Dripping Shadows (SC/TC Clan-wide)

Snowfoot gasped as she heard several new voices and finally registered the scent of the territory they were on. Limping but hardly caring, Snowfoot moved towards the voices and began to pick them out. Roseburn. Nightstalker. And… a ThunderClanner? Maybe? “Hello?” she called out as she came into view of the little group, then gasped as she saw the limp body of the kit. “No,” she whispered.

Nightstalkers eyes softened when Roseburn sighed out, "No, Roseburn. You did good. Even if you didn't succeed. You tried and that's all we can ask." He croaked, flinching at the ache, though he wasn't too sure if she heard him. Panic lit up in his chest as she let her head drop. From there on everything was happening so quickly, that he could barely process it. The stench of Thunderclan suddenly got so strong, that the rustling of undergrowth and voices had adrenaline pumping through his veins. The young deputy pushed himself to his paws, his fur struggling to bristle due to how sodden with murky water it was. Nightstalker had every intention of placing himself between Thunderclan and his injured clan-mates, his teeth bared and an ugly growl pulling itself from his throat.

He nearly snapped at a young apprentice who smelled of herbs, before he registered her words to stand by a tree. Like that would help them now. He was very quickly blindsided by Mottlerose, assaulted by an onslaught of licks. He was too stunned to do anything for moments, the fur across his cheeks heating as his brain buffered. Nightstalker practically stumbled away, almost tossing himself onto his side, nearly undoing all of Mottlerose's work due to his bad paw.

But he wasn't going to deny her request, he already knew he owed Thunderclan an explanation. "I-" Nightstalker coughed, hacked, and heaved, trembling briefly as he regained the air he had quickly lost trying to speak. "I don't know how long ago... Shadowclan was swept away in a flood." He took a moment to pause, cringing at the effort, "I demand... no I request that Thunderclan give us sanctuary. My clan-mates, they're still out there and hurt-" Nightstalker stood strong, the best he could despite the numerous scrapes along his pelt and bad paw, or his bad throat. His amber eyes were steely as he looked at Mottlerose. "Please. We need to find my clan. We have kits, apprentices, elderly. Injured." He didn't like to ask for help, especially from another clan, but his clan was in shambles now, countless missing, and those accounted for were already dead or hurt. He was in no shape to be prideful now.

Nightstalker nearly got whiplash when he heard the voice of Snowfoot, his ears perking as he saw her. "Snowfoot, if you're able-bodied, look for others. Please." The young tom was racked with another coughing fit as he called for her. But he had a job to do, he was a deputy and had to be strong, for Shadowclan. "I can help look."

Snowfoot registered Nighstalker’s request and winced. “I’m not so sure I’m able-bodied, Nightstalker,” she rasped. She lifted up her bad hind paw for emphasis, the outside toe still sticking out at an angle. “But I’ll tell you what, I’ll stay put here and you can bring any kits or injured cats you find to me. If you get lost just call out and I’ll reply.”

The think that first awoke Hedgekit was pain, shooting agony like he'd never experienced in his short life as a kit. All he'd ever known was the soft milky scent of his mother, the comfort of his brother's snuffling breaths against his pelt and the rich warmth of a well-insulated nest. Life to him was nothing by small glimpses of camp life outside the nursery, play-fights with Sedgekit; all sandwiched between warm naps next to his mother's belly.

Perhaps to a seasoned warrior, the agonising cold or the bite of the flood's many projectiles would have been tolerable, but for him? It was akin to death. He barely managed to breathe when the current gave him a reprieve with his head ducking out of the water throughout the wild tumbles in the flood. And to top off this hellish nightmare, he felt his tail snag, caught with a sudden lurch that knocked the breath out of him. The water pummelled him, like blind paws groping at his black fur.

Something had to give.

A snap, like the sound of dry branches underneath the paws of a warrior, echoed through his body. At first, for a moment, he was in blissful ignorance. Perhaps if he had known what laid ahead, he would taken a deep breath, braced himself, but he didn't, how could he have known?

Pain. Pain worse than anything so far, raw nerves catching alit took over. He couldn't even let out a yowl, all sounds choked out as nausea overtook him. There was nothing to expel but he coughed violently anyway, sucking in the filthy waters with every breath.

