Shooting Star [closed]

It was the creeping fatigue and an unspoken, self-imposed obligation to provide that dragged Beetlechaser from their nest that morning, driving them onto the marshes. It was a blessing that Shadowclan was able to rely on the Carrionplace for prey, if it could even be considered as such, but rats could only go so far, Beetlechaser knew, for rats had to eat too. Even with the help of the Carrionplace, many of Shadowclan's warriors still went hungry, and on that morning, Beetlechaser was included.

The hunger that clawed the pit of their stomach and reached it's venom into their limbs only motivated the warrior to trudge on, desperately hoping that some fresh prey scent would drift their way. They had ventured to a far end of the territory, hoping that prey could be found further from camp, and, eventually, their suspicion was confirmed. Whatever grogginess remained from their failed attempt to sleep vanished, replaced with an anxious anticipation as they followed the scent - which they quickly identified as vole. Never in their life had they felt so much pressure to secure a kill, until now. It would, in their mind, make their venture worthwhile.

Beetlechaser kept low and slow as they followed the scent, worried that even the beating of their heart may frighten away their catch. And then, they saw it - the vole, seemingly, hopefully, unaware that they were there. Then, within a heartbeat, it vanished. At that point, they were certain that their heartbeat had been too loud. All in one moment, they felt heartbreak, devastation, and hopelessness; so overwhelmed with emotion that they had let their guard down. They hadn't noticed the scent that the vole had been fleeing from until it was upon them.

Just in time, Beetlechaser ducked out of the way, panic rising within them at the spine-chilling sound of teeth snapping right where their head would have been. They didn't have time to look, but they knew the smell of fox well enough. Darting a few fox-lengths off, they slowed to looked over their shoulder, only to immediately pick up the pace again when the fox gave chase. Only, Beetlechaser only had so much energy left. It was one thing to walk across the territory. It was another to be chased by a fox. Panic flourished within their chest as they began to lose momentum, the deep sound of the fox's loud paws thrumming against the earth growing closer. Something had to be done, and quickly.

Skidding to a halt, Beetlechaser used their small stature to their advantage, dodging the fox's gaping maw as it recklessly charged onwards, sticking out an unsheathed paw to slice whatever they could get their claws on. Blood splattered the earth as the flesh ripped beneath their claws, producing a yelp from the fox. It turned to face the Shadowclanner once more, and they could see that they managed to just graze it's shoulder. Their heart was pounding in their head now, and the lack of sleep was truly beginning to show it's effects. A series of regrets passed Beetlechaser's thoughts, many of which originating from the past day. They regretted leaving camp, they regretted not turning back earlier. All things that they'd have never thought about in the moment.

The fox lunged forwards, locking it's jaws onto Beetlechaser's front leg. They let out a screech - not that there would be anyone around to hear it - as the fox began to fling them back and forth, for their size was no complication to the orange beast. Sharp pain traveled from the fox's grip all the way up their leg, then up into their shoulders and spine, they were certain that they could hear something crack. Then, as suddenly as they were suspended into the air, they were thrown back into the earth, too dazed to properly retaliate. They attempted to use their leg to stand up, only to fall back to earth again in a cry of pain, and attempt to drag themself away. The fox, however, much like Beetlechaser, was hungry. It dug it's fangs into Beetlechaser's flank and didn't let go, lifting them up once more. The pain was unlike anything the warrior had ever felt in their life, it was so intense that they could hardly think straight. Upon seeing a sliver of an opening, however, Beetlechaser lashed out, striking their claws long and deep across the fox's throat. The wound caused no yelp to come from the fox, but a bite that was the sum of all the energy left within it. It dug deep into Beetlechaser, down to bone. It crushed everything in it's wake, and then it was gone. But the pain remained.

The fox fell to the earth, not quite dead, but certainly on it's way. Beetlechaser followed, lying on their side nearby the fox. To breathe was painful, even to lift their head, but they did anyways. They kept fighting, despite the blood that soaked their pelt, and the wounds that were more like cavities in their flesh. With their one good paw, they dragged themself away from the fox, beginning to call out to any who may hear them. "Help, help me, please!" Their voice was weak, hoarse. It was doubtful that it would be heard by anyone at all, even if they were nearby, but it was all that they could do.

