Lost Package

Deerhawk was very, very lost. He was certainly not in ThunderClan territory like he'd set out for in the first place, no, this place was far, far worse. Not only could he not see the sky through the trees - which was darkening with the setting sun, StarClan help him - the ground itself squelched and oozed beneath his calloused paws. How did he end up here? Well...

...

...

He'd started back home at first, of course, where Finchstar had given him his brief mission. He'd bring various herbs to ThunderClan that they were in need of and return before nightfall. Things don't always go according to plan though, because as he made his way there, following the Thunderpath as they and their allies didn't share a border, he realized something. The past moon or so they'd all become unfortunately accustomed to the rank stench of predators on the moors, and it wasn't so much alarming anymore but dreadful. Perhaps it was the herbs that dampened his sense of smell, but the excited yips and barks of a dog, possibly several, made him instantly bolt. The thundering of paws behind him set his fur on end. 'Foxdung! Badgerscat!' The herbs didn't fare too well beneath his gritting teeth, and their combined juices nearly made him gag mid-stride. Suddenly, another dog appeared to his right, and he had no choice but to turn towards the Thunderpath. His paws blurred across the black stone. His heart raced faster than a rabbit's as he just barely brushed the jaws of a speeding monster, with a loud yelp sounding behind him. He was in ShadowClan territory now, but there was no way in the Place of No Stars that he was stopping. Along with one or two impacts with some very unforgiving trees, he only slowed when the mud got too thick and by then the dogs were long, long gone.

He stood panting, his very lungs prickling like frost-coated leaves. The herbs he'd been carrying were either lost or destroyed beyond recognition. What... what now? Orange eyes flickered between the moss-laden trees. Everything looked the same. Twilight was coming in now, and the chill that came with it was not comforting. He prayed to StarClan that ShadowClan really did come alive at night, otherwise he'd have to wander around waiting for the dawn patrol to find him. He could only hope they'd be somewhat understanding, not that he bet on it. The WindClan warrior high-stepped through the mud, half looking for a place to shelter, half for anyone out and about. When he'd finally caught his breath he called out, unsure if anyone could hear him. Or if he wanted them to. "Hello?" The lack of an echo unnerved him more than anything. How far did sound travel here?

The more he walked, the less hopeful he got. The mud was getting more watery, and higher. Soon enough it was up to his shoulders. He could barely move. And it was so, so cold. A weaker "Hello?" came forth. Too exhausted to continue or to retrace his steps, all Deerhawk could do was stew in the sludge. The cold blanket of gunk chilled him to the bone, and despite his wishes he could feel his eyelids drooping. He didn't have the energy to fight it and soon enough, he was out.

The swamp was unforgiving; ever so slowly the unconscious warrior began to slip beneath the surface. Perhaps his grave was digging itself.

Flintshard padded along his patrol, basking in the cool air of the night. It was nice, being out of the camp on a patrol so early, shaking off the tiredness that had plagued him from a restless night of little sleep. But he was used to it, he found it hard to sleep at times and it was honestly getting to the point where he would try to coax Mothglow into speaking before they both settled in for the day so that he could distract himself from his own thoughts that seemed to go wild when he had nothing else to focus on. But it was how things went, often used to the faint tiredness that would linger, feeling it wasn't worth speaking to anybody about. And so he padded along, silent...Until a faint sound caught his ear. It was faint, and perhaps if it wasn't for the fact that his mind automatically focused on it he would have ignored it.

He came to a halt, gaze turning in that direction. "Did you hear that?" he meowed, although he didn't wait for a response as he limped off in the direction - deeper into the marsh. It had sounded like a cat, an unfamiliar voice. But that raised the question of who. It didn't take long to come to the deep marshes, halting at the edge of it as he stared out for any sign of the source. There was nothing, or at least, he thought there was nothing until he saw a faint sinking mound of brown fur. Well, it clearly wasn't a ShadowClan cat as nobody would be an idiot enough to walk into the deep marshes like that. With a soft huff, he bounded forward along the hidden rocks, his movement a bit shaky as his injured leg flashed with pain with every awkward land but he didn't really have time to wait. Soon, he found himself at the closest rock to the sinking cat, leaning forward as he bit down on the scruff and yanked with all of his might.

