Thunderstorms of Hope (o)

Swanmist hadn't looked back.

She didn't want to.

She didn't have to.

She couldn't bare to look at Riverclan any longer than she had to.

They were walking along the riverside. It was frozen, so there was a tiny bit of distance between her and the fish. Her legs ached. Her body was tired. She was tired. But she couldn't sleep just yet.

Crossing the bridge, Swanmist almost collapsed. She stumbled, eyes blinking weakly. Looking at Mintpaw, Flurrypaw and Pebblepaw... They looked weak, too. She managed to push on. Following the path to fourtrees for awhile, before collapsing again.

This time, the kits weren't having it. She fell asleep before she knew where she was being dragged.

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The pale queen blinked slowly. Early morning sun dappled on her pelt. She looked around. Spotting her kits. "Oh.. Where did you take me? How long was I asleep?" She asked slowly. She stood up, the scent... despite sickness, snow and starvation strong in the air, she could smell... woodland, mice, birds. So they did take her into Thunderclan territory, good, that's where they were going. Swanmist pushed herself onto her dainty paws and thin legs, wobbling a little. She yawned, shaking the bits of twigs and leaves that clung to her dirty fur. "We'll... wait for a patrol, then."

And so she sat, feathery tail curled around her small paws. Her head ached, and so did her stomach...

The member 'Memories' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Invasion Dice' :

They looked as miserable as drowned rats - that much was normal about the ragged bunch of Riverclan cats. Their filthy stench suffocated his nostrils as he stalked through the snow-covered undergrowth. His tail lashed back and forth. It seemed enemy cats were getting far too comfortable with treating the borders as an optional thing. The thought made Stoatfur's stomach twist. Between the rogues and Riverclan nipping at their heels, there was no denying that his clan was outmatched with their dwindling numbers. But... at least they weren't as emaciated as these miserable creatures. He narrowed his eyes, abandoning any thoughts of sympathy.

"While I did fight in the battle over sunningrocks, I don't recall Riverclan camp being moved onto my borders, unless I missed something pretty drastic. Care to explain what you're doing so far from home?" Stoatfur's voice was even, perhaps even a tad light for a cat addressing trespasser. But he wasn't about ready to lash out with claws if he could chase them out with his tongue. For now his claws were sheathed but he was ready to tense his muscles at any moment. He wouldn't think about how the apprentices briefly reminded him of his own, because they simply weren't. Silently, he vowed to chase them off if a satisfactory answer didn't give him a reason not to.

Pebblepaw jerked awake when Swanmist spoke, blinking his bleary eyes open to look around. He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep. The ache is his joints from the cold, hard ground almost made him wish for the sandy banks of Riverclan. There would be no going back, however.
The cold helped the sleepy tom come to his senses quickly and he glanced around him, looking for each of his family members until the headcount was complete. Good, we’re all still here. He let out a long sigh and pushed himself up to sit beside Swanmist.
No sooner had his mother mentioned waiting for a patrol did an unfamiliar voice answer back. Pebblepaw turned to see the tom stalking towards them and although an apprehensive shiver ran up his spine, he forced his fur to lie flat.
“RiverClan isn’t our home anymore,” he responded as calmly as he could while the threat of this possibly going very horribly wrong clawed at the back of his mind. He glanced up at his mother. In case a fight broke out, they might have numbers on the one warrior, but they certainly didn’t have the muscle. He swallowed hard and stepped forward to put himself between the ThunderClanner and his kin.
“We’ve come to ask…” He faltered as he tried to remember the ThunderClan leader’s name. Oh, fishes. Who cares, I can learn their name later! “We’ve come to ask for help from ThunderClan.”

Eyes barely open, Flurrypaw stared blankly into the trees ahead, waiting. Unlike the rest of her family, sleep had not come to her aching body. Walking along the river that night had drained all of their energy, especially Swanmist's, who collapsed at the twoleg bridge.  When at last they had found an area, hopefully not too intruding and yet fairly obvious, the group had settled down to wait for a patrol.

"We're in ThunderClan now; we brought you to a safe spot. You must be hungry... I want to hunt but... my paws feel like they are about to drop off..." the tired she-cat mumbled in response, trailing away when the voice of another cat came up. They had been found. Her sight landed on the source of the voice, a tom, brown and white in color, rather small. Wearily, she heaved herself onto her paws. Even if she was weak, she would defend her family against any unfriendly cat.

"We’ve come to ask for help from ThunderClan."

Pebblepaw was the first to reply, already assuming a leadership position of the group, in which no one seemed to object. "Let us talk to Minkstar." she voiced, unwavering and commanding. It was a rather bold thing for an apprentice to do; to demand something from a warrior. If this tom denied their request, she supposed they would go straight into ThunderClan camp anyway.

The bridge felt steady on her paws as they crossed, even if her toes felt numb from the cold. But mostly she was relieved to be there. It means we’re close. I think. But it was clear to Mintpaw, even in the dark, that their mother was struggling. Breathing ragged, steps heavy. And the cold of the night didn’t help.

She nearly collapsed, once — and before long Mintpaw knew. Mom’s not going to make it, not on her own. But Mintpaw knew from Hollyleaf’s guidance that Thunderclan territory wasn’t far. The pale warrior had brought Mintpaw as close to the border as respectful, to make sure she would recognize the scent. And Mintpaw did. Even if this isn’t what she meant me to do.

Exhausted, but determined and fur prickling with fear — of what might happen if they didn’t make it — Mintpaw and her littermates dragged their mother the rest of the way, over frozen ground. Fur likely scraped off her side, and her entire body maybe sore, but… they were here. In Thunderclan. All of us.

Mintpaw slumped beside their mother, and didn’t mean to fall asleep. But she’d stayed awake before, all night, and her paw hurt — and the moment they all huddled together, she fell into tired, fitful sleep. She only began to stir at the sound of her mother’s soft mew, and Flurrypaw’s reply. Don’t hunt, Flurry… she thought, and wanted to remind her sister. But then another voice — male, unfamiliar — spoke, and Mintpaw forced herself to her paws.

The tom must have been no taller than Mintpaw, but was clearly older — and scarred, too. But his fur seemed clean, and his eyes sharp. Their own fur dirty, askew, and covering only bones, she was sure they looked a mess. But there was nothing to be done about that. We’re just lucky to have made it here. She winced at Flurrypaw’s tone, but didn’t feel much like she could soften that. What Pebblepaw asked had to be enough. He was right that they weren’t Riverclan cats anymore. But then ever being Thunderclan felt suddenly less certain.

The apprentices seemed determined enough, with the accompanying queen a disheveled mess. He did not even wonder why she had not spoken up instead of these kits - her condition was tell tale enough. They demanded to speak to Minkstar, to have an audience with the leader after abandoning their clan. Or had things become terrible enough underneath the leadership of Jaystar? Stoatfur was a sworn enemy of their neighboring clan, something that had become far more personal after their fight over Sunningrocks. However, he had never had any specific qualms about the leader's morality, beyond where it impacted his own clan.

Stoatfur's tail lashed. He had met Pebblepaw's gaze evenly but the voice of Flurrypaw caused his head to snap quickly to her. Regarding the young cat for a moment, the deputy studied her features. There was exhaustion and determination, not specifically defiance. If they wanted to speaking to Minkstar, they would, it was what his clan's leader would want. However, he made a show of unsheathing his claws into the show, slowly before even considering speech. When he spoke, his voice was low and his eyes fixed each of the apprentice's own in turn, "You will follow me and you will not stray from my pawmarks in the snow or I will personally make sure you never set paw here again."