Glass Animals {EXXUS PLOT FINALE}{OPEN}

The moon. Starting to swell like a pregnant queen's belly with the aging of the month. Yet with the light from the constant of the night sky was choked and hidden with the thick clouds that grew with every seeming moment. Tense and tightly woven together, like the muscles of a rabbit ready to flee from the fox's maw. Sometimes... At just the right moment a soft beam of sadness moonlight made it's way to the ground below, finding itself shimmering on the pelts of two unholy creatures. The air on the moor was thicker than the tension in WindClan's camp, sought with worry for their missing leader. The dying cats. The bloody mess the grass these cat's walked had become. Fear scent gently wafted in the light breeze. Old? New? A mix of both. It drove the fox into a hungry frenzy. The fox didn't need the light of the moon to guide her to the camp of the creatures. Their own scent of prey did that for her. Her nose finely tuned to hunt. To Kill. To Wound. To Bloody.

Silent paws treaded over the grass, ears pricked and alert. Of course, the prey would be hiding. It was so dark, and danger lurked in every shadow. A companion slunk by her side. Never hunt alone.

As the last beams of the moon and the stars were finally completely overcome by the think and growing clouds, the moor grew completely dark. Hardly a speck of light to be seen. The howling of the wind whipping across the moors sounding like a howling wolf, an ominous omen to what was to come.

Finally, finally, the fox and her companion made it to their destination. Unseen, unheard, unknown the fox broke the crest of the camp in the divot. Her black pelt disguising her from prey eyes, and her natural-born skills keeping her from being heard. Swiftly now, she entered the camp but not too far. Her black fur pressed to the walls as the prey's scent hit her nose and caused her mouth to moisten and leak with hungry saliva. Her jaw itched to feel the crunching of bone, and her tongue wept for the taste of blood. Only more seconds. Her companion must be ready, too. So as the moments passed much slower to her than in reality, the black fox took great pleasure in the previews of slaughtering and hurting the prey in her mind. Soon. Soon, she would break them all.

OoC: The black fox and her companion cannot be seen, heard, or scented until it is made clear that they are to be detected. As far as your cats are aware, they are not here. Thank you!

Pale light bathed the figures as they stalked in the night. The black dog's fur glimmered a deep blue, although cuts and dried blood matted parts of his thick pelt where previous encounters with his prey were recorded. His thick tail wagged gently, restrained excitement tugging at his paws as he followed the black fox's lead obediently. They had their objective and now they began to close in on their long-hunted enemies: the moor cats. Their reign of terror would end for the moor cats when they all lay dead in pools of their own blood. The black dog could taste it now, the imagined metallic tang of cat-blood making his mouth water.

Or perhaps it was the strong smell of the cats' base that elicited this silent reaction. They'd gotten inside as easily as a rabbit slipped into its own burrow. It seemed like these cats didn't even fear them enough to lose sleep over them, and that was a disappointment to the dog even as he realized they overestimated the safety of their camp. He brushed against his companion, quivering with anticipation, but awaiting her signal for action. They would relish the slaughter very soon.

OOC: WindClan can post now!

Since the battle, the moon had waxed and waned and waxed again, and the beasts had been quiet. Burningwolf’s injuries were the only concrete proof of their survival. That was more than enough for Raventail. Every sunup, he poked his nose out from the gorse tunnel, expecting to find a dead raven—a scrap of bark torn from one of the forest territories—worst of all, a scrap of Goldengale or Finchstar. The silence he found instead was every bit as alarming. He couldn’t begin to imagine what the beasts were planning, and that scared him most of all. Raventail had fought many things more ferocious than a cat; he’d never fought something smarter than one.

WindClan needed to end this. Every moment that healed their wounds left their spirits just a little more worn. But Raventail was no strategist. Aspenheart’s plan with the deathberries and Finchstar’s final gambit had seemed more than good enough to use against ordinary predators; they had both failed. Whenever Raventail tried to come up with something of his own, he hit a wall. So, tonight, he rested. Pressed against Dappleshine’s side, as usual, with his neck at an uncomfortable angle that at least ensured his eyes and ears were unobscured by fur. Maybe tomorrow, some brilliant idea would leap fully-formed into his mind. It was too much to hope for…yet he had to hope. For WindClan’s sake.