There was a disgusting slopping sound as air escaped - filling the void left by the tom as Flintshard yanked him free. The tom was lighter that he had expected and a quick breath told him why. Underneath the layer of mud and dirty water, was the scent of WindClan. With his large frame, he didn't have much trouble dragging the tom with him as he jumped - even more awkwardly than before with the added weight and trying not to trip on the limp body - along the stones until he reached the shore where he had left his patrol mates, dropping the tom unceremonious onto the ground. "WindClan," he meowed, as if that was enough of an explanation as he not-so gently shoved a paw into the tom's side, not really even bothering to check if he was awake or alive. He had done enough by just fetching him out of the marsh, although he was curious on how - and why - a WindClan tom was so deep in their territory...

Cardinalcry merely followed behind the patrol; not from far, but near the back nonetheless. She had barely gotten over Scorchedbird and Darkpaw, but she had. Kinda...? The mention broke her out of her trance. Cardinalcry just stared at the lanky tom. "Why would a Windclanner be in our marsh?" She wondered aloud. Was he even alive?

Flintshard shrugged as Cardinalcry wondered why the tom had gotten himself so deep into the territory, leaning down to give him another shove with his paw. He seemed alive but he wasn't stirring now that he was out of the marsh. He stood there, watching the warrior's chest rise and fall before he let out a soft huff. "We should bring him back to camp. Mothglow might be able to help...And I'm sure Thornstar will have questions for him," he meowed, leaning down as he grabbed the warrior by the scruff. He knew that technically, Cardinalcry was in better shape to drag him seeing how he was still recovering and had his limp but size was his advantage - the WindClan warrior was rather pathetic compared to him. "...Any idea of why he would stray so far?" he asked, gaze flickering over to Cardinalcry as he started to lead them back toward the camp. He wasn't much for talking but the question of why and how this tom had gotten so deep into their territory was something worth talking about, he thought. He doubted it was by accident - how lost would the tom have to be for that to be the case?

Cardinalcry honestly had no idea. "Maybe he's a runaway like me. Or just a cocky trespasser." She speculated.

Flintshard grunted in acknowledgement of her suggestions, eyeing the mud-covered tom with a wary look. He couldn't say for sure his own thoughts on the matter, he had never been good at reading others in general so he was left confused on how a tom could get so lost in another Clan's territory like this. He shook his head slightly - careful not to jostle the unconscious warrior to much as the two ShadowClan warriors fell into silence.

It didn't take all that long to finally reach the camp, pushing past the thorn entrance as he tried not to snag any on the WindClan tom - he didn't care much for him but it seemed...Rude, he suppose, to not be at least a little polite in not adding any additional injuries to him. He wasn't so kind however to bother lowering the tom to the ground, simply releasing his scruff once he felt they were far enough into the camp. "Mothglow! Thornstar!" he called out, glancing at the two dens that held the higher ranks. "We found a visitor from the moor sinking in the marsh," he added as he, once again, shoved the warrior in another attempt to stir him. He had to be exhausted or nearly dead if he hadn't awoken though all of this so far - Flintshard didn't care enough to really figure out which it was thought. That was Mothglow's job.

Flintshard's voice calling her name on his own was a rare enough occurrence that it immediately caught Mothglow's attention. She dropped what she'd been doing immediately - the travelling herb bundles could wait, from the sound of things - and left her den, staring perplexedly at the cat-shaped thing before both Flintshard and Thornstar. Which they were apparently poking experimentally. She caught the tail end of Thornstar's assessment, and offered up her own. "He's definitely been in the marsh, whoever he is," she agreed. She pointedly refrained from prodding her newest patient, though she didn't comment on it. "Aside from that, it looks like he might have a concussion? Maybe he hit his head on the rocks," she mused. The stepping-stone paths that ran under the marsh made it easier to traverse for those that knew them well, but more dangerous for someone that didn't, and this was no ShadowClan warrior. "We can't get any answers until he wakes up, so we might as well make sure he does."

After all, she had sworn her oath to defend and heal all cats, regardless of allegiance, and so that was what she would do.