//Hoping for a patrol to find her and bring her back to the WindClan camp due to her injuries; and maybe the leader of the patrol feels slightly bad for her//
Her paws were a blur beneath her, and funnily enough, so was everything around her. Everything was tinged with red, no more than shadows surrounding her. She felt closed in, trapped, pushed down to the bottom of a blood-filled pool. The stench of blood filled her nostrils, and she panted loudly through her mouth, blood dripping and spattering on the leaves and sticks as she forced herself to move faster and faster. Her heart pounded in her ears, and blood seemed to clot up everything she knew, even stifling the pain.
Until a hard wind smacked her right in the face, making her stumble and fall over onto her side. The apprentice lay there, small body heaving as she panted harshly, eyes wide and staring as she just lay like a dead thing. Minutes later when her heart had slowed enough to feel like it wasn't going to explode out of her chest, she slowly rolled up onto her stomach. Shakily, she lifted a paw and licked it quietly, raising it to wipe over her face. She immediately hissed and yanked her face away, whimpering softly as pain made itself known. The deep claw marks over the young tabby's face stung horribly, and bled as wounds to the face tended to do. The entirety of her face was soaked in red. four claw marks swept from her left temple down over her left eye, across her nose, right eye, and ripped through the corner of her mouth on the right side. Her right ear was split down to her skull, which seemed to be the source of most of the bleeding. The smears of blood along her side, however, were not her own.
Fallenpaw left her paw hit the ground again, not bothering to try and clear the blood again. She'd just have to deal with the fact she couldn't see for now. For the first time, the tabby apprentice seemed to realize that the wind that was steadily blowing against her short fur was not what she was used to. Her nose, too clogged with drying blood to really get a good sniff, twitched painfully before she opened her mouth and bent down to the ground, trying to draw the scent in. She nearly groaned when she caught the taste of WindClan. Of course. She'd run over the border in her blind escape, and now she had no idea where to go. She couldn't see, couldn't smell, could barely taste anything but copper, and her legs were shaking too bad to really attempt at walking. So the she-cat just lay her head down and hoped a patrol would find her. Or, at least, that she would die and would no longer be a burden to anyone. The salt of her tears stung the cuts over her eyes, and she gritted her teeth against the wail that threatened to rise out of her throat. She wasn't a clan cat, even if she carried ShadowClan scent. She was just a rogue, a useless, villainous parasite that didn't deserve to step foot in clan territory. She should have turned tail and ran away from the clans as soon as she'd learned how to hunt.
The small cat, even smaller with her fur plastered to her sides by a combination of wind and drying blood, jut lay in the grass of the moor, wondering if she was waiting for death or salvation, and which one she deserved more.
