It was gone – all gone. The forest that she’d grown up in, trained in and ultimately spent the best years in her life in was completely gone. The ancient trees stood no chance to the raging flames that coursed through the once-magnificent Thunderclan forest. The earth was charred, the flames leaving nothing remaining except for some lucky shrubs and skeletal trees. Their prey was gone, their land, and even worse, most of their clanmates. Ravenheart had been sleeping in the warriors’ den but had been one of the first cats to notice the fire due to her superior sense of smell. As soon as she screeched, “Fire!” it was a pandemonium. Clanmates tried to help each other, but ultimately, it was every cat for himself. Thunderclan cats rushed out of the camp like wild horses, intent on reaching safety before the burning flames and acrid smoke overtook them.
Although the blind warrior had been one of the first to smell the smoke, she was one of the last cats to make it from the burning forest. She thought she was a goner for sure. While blind, Ravenheart adapted to her disability She’d learned every inch, dip and cranny of the forest. Now, it was unrecognizable, with panic seizing her heart and smoke filling her nose. Heartbreaking yowls of her clanmates filled her ears, and sizzling wood and cracking of falling trees deafened her. Now, she was completely blind, without her sense of smell, touch, or hearing to guide her.
Ravenheart accepted her fate as the flames surrounded her. There was no way she’d make it out alive; she had no idea where she was and how to escape. She let out a desperate cry for help, expecting no one to hear it in the chaos. To her shock, Snowheart yowled back. The Thunderclan deputy was her very best friend. They’d grown up together, and during their apprenticeship, bonded and became lifelong friends. Ravenhearrt only hoped her friend had escaped the flames. She was relieved to hear her voice. Snowheart guided her through the fire, helping the blind she-cat avoid the flames. Ravenheart’s lungs were filling with smoke – she couldn’t stand much more. Finally, Snowheart guided her through the last of it, with the dying flames signifying the end of their hell.
Ravenheart was running on adrenaline, but as soon as they escaped the final flames, she collapsed. The warrior trembled all over, shock overtaking her. “Starclan, what did we do?” she whimpered. It took her a few moments to collect herself, and with a deep sign she rose to her paws again. Wincing, she just noticed that she’d singed her pads. In the panic, she hadn’t noticed her injuries. What, of Snowheart, though? “Snowheart, a-are you alright?” the black she-cat choked out. “And Rivertail, did he get out?” she asked anxiously. Snowheart’s stony silence answered that question. Ravenheart affectionately pressed her flank to Snowheart’s to comfort her, and Ravenheart felt a deep sob exit her.
That brought them to the present moment, the two she-cat making their way to the Fourtrees. If there were any survivors, surely, they’d be there. The terrain was like a different planet. Everything Ravenheart knew to be true was taken by the flames. Even though she was blind, she had become a confident warrior. Her other senses compensated for her sight; she also knew the layout of their entire territory. Now, everything was gone. Snowheart guided her through the apocalyptic lands. Now, Ravenheart was reduced to a jump, frightened kit. It felt like her early apprentice days, when she’d lost her sight. She followed Snowheart around camp for days, terrified of bumping into unknown objects. Now, she was much the same. She couldn’t smell anything, and she was so scared. Still, she tried her best to be strong for her friend, who had lost her dear apprentice, Rivertail. Snowheart guided Ravenheart, present but not enough to be patronizing. The blind she-cat appreciated in, her sightless orange eyes staring forward.
Eventually, they stopped when they heard a familiar voice. Ravenheart was startled and unsheathed her claws, but quickly calmed when she realized who it was. “Roseclaw?” she murmured hopefully. Her voice was rough and scraggly from the smoke. She limped forward to the sound of the queen’s voice, following behind Snowheart. She was already heavily pregnant, and Ravenheart was shocked the queen had escaped the flames with her heavy belly. Nonetheless, she was relieved to know another clanmate had survived and the lives of her unborn kits were not robbed from her.
She anxiously nodded along to Snowheart’s worried questions. “We were just heading to Fourtrees,” Ravenheart chimed in. Her eyes were focused just above Roseclaw’s left ear. “If you need to lean on me, feel free,” she offered. “We can help each other,” she mewed, referencing her lack of sight. She rarely sowed anything but confidence, but not that the territory was unfamiliar, she showed her insecurities and fears. “I’m just so glad you’re alive too, Roseclaw,” Ravenheart breathed. The two cats weren’t particularly close, but they were clanmates just the same.