The roaring of a monster, not far off, lit a spark of hope within the Shadowclanner. Letting out a cry of pain with every breath, they slowly dragged themself across the mud using one sole paw, for they quickly realized that they had no feeling in their back legs. They continued their pleas for help as they neared the Thunderpath, praying to Starclan that some Thunderclanner would take pity on them. It would make sense for the Thunderclanners to be about when Shadowclan was not; the sun was already above the horizon. And, to Beetlechaser's luck, they saw a flicker of movement on the other side of the path. "Help, please!" They mustered everything that they could into their calls. "Please, I'm hurt!" They were too tired to keep their head up now, instead letting it fall to the earth beside their one good paw. Their vision began to cloud, and their thoughts became muddled. Their brows furrowed as they fought to remain conscious. "I need, help!"

Feral language
Forest language

The forest was deathly silent, save for the mumbled curses of a large ThunderClan warrior whose stomach growling relentlessly. Tail lethargically swayed behind the sandy tom as he skulked about ThunderClan territory. The sun had been high in the sky when he had left to go hunting for literally anything to eat, and now it had begun to slowly fall beneath the tree line in an eerie, golden glow. Not a squeak or chirp could be heard amongst the brush or the fallen leaves and it earned a nasty scowl. Each new day proved that the forest really was worthless and he could no longer fault his father for abandoning his children in search of something better; Vinecrawler thought of doing just the same more often than not, especially now. His head turned in what he thought was the direction of Highstones and the mountains beyond. If he didn't have his siblings here, he would have followed his father's scent trail moons ago and left the forest with him. A rumble came from his throat as he growled in annoyance.

One large paw over the other, Vinecrawler had suddenly found himself whiskers away from the Thunderpath. The stench that monsters admitted every so often made his nose wrinkle and his empty stomach churn. But as he turned to leave, the young warrior spotted something alongside the black earth: a bird, half mush and black feathers scattered every direction. Now, it wasn't beneath him to attempt to eat a mashed bird. But as he got closer, he could see a shine beneath the bird that sparkled with rainbow colors. Leaning down to sniff it brought stinging pain to his eyes, nose and throat. He gagged in response. Augh! No matter how hungry he was, he would not be putting that in his stomach.

A sudden commotion of growls, screeching and the familiar barking of a fox made his head shoot up, umber eyes locking onto something in the distance, just across the border that separated Shadow from Thunder. Ducking down out of fear it was two beasts mauling each other over prey, Vinecrawler watched as the two figures ripped each other apart. The coarse hair along his visible spine stood on end, every muscle in his body still as he watched on.

Thunderpath rumbled next to him, a monster zooming by blasting that hot, smelly breath onto him and forcing his eyes shut.

When the smoky breath finally dissipated, the two were no longer there. It would seem the battle had ended just as quick as it had began. He waited a moment, listening carefully for any signs of either beasts being alive...

There was only silence.

He sighed in relief, rising into a sitting position before standing to leave. "--help me, please!" Vinecrawler's fur spiked, freezing in place. The voice spoke with the forests native tongue, ruling out the idea that a fox had just called for him. It was faint, sounding as though whoever owned it had swallowed gravel. "Please, I'm hurt!" Hesitantly, he placed a paw on the blackened earth, looking both ways before stepping onto it completely. Just as he did so, the head of a cat came into view. "I need, help!" Vinecrawler padded forward, no longer concerned over beasts coming for him. If this was one of the two figures he had seen earlier, then it was set in stone that the survivor was this ShadowClan warrior.

His eyes scanned over the warriors body, eyes softening slightly as he took in the limp and crooked state of their back legs and unnatural curve of the spine. The earth leading up to them was marked as though a snake had just slithered it's way here. This was the crippled body of a miserable win. If one could even call this a win. There was a pang in his heart as he watched their body shudder, already weakened way before this unfortunate battle. The forest was sapping the life from everything within it. Vinecrawler clicked his tongue a few times, head shaking side to side. "Tell me, what is your name, friend?" For a tom his size who held an air of intimidation, his voice was soft. Caring. Empathetic.