---

Lightfang could not make his nest in the medicine den. There were several reasons for this, all of them too sensible for him to counter. Firstly, the den was reserved for cats who were actually wounded; in addition to Burningwolf, several of the warriors who’d been injured in the first battle still needed to heal. Secondly, Aspenheart needed that space, both to work and to store herbs. Thirdly…well. Lightfang had never been the optimistic sort. There would almost certainly be more wounds to come before this mess was over.

Sleeping at Burningwolf’s side was not an option. Sleeping just outside the medicine den, however, was, and that was where the golden-furred warrior had dragged his nest. There, Lightfang lay curled into a ball, pulled under by a blank, heavy sleep only exhaustion could bring.

Crowpaw slept soundly by Spotpaw’s side, the two apprentices having grown close in the time after the battle. He felt calmer, felt like he was doing something, by helping, protecting the younger apprentice. His tail, as usual, rested on the piece of Goldengale’s fur tucked into his nest, as he dreamed, unaware of the chaos about to ensue.

Wind rushed through his fur as he raced down the moor, Goldengale and Spotpaw by his side. The three cats laughed, running joyfully up to the crest of a hill. Suddenly the scene changed, thunder crashed, and he and his companions were leaping forth, not out of happiness, but from fear. A quick glance back told him canines were chasing him, a fox, a black dog, and more than he could count behind them. Some deep part of his mind sighed as he realized, for a fleeting moment, that it was this dream again. But he kept running, hopeful he could outrun them. Goldengale disappeared from his side first, then Spotpaw. He was helpless, could only keep running, could only save himself. Suddenly, teeth closed around his neck.

Crowpaw awoke, heart racing, before letting out a sigh of relief as Spotpaw shifted in her sleep against him. He set his head down, trying to sink back into sleep, convinced he was safe, that his Clan was safe, for tonight.

Dappleshine purred in her sleep, nestling closer to her mate's side. WindClan had been anything but peaceful, not due to the clan itself, but rather the strange beasts that roamed the moors under their paws. Tonight, though... It was warm, cozy next to Raventail. He made her feel happy, safe and comfortable. Oh stars how she loved him. The wounds at her neck had started to heal, barely visible through her long fur. Dreams of warm days and glistening water and thunderous purrs of her daughter wrapped in warm embraces danced in her head, lulling her into security.

Spotpaw purred up close to Crowpaw. She felt sake around him. Her dreams were happy. Like they should be.

Though life in WindClan at present was anything but peaceful, Zinnia's dreams continued to be soundly so. They were recovering slowly, so it seemed, but recovering nonetheless. They could return to their former glory, she was sure, whatever it was. And she was hoping to see it. She slept soundly, dreaming of a place somewhere between the moor and the garden on which she'd lived in her youth. The world she'd known once upon a time and the one she lived in now, merged together in her mind to create her own perfect paradise. Whether she'd remember it when she woke, no one could know until then. So she slept peacefully, blissfully unaware of her surroundings.

Aspenheart had been spending his nights sleeping in the medicine den, though there was not much sleeping to be done. Any rest he got was interrupted by nightmares or a sudden lurch as his subconscious reasoned that Grousefrost might be waking up as he rested. Things were hard with just one set of paws again... Yes, he had to dismiss Mistystripe. The tragedy was too great. The truth was, Aspenheart himself couldn't handle her presence. It made him too miserable. Quite hypocritical, he reasoned, to dismiss her for being too emotionally attached while he rotted away in solitude. Two ends of an extreme, both unfit for their duties. It was a shame; she would've done just fine. But that fault rested on Aspenheart's shoulders.

Ploverpuddle's injuries were coming along well enough. He was familiar enough with injuries of the bone. He was lucky to be alive. Grousefrost had yet to wake up. The medicine cat began to doubt that he ever would. And to make matters worse, the cold air wasn't doing much good for the spiders. Everything was crow-food. He resigned himself to it. Whatever. Aspenheart hobbled to his nest within the den, where he could watch both toms' chests rise and fall without fail. What was morally right, if Grousefrost couldn't be revived? That was no life, to be fed by paw with honey and water-soaked moss. But, then again, Crowpaw would be orphaned. What a mess.

