How Extinction Begins

It had taken nearly the last of Copperpaw's energy just to travel back home. The fight with the fox had been traumatic to say the least, watching his mother get thrown about by the red beast. He could remember everything clearly. The sight of Smokefeather getting thrashed around, the scent of blood leaking from her open wounds, the crunching and slippery tearing of flesh... It was more than he thought he could handle. When his adrenaline had been roaring through his veins, Copperpaw was able to move and fight back. With it now gone, he felt heavier than a stone. He was starving, his throat was dry, his legs were jelly. Yet all he wanted was to retreat into his den, collapse and just not move. He walked with an injured Smokefeather to the medicine den though, his head swimming and his stomach bellowing it's hunger.

"Beechpaw?" His voice was hoarse and he could hardly get out a sound. He cleared his throat trying to fix the problem, but to no avail. "Beechpaw, mom got attacked by a fox." What was wrong with his voice? He was trying to yell... yet his voice wasn't any louder than before. Maybe he had strained his vocals when he screamed?

---

Bloodstrike had spotted Smokefeather's bloodied form just before she disappeared into the medicine den. What he hadn't seen was Copperpaw enter before her, and his heart sank. He spat a fat dove onto the fresh-kill pile and raced over to the medicine den after her. He slid to a stop at the entrance and peaked in, barely hearing Copperpaw's voice. His fur bristled, but more by fear than by anger. They were both covered in blood... Did something happen to Copperpaw's voice? Did the fox bite his throat? A shook his head once. No... a fox would have killed the apprentice. Bloodstrike stepped inside the medicine den about half way, but didn't want to enter in completely and prevent Beechpaw from doing what she needed to do. Speaking of...

"Beechpaw... how can I help?" He asked. He didn't know if there was anything he could do, but the offer was there regardless. Foxes... could it be the same one that killed Sagelight? He had vowed vengeance on that one... but if it was one of the foxes that had been in that family that attacked his mate... I am going to organize fox hunts until there are none left.

The adrenaline that kept her fighting had worn off, and Smokefeather was exhausted and in pain. She'd managed to keep Copperpaw safe. He wasn't injured physically but she still worried for him. She'd insisted on drinking from the creek before heading back to camp, desperately needing to get the taste of fox blood out of her mouth. She was still covered in it, paws more red than white, fur across her chest, neck and back uncomfortably sticky and starting to clump as some of the blood began to dry in the cool air. She'd avoided leaning on her son's offered shoulder on the way back to camp, forcing herself to keep putting one foot in front of the other until they made it into the medicine den.

Beechpaw had taken one look at the pair of them and blanched, though Smokefeather noticed she tried to hide her reaction. The medicine cat gently nudged Copperpaw to a nest, eyes scanning his bloodied form. None of it seemed to be his own. Her gaze flicked up to Smokefeather, but at a level glare from her mother she continued to check over her younger brother. He was fine, but some battles weren't worth fighting over. If the mousebrain was more concerned with her uninjured kit than her own injuries, fine.

Beechpaw rummaged through her herbs, coming up with a leaf that had some honey on it, and what Smokefeather thought was a poppy seed. She'd only been on a few herb hunts with Sagelight back when she was still an apprentice. The old medicine cat would explain the uses of plants as they were found, but Smokefeather couldn't remember them now.

"Eat this, Copperpaw. It'll help your throat, and the shock." The poppy seed would take a bit to kick in, but the honey would hopefully help whatever had happened to his throat and make speaking and swallowing a little easier. Her brother might not have been bitten, but he worried her just as much as Smokefeather did.

Bloodstrike's voice from behind made Smokefeather jump slightly. Had she been less fatigued, she would have noticed him sooner.

"It was one of the foxes we drove from camp. It's dead." She told him before he could ask, gaze flicking briefly to Beechpaw before returning to the deputy. A slight shake of her head. It hadn't been the one that had killed Sagelight. A pity, but a dead fox was a dead fox.

"You killed a fox." Beechpaw gritted out, "Are you out of your mind?" She hissed at her mother, ears flattening against her skull. Roughly, she shoved a bundle of soaked moss towards Bloodstrike.

"Press these to her wounds." She told Bloodstrike gruffly, answering his question. He was here, and had asked what he could do. She might as well put him to work. Turning, she began to pick through more herbs. Smokefeather made no reply, concerned gaze turning to rest on Copperpaw.

Copperpaw hardly reacted as things went on around him. His eyes were focused on the ground, but still seemed very far away. Something was thrust in front of his face and he blinked to see it, though his eyes were tired. He parted his maw and licked up the sweet golden liquid and the little black seeds. He was surprised at how much he actually liked the taste and a part of him wished Beechpaw would give him more. Still, he didn't quite find his voice yet and remained silent.

---

Bloodstrike's eyes were very seriously trained on Smokefeather after she informed him of the fox incident. He waited, knowing that Smokefeather would see his eyes and know what he was silently asking her. But she shook her head and he sighed, disappointed. It hadn't been One Ear. Still, it was one of those foxes dead at least. Bloodstrike actually shot Beechpaw a hard look when she hissed at Smokefeather. He would be having none of that right now. He decided to stay quiet for now but he was one lousy excuse away from hissing some unchoice words back at Beechpaw if she didn't cool it. Her snappiness helped no one. He scooped up the wet moss between his teeth, pressed it to Smokefeather's wounds and then placed his paw on it to keep it there. His teeth released it.

