Red Flower [Clan Plot Topic - CLOSED]

The injured warrior was aware of another pressure on her side as Sagelight appeared, assisting her to her paws. Murkpelt breathlessly made a sound of gratitude before turning her sharp gaze back to Spottedstar again, listening desperately for his answer - and feeling immediate relief for her kits, replaced with fear for herself and her leader. Wolfcall was okay, Juniperlight was gone too, and the rest of the Clan was fleeing to the river. Oh, fox-dung, how is he getting me to the river? Murkpelt wondered with a growing feeling of fear. No... more than fear. Something dark was creeping at her stomach as Spottedstar held her weight, and each moment that Sagelight spent scrounging together packets of herbs made the cold anxiety buzz inside of her. Under the haze of the herbs her pain was blossoming from careless movements. The moment that Sagelight fled the den, Murkpelt sucked in a deep breath and gritted her teeth, steeling herself for the trek to come. Spottedstar didn't waste a moment urging her forward.

When they maneuvered outside the den, Murkpelt felt the cold clutches of fear grip her more tightly. The flashing light foreshadowing danger outside was now a storm of flicking flames crackling at the edges of the clearing, licking their way up the parched trees. The seasoned warrior had never seen such a horrifying wall of fire. She had not lived through the last great fire... She had no idea what was in store for SkyClan, or any of the forest. "Oh, StarClan," Murkpelt breathed absently, her yellow-green eyes widening. Immediately the sting of smoke made her squint, and she ducked her head and rubbed her muzzle against Spottedstar's side, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt him pressing her on - faster. "Don't worry about my star-forsaken leg, Spottedstar," Murkpelt snapped, but the sharp intake of smoke made her shudder and cough, unable to stifle as tactfully as Spottedstar. She added hoarsely, "I'll go as fast as I can and you better do the same. I won't have -" she coughed "anyone but you tending... to me... after this," she panted.

Murkpelt saw the injured warrior's gray-and-cream tabby pelt, dappled by blood and firelight, a moment before Mistrain stumbled into them, whimpering about her fate. Murkpelt's stomach clenched, and she growled in defiance the same moment that Spottedstar yowled instructions to the injured she-cat. "We're warriors, not kits," Murkpelt agreed, "we can lay down and lick our wounds later. We're stronger than this, Mistrain. Come on!" The she-cat coughed and watched her ex-lover as he struggled to bear the weight of both of them. Fire was consuming all the edges of the camp; Murkpelt didn't even know how Spottedstar intended to get two she-cats who could hardly crawl out of the narrow entrance on his own. The option was taken from them when an ear-splitting groan and crack resounded over the fire, and Murkpelt could feel herself stumble and fall slightly as a falling tree crushed the walls before them, and fire trapped them inside. She cried out reflexively with shock and sorrow; the pain of her broken leg barely registered for a moment.

The trio fled back to the medicine den - their only choice to buy them a moment. Murkpelt didn't feel the tears that were flowing down her face; she was panting so hard she didn't realize she was faintly sobbing with the certain death she was facing. She heard Spottedstar crying for his ancestor, and she whimpered as a flaming tree trunk popped near them and spattered her side with cinders. Her pelt twitched and she jerked away, but her leader continued to usher her along blindly. She staggered alongside him, feeling her eyes burning at the heat. Her nose was dry - her tongue and throat were dry. Everything was beginning to hurt just by breathing. Even her fur felt like it was stinging to the very tips. "Spottedstar," Murkpelt began, nearly inaudible over the flame. She was wheezing. She coughed and whimpered, "I'm so sorry." Too soft for him to hear - so soft she wasn't sure she had even spoken - she breathed, "StarClan preserve him. Please save him."

She understood what the cold talons clutching her stomach were: there was only one way StarClan could preserve them now.

Mistrain lurched back as the flames filled her vision and started limping forward, fighting off the agony. StarClan please make sure my family is safe...As they all ducked into the medicine den, something fell next to it. She heard Murkpelt's cries of pain and choked words and squeezed her eyes shut as the queen fell limp. "No--No, Murkpelt. Y--you can't...not yet. Spotted...Spottedstar I'm so--" Her voice broke off as she started coughing. Smoke started to fill the medicine cat den and something in her throat wouldn't let her breathe. Mistrain was dying. "Spottedstar I--I'm sorry. Tell my family I love them, okay? T--Tell Bloodstrike not to worry. My parents--tell them." The tabby warrior wheezed, struggling for the last breaths of oxygen before falling onto her underbelly, breaths becoming much more shallow. The agony in her leg mixed with the smoke made Mistrain unable to think. Something gripped her stomach and then she felt nothing. Her form went limp next to the queen's, hazel eyes glassy and staring at nothing.

