Ignition Point (FLASH EVENT)

[RiiRii]

Sparrowclaw rolled her eyes, watching Lichenheart and biting back a retort. Turning away from the elder and leaving him with her apprentice; she realized the area was a lot more dark and cloudier, the whole place was just coated in smoke and she couldn't see anybody. Moving blindly around, trying to figure out where she was and understand her surroundings she knew if she didn't get out of the camp fast she would become roasted cat. Black shapes appeared around her, running blindly around. Coughing, the smoke stung the back of her throat and nose and made her feel sick.

If she had survived, she was going to smell like smoke for ages. Listening to the flames ripple and crack, hissing as cats escaped their clutches and would seem to aim for new targets, snaking around and creating a trail of fire after them. Fire never shrunk, it grew.

Sparrowclaw finally saw the smoke thin near the exit of the camp. It was either herself or her clanmates, she was about to decide clanmates until she remembered her dear darling leaders words. Not time for heroics. the words sunk into her head and she sighed, she was a necessity for the clan and instantly she dashed towards the exit, heading towards Cedarstar and plummeting through the clouds until they dissipated behind her and was just in a thin mist. She could see around and she stared in horror, everything that was once green and luscious was now brown or black. The ground beneath her was black and snapped into several peaces. Sighing, lowering her head and walking forward as she tried to clear her senses she felt weak and shaky and let the fear take over. She still wasn't out of the dange zone, she had to get up onto the highest peak where all the cats were meeting up once they got out of the fire. Heading towards it slowly, paws shaky and her body heavy. Regurgitating smoke as she coughed. If I give away, I'll die... I refuse to die. She pushed forward, her vision blurring and fixing repeatedly. She felt her body shake and shiver, before eventually she looked around. She hadn't realized how much she had walked and how close she was to the safe point.

Eventually she arrived, very few cats were there and so panic flung through her body before flopping out onto her side and just coughing out smoke a few more times and waved her tail, rolling onto her stomach. The fear had vanished and she realized how heavy her body was.

[Glowy]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[bg=2b180c] Various words and sensations greeted Gorsewhisker as he stumbled out of the Warriors' Den, terrified almost beyond belief. What in the blazes was going on? What had started the fire? Why were cats just standing around? Cedarstar was yelling something about a rock and a river. Gorsewhisker's vision began to blur. Rhea was mad about something, Lichenheart was being a stubborn old fool and refusing to accept help. Shadepaw was also being a fool. He was with someone. Hawkheart needed to find her friends. Gorsewhisker had nothing to do but run for his life. His legs wouldn't move, though. He stood there, his entire body quaking, as the fire moved closer and closer, roaring. The sound of it filled his ears. Nothing else mattered, just the living wall of heat that was invading his home. It roared, the ground crackled, and his pupils grew to the size of the moon. Fear froze him in place, and he thought to himself, This is how I die. Unfortunately for him, Hawkheart seemed to have a different idea about that. Cedarstar had ordered her to help get her clanmates safely to the Highrock, and he had said in such an insulting manner that she was forced to oblige or lose her dignity for all time. Instead of arguing, she simply said, "Fine. But this isn't about proving myself,"

[/b] and ran to Gorsewhisker's side. He could not see her very well through the smoke, nor smell her for that matter, but she was there and it was comforting to have somebody to lean on as they both coughed their way up to the Highrock. She told him to get himself to the river and then dashed back down into camp, checking to see if anybody else was there, undoubtedly.

He was safe! Sparks lit up the air, but he ignored them, running to the river as quickly as he could with lungs that were only working at about 30% of their possible performance. Smoke was killer. He'd need to visit the medicine cat after this. If the medicine cat got out alive... had anybody seen him? There was Sparrowclaw! Maybe she would know. "Sp-ssss... Sparrowclaw. Have you seen Aldernose?"[/b] Much to his chagrin, he could not speak like a normal cat. Instead, his words came out between coughs and when they did, they sounded hollow and airy, but more like the air was whooshing out through a hole. That was wonderful.

At least he was safe. He wasn't dead. He'd have to find Hawkheart later and thank her. If she survived...

thinking
speaking[/blockquote]
[/size][/color][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[Whiskers [Archive]]

Iceheart's throat was filled with smoke.

She had woken in the mad scramble, with cats fleeing the tunnels, their fear strong enough to be smelled on their fur, their yowls of panic splitting inside her ears. She didn't know which way was up or down. She didn't know anything. Her first thought was of the heat on her face and how it felt like the sweltering sun of her home and how much she wished to bask in it.

