A Lame's Lament (open)

Tears streaming down his face, Ryecloud streaked through the territory as fast at his three legs could carry him. He occasionally tripped over rocks or holes in the ground, leaving splats of blood here and there, but he kept getting back up to contine running, not daring to look back. Just moments ago, the crippled tom had faced off against a ShadowClan warrior and as anyone would've guessed, he'd lost the fight. He was the most pathetic cat in all the clans and could only imagine how disappointed his clanmates would be with him.

Reaching camp, the grey and white tom ran through the entrance and skidded to a halt near the center of the clearing. Breathing heavily, the tom's legs collapsed under him from exhaustion and he crumpled to the ground, lungs burning. Now that he had a moment to rest and regain his bearings, he remembered the pain of his actual injuries from the fight and winced as dark red blood ran off his pelt and onto the lightly frosted ground bellow.

Letting out a raspy cough, Ryecloud closed his eyes as blood dripped down his forehead. His head spun, his heart raced, and while he knew that he should've continued to walk to the medicine cat den so he wouldn't cause a commotion, all of his muscles felt like mush and screamed at him to stop when he tried getting up again.

"Ryecloud!" As she ran as fast as she could to the injured tom, Gustpuddle thought about what may have happened. "Are you alright?!" Her slightly younger brother had spots of dark red blood all over his body, and it hurt her to see him like that. "Who... Who did this to you?" Whoever it was, they weren't going to like her very much in the near future. Though she hated to admit it, Ryecloud was different, and that was clear. Any cat who attacked him was in the wrong, and would definitely get an earful from her, and maybe a scratch or two to go with it. They better pray to StarClan that I don't find out who they are.

Featherpaw heard the commotion, and rushed out of her den. "What's going on?" she asked, softer than most would in such a situation. "...What happened to you?" She had grown accustomed to Ryecloud's presence in general, but this wasn't the state she wanted to see him in. "Hold still, please?" she added, a request rather than the demand it should have been.

The thrumming of paws was never a good sign. Spiderfur's head jerked up from where she lay beside the tiny freshkill pile, gnawing on a small, wiry hare when she heard Ryecloud rushing into camp. He was beaten and bloodied and out of breath. The warrior scrambled to her paws, wincing as she stretched her scar a bit too far, and rushed to the younger tom. She quickly took note of Featherpaw's presence and groomed the blood away from her kin's head wound before she recognized a scent on him. "Y-You smell of Sh-ShadowClan." The she-cat had complicated feelings toward the marsh-loving clan, so their scent made her stomach churn.

Wolfkit was going back to the nursery when he saw Ryecloud. He stopped and padded over to the commotion. "What's he doing?" He asked.

Featherpaw looked at Spiderfur and Gustpuddle, and nodded to them both in greeting as she ran into her den to get cobwebs to stop the bleeding. When she returned, however, a kit was there. She placed the cobwebs next to Ryecloud, and nudged the kit gently. "Nothing you need to be seeing, Wolfkit. Why don't you go play?"

Not taking any further interest in Wolfkit, or the two warriors around Ryecloud for that matter, Featherpaw set to work covering the injured warrior's wounds with cobwebs. For now it was the best she could do, given the size of the herb stores and the season making it hard to fill them any further.

OOC: oof, sorry for the wait everyone ;;

IC: Overwhelmed by the recent events and now from what felt like every-cat crowding around him and asking questions, Ryecloud brought his legs in towards him and tried as best he could to curl into a little ball, wanting nothing more than for all the loud noises to go away.

With his head in between his two front paws, his ears couldn't help but perk at Featherpaw's familiar voice, worried and soft; a voice that he couldn't have been happier to hear.

"A PadowMan mat," he huffed, ever so slightly lifting his head to look at the she-cat. "He hot fangry..." the tom continued, trying to hold back the tears. Great StarClan, he was so pathetic! "H-he ammacked me," he choked and burried his face back inbetween his paws in hopes of hiding himself as little salty droplets streamed down his cheeks and stung when they entered his wounds.