row away, row away [open]

ooc: takes place immediately after the hawk and the thrush
(injuries: deep bite on back of left front leg, bite/claw marks on back of neck and back, claw marks on legs, small scratch on top of nose/muzzle, shredded ears, shallow bite marks on tail, miscellaneous minor scratches)

As a feeble sun dipped behind the trees, Thrushnose hobbled in diagonals down the ravine toward ThunderClan’s camp, acutely aware of its sharp slope in a way she had never been before. Never needed to be before. Walking on three legs when she’d always had access to all four would have been an adjustment at the best of times; between exhaustion and a certain amount of blood loss, she was in no state to learn any more than the immediate necessities. Her good legs were beyond tired. As for her left foreleg, it merely dangled. She’d tried to put weight on it in the battle’s aftermath, once the pain made itself louder than the adrenaline; every time, it had folded under her like a dead leaf.

At last, the gorse tunnel opened before her. Thrushnose didn’t announce her entrance. As she limped onward, blood rolled from the wounds on her neck and back into the sand. That and her ears were the worst, she decided, though the cut on her nose still felt awfully raw. It was easier to acknowledge those. She knew cuts and gashes well enough to understand they would heal into scars or nothing, but what that tom had done, the sound her leg had made when he’d torn into it… Thrushnose leaned against the camp’s inner wall. It prickled, but it was easier than standing.

Choosing a piece of prey to munch on, his nose surveyed the food that was available. Hm... mouse it is. In a sudden wave, the scent of blood wafted into camp, carried by the silent, cold breeze. Eyes flicked up from the fresh-kill pile, gaze meeting a horrifying sight. It was a mangled Thrushnose with her wounds bleeding, hobbling on three legs to lean against the wall. "Thrushnose- ...I-I'll get Dovefrost." the words came out as a whisper and the deputy sped up his movement to stick his head into the medicine cat's den. The call was urgent, directed at any cat inside the den. "Quick, it's Thrushnose- she's badly injured and seems to have lost a lot of blood." No time was to be wasted in tending to the warrior, but the tom wanted to ensure the safety of his clan. We aren't under attack are we?

Reedpaw glanced up at the sound of voices. then he smelled blood. the tom leapt to his paws and scrambled off in search of the source. Thrushnose was leaning on the camp's inner wall, and Minnowfin was running to get Dovefrost. Thrushnose was bleeding heavily and looked like she might collapse any moment. "What happened?" he gasped as he ran to the she-cat's side, using his shoulders to support her weight.

Unsurprisingly, ThunderClan’s young deputy was the first cat to take notice. Thrushnose jolted upright at the first hint of concern on his face. The prospect of a medicine cat looking over her injuries was both relieving and terrifying—and, she told herself, ThunderClan had bigger problems at paw. The tom had survived; his message still mattered. “Wait—” But Minnowfin was already hurrying toward Dovefrost’s den. Thrushnose sagged back in defeat.

A blotchy-furred apprentice (Reedpaw, she recalled, one of her…grandkits?) scampered forward to support her, and though she kept most of her weight on the camp’s wall, her tail curled in gratitude. “Rogue near the riverside border,” she said, brow furrowing as she combed her memory for the essentials. The finer details could wait. She wasn’t in immediate danger of losing consciousness as far as she could tell, but she didn’t know how long that would last. “Golden tom, claw marks through his left eye. We fought, he got away. He had a message… Stoat.” Thrushnose straightened again, flinching when the back of her neck stung in protest. “I need to find Stoat.”

Stoatstar had been chatting with a warrior in his den, checking in on the progress of an apprentice's training. It was such a normal and unassuming moment that his mind had become a blank slate, thinking of little more than the task at paw. Their conversation has been wrapping up when he began to hear urgent voices from the center of camp. Immediately, a pit of dread formed in the little brown and white tom's stomach. Something was amiss within their camp walls. Without excusing himself, the leader's pace quickened to the den entrance and out in the clearing. His orange eyes darted around. It only took a moment before he found the source of the commotion.

Thrushnose.

The scent of blood was heavy in his nostrils as he raced forward. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening, not so soon after Minkstar. He swallowed back the urge to vomit, knowing what little food lined his stomach could not be an affordable loss, even in a circumstance like this. His paws had only hesitated for a moment before he lunged to press his chin into the top of Thrushnose's head. Heavy breathing caused his sides to rise and fall. Teeth clenched impossibly taut. A mix of fear and anger washed over him as he realized something: the size of the wounds and the markings left were that of a cat.

"Dovefrost! Where is Dovefrost?" It was desperate, Stoatstar hadn't heard his deputy's call. And then to Thrushnose, "Stay with me, Thrushnose, it's going to be alright. We'll get you taken care of. I'll make sure they never hurt you again... whoever it was... I'll protect you." The words got progressively softer as he spoke, a fervent whisper betraying the overwhelming emotions budding up within. As he addressed the warrior, his eyes had looked over her pelt and begun to stare through the entrance, as if an enemy were about to breech the walls at any moment.

A flurry of pawsteps was the only warning Thrushnose got before a chin came to rest between her ears. She gave a pained hiss at the impact, but leaned in anyway. At last, the sense of urgency that had carried her from the border to camp began to give way—but then she listened, really listened to Stoat speaking above her, and whatever tension had left came back twofold. He sounded…distant. She supposed he had reason to. Frankly, it scared her far more than the rogue had. Though it angered the wounds further, she bent down and bumped her head against her son’s chest in the hope that the contact might help ground him. Might convince him she wasn’t at Silverpelt’s threshold, at the very least. The words came soft, yet insistent. “I’m not going anywhere, Stoat. I’ll…” Be fine. She thought of her leg, still hanging limp as she settled back against the wall, and swallowed the rest.