A second later, she realized it was a fire.

And up she went--Esmeralda quickly vanished into the skin of Iceheart, and Iceheart began scrambling with the rest of the warriors as her slumber rolled off of her as the smoke rolled in. The scent of Holliday, warm and true and familiar, was nowhere to be found. She just smelled the fire, inhaled its breaths and felt its soot in her lungs like poison. Holliday had gotten out earlier. That is the assumption that she made, knowing very well that it was possible she was wrong and that she might be racing up the tunnels and abandoning her one friend in this strange land. But she made that decision anyway, as a soldier, not a worried friend.

Iceheart's paws dug hard into the ground as she pushed through pebbles and past slower cats into the open air, which was just as infested with smoke as the dens were. The fire was hissing and crackling like a monster that her brothers would have teased her about when she was younger. For a second she was astonished by it, the orange glow filling her eyes. But she blinked away the flames at the sound of the yowling of the Meadowclan cats, the yowling which rose up in discord with the smoke. And she put together the scene-- cats fleeing in one direction, warriors helping the elders and the small toward the Highrock where Cedarstar stood, tall and authoritative.

But no Holliday.

"Holliday!" she yowled once, turning and twisting around in search for him one last time. "Holliday! Bah--idiota!"

No where to be found. He could have already high-tailed it toward the High rock. He could be helping the elders or directing cats. Or he could be stuck in the den, as fire encroached on all sides, and smoke made it hard to see.

And Iceheart saw what she had to do, as Meadowclan warrior and as Holliday's partner. Hawkheart was directing cats out here. But the dens? She had to make sure everyone made it out of the dens alive.

So Iceheart raced back into the hellhole, the smoke and fire behind her quickly catching up.

[/size]

[ambird]

"Get out! All of you, out of your nests! Fire!" came a yowl from outside the den, stirring Foxpaw out of his sleep. Looking up, he saw Gingerstripe screaming at the remaining apprentices in the den. He gave her a look. Why on earth was she in here, screaming about something? "What are you screaming about?" he muttered, his eyes drooping and his tail doing the same. The ginger tom was not into the mornings. And from what he could tell, it was the middle of the night. Then what was the light from outside? Coming out to the entrance, he gasped. "As I said, fire." she said tartly, turning from him to make sure the rest of the apprentices left. He just stood there for a moment, lost for words at what he saw. Orange flames were engulfing trees and undergrowth and it was quickly advancing onto the camp itself. His home. "No!" he screamed, wanting to race up to the fire, to do something! He couldn't just let his home be burnt up. In a fit of confusion and insanity he began charging at the fire, but skidded to a halt at the sound of a voice. "Foxpaw? Elkstep? Shrewstorm? Where are you guys?" He heard the distinct voice of Hawkheart coming from near the warrior's den. Panicking, he ran towards her. "Hawkheart! Th-the camp! It's all going to be destroyed! Where...where's everybody else?" he was lost inside his own camp! With the firing coming closer, he couldn't tell what was up and what was down. Foxpaw wanted to get far away from this whole mess. [bg=272a2f][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[ambird]

[bg=c6c6c6][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] Having been alert since Cedarstar's first cries of fire, Littlewhisker was out and trying to get some order to the chaos surrounding her. She understood the panic everyone was feeling, she herself was honestly just trying to hide the fear that she was bottling up inside her. But they couldn't just start yowling and clawing and running about like rabbits with their tails gone. If everyone wanted to remain safe and sane, then they had to listen to reason and authority. "Please, everyone, make your way to the Highrock!" she yowled out to the smokey clearing that had been their camp. She could barely see silhouettes in the smoke, and her throat was parched. You don't have time for trivial things like that, she thought. Her priority was everyone else. Seeing Gorsewhisker and Sparrowclaw had made it up and down to the river, Littlewhisker gave Hawkheart a brief nod of thanks. As much as she didn't like it, going right into the smoke for cats was their last option once they found they were missing cats. She didn't like to immediately go to that belief, but Littlewhisker had counted the cats. Some were missing. Out from the hazy smog she saw Gingerstripe pad through. "Gingerstripe! You should have left with the last group! Hurry up to the Highrock!" she told her. The ginger she-cat just nodded, looking worse for wear than the last time she had see the she-cat. "For the love of Starclan let no other cat have pulled pointless heroics." she muttered. But the chances were against that. Looking out into the dark grey smoke, she couldn't help but fear for who else was out there.