All nights but this one, Barleytuft had struggled to sleep. He received fleeting moments of dozing but visions of tunnels and claws would awaken him just as quickly. His golden ray of light was gone. He had watched his daughter go and he had done nothing to stop her. The tunnel collapsing behind her was the last memory of Goldengale that he had, and closing his eyes to see it was unbearable, but a weary mind still needed rest. The pale tabby tom lay as near his remaining kin as he could. Everyone was suffering. Everyone was afraid. The predators - whatever they were - had proven their strength, cunning, power. WindClan was seated on the edge of the Gorge, and the evil creatures intended to sweep the cliff right out from under the cats' paws.

Clovertwist didn't know what to do, and so he simply did whatever was needed - so long as it didn't take him too far from the camp. Not that anyone had the heart to force anyone out into the moor now. He'd never been without Goldengale.... Mistystripe. And now their parents were the only ones left. The silver warrior lay with his back pressed against his father's, both laying facing out from each other as they slept uncomfortably and uneasily.

All nights but this one, Barleytuft had struggled to sleep, and this night he would curse himself for succeeding.

For the night was dark and full of terrors. The fox was ready to launch the attack on the sleeping cats below. Tonight, she and Dog would leave this camp a blood shed. The fox, see… she wasn't driven by the same kind of drive for blood as dog. When she had tortured the small apprentice, the one they came to learn of as Puddlepaw, she enjoyed that. When she had left the orange forest smelling cat to die, it fueled her.

Her eyes darted over the camp, to the sleeping form. She allowed herself to scent the camp, trying to find the weakest prey. Blood… coming from that den like shape. Slinking along the outskirts to the den, the fox decided to launch her attack. Swiftly, she shoved her head into the den where more sleeping cats lie. "Good morning." She growled, rearing up as much as the cramped den would allow and slamming herself down on the first cat in a nest, a strangely looking grey fellow.

Night Fox used Sanctum Strike on Aspenheart, dealing 15 damage and using 20 SP. Aspenheart is stunned for one turn. Night Fox has received 5 damage for attacking a medicine cat.

Night Fox
70/75 HP (-5 HP)
180/200 SP (-20 SP)

Aspenheart
20/35 HP (-15 HP)
50/50 SP
Stunned
Aspenheart starts with -5 HP and -20 SP due to lack of sleep and fear.

Aspenheart stirred softly at the sound of scuffling in his den. He grumbled as he stretched his back legs, not bothering to open his eyes. "No, he's not awake yet, so let us both sleep!" he scolded who he assumed to be an apprentice up past their nest-time. There was some foul stench in the air, though. He blinked twice and opened his eyes. A terrible beast, misshapen and dark as night, growled a simple greeting as she slammed his head into the ground. Aspenheart hissed, trying to kick up dirt in her face, smack her underbelly, anything to defend the cats under his constant care. Had she spoken to him?

"Ploverpuddle, take Grousefrost and sound the alarm! GO!" the medicine cat screeched, scrambling backward, leading the dark creature into the back corner of his den. He moved in a pitiful fashion, in a stumble that was only half-feigned, with his tail tucked between his legs. What would Finchstar have done? Aspenheart gulped in a breath and looked away from the monster. If he made eye contact, he would surely freeze in terror. Clovertwist, Frozenpaw, Aspenheart himself. Fangs, teeth, blood, rock, mountain, head head head. Aspenheart bit the inside of his cheek and unsheathed his trembling paws, eyes fixed on ground. "So, you have a voice after all?" he choked out. "I didn't believe them when they said it. Fix your ugly mug, you rat-tailed fool! You look like the stars above put it on backwards!" Aspenheart couldn't help himself but to laugh jubilantly at the beast, sticking his chin up and looking the thing in the eyes. Of course, his own toxic spitting come to save his hide. There really was something blatantly wrong about this creature. Why did her lips spill sideways? Why was her pelt drooping and bunched up in places? True monsters, they looked like up close... His glare softened the longer he looked, confusion taking its place.

"What are you, really? Because I know you didn't kill Finchstar," he bluffed, claws digging in the dirt. "I'd be able to feel it! You're telling me with all your hideous flea-ridden lackeys that you couldn't defeat one simple leader?" Aspenheart chewed his cheek again, his eyes flickering to the side to see if Ploverpuddle had escaped. He prayed to the stars that he was right, and that the stupid creature would tell him something of value.