Ravenheart turned her attention to Snowheart. “I wonder if it was just us, or if the other clans had a fire too.” Something didn’t feel right. After the fire, the forest was dead silent. Something had certainly happened to the other clans, but they wouldn’t find out until they reached Fourtrees with the survivors. “What did we do to deserve this?” she murmured and closed her sightless eyes in sorrow.
ℍ 𝕠 𝕨 𝕝 𝕚 𝕟 𝕘 𝕡 𝕒 𝕨
➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟➟
(rank). apprentice [color=#80BF](clan).[/color] shadowclan (location). thunderpath (mood). depressed and hopelesss (tags). Nightpaw, Sorrelpaw, Copperstorm
The camp reeked of sickness and death, but Howlingpaw couldn’t bear to tear himself away from his home – more importantly, his sister. His sickly sister had been taken overnight, her final, haggard breaths ceasing. Birdpaw had been one of the first cats to catch this disease, but she valiantly kept fighting on until the end. Howlingpaw’s eyes were closed and he lay next to his sister, looking dead himself. The only sign that the tom was still alive was the slow rising and falling of his sides. He had cried himself to sleep.
Eventually, though, he knew he had to leave this camp. He couldn’t bear to leave his sister, but the longer he stayed here, the more likely he would be infected. He had no idea what this mystery illness was. Shadowclan had been thriving, when all of a sudden, a few cats had come down with a cough and a stomachache. Birdpaw had these symptoms, and what seemed like a simple belly ache turned into a massive plague, infecting more and more cats every day. It was a disaster. Howlingpaw blearily opened his eyes and gazed at the corpse of his deceased leader, Smallstar. He had collapsed last night as well, signifying the end of Shadowclan and all that the tom knew. He stayed in the camp for a few more minutes until he slowly gathered himself to his paws. It felt disrespectful to leave all the bodies unburied, exposed to the elements and destined to rot into the earth. However, the tom simply didn’t have the energy.
He touched his sister’s nose one last time, who was finally taken out of her suffering. “Rest well, Birdpaw,” he choked out. “I’ll see you in Starclan. I love you.” At that, he abruptly jerked his head away form her body, unable to look at her lifeless form anymore. With all the strength he could muster, he fled from camp as the rest of the few survivors had. Fourtrees, he thought, that’s where they’ll be. I know it.
He made his way to the Thunderpath, hardly taking in his surroundings. He wished he could have died along with his clanmates and sister, but Starclan was destined to punish him. The tom could smell the faint scent of smoke. What else had happened to their beloved forest? Only Fourtrees would tell. The giant apprentice continued along the familiar path that had once taken him to Gatherings. Oh, how happy he was then. Now, the journey to Fourtrees felt like a nail in the coffin. Either there were more survivors, or he was alone.
He reached the Thunderpath, with three familiar figures in the distance. His green eyes widened, not believing what he was seeing. “N-nightpaw! Sorrelpaw, and Copperstorm!” With newfound strength, the tabby tom raced towards his clanmates. “Are you going to Fourtrees too?” With a delighted purr, Howlingpaw was so glad to see that he wasn’t the only cat who had evaded the sickness.
He gazed at Copperstorm, the older warrior. She was a beautiful orange/white she-cat with a fluffy pelt and piercing blue eyes. Howlingpaw had a major crush on her, and while it was just a silly apprentice crush, he felt himself growing shy around her once more. Even in the wake of the sickness, Howlingpaw still loved she-cats as much as ever.
Another voice, unfamiliar this time, came from the gorse bushes. Howlingpaw turned around with a snarl and unsheathed his claws, ready to attack. It was a false alarm, though, as an unfamiliar she-cat came into view. She seemed harmless, so Howlingpaw sheathed his paws and relaxed his stance. Still, he remained warily and kept his eyes focused on the loner, lest she attack. In their weakened state, Howlingpaw doubted if even four cats could take on one, healthy loner. “Who are you?” he mewed with a confused frown on his face.
Apparently, she had an apprentice name. She looked far older than an apprentice though, the size of a full-grown warrior. He had never heard of a Chasingpaw, but she seemed to recognize Copperstorm. Had she been in Shadowclan previously? Howlingpaw sat down, focusing on the drama – anything to get his mind off his dead sister.