[Slug !]

Fire was a destructive, ugly and all-consuming force that Shrewstorm knew all too well. It was because of fire that Shrewstorm had lost his family and his home. It was also fire that brought him and his brothers together with Meadowclan, who had taken them in when they didn’t have to. Meadowclan, who made Shrewstorm feel part of something important. Meadowclan, who was the closest thing he had to a family since the farm had burned down. How fitting it would be that fire tore him and Meadowclan apart. The fire ate away at the undergrowth, closing in on the camp. The smoke dried Shrewstorm’s eyes; filled his lungs and choked him. It was a horrible, disorienting feeling not to breathe or know where he was. He could feel the heat all around him, intense and unbearable; a heavy weight on his pelt that slowed him down. Where am I? Destructive. Ugly. All-consuming and bitter and ironic. That’s what kind of force fire was. And Shrewstorm hated it with every fibre of his being. Feared it, too. But that came second. What a passionate and powerful thing hate can be. It can cripple you and make you blind to danger. It can confuse you. It can make you weaker than you ever believed possible. But it can also make you stronger, so long as you don’t let it consume you. Fire and hate were surprisingly alike in that distinction. ”Foxpaw!” Shrewstorm called, blearily making out his small form through the smoke. It was so hard to see, it was almost terrifying. But the need to survive—to escape the fire, the smoke, the confusion, was far more overwhelming. And so was making sure that his little apprentice friend was safe. He stumbled along until he bumped a little too roughly into Foxpaw, coughing and wheezing. ”I’m here, I’m right here—Foxpaw, we need to leave!” Was that... puke? Oh. Oh. Hawkheart. That was just lovely. Did he step in tha—oh, well, he guessed so. Never mind! Puke was not important right now. Really not important! ... Still, that was just nasty. And it was on his paw. ”Hawkheart! Foxpaw! Fire! Burning! Everywhere! COME ON! Don’t just stand there, move it!” [bg=c5a172][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[MONSTER <3]

[bg=faf0ee][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true] There it was, the sound of her prey. Russetfoot slowed her pace, keeping her ears pricked and her eyes focused on any movements. She did not see any movement yet, but that did not mean it wasn't there. She scented the air, noticing the faint trait of mouse that floated about. She took one step forward, keeping her whole body careful and calculated. This prey was going to be hers in only a few moments. She took another step forward, feeling a small breeze float by as she did so. She crouched, pinpointing the prey only a few steps away, just within her leaping distance. She crouched, preparing herself before another scent hit her nose. A familiar one. She paused for a moment, before turning her head and seeing something that she had never expected. It was the main room of her old house. A pang of confusion and discomfort hit her. What was going on? She heard the prey turn and run, having heard her when she was caught off guard. She hissed a bit in frustration before turning back to the sight. She took a step forward, curious as to what this meant. The whole thing seem focused on one thing, the wood and flame within the bricks. She blinked her eyes, her nose twitching from the sudden strong odor of the smoke. Her mother had told her that their owners had learned to tame fire, and had captured it within this little place of bricks. Just behind the metal curtain, the flame flickered and crackled. Heat slowly crept up her paws, something she had not felt since she was a kit. At first, it was a different kind of welcoming, but soon it became too much. She tried to back away, but it became too hot and would not leave, the smoke began to choke her and she turned, trying to leave, trying to run. Russetfoot raised her head quickly, feeling paws step on her as they all began to move. Everyone was moving with an urgency, something that was confusing the slowly waking she-cat. The smoke from her dream hadn't left her, and she shook her head to try to remove it from her thoughts. But it wouldn't leave, and it was choking her. She blinked her eyes, frustrated. She got to her paws. " Whats the big commotion? " She hissed, only half expecting someone to actually respond. She looked around, when suddenly the realization hit her. It wasn't just a dream. The smoke was real, the fire was here. Except this time, the flame was not tamed, it had broken away from its shackles and it was angry. She could hear it, and a fear that she had not felt before wrapped around her. She needed to leave, everyone needed to run. She ran quickly out of the entrance along with everyone else, moving away from the entrance. She looked back and began coaxing her clanmates along. " Come on, come on! lets go! Unless you wanna be burt to a fluffy crisp, MOVE YOUR FLUFFY BUTTS OUT OF HERE! " She snarled at the end, her fear causing her to be even more agitated than normal. She wanted to run, to get as far away as possible. But if she did, she would never know if they all got out alive, and that was one thing that she couldn't handle. “speaking color.”

