The Day the World Moved [November Gathering 2022]

「Rushingpaw ● RiverClan Camp ● Earthquake! ● [Topic No. 07] ● [OPEN] 」

◐ Nose buried in the prey pile, Rushingpaw was taking her time with deciding on her meal for her break. Her eyes lit up when she spotted a plump bird buried beneath the pile of fish. "Ah-hah! Lemme try this!" She buried her head further as she tried to reach for the bird but before she could get a grip on it, the ground from below her shifted abruptly. It was so abrupt and harsh that she went tumbling into the pile. "Oof! What's the big idea?!" she cried out in outrage as she wormed her way out. She poked her head out from in between two trouts when the whole world began to shake. "WAHH??"

She stumbled away, swaying side to side as she attempted to regain balance. Her claws were buried deep in the ground so she wouldn't go sprawling away. "Wo-o-o-oah! The ground's real angry! I wonder who did this?" Her mentor's voice resounded from near her den. Fourtrees? She watched as Perchstar made a dash for the meddie den. She shook her head and half-ran, half-stumbled over to the same den. She wanted to help!

"Perchstar! Imma help you here- huh?" She paused as she observed Perch's desperate attempts to lift her deputy onto her paws. Rushing puffed out her chest and quickly made it to Poppyshine's other side and heaved her up with as much strength as she could muster. The deputy was now between them, upright. "Hah, there! Ta-da! She's up! Teamwork!" she panted with a toothy grin. She used Poppy's side to keep herself steady. "What are we waiting for? Let's scram!"

Poppyshine

The soft dozing that Poppyshine had been in the middle of was quickly snatched away from her as the  ground shook violently. She thought at first that she was going to pass out again, and the world was spinning because of dizziness. But when she saw herbs getting shaken around from where they were placed, and other items getting knocked over, Poppyshine realized that this was, in fact, happening. The ground is shaking? Is everyone alright?

Her mind jumped to those she had lost, in a variety of disasters, and her heart leapt to her throat. She heard Perchstar’s voice calling from outside, but Poppyshine’s head was still a little too foggy to make out the details. She pushed herself up onto shaky legs that quaked even after the ground had stopped moving. Perchstar’s presence was a relief, and Poppyshine leaned against her to keep from collapsing to the ground again—but she was not so keen on leaving as Perchstar, and then a moment later Rushingpaw too, said.

“No. I’m not leaving without my children,” Poppyshine hissed through gritted teeth. Her eyes were wide, and a bit unfocused, be it from the stress of the situation or the lingering effects of her sickness. She had already lost Rainpaw and Sleepycloud; Poppyshine did not want to lose another child. “I need them all to be accounted for before I leave this camp!”

She urged her paws forward, existing the medicine den with Perchstar and Rushingpaw’s assistance. It was a struggle to even get that far, and the water that rushed around their paws made it more difficult to stay standing. But once Poppyshine was out into the middle of camp, her eyes flashed around quickly and her paws did not move another step. Hawkshriek, Sootspirit, Hickorypaw, Minksplash, Sprucebark, Sandypaw, Reedpaw, Olivepaw, Rowanpaw… Where were they? Her gaze frantically searched around for her children. She needed them with her before they left. Her voice raised, calling for them by name.

Poppyshine is with Perchstar and Rushingpaw, but she is calling out for her children.

Twistpool

Twistpool was violently shaken awake from his nap., He was startled to sitting up faster than he normally moved, and the sudden rising water in his den soured his expression more than usual. “Blast it,” he grumbled. He pushed himself up onto stiff, aching limbs and shambled his way out of the elder’s den. He wouldn’t move as quickly as other cats, but hopefully that wouldn’t be as much of a problem as a lot of these cats were making it. Grumbling under his breath, he meowed, “You would things these RiverClan cats hadn’t experienced water before…”

Twistpool is going through camp...just very, very slowly on his old man bones.

Cloverpaw

The only warning was the birds.

One moment, singing their songs, flying throughout the trees. The river was running as it did, and life was vibrantly present throughout the RiverClan camp, in the soft green grass and the minnows in little pools of sunlight-filled water. Everything was normal; everything was fine.

The next moment, everything was not fine. The ground seemed to tear itself apart like it could not stand to stay still any longer. The once-calm river seemed to darken with mud instantly, gurgling a dangerous tune as it swept throughout the camp at a breakneck speed. Cloverpaw, eagerly awaiting a training session, was forcibly knocked back by the ground bucking. At first, it seemed like a dream - the blink of an eye, and everything changed. The apprentice stood stock-still, unable to move, unable to think amidst all the chaos. The apprentice stared straight ahead with unseeing eyes, only moving in an instinctual physical reaction to crouch and grip the ground tight with unsheathed claws as fur brushed up of its own accord. But that didn't work, because why would it? How would it? The ground and the water, two of the things Cloverpaw felt most comfortable in, had suddenly become her enemy within seconds. Perchstar's call fell on deaf ears as Cloverpaw continued to do nothing but stand in shock.

Cloverpaw is... standing.

Stormdance had been resting before afternoon training with Rowan. He’d had a patrol earlier that morning, so he was sitting outside