Turn Back Time [Flowerthorn's Death]

ooc: A canon topic detailing Flowerthorn's death that happens while she is in baby jail.

Even as the sun was setting, the cage at which Flowerthorn was thrown into was a little darker than the outside world. Her body landing with a thud on the hard ground, her wounds causing searing pain to shoot up her small body. Even as she moved to right herself pain was all she could feel. "Stars.." She cursed out. They really did a number on her. She knew this would happen and accepted her fate, but at the same time she didn't expect this bad of wounds.. Though.. if they wanted to kill her they would have done so already.. So surely she would recover from this.

With gritted teeth the pale warrior pushed herself to stand. Her blue eyes taking in the area just outside of the roots she was contained in. She could see a guard just outside of it. The rogue didn't pay her motions any mind it seemed, and she didn't bother to speak considering what just happened. She wouldn't get anything out of them right now. Maybe at some other point she could try to warm them up and consider getting out of here but considering the talk she did around Skyclan camp she highly doubted they would even let her.

Flowerthorn sat back with a groan, lamenting on what she had just left. Maybe.. Maybe her actions would spur the rest of Skyclan into acting.. She hoped anyway. This Asylum situation couldn't go on anymore, and hopefully her sacrifice would be worth it. She would see them again. All of them. If it meant fighting her way out of here and back to them, then so be it. She would get back to Foxfire. He would see her again, and she would apologize for all of her stupid choices and never leave his side again, but for now it was up to them to act. It was up to all of them to do something about the situation in Skyclan. Complacency would kill all of them and the way of Skyclan if they let it last.

Motion caught Flowethorn's blue gaze. Her eyes snapping to the the creature that she didn't notice sitting further back inside of the root cage. It was a little hard to see who it was, or what it was. Fear struck her heart. Were they going to kill her with some creature? No.. If it was something like a fox it would have attacked her already. She stepped closer trying to get a better look at who was stuck in this cage with her. Surprised at all they would give her a partner in this situation considering how much she like to talk about rebellion. Her eyes brightened at the sight of a familiar pelt. So he was alive after all. Oh this was wonderful, fantastic even. They could escape out of here together. "Bloodstrike?" She called out to the tom.

Ringing in his ears... the constant ringing... The buzz against his skull... how long had it been going for? He didn't know. Time wasn't real anymore. It hadn't been for ages. Bloodstrike had given up on knowing when and knowing where. He lie on the floor with his eyes closed and quietly breathing until the things in the dark brought food or moss balls of water to him. Sometimes they'd say his name and then hurt him, but most of the time they said nothing at all. A thump at the entrance to his cell had him ease his eyes open. He rolled onto his feet and his eyes settled on... another cat? She wasn't dead... she was moving. The stench of his cell had overwhelmed his sense of smell long ago, but he could see the glistening red wounds on her body. He should know this cat... something told him he should know her.

Bloodstrike slipped a tongue over the tear in his lip that permanently revealed one of his fangs. He constantly had to lick at it to keep it wet... or to keep from drooling. He stepped forward a few steps as the buzzing in his head grew louder. An ache pressed against his eyes and threatened to split his skull in half. He growled in response, flicking his head as if he were covered in fleas in a pointless attempt to clear the pain away. His mouth was dry. His heart was racing for having used almost no energy. Pain.... so much pain... all over his body.

The ringing in his ears dropped in pitch and the floor seemed to shift ever so slightly beneath his paws. The she-cat finally looked at him. Some familiarity was there... but he couldn't place her name. For a few moments of silence he simply stared, confused. This was not part of his routine. Why was she here?

"Bloodstrike?"

The large tom spat immediately in response and his claws unsheathed. She's here to hurt me she's here to hurt me she's here to hurt me get her first get her first get her first get her first kill kill kill! Bloodstrike sprung at her with a deep, guttural caterwaul. His claws buried deep into flesh, and any attack she made toward him was pain he had experienced hundreds of times over by now. He didn't care about it. It didn't affect him. Claws tore through flesh and his teeth sunk deep into whatever they could grab onto. The whirlwind of fur that was the two cats made their way to the bars of the cell, which happened to be roots. With a powerful swipe of his claws, he threw Flowerthorn against them and pinned her there.

"You can't hurt me! You can't get away!" Bloodstrike cackled manically. He'd never actually gotten the upperhand on his torturers before... and now she was going to pay for her attempt to hurt him with her own life. Maybe that would teach the Dark Forest creatures to stay away from him. Leave him be... it's all he wanted. Bloodstrike's fangs shot down toward the jugular region of the smaller she-cat. He bit down with so much force it made his own jaws hurt before whipping his head to the side and severing the life giving blood from the she-cat's body. He pressed his giant paw against her body, still pinning her there even as her body shook from the death throes.

"Were the rest of you monsters watching?" Bloodstrike hissed into the darkness. Eyes had gathered all around. "This is what happens to those who think they can hurt me!" With a forceful shove against the lifeless body, Bloodstrike moved away from her. "Take her away. Bring food and moss balls or I'll kill more of you." The heavily scarred tom slunk back towards the back of the cell, licking at his open, torn lip again to keep his fang from drying out. It was out of habit at this point, as his face was covered in blood and ran no risk of drying out too quickly now.