[/blockquote][/color]

[/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[RiiRii]

Staying quiet and staring in worry at the warrior, shaking her head briefly side to side as she tried to find her words.
"N-no..." She finally replied, watching Gorsewhisker. "I haven't seen Aldernose, but where is Shadepaw!? Gorsewhisker, have you seen him? " Her eyes were still wide with fear, soot stuck to her pelt from where she hadn't cleaned it. Heart racing violently in her chest and digging her claws into the ground. Breathing slowly and heavily as her lungs began to clear out.

As she watched many cats begin to gather, vaguely seeing their silhouettes appear here and there. Brushing her tongue over her maw, lying down on her belly and twitching her ears. "Maybe I should go back down there and help them, plus find my apprentice. If he's still in there, he hasn't got long until he collapses.." She shifted her green gaze to Gorsewhisker. "And find Aldernose."

[megasaffe]

Shadepaw was having problems. The camp he had known from a very small kit was falling apart in front of his eyes, and it was making him disorientated, the smoke was beginning to get into his lungs... and breathing was hard enough as it was. He tried to move from where he was stood, and his legs gave out underneath him from the shock of what was happening to his beloved home. He valiantly kept trying to get up, knew he needed to get out, but his paws just wouldn't carry him. His last thought, as he drifted into a black haze, was: at least the elders got out... didn't they?

[Cloudbat]

[bg=3b5839][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] The entire camp was now encircled; between feverishly keeping an eye on his deputy and her apprentice, making sure his mate wasn’t hurt as she fetched Foxpaw, and smothering or shoving away any burning bits of debris while resisting the urge to vent his entire system from the toxins now coursing through it, even the thickly furred leader noticed that. He felt himself beginning to die from his efforts, but breathed deeply even though the only air to be had was foul as a moon-old kill. I can do this. A few minutes felt like a few hours. He ignored Rhea’s shouts, though dimly registered when Sparrowclaw had shot past him into what seemed like safety. Good, someone had to take charge at the river. Hawkheart, true to her word, was helping and shoved a stupefied Gorsewhisker out. Other warriors, mercifully, were also out of the fiery den though in various states of damage. It relieved him slightly to see the she-cat guide the suffering tom out – but his spirits plummeted when she jumped back into the inferno. Courageous fool. Iceheart was doing the same – StarClan help me – while Foxpaw ran up to Hawkheart babbling about destruction. “Get him out and don’t come back!” ordered the leader hoarsely. The ginger tom’s mentor was nowhere in sight or hearing… He longed to simply order his mate to flee with him but his honor would not allow it. Nor, it seemed, would his damaged body. Hacking up bile at last, he dragged himself up onto the highrock and lay there, waiting to die and be reborn from the ashes of his camp, his last thoughts of Gingerstripe.

Palefoot exploded into the middle of the chaotic setting, yellow eyes wild as she screamed in pain, her swift paws burnt and flaking, bowling over Cindertail who had been peering in and sending them both crashing into the stone wall of the den as it came dangerously close to tipping over, yet with an unnatural burst of strength even the scorch-pawed, vomit-stained feet of the spotted she-cat were still quick enough to rip the mute away before – well, before almost all of him was crushed. “HELP ME, ANYONE! ANYONE!!!” [bg=dadbdf][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Glowy]

Hawkheart had to keep swallowing the urge to retch again. A few times, she had to literally swallow it. Talk about disgusting. Cat and trouble seemed to be flocking to her, irrationally (who would want to come to Hawkheart for anything, ever?), and instead of depositing stomach acid and the remainder of her supper all over them, she decided that the prudent thing to do would be to deal with the cats who were just as terrified as she and less skilled at handling their fear. Not that she was particularly good at managing it herself, vomitface. Foxpaw was by her side all of a sudden, and then Shrewstorm came up and told them to leave, and Shadepaw collapsed and Palefoot fell over helping Cindertail and couldn't time just wait until she could handle things? No? Foxpaw's words struck a chord in her heart. He was right, of course. The camp was going to be razed to the ground by ravenous tongues of prismatic, writhing heat and they were all powerless to stop it. "Yes, little one, I'm afraid it is going to be destroyed."