They'd be safe, right? The three cats made it into the den together despite the vision difficulties. Outside, the crashing and roaring sounds of the fire told Spottedstar all he needed to know. Their world was burning down to nothing all around them and all they could do was huddle in the medicine den in fear. He was angry at the circumstances, but he was also deeply despairing over the helplessness he felt - he was unable to protect their home and he couldn't magically fix the legs that held his clanmates back from escape. The leader couldn't force the skies to rain down on them and it seemed he couldn't strongarm StarClan into intervening in some heroic way. Instead, Spottedstar could only pull the she-cats close to him, all curled together in a mass of fur that was coated in ashes and almost too hot to bear. "Stay close to me," he gasped, tucking Mistrain's head against his chest, trying to block her from the smoke with his body. The young warrior was whimpering about her family, her parents, Bloodstrike - Spottedstar wanted to urge her to tell them herself, but he couldn't summon his voice. Even drawing a breath without immediately coughing it back up was growing impossible. His vision was graying around the edges; feeling as though he was floating despite being pressed against the den floor, the tomcat barely registered Mistrain's final breath and lack of movement. He'd made a mistake. With the smoke building in the small space and the temperature rising nonstop, the medicine den had been a poor choice of shelter, but Spottedstar couldn't say that there was a better option.

'If I'd gotten Murkpelt up sooner, if I'd moved a little faster, if I'd been strong enough to carry them both--' His life and leadership had been full of ifs. It was too late to go back and change anything. There was only the future to think about, and he wanted that future to include everyone. He'd do his best to protect Murkpelt, even if it looked like he would fail. "Keep low... stay close..." Spottedstar's ragged voice was barely above a raspy meow. He was growing tired. The adrenaline was fading, as was his vision. Perhaps he would fall asleep there, laying on the floor with members of his family pressed tightly against him, and they would all leave the den together when morning broke and the fire had passed.

Murkpelt's tears were evaporated into ghostly trails even as her despair deepened and she sobbed, choking on the scalding air; the smoke and heat were swiftly smothering all attempts at feeling in the most painful way. She was vaguely aware of her hind leg catching and wrenching on a clump of moss - maybe her nest, she couldn't tell in the growing haze - but she was unable to react aloud as she merely stumbled onto her side and slumped on shaky forelegs. The pain of her broken leg was quickly being subdued beneath the agony of baking in a stone den. She felt Mistrain fumbling and gripping at her side, whimpering through ragged coughs and wheezing gasps, as the three collapsed together at the rear, Spottedstar desperately clutching them closer and closer. Murkpelt scrabbled on the hot floor, pathetic and equally desperate to be close to Spottedstar and their grandkit.

The queen understood the sudden grief and stillness beside her as Mistrain succumbed to her fate. Murkpelt was powerless to help; her own gaze was beginning to falter, airless lights dancing on the edge of her vision and growing darker. She wheezed a wordless cry of grief that burned into ash before her. The sooty queen slumped once more against her will. Without thinking she plunged her face into her former love's shoulder fur even as she continued sliding to the floor of the medicine den. He was still with her. He was still trying. Oh, stars, please save him. She couldn't smell Spottedstar through the fire and smoke, a bitter betrayal of her own sensations that she couldn't fight through. She couldn't feel him anymore; he was just a pressure against her face, a dulled and swiftly fading force.

"Thank... y...you," she gasped into his fur in response to his feeble directions and futile efforts, and her lungs felt as though they had seized with fire. Her belly was on the floor and she wasn't sure how she'd gotten there, but it was so hot. She wrapped a forepaw blindly, clumsily around Spottedstar's foreleg and pulled her forehead up to it, the last embrace she could muster for a tom who had put her through so much and still meant the stars to her.

How could everything get so dark with blistering light all around?

There was silence.

Firflower could hardly tell the difference, of course, but there was silence. Whether this was StarClan, or simply an odd dream, it did not matter. Permanent twilight cast the world in deep purples and blues. Her son lay curled up and alone on the rough pavement, nestled in the scraggly weeds taking hold in cracks of the flat stone. She bent her head to rouse him, nudging his nose with hers. Spottedstar's eyes opened, and though for a moment they questioned her presence, the rules of dreams had him accept that this was reality for the moment. This was not the Twolegplace they knew. One familiar thing sat on the horizon: the peaks of Highstones. Firflower coaxed her son to follow her in their direction, weaving between slumbering monsters and around leaves of sharp clearstone. When they reached the edge of the lot, the lanky she-cat bunched her haunches and leaped upon a monster sleeping next to a tall wooden fence and watched the ginger tabby do the same. The beast screeched and flashed its glowing eyes in anger at the impact, startling Spottedstar up and onto the fence. Firflower grinned and purred out a laugh before joining him. She teased him with a few pokes and prods as she led him across the maze-like intersections of barriers. Why did she know the way? Though that question was never answered, the comfort of walking side by side kept his heart light.