Stoat’s gaze shifted from her to something beyond. She didn’t dare turn around; she didn’t need to to understand where he was looking. “I wasn’t followed. He ran—toward the river, I think. It was just one cat. Golden tom”—Thrushnose’s voice faltered, fell just short of its usual even tone as she reeled off the description she’d given Reedpaw—“with a damaged left eye. Most likely rogue, by the scent.” That, and the fact that a RiverClan warrior wouldn't have three rogue daughters.

That line of thought brought her back to the most important thing: the message. Her frown deepened. She remembered the gist of it, not that it clarified things in the slightest. “He said Achelois, Achlys, and Atalante ‘betrayed’ him. They’re his daughters. He was…looking for them.” They’d joined during her absence. All she knew about them was their names, six between the three of them, and that their father, judging by how he’d treated her, most likely wanted them dead. Thrushnose suppressed the urge to look over the camp in case they’d emerged, instead peering a little hazily at Stoat. Even with the wall, Reedpaw, and her son supporting her, her body cared less about staying upright by the moment. “Do you know what that means?”

At the numerous calls of his name, Doveforst could only assume the worst. Of course he reacted as fast as he could, grabbing cobwebs, and other herbs to soothe wounds, and prevent infection. Of course, he wouldn't know the full extent of the wounds until he got out there.

The large white tom hurried out of his den, eyes falling on Thrushnose.. Stars.. they just got finished with a trip not long ago.. Now she was being attacked? This was just too much. The medicine cat rushed over, and began to push cobwebs to the various scratches and wounds. He remained silent as his leader and clanmate spoke to each other. He didn't really need to say anything, all he needed to do was tend to the wounds the warrior had received.

Hearing the warrior speak was little reassurance. He'd heard queens lie to their kits in far less desperate circumstance. Stoatstat's ears flattened but he heard every word. A single rogue? The last gathering gave him an idea who, or at least where they had come from. And her next sentence only confirmed his suspicions further. The rogues who had come to train as Thunderclan warriors were Dawnhawk's kits. His claws flexed into the snow, a swift and silent motion. There was little time to consider the logistics of the rogues within their camp walls. But if it was betrayal their father came to condemn? Perhaps loyalty had truly shifted.

"Don't worry about that now. We'll sort that all out later. Keep this between us, alright?" His eyes glanced to each cat around, fixing them with a serious look. He would sort this out later. Once Thrushnose was stable, the leader would talk to the three of them and pry for answers - or at least their feelings on the manner. Stoatstar pulled back slightly to give Dovefrost the room needed to properly look over their mangled warrior - his kin, "Dovefrost is going to take care of you now. It's going to be okay now." His gaze flitted towards the medicine cat, silently willing for a confirmation of both his own platitudes but Thrushnose's as well.

Reedpaw felt Thrushnose's tail curl in gratitude. he didn't move as the warriors discussed things he didn't quite understand, though it all sounded terrible. like the tales the elders used to tell him. what he did know, though, was that Thrushnose needed a bit of support, however little he could provide, but he was there.

Apparently Minnowfin’s message had gotten through; Dovefrost was the next cat to storm over, brandishing pawfuls of cobwebs and herbs (mostly general-use ones, Thrushnose figured, as she recognized several of them from her time in Mossbloom and Daisybloom’s care). Wincing, she shifted to give him easier access to her wounds. “Looks worse than it is.” It wasn’t wholly a lie; ears and faces bled more than they had any right to. A question hovered at the end of her tongue. Thrushnose considered the words, the present company, the answers she might receive, and was silent.

Content to let Dovefrost work, she turned her attention back to her son. Some of the desperation had given way. Now, she could practically hear his brain churning. Before she could unravel what the change meant, Stoat looked at her, then Reedpaw, then Dovefrost, swearing them all to secrecy. The ex-RiverClanners’ presence in their camp raised enough hackles as it was. If too many cats found out that ThunderClan’s newest gaggle of apprentices were in all likelihood hiding from a dangerous rogue, their own flesh and blood turned against them… Unwilling to risk a nod, Thrushnose instead closed her eyes in silent agreement. The darkness behind her eyelids was strangely soothing.

…Too soothing. She rocked herself forward, overbalanced, pushed back with her foreleg so she wouldn’t fall onto Reedpaw. For the second time in a moon, her body was failing her. Still, the recognition she’d seen on her son’s face gnawed at her through the rising fog. “Whatever you know,” she said, mustering every last ounce of clarity within her as she fixed her gaze on Stoat, “tell me.” That rogue tom had tried to—not kill her, exactly, seeing as a dead messenger wasn’t a messenger at all. But he’d fought with a ferocity Thrushnose had never encountered in another cat before, he’d landed her in the medicine cats’ den for stars knew how long, and despite her efforts, he’d gotten away with limbs and veins intact. Stoat was fending her off with reassurances, and for now, it was working—but she would not be diverted forever. For his sake and her own. Her vision pulsed. “Later,” she amended. “I should…lie down first.”

Reedpaw carefully guided Thrushnose to the medicine den and let her fall onto one of the nests. he could tell that she wasn't fully leaning on him, but there was nothing he could do about the she-cat's pride. he ran and got some moss which he stuffed into some snow to absorb the water and carried back to Thrushnose. "Here..." he murmured.