[/b] Suddenly, she felt very tired. It weighed her entire body down and she would have loved nothing more than to have laid down, curled in a ball, and continued sleeping. Her adrenaline was being consumed as readily and as swiftly as her home was being consumed by the fire. "But it'll be okay. Cedarstar will help us. Go to him."[/b]

She glanced up to the Highrock, but she did not see Cedarstar standing. He was laying down, much as she wished to do. Well, that was flipping brilliant. Cedarstar was just losing a life, no big deal. "On second thought, don't do that. Shrewstorm, Foxpaw, help Palefoot. I'm going to go get Shadepaw, 'cause he's passed out. If you see ANYBODY else, tell them to head straight for the river and not to turn back. Cedarstar is gone for now. There's nobody to look to but ourselves."[/b] Her voice was beginning to die out, and it got softer even as the roar of the fire grew more intense and dangerously, oh, so close.

Shadepaw was a rather large little bugger, and it would be relatively slow going for Hawkheart, having little muscle mass, but she would get there. She was confident of that. He wasn't all that heavy. Not yet, anyway. So she grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and started dragging, pupils dilating painfully in fear at the sight of the wall of flames that chased them both.

---

Gorsewhisker shook his head, chest heaving as another round of coughs took him. By the heavens, that smoke was getting to be annoying! He had no idea where Shadepaw was. He hadn't seen him at all. He'd only seen Gingerclaw, Cedarstar, and Hawkheart's face.

And she wanted to go back to camp? HAH! Screw THAT. "Nuh-uh, miss. You're gonna stay right here with me. Aldernose is intelligent, he'll find his way. Besides, look at who's here. There are plenty of cats left to help him, and your apprentice as well."[/b] He shook his head again, but this time with purpose. "Think, Sparrowclaw. You're no use to him as a pile of black bones. Stay here."[/b] Don't leave me here alone.

speaking


[/center][/size][/color][/sup][bg=ded3bd][atrb=width,469,true] [atrb=border,0,true][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[Pyro]