Though their paws never tired, they stopped by a particular Twoleg den and peered inside to find a few friends. There was Marmalade, Arno, and Scorchbranch too! The old tom's clear voice came through, as though there was nothing between them, nor anything in his lungs. "Stick close on the way, son. Keep your eyes and ears open." This was perfectly normal. After a few moments of indecipherable chatter, the pair moved on. Identical dens passed by, and though Highstones never seemed to grow any larger, the scents of their surroundings grew more and more familiar.

Hours had passed. But it had also taken only a few minutes. The world was no darker. Mother and son leapt from the fence onto a low rooftop, climbing until they sat on the crest. Firflower turned to look him in the eye before resting her head on his shoulder. "You're on your own now. Don't tally and leave everyone to worry. We can wait here for you as long as you need us to, but they cannot." Could she always speak like this? She pressed into him so hard he could hardly catch a breath. What was happening? "You need to find them." Spottedstar's lungs burned and he backed away in confusion, yet he still could not breathe. Firflower looked at him with a tremendously sad look on her face. It made his stomach grow cold. "Hurry."

The dream is over.

In a daze, lightheaded and with the sound of his deaf mother's voice still ringing in his head, Spottedstar awoke and barely recognized his surroundings. Sun filtered into the entrance of the medicine den where firelight had previously illuminated the shadows. The birdcalls and soft fluttering sounds that usually signaled morning in SkyClan camp were absent. In their place was an unsettling dead silence. Speaking of dead...

A soft groan escaped the leader's mouth as he adjusted, pushing himself to his elbows and temporarily losing his vision as his head swam. The dream still played vividly in his mind when he shut his eyes, Scorchbranch, Marmalade, and Arno's familiar and comforting forms dancing across his mind's eye. Had it been just a dream? Or had it been a vision? The distinction was important to Spottedstar; it could mean nothing or it could mean... something. He wasn't sure yet. He hadn't had a lot of time and clarity to process it. More than that, though, it could also indicate whether he'd fallen asleep from the sheer exhaustion of last night's events, or... well. He wasn't sure. His body ached like he'd been lying on that rocky earth for a moon and his lungs burned with each gasping breath. Spottedstar certainly didn't feel as though StarClan had healed him from anything, but he didn't feel rested either. Perhaps Murkpelt--

The golden tom jolted upright, suddenly remembering that he hadn't sought refuge alone. Beside him nestled the black warrior, fur glossy and sleek despite the burn marks and prolonged close contact. Mistrain was wedged between them as her grandparents had tried to block the heat and the smoke from her. "Murkpelt! Mistrain!" Spottedstar gasped, his stinging throat reducing his meow to a forceful whisper. He nudged his grandaughter with his muzzle, eagerly trying to stir the young she-cat from sleep, and grew more desperate with each passing heartbeat. Why wasn't she responding? Why wouldn't she answer him? Spottedstar turned to Murkpelt, prodding her with an extended forepaw. Of course he knew. The leader wasn't young and naive anymore; he knew what death looked like. The cold bodies and the empty, unseeing eyes were familair sights.... but not his family's eyes. Not his former mate, whom he had once loved deeply; not his granddaughter's unmoving frame, which he'd hardly paid any attention to before this disaster. The sinking feeling that had begun in his chest deepened until it was a hollow, gaping wound that leaked anger and grief in equal portions. Spottedstar reeled back, onto his paws, with his eyes fixed on the bodies. 'My one goal... the one thing I wanted, and I failed. I failed!' A wracking cough shook his body, bringing him back to his surroundings. He was in the medicine den and everything was silent. Had the fire stopped?

The trees that still stood around the camp where blackened. Ash covered every inch of the ground, and in the distance, smoke still plumed into the sky. The fire still raged but it was long since past burning down the camp. The air was hot and dry, as it had been for a moon now. But the heat of the day didn't compare in the slightest to the scorching fires of the night before. Spottedstar stood in the center of all that was left of what he knew and loved, his dull, tired eyes filling slowly with tears. If anyone else were around he would insist it was due to the irritation of smoke in his eyes, but now he was completely alone. There was no one left to preserve his pride in front of. His tears were absorbed quickly by the parched earth, and soon he wiped his muzzle clean of any traces of his crying. The shuddering gasps of breath hurt his chest and he had better things to do than weep so shamelessly. The leader had an important task before him: he would honor his fallen clanmates with proper burials. Then he would reunite with his Clan at the river and figure out how to survive from there. Spottedstar turned, tail dragging through the ashes of his home, and reentered the medicine den with a crushing weight on his shoulders.