DON'T WANNA BE LONELY ★ open

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    EMPTY CHAIRS AT EMPTY TABLES

    copperpaw / thunderclan apprentice / ♀ / tags

    *:･ﾟ✦ New-leaf is pleasant, Copperpaw thought. A time where life springs triumphantly from a graveyard of miscellaneous plant matter and a time when the birds begin to sing and call again and the holly grows forth again. Nature was slowly taking back her rightful queen from the cold, wretched clutches of leaf-bare and the flora was surging up again with a fury unseen in any inorganic matter. While there were still a few particularly nippy days and bitter winds to be had, the sun was slowly strengthening and the sunshine growing warmer. Copperpaw would have liked to embrace the natural beauty of the season in any way she could, but at the very cusp of the turn of the moon, she had been afflicted with an aggressive strain of the flu. Fevers, cold sweats, chronic sneezing and fatigue, she had them all and she hardly found time to even exit the medicine den for a few heartbeats. She was quarantined, a lonely face drifting in the darkness of the sage brush that could only be seen if a temporary patient bypassed the cloud of invisibility and looked past the walls the apprentice had tirelessly constructed. Her features were blurred in the memories of the clan, and many who passed through the Medicine Den hardly even knew she was there because she had steadily blended into the background, just another decorative fixture on the proverbial mantle.


    Today, however, she was hungry. It was not a slight grumbling within the realms of her shrunken stomach, but it was a ravenous need for food that fueled her shriveled, thin body beyond the length from the medicine den to the fresh-kill pile. The dappled brown feathers of a starling twinkled within her glossy amber eye, and the mere sight made her mouth salivate with anticipation and want. She could feel her body subconsciously make room for the rare meal, as if it knew nourishment would soon arrive and it only had to tide itself over for a few more seconds. Another step into the grass and Copperpaw was suddenly hit with a wall of pure stench that permeated the area and made her eye water with the redolence. She powered through for a few more steps only to hook a claw into the downy feathers of the starling and toss it away from the stink, then evacuate the area herself. It wasn't until she cut open the belly of the starling that she felt her body fully reject any food offered.


    Crawling inside the very organs of the long dead avian, a writhing mass of maggots wriggled and squirmed so that an audible squelching noise rang through her ears with every vague movement. She swallowed thickly to dispel the bile steadily rising in her throat, and the sickly feeling ceased for only a few heartbeats before it surged back up her esophagous with a vengeance. Dashing away from the infested starling, Copperpaw dry heaved into the foliage. She didn't have an appetite anymore.

    WHY CAN'T THINGS JUST BE QUIET

    duskpaw / thunderclan / male [♂] / tags & information

    *:･ﾟ✦

    duskstorm. it was interesting name for a cat like him. he was certainly more of a whirlwind than he had been when he was younger, though he had never thought of himself as any sort of 'storm' until the bloodclan raid. hm. in any case, he was more comfortable in his skin than he had ever been - as a 'storm' or anything else. or, well, he thought he was. he was very comfortable until he saw the maggots that swarmed from the freshkill pile.


    glancing at his sister's departing tail, duskstorm took the opportunity to sweep the rotting corpses into a nearby nettle bush, scooping some dirt over the nasty remains. he would have to go hunting later - maybe bearmumble would put something together before sunset. that would be lovely.


    'hello.' he would sign once his sister returned.


    Speech.

    Harrierstrike barely felt like getting out of his nest, mainly getting up for the sole purpose of a rare hunt or training with Berrypaw. Clearly, despite his feigned okay-ness, Asterkit's death had finally taken its toll on him, his copper eyes dull and his posture defeated. Still, the stench of rotting meat from outside the warrior's den where he remained curled up was enough to draw him out, as well as the distant sound of heaving. Staggering out of the warrior's den on stiff legs, Harrierstrike leveled his gaze on Duskpaw--Duskstorm, now, a name the tom had earned--and blinked blankly, only to turn to the returning Copperpaw with a frown. "Are you alright?" he asked, voice hoarse from disuse. Then, glancing to the fresh-kill pile infested with maggots, he shuddered and added, "We should definitely move that." He made no attempt to move it, limbs to heavy for more than the walk he had just made.

    Ploverpaw arrived, slightly late. She had just gone hunting and had come back with a vole. Not witnessing what had happened, she quickly ducked to Copperpaw in worry. "Are you okay?" she asked nervously. Things like this made her nervous. What if she wasn't able to help her, what if she died? Thoughts raced through her head as she looked around for some context.