Goodbye pristine lungs. It was a toss up between which woke Elkstep up first: the cacophony of shouts and screams that had filled the camp in a matter of seconds, or the fact that he couldn't breathe. The smoke from the fire had wasted no time in filling the warriors' den with its clotting presence, blinding and choking anyone who dared to stay for any length of time that was longer than what they had to. But stay Elkstep did. He had to find Essie. He had to know that she was out...and not just her. He had more cats to care about now than just her. There was Hawkheart, there was Shrewstorm...Okay two cats besides his princessa. But when you didn't have a surplus of friends, you valued what ones you did have all the more. "Holliday!" His head whipped around just in time to catch a white pelt leaving the den. An impatient woman, his princessa. The warrior took a second longer to look around, making sure that Shrew and Hawk were gone before he left the den himself, eyes stinging and throat burning. And-well. There was Essie. The impact was bruising to say the least, but he ignored it, forcing his mouth to curl into a crooked smile. "Well, well, well. Finally running to me after all these moons?" Not the best time for jokes, but you know what? He'd been in deeper shit. He just couldn't remember when at the moment. You know what he could remember though? Foxpaw. And that made the smile fade just the tiniest bit. Shrewstorm and Hawkheart could probably take care of themselves, as could Essie. But Foxpaw? He may as well have been just out of the nursery. His eyes looked past Essie to the chaos of the camp, where after a few moments of heart-dropping-to-his-toes-panic he finally laid eyes on his ginger apprentice. With Shrewstorm and Hawkheart. 'Thank God...'Hawkheart was shouting something to the both of them, but Elkstep couldn't quite make out what she was saying. It was hard to tell what anyone was saying unless they were yelling right in your ear because of all the noise: Branches cracking, fire snapping, everyone and their mother shouting. Noticeably absent from the many voices though, was Cedarstar's. Strange. His should have stood out the most. Through the smoke he could see cats filing out by the highrock- that was above Cedarstar's den, wasn't it? He looked up and. Well. There was a lump of brown fur. A lump. Not a strong brown-furred leader standing tall and directing his clan to safety, but a lump. Not Even Elkstep believed so little of Cedarstar as to think the tom was sleeping. His decision was made in a split-second setting of shoulders. Kiss for Essie "Kill me later" and the tom was off into the chaos with his clanmates. Shrewstorm, Hawkheart, Foxpaw, and even his ivory princess, would all have to wait. They weren't exactly safe, but Cedarstar...he was dying. Maybe just a little bit more pressing. The small sandy-coated warrior wove through the knots of cats trying to escape or return to find lost friends. His hazel eyes were locked on the highrock and he made short work of climbing to its peak. The irony of his rushing to Cedarstar's aid after all the badmouthing and blatant insubordination was near-incapacitating. Good God he'd never hear the end of it. As he reached his leader's side Elkstep crouched, listening for signs of a heartbeat. He did have a heartbeat, right? Right? It hadn't occurred to the sandy tabby that Cedar might already be dead. "Oh no, you are waking up now. I did not run up here just to drag your carcass back to your mate." He shook the larger tom, growling at his body, beating him. "Don't you dare go toward that light you son of a bitch. You know what's behind that light? Me. And I'm gonna kick your goddamn, punk-ass soul all the way back down the tunnel until you choke on your own screwed up lungs. Wake. The hell. Up." Elkstep grabbed Cedarstar by the scruff and began to drag him toward the path to the exit. He couldn't keep it up for even a minute though. The combination of the brown tabby's long-ass fur and the smoke that surrounded them made it near-impossible for Elkstep to breath. He dropped his leader to cough, struggling for the breath he need to get Cedarstar's body out of camp. Maybe he should have gotten some back up. Speaking [bg=d6d5ae][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[nightfall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[bg=000000] No. No, that did not just happen. It couldn't have happened. No. Rhea wouldn't allow. God himself would have to move his ass because she was not letting that happen. No. But it had. Unfortunately, God has been sitting in one place for so long his ass has gotten stuck to his seat, and the seat was tougher than Rhea. Somehow. Rhea suspects that the seat was cheating. But as Rhea stood, horrified, at the top of the Highrock, as her leader dropped dead in front of her, as Elkstep began to haul him away, as Hawkheart looked liked she was going to vomit again, all she could see was the collapsed form of her kit, the kit she'd saved from death, the kits she'd taught to speak without words. The kit who had to be saved again. Then reality decided to wake up again. Palefoot was screaming. “HELP ME, ANYONE! ANYONE!!!” ... Welp, time for the badass elder to be badass once more. Rhea scurried down Highrock as fast as her old legs could allow, bypassing several panicking cats. As she got closer to her son and Palefoot, she could see why he wasn't moving. One of his back legs was bent at an unnatural angle, and she could see now that he was actually trying not to cry or move. God help me, child. Don't try to be the hero. Rhea rounded on Palefoot first. "Go, now." The cat didn't move. It seemed that she was frozen with panic and fear. Rhea sighed. I really hate doing this. Rhea hit her over the head with her tail, then with her paws. When the poor she-cat looked like she was coming around, Rhea rounded on her again, and with her loudest 'strict mother' she could use, yelled, "GET OUT OR SO HELP ME I WILL DRAG YOU OUT BY YOUR TAIL AND I WON'T CARE WHAT GETS BASHED UP ALONG THE WAY." Well, that worked. Poor Palefoot actually sprinted towards Highrock. With that done, Rhea turned her attention to Cindertail. He was staring at her. He was terrified. Oh boy. "Time to go, little one." Rhea murmured gently, nosing her way underneath him to get him on her back. She knew he must be in terrible pain. "This will hurt a bit, dear." She received no reply, of course. With him carefully draped on her back, she began to hobble towards Highrock again. He was heavy. Rhea began the slow, careful climb up Highrock. I didn't save you to lose you here, little kit.

