Sharppaw.

Sharppaw was out hunting. He chased a squirrel onto the Thunderpath and a roaring monster hit him. He thought he was going to die. He probably was; he needed help. Desperately. "Mommy! Daddy!"

OOC: I'm assuming this is open?

Lightfoot was solo hunting, as he usually did. He had a young hare in his teeth when the wail of an apprentice sounded from somewhere nearby. He dropped the prey right where he had been standing before he bolted in the call's direction, gasping at the sight of a crumpled gray tom on the Thunderpath. He dashed forward and gripped him by the scruff, hastily tugging him off the path before another monster could take the chance to kill them both. Panting, Lightfoot nosed what he recognized as Sharppaw. "What happened? How badly have you been hurt?" He glanced around. He needed someone to fetch Gorsefeather, or another to help him move the apprentice without hurting him.

OOC: Yeah.

Sharp paw grunted in pain. "It hurts," He wailed quietly, "I don't like it, Lightfoot.. I need Icestorm and Ashwing.lll