, and a waste of a life. The fox...I died defending a Clanmate. Both were unpleasant in their own ways, but they did not linger so. Despite his healed skin and regrown pelt, the flames seemed to sizzle within his body, reminding him that they owned his land now. Aldernose. Mottledpaw. Both would be a miracle; he needed at least one. If neither medicine cat had survived...no. He wouldn't think it. He wouldn't even allow himself to entertain the possibility. “Aldernose? Mottledpaw?” He called with a throat that was still dry from the heat and cracked at the end of each name. StarClan, I trust and believe in you. Please let at least one of them be saved. For themselves, for their Clan…and for me.

[Poi]

[bg=f2f2e5][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true] Head throbbing, Mottledpaw tried to remember what exactly had happened. The last she recalled she had been scurrying back and forth in the fire, retrieving her precious stash of herbs and setting them by the clan out next to the river. Her head stung as she lifted it weakly to see that she was in perfect condition aside from the heaviness that hung within her lungs from the thick smoke she'd inhaled so much of. Since she saw no immediate injuries, she attempted to recall why her head was in so much pain. She glanced at her surroundings to realize that she must have run into a tree. Luckily, she had made it far enough out of the fire's grasp before the blow to the head knocked her out like a light bulb. Tentatively, she rose to her paws and collected the pile of spilled herbs. She noticed the fire had begun to die down, and decided it couldn't hurt to head back through camp to check the herb stash one last time before settling down to help the others. Whatever herbs were left, and not burnt to a crisp, she would take with her. She approached carefully, watching where she stepped so as not to scorch her feet. Once inside a place she used to call home, she took off straight for the medicine den to collect the few leaves and seeds that remained. Mottledpaw set down the stack from her maw, her eyes catching them for an instant and capturing the slightly prickly leaves of aloe. She hoped and prayed to starclan that the old herbs were still good. The vera that was contained within them is exactly what would be needed for the many burns she'd of course need to treat. She tossed what was left onto her pile, going back further to make sure there was nothing else. Just about to call the mission quits, she thought she heard her name. Her ears pricked up to see if she heard it again, but there was nothing. She hurried from the den, popping her head out of the half collapsed cache, eyes bright and alert to scan for danger. Relief flooded the medicine cat apprentice when what caught her eye was the familiar sight of her leader. She sighed, and retreated back into the cove to pick up the medicine there. What if the majority of the clan didn't survive? What if Mottledpaw had already lost cats due to her lack of urgency? With a new spring in her step, the she-cat emerged fully into the still-crackling, charred clearing and gazed directly at Cedarstar. Speaking

[noctali]

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[bg=#8a8e8f] Shadepaw raised his head blearily. All he could feel were his whiskers quivering madly, knew they were infinitely shorter than before. He raised himself slowly to his feet, seeking out his mentor, he knew she'd need him, more now than at any other point. Trying to scent for her was pointless, all he could smell was burning. Burning wood, burnt fur, burnt home... Everything was burnt. Even his tail was burnt, the very tip of it at least. He knew he must have been heavy to carry, and made a mental note to ask Sparrowclaw who saved him, so he could mumble a most heartfelt thank-you to the cat that did it. For that is what he would have to do; his throat was so sore. Not being able to see properly due to the smoke still dancing merrily in front of his eyes, he stopped the nearest cat to him and rasped out: "Have...Have you seen Sparrowclaw anywhere? I can't find her." Shadepaw flopped down on his side, tried to paw the smoke away from his eyes.