- ✦▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔SKIPPERCLAW
-------------( warrior- for now ) ( no crush ) ( tags; Liontail, Waspleaf, Splashpelt ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔✦
- The great ginger warrior sat close to the base of a tree on the fringes of the fourtrees clearing, spine rigid and jaw set, facing the direction of the decimated ThunderClan camp and staring unseeingly on as cats from all clans began to move around him. The red-gold glow of flames still danced before his mind's eye, so terrible and beautiful, rapidly overtaking the green of the forest and leaving nothing but grays and browns and blacks behind. He held his breath as the memory of the thick, suffocating smoke still stung his nose and eyes and a renewed searing pain started up in his paws as he mentally retraced his steps over the red-hot coals of what had once been the forest floor of the ThunderClan territory. He was tall, intelligent, and muscular, a hallowed warrior, and yet all he could do when the fires struck was stumble and choke and desperately hope that his clanmates had been as fortunate as he was to escape.
The grass was cool against his scorched pads, though, and the nip of a comparatively chilled breeze brought him forth from his mind. A shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature wracked Skipperclaw's spine as he inhaled a breath of the crisp, clean air; it had been long enough that the majority of cats should have found their way to fourtrees,the only logical place to go in such a widespread crisis, and the number that stood before him was pitiful. Of the four clans, there were maybe enough left for one. His eyes traced them carefully, recognition sparking within him at many of the faces; the observant tom had frequented gatherings, but while he could put faces to clans, he could not remember every name. He saw with some relief that Liontail, the medicine cat of ThunderClan, and one of the other medicine cats- Wasp...leaf? -had made it out of the fire, but he could not find any of the previous leaders or deputies. With his knowledge of what cats were like when there wasn't anyone to calm them down- unless StarClan would finally decide to make themselves useful and actually help the clans, but at the rate they were going, he doubted it -everything was bound to be utter chaos.
Skipperclaw's impassive deep amber eyes snapped up to the dark, starless night sky as it let out an angry rumble, almost as if it was responding to his thoughts, and fat drops of rain began to fall to earth. Then, as he looked back down to avoid getting rain in his eyes, a calico flash- Splashpelt, he realized with a small flash of warmth toward his clanmate -streaked by a few tail lengths in front of him to shelter herself beneath the convenient ferns about three fox lengths to his left. He considered perhaps finding one for himself, as it was a smart move on her part, but after casting one more glance at the ferns he decided against it. While they were large, he was probably larger, and how ridiculous would he look crouching under them? The cooling rain felt good as it soaked into his short pelt anyways, so he decided to embrace it...
Just in time for it to stop. Skipperclaw tilted his head to take in the sky again, bemused, only to continue staring in open shock at the vast array of stars that sparkled innocently down on the clearing as if the rain had never happened. Even if it was just a brief shower, logically, the sky should not have cleared that fast; his thoughts were echoed with a slight, barely audible gasp so perfectly that for a moment he was scared it was him. However, he glanced to his left again to see Splashpelt's eyes fixated on the sky as well, wide and dark with wonder as they reflected the twinkling of the distant stars.
Skipperclaw wasn't a very spiritual cat, tending to want a real, logical explanation for everything, but perhaps he had doubted StarClan too soon.
- ✦▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔SILVERPAW
-------------------------( apprentice ) ( no crush ) ( tags; none ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔✦
- Silverpaw sat in the midst of a whirl of cats, his mind still reeling as he tried to wrap it around the entirety of what had just happened.
His mother had found him instantly, her wizened silver face alight with terror and her normally soft green eyes blazing with determination as she awoke him from his early slumber. "Get up, Silverpaw," the typically passive and gentle she-cat ordered, her voice cracking across his consciousness. Silverpaw had rolled out of his nest, fully prepared to crack some sort of night owl joke or something, but the words died on his tongue as he saw the wall of brilliant flame that was raging across WindClan's plains. He followed his mother without question, streaking after her, but not without looking back at all the cats who were still calling for loved ones.
"Where's Dovepaw?" he asked, a sudden, overwhelming spike of concern for his sister zinging through his stomach, but his mother didn't falter in her pace or turn back. Instead, she marched steadily on, her eyes sweeping the plains to no avail. Silverpaw slowed a bit, glancing back, but he was only greeted with the wall of flames... which had somehow already spread to cut them off from the camp, obscuring his clanmates from his vision. After that, he followed his mother without looking back again, the eerie heat of the fire and the noxious smoke enough to encourage the small silver tabby to continue away from all of it. As he had only ever been to one gathering, Silverpaw didn't even recognize where they were going until they were practically there, the majestic stability of fourtrees rising up before him.
His mother turned, her green eyes too bright as she took a moment to really look at her son. "You make me so proud," she said, her voice strong but for one crack over proud. She pressed her nose to the top of his head, lingering for just a moment, and then she was gone.
But he couldn't think about it. Silverpaw shook the thought from his troubled mind, sealing it far away. Instead, he cast his expressive copper eyes around the clearing, the need to be close to someone overwhelming his needs for anything else. He just needed to talk to someone; there were so many cats around him, but they were all wreathed in so much horror and confusion and pain. His father had died when he was young, but up until the fire, Silverpaw had led a life of relative ease. He had never been so brazenly confronted with emotions on this scale; it was too much, the frowns and blank faces and flat-out heartbreak. It was like he could feel it all just by looking at them, all the different flavors of pain, and it twisted inside of him like an ugly dark beast. All of his own feelings cast aside for the moment, Silverpaw wanted nothing more than to make them feel better.
It didn't help that it had also begun raining somewhere in his numbness, drenching his surroundings and some of the cats, such as himself, who either hadn't cared to shelter themselves or were too shocked to notice. He still felt the itching urge to distract himself with conversation, but in this land of forlorn strangers, he was having a hard time of deciding who to approach. Maybe it was just because he was shorter than the warriors immediately around him, but he didn't recognize a single cat that passed him; he was sure that he wasn't the only WindClan survivor, but everything was such a blur of chaos around him that he hadn't even realized that the rain had stopped.