[Pyro]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[bg=ffffd6] 'Not sleeping with the rest of us tunnel rats tonight?' 'At the risk of becoming one myself, no.' It was rare that Batpelt slept in the warrior's den and tonight had been no exception. While the rest of Meadowclan turned in and crawled underground, the black warrior routinely scrambled up a tree to keep watch. There might be a conversation with Cedarstar or Shrewstorm or someone else, if they were feeling lucky, about how his vigil was completely unnecessary or how his doubts about sleeping in the old badger warren were unfounded. There might not. Such conversations were few and far in between nowadays, and he suspected that the reason for that was that his clanmates were at last used to his ways just as they were used to Shrewstorm's pranks. 'Skinny ol' Batpelt is up a tree again, moving on.' Skinny ol' Batpelt is up a soon to be burning tree? Slightly more concerning. He didn't know how it happened. But he fell asleep. He didn't sleep. Batpelt was not a 'sleeper'. He just didn't....do sleep. Not anymore. Not since the farm burned down. Bad things happened when you slept. Or ate. Or did anything that remotely distracted you from potential danger. This second fire? Well. This was all the justification he needed to never eat or sleep again. Cedarstar's shout jolted him awake like a bucket of water and it took all of three seconds for the tom to bolt down his tree. Fire singed his fur and the smell of it stabbed his nose relentlessly as he searched for his brother. He couldn't lose any of his family again. Not Shrewstorm. Not his clanmates. No one. But where was he? Where was Shrewstorm? The starved black tom couldn't see him anywhere and the stress of it-of everything- was making him hyperventilate. He was going to lose yet another family. Another home, he just knew it- "Sweet Christ almighty, you're alive." Batpelt rocketed across the camp to Shrewstorm's side, wide-eyed and shaking. "I fell asleep Max, I fell asleep." he muttered pathetically, louder: "We have to get out. We should have been out, like, yesterday." He stepped aside for a blur of white fur and yellow eyes; Lichenheart. The elder made his way to Rhea who was struggling beneath the body of the little mute-Cindertail. "Mind if I cut in on the badasssery, Rhea? No? Didn't think so." He provided a support for his fellow elder, taking some of Cindertail's weight off her shoulders while they made the slow ascent out of camp. Why couldn't he be that strong? Batpelt glanced at his brother; Mad Max was taking everything in stride it seemed. Perhaps fearful on the inside, but not letting that fear control him. He could draw strength from that. He could get through this. The fire wouldn't consume him or anyone. They'd all get out, he had to believe they would all get out. They could rebuild anything that was damaged. And he could never sleep again. Definitely something to look forward to. speaking

[Poi]

[bg=f2f2e5][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true] For some reason unable to sleep, Mottledpaw hadn't remained lying awake in her den, but instead had traveled to the edge of the territory, far away from her clanmates sleeping peacefully amidst the camp in their dens. All except for Batpelt that is, who had taken his perch on a tree, as usual. Oddly though, he seemed to be dozing off as she exited the camp unnoticed, not a single thing stirring. It was an almost eerie quiet consuming Meadowclan. She trotted swiftly out of the entrance and made her way to the very edge of Meadowclan territory, hardly keeping in mind the camp she had left behind. Her mind wandered to things of little importance, at least to her. She ran through some battle moves in her head, practicing on the ferocious air ahead of her and landing on the ground heavily, only to get up once more and do the same. Her head fell low, her hackles bristled, and with her stomach brushing against the ground she slunk forward, eyes pinned on her imaginary opponent. Just as the enemy attacked, Mottledpaw sprang out of the way, scratching the belly of her foe as she spun around to face them on the other side. The pure nothingness that stood before her disappeared as she took note of the rising smoke from where she had come. Must be the smoke drifting on the wind from some two leg camp site. She shrugged it off, flopping on the ground and lifting her gaze to the dark abyss called the sky. Small twinkling lights hung over the she-cat's head, reminding her of the ancestors that looked down from the heavens, watching her every move. A breath escaped through her open maw and her head, suddenly feeling heavy, drooped to her paws where her eyes then fell shut. When they opened only a second later, an hour had come and gone with the wind. The medicine cat apprentice shook her head vigorously in an attempt to wake herself more quickly. Bright and alert, she snapped to her paws, staring at what had once been an eerily quiet camp. As she gazed, what she saw was the lapping of vicious flames engulfing her beloved home. Her stomach churned - she was seized in the moment. Suddenly, she tore off into the heart of her territory, making he way as quickly as possible back to the sleeping grounds. Her clanmates! She was thankful when she heard the ruckus as she neared camp, indicating that her family had begun to evacuate. The smoke had engulfed the entire camp by the time she arrived. Cedarstar was no where to be seen, so must still be in the camp. She glanced quickly around at the cats who had made safety and shouted, "Anyone seen Aldernose?!" Not waiting for a reply, she made her way through the smoke into camp, hoping someone would answer her before she was out of earshot. Her goal? Mottledpaw was on a mission. She would search for Cedarstar first, then retrieve as many herbs as she possibly could carry, and take them safely out of the burning pool of destruction. Hoping she would find Aldernose along the way, she would return to the medicine den as many times as she safely could without dying to gather the stocks. No one would stop her. Not even Cedarstar himself. Speaking of, she saw him collapsed on highrock, but with help from others, so she then made off on her mission: the herbs. Thinking Speaking