The pain was ceaseless, each incoming wave causing the Shadowclanners body to shudder and twitch. Their eyes were squeezed shut, and they might as well have been deaf, for how little they were listening to their surroundings, for the last ounces of their energy were focused on keeping the clouds in their thoughts from closing in. They no longer had enough energy to call out, they could feel their life, their vigor, ebbing away with every heartbeat, as more blood painted the mud and pooled around them.

It was so little they were listening to their surroundings that they weren't aware when a figure - no, their savior, had crossed the Thunderpath until they heard his soothing voice above him. In vain, they attempted to raise their head to meet Vinecrawler's gaze, but it weakly fell back to the earth. "Beetle...chaser." The Shadowclanner breathed without question, able to do little else. "I... was attacked... by a fox..." They desperately hoped that this Thunderclanner would show them the same hospitality as one of their own would. "Please.. I need... help." They repeated the call that had beckoned Vinecrawler there, softly urging the Thunderclanner to act.

Feral language
Forest language

The sandy tom nodded as he listened. A fox. Cunning and vicious creatures, not a merciful bone in their body.  "Beetlechaser. Know that your death is an honorable one, and that your god would be a fool to not welcome you in your Afterlife." Vinecrawler had no doubt in his mind that this ShadowClanner followed the uneven path of StarClan, and therefore would not meet a bountiful hunt in the Afterlife. A true shame, but he would still send a prayer to the Moon, the Sun, the Now, and all of Gekala as a whole in honor of such a brave warrior. "Peaceful rests, my friend." He leaned down, jaws opening and then closing around Beetlechaser's throat, not letting go until he could no longer feel the pulsing of an already weakened heartbeat.

He would not call for their clan, but instead leave the body where it lie, giving back to the earth. Just as he had done with that WindClanner, he padded further into the border of ShadowClan to find the body of fox responsible and forcefully ripping it's bushy red tail from it's body.

Placing it gently next to Beetlechaser as token of their bravery. With one last mumbled prayer in his foreign tongue, Vinecrawler departed from the scene.

Beetlechaser, briefly, was able to turn their gaze skyward, finally able to catch a glimpse of the tom that stood above them. They  remained hopeful in the Thunderclanner, mostly a result of not being able to fully analyze their situation, although one question crossed their mind: why was Vinecrawler was taking so long to do something? They weren't even able to turn and look at themself, but they knew how bad their condition was.

Within the following moments, their thoughts became so muddled that the shock of Vinecrawler's next words hardly made an impact on the Shadowclanner, aside from how wide their eyes grew when the tom's jaws closed around their throat. Their body writhed, and they stretched out their one good leg, desperately, weakly, grasping at nothing. Blood filled their throat, suffocating them as it seeped into their aching lungs.

Beetlechaser never did hear what it was that Vinecrawler muttered into their ear. They never heard the mumbled prayer he left their body with, not that they would have been able to understand it if they did. What Beetlechaser did hear, for the first time in moons, was birdsong and the chirping of frogs. What they saw was a world, much like their own, but brighter, full of life. It felt welcoming, and inviting, and too good to be true. And, upon turning to look at themself, they realized that their body was no longer mangled. They could once again feel their back legs, and their other front leg was no longer in pain. They felt full of life, fuller than they had felt within the past few moons. Hunger no longer clawed at their belly, and the fatigue that clouded their mind had dissipated.

And, as they realized their situation, that they had, at Vinecrawler's mercy, met their demise, they didn't find themself dwelling. Beelechaser held no grudge or anger towards the Thunderclanner, for the more they looked at the land that surrounded them, they realized that they didn't feel attachment to the life that they had led to begin with. They had lost their mother, and their sibling, very young - there was very little aside from their own stubborn interests that kept them tied to Shadowclan's marshes.

The small warrior turned their head to examine their surroundings, strangely drawn to a faint path that was led deeper into Shadowclan's marshes, one that hadn't existed in life. It beckoned them, an urge they couldn't comprehend pushed them to their paws. They padded across the clearing, and, upon stepping onto the faint path, spared no glance behind them.