Aspenheart is stunned.

At Aspenheart's first shout, Ploverpuddle was awake. His yellow eyes open and staring down the creature that had gotten into their camp. His fur was standing on end making him look two times bigger than he already was. His attention turned away from the creature at Aspenheart's command. The gray tom scrambled to his paws, his wounds screaming at him for such harsh movement. His leg protesting the most.

Every instinct in him screamed at him to attack the creature, to do what his duty commanded of him. Surely he couldn't just let Aspenheart deal with an attacker on his own? His eyes glanced back to Grousefrost that was laying near by... He couldn't just attack and put them all in danger of dying. With a growl the large tom picked up the other warrior and broke through a barrier in the den, not caring if the structure dug at him or caused more cuts on his body. He had to get to safety with Grousefrost.

As soon as the tom was out in the open, he dropped the tom carefully. He took a deep breath before shouting out. "Intruder!!! Help Aspenheart!" The tom's voice was trembling with fear, but also out of exhaustion. His wounds already took a toll on his body but breaking out of the den and carrying a warrior too. It was too much for him, but he had to carry on.

Grabbing the tom again, the large but weak warrior made sure the unconscious tom was on his back before darting up and into the nursery. He carefully placed the tom down once again. His eyes looking to the queens and kits. He didn't care if he was injured. He was going to protect every single one of them. "Stay behind me. If something happens, I will protect you." His yellow eyes turned towards the entrance of the den. Standing on unstable legs, he was ready if they came his way. He closed his eyes trying to calm himself, to ignore every fiber in his body that was telling him to run away, telling him that he was better off on his own. He was home here, and that is where he was going to stay despite his uneasy mind.

The wonderful, peaceful dream of watching her daughter play in the glistening streams of RiverClan was so warm. Turning her head to the side, she smiled warmly at the black and white warrior at her side, twining her tail with his. Suddenly, her fur stood on end. Something was wrong. Alarm shone in her eyes as she looked around, scanning the surrounding reeds. What was it she was looking for? She blinked, and in an instant she was surrounded by darkness, and the next moment she was jumping to her paws, looking around wildly.

A haunting yowl was sounding from the medicine den, traveling towards the nursery. Eyes snapping into focus, she recognized Ploverpuddle dragging an unconscious Grousefrost. Meeting his eyes for a moment, she nodded and nudged Raventail roughly before charging towards the medicine den, her nose filling with a horrid stench as she approached it. Pushing her way in, she saw a dark shadow, past it was Aspenheart with his claws unsheathed. He was backed in a corner though... Oh stars. They couldn't lose him. Rearing back on her paws, she lashed out without a second thought, realizing as her claws sliced through the fur that it was a fox. Strange, a fox didn't usually go for the herb-scented den... Usually they opted for the milk-scented warm nursery of helpless kits. Something else seemed off too, something she noted as her claws sliced through the pelt of the creature. It just didn't feel... Right. What in StarClan was going on?

Dappleshine used Rear-Up to Slash, dealing 17 damage and costing 15 SP.

Dappleshine:
95/100 HP (from previous injuries)
245/280 SP (-20 from lack of rest, -15)

Night Fox:
53/75 HP (-17)
180/200 SP

Aspenheart: Stunned
20/35 HP
50/50 SP

Night Fox snarled at the quivering cat in front of her. It snarled it's words at her. Finally the stupid prey she had been hunting were heading her messages. Soon they will see that she, and her companion were the smartest creatures on the Moors. All she wanted to do was cause pain and terror. She could hear in his voice she was doing so. With a yowl of anger, the fox stood slightly and battered the face of the cat in front of her with both paws.

Night Fox used Front Paws Strike on Aspenheart causing 14 damage and using 25 SP. Aspenheart is no longer stunned.

Night Fox
53/75 HP
165/200 SP (-25 SP)

Aspenheart
6/35 HP (-14 HP)
50/50 SP

Night Fox whirled around as claws raked her back. She smirked, pausing before lashing out at the newcomer. As she withdrew her paws from her coat, the surprise would really be such a shock. Ouchie ouchie!

Dappleshine has taken 3 damage from Prickle Spines in the fox's pelt!

Dappleshine
92/100 HP (-3 from spikey)
245/280 SP