"If they're just going to keep coming back and harassing us trying to reclaim the camp from us, then something needs to be done about it." Bloodstrike was speaking out loud but not really to anyone in particular; His voice was like ice. "I'd be willing to raid their dens and kill their kits at this point."

Beechpaw's fur bristled at her father's harsh look, but she turned away and mixed herbs in silence. Her tail twitched back and forth in agitation. Horsetail, goldenrod, paracress to numb some of the pain, oak leaves... Chewing and grinding the herbs into a poultice would at least curb her tongue for the moment, though she very much wanted to say something. Yet even she understood that her anger was misplaced. It wasn't Smokefeather's fault the fox had attacked, and Beechpaw knew she would fight as hard as anyone to keep her kin safe.

Smokefeather winced slightly as the soaked moss was pressed against her wounds, but gritted her teeth and kept still. The pain was almost eye-watering, but she would endure. Still, her exhaustion was apparent in her drooping head and tail.

"The one we killed was far too close to camp for comfort. That could've gone far worse. Apprentices and the younger warriors shouldn't be leaving camp alone." She muttered in response to Bloodstrike. Killing that fox had been sheer luck. She'd been lucky to not come out of it with worse injuries, and the currently mute, untrained apprentice had been luckier still.

Beechpaw twitched an ear at her mother's voice, but said nothing as she finished making the poultice. Removing the now blood-stained moss from where Bloodstrike had been holding it to Somkefeather's wounds, she gingerly began smoothing the poultice over the wounds. Smokefeather's ears twitching back in discomfort as she did so, though the pale tortoiseshell managed to stay still and allow Beechpaw to work. Beechpaw had a feeling that her mother staying still was more to do with the exhaustion and pain she was in more than anything else.

"Copperpaw, go get some rest." Smokefeather said softly. He looked like he needed it, possibly more than she did.

"He might as well stay... You, as well." Beechpaw responded, carefully pressing cobwebs and bindweed over Smokefeather's wounds to keep the poultice in place.

"I'm fine, Beechpaw. Really. There's no need to-"

"It wasn't a suggestion. You're staying here." Beechpaw replied evenly. She was in no mood to deal with her mother's stubbornness tonight. "That poultice is going to need to be changed, and you look out on your paws." She continued impatiently. Yellow-green eyes flicked up to her father's gaze. Please talk some sense into this idiot so I don't have to sit on her.

Bloodstrike watched Beechpaw work and occasionally looked at Copperpaw. The poor apprentice looked wiped out. Once those poppy seeds kicked in he'd be out like a light. He nodded in agreement with Smokefeather, but said nothing more on the matter. He would have to change up the patrols again. He had no doubt that some of the warriors were not going to be thrilled. Oh well. Copperpaw looked at Smokefeather, his eyes barely staying open now. Everything seemed to be fine with his mom and now she was getting her wounds treated. Today was a horrible day, but at least it had ended well. He nodded at her and glanced around.

"Where should I-?" His sentence was cut off by Beechpaw suggesting that he just stay in the medicine den. Well... that made everything much easier. He padded over obediently to an empty nest, not realizing that this had belonged to Sagelight, and plopped his tired body down into it. The poppy seeds were beginning to kick in, though they were not quite in full swing yet. He could feel warmth and relaxation start to take over his bones, but he still had just a bit of strength left to keep his eyes open and watch Beechpaw.

Bloodstrike caught Beechpaw's look and he nodded. He would assist her with this.

"You really should rest here, at least for a few days. I don't need that injury getting worse." Bloodstrike said, also not leaving it open for discussion. He looked once more at Copperpaw, affirming that he was not injured. "I have patrols that I need to reorganize with these fox attacks constantly coming. Do you need anything before I go?"

It was a testament to just how exhausted Smokefeather was that she didn't at least try to argue with Bloodstrike on the issue, Beechpaw thought. Or maybe she just recognized from his tone that she'd get nowhere. Stars knew Beechpaw had tried to argue with that tone of voice and failed numerous times.

"Alright," Smokefeather sighed as she briefly rested her tail against Bloodstrike's shoulder. She glanced down at her bloody paws and chest with a look of disgust. She very much wanted to sleep, but she'd clean herself up first. The herbs coating her injuries were rank enough, she didn't need stale fox blood adding to the scent.

Guessing what her mother was thinking, Beechpaw fetched another few strips of soaked moss, lightly pressing them to Smokefeather's chest fur. Smokefeather might've grumbled in complaint about the water trickling through her fur, but it would make grooming herself far less of a hassle. Long fur was a pain to get clean on a good day, and today hadn't been all that great. She ducked her head, pressing the moss to her chest with her chin so that Beechpaw didn't have to stand awkwardly.

"Copperpaw will be hungry when he wakes, I'll grab something from the fresh-kill pile then." Beechpaw mewed, glancing from her father to the small apprentice. He'd be out soon enough, and she had the feeling that Smokefeather would follow him into dreaming soon enough once she wasn't standing.