He should have died, buried underneath the debris or battered beyond recognition. Yet somehow, somewhere, someone was looking out for him. Rather than wash further down into the murky depths, he found himself tossed onto firm ground, woozy, in more pain than his little body could handle, but certainly alive. He wanted to sleep again, badly, but a feeble voice, one which had been his sole company alongside his dear mother forced him awake. "S- Sedge? Sedge... Is that you?"

"Stuck?" The tom meowed to himself, not yet in the right headspace to parse what his brother was saying. But even as his concussed head was trying to make sense of what was going on, his body responded on instinct at his brother's pained, terrified wail. Battered limbs placed one paw after the other, bruised muscles pulling under his bloodied pelt as a disfigured, mangled tail trailed behind him, painting the earth with a metallic red splash with each footstep. The cold of the water alongside the wooziness of exhaustion was a blessing in disguise, masking the pain under a hazy numbness that was spreading from his core. It gave him just enough hazy alertness to limp over, but not enough clarity to look at his own disfigurement.

"I'm here, Sedge. I'm here." He mumbled, eyes fluttering close involuntarily in microsleep as he nudged his brother. "You're okay, you're okay."

As Mottlerose heard the tale of what had happened to Shadowclan, her heart plummeted. ”I will have to confirm with Minnowstar, and I see no reason he would deny you all sanctuary. Until his word says otherwise, Shadowclan may indeed recover here within our walls, naturally given you all don’t cause trouble.” It felt almost pointless to say, but it still had to be said. ”Thunderclan! We will give Shadowclan temporary sanctuary, for they have suffered a great trouble. Continue to find any cats- apprentices, warriors, even kits. They are not to be fought under any circumstances before speaking to me.” There would be almost no way that Minnowstar would deny them the sanctuary they needed. Floods were devastating, and she had been fortunate enough to never truly experience one within her life. Her ears perked at the directions given to Snowfoot, only for her to offer to be the one to help keep track of any found Shadowclan kits. To which, the Thunderclan deputy nodded, before giving a nod to Nightstalker. ”Rest, as you need. I will make sure my clanmates help find yours; and that you know who all is found.” Determination fueled her voice.

It was then the wails of youthful voices that immediately snapped the mother’s head in one direction. They sounded somewhat distant from where she was at; but powerful enough to garner her attention. Hardly any thought was given to the mother’s next actions as she went to go find the source. Mottlerose nearly choked at the sight in front of her: two kits, clearly injured, attempting to get to each other. ”Shh, shh loves. It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll make sure you get to Snowfoot, and that Eggpaw and Fawnshine help make you feel better.” The voice that moments ago was so sturdy to call to her Clanmates now faltered to be much more gentle, much more soothing as she worked to clear away the debris that caused harm to the two kits. Comforting purrs, moreso an attempt to keep them comforted, rumbled from her chest as she gently groomed some of the remnants of mud away from both of their pelts. She didn’t want to shout to hurt their little ears, they dealt with so much already. ”Loves, can you tell me your name? I’m Mottlerose, Thunderclan’s deputy. I’m going to pick you up so you can go to Snowfoot, okay?” It hurt her heart violently to see them drift in and out from sleep, their bodies violently attempting to protect them from the pain that had come down upon their little bodies.

With a gentle grip, she picked up the Tom that hadn’t been trapped first. While she easily could’ve managed both kits in a single mouthful, it wasn’t worth the additional stress on their small bodies. As steadily as she could, Mottlerose brought him over to the one that Nightstalker had identified as Snowfoot. ”I’ll be right back- there’s another kit who was right with him.” She commented quickly, before running back to grab the other kit. Once more, her heart squeezed at how his back leg and tiny body had been mangled, thanking the stars that he had the strength to keep going. Mottlerose brought him to the she-cat just as she had done with the other, and the mother’s gentle gaze was fighting back tears. ”I’ll keep searching for any others… but I’m going to make sure Fawnshine or Eggpaw come look at these two little loves. They’re fighters, that’s for sure.” She spoke with determination, but much more the fight of a mother. Already, her heart felt compassion for every single member of Shadowclan that she saw, and they all seemed hurt in some way. Stars, why must the forest punish them so violently?

Beetleshade had been wandering along near the rear of the patrol, internally groaning with every wet, mud-soaked step. Puddles were everywhere, and it seemed like as soon as she swerved to avoid one of them she landed paw-first into another. She muttered complaints under her breath as she walked, her tail tip flicking back and forth out of sheer annoyance. Just as she thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Foxglare’s voice rang out ahead.

Beetleshade raced forward to join her sister, her previous irritation momentarily forgotten at the prospect of sinking her claws into the pelts of the trespassers. However, when she arrived the sight of the injured, half-drowned Shadowclanners caused her shoulders to slump in disappointment. So much for that battle… Although in hindsight, she would have ended up getting her fur even more muddy than it already was. As Mottlerose ordered the Thunderclan patrol not to attack, Beetleshade reluctantly sheathed her claws, her nose wrinkling with disaste at the thought of helping an enemy clan.

”Why couldn’t they have washed up somewhere else…” She quietly complained as she veered off to look for stragglers. ”Im sure Riverclan would’ve welcomed them, they certainly smell like fish.”

Snowfoot gasped as Mottlerose brought the two kits over to her. She’d known there would be injuries, but she’d never seen anything quite like this before. There was so much blood, and the sight of the mangled leg and tail made her heart break. A thought echoed at the back of her mind. What about my baby? Where’s Lightpaw? Trying not to think about that, Snowfoot nodded to Mottlerose. “I’ll make sure they’re safe for now,” she mewed. “Hopefully this is the worst of it.” Gently, she began to clean the kits, removing the caked mud from their fur. She left the particularly bad injuries alone, though. After all, she wasn’t a medicine cat. She didn’t want to accidentally hurt them further.

No matter how gentle Mottlerose was, the extensive injuries meant that little Hedgekit squeaked in pain at being groomed then picked up. He tried his best not to squirm, knowing that he was meant to fall limp when picked up, but it hurt! Every time his tail moved, it felt like he was being injured for the first time all over again. He wanted his mother so badly, where was she? Why were they alone? It was so cold and everything was so awful.

Snowfoot's careful grooming helped him feel less like a filthy mossball rolled in marshwater. But this reprieve from the terrors of the flood gave the young kit a moment to process what had happened, and without the choking fear, being overtired and in pain was leading Hedgekit dangerously close to a meltdown. He wanted so badly to wail, to yowl until his throat was cracked and brittle. It was killing him to hold it in, it wasn't safe yet. When his mother got here, then, then, he would let it all go.

A little late to the party, Minnowstar headed for the source of commotion, the feeling of dread sinking deeper as he drew nearer to the voices. The soggy ground muddied his paws as he started to run. Shadowclan- Taking in the situation, his chest tightened, aware of the terrible state some of the younger Shadowclanners were in. Quickly he took note of what his mate had said and turned to the Shadowclan deputy. "Nightstalker. I'll leave the questions for once everyone's injuries has been tended to. I suggest starting with the kits and those in the worst shape. Those who are ready to head towards camp can gather here. I'll appoint some warriors to show them the way." he confirmed, wanting to help but unsure of how to approach the clan in their vulnerable state. "We can go batch by batch. I will escort the last one and try to find others." Giving the deputy a nod, he then turned towards the two siblings. "Beetleshade! When the first batch is ready, you can lead them to camp. Foxglare, you lead the next one. While you wait, make sure there are no Shadowclan cats left stranded along side the river." he instructed. Stars, one trial after another. Will the clans never have rest?

Ashenkit woke with a start. They were soaked, muddy, and disheveled. They looked around frantically, trying to find their clanmates. They were sure that their usually gray pelt was now a dark, disgusting brown. It certainly felt like it. The only thing that seemed injured was their back paw, as they tried to walk, but collapsed at every step. Finally, they decided that calling for help would be best. They had no clue where they were, but surely they weren’t alone, right?
“H- Hello? A- A- Anyone?” Already, they could feel themselves shivering from the wet, cold mud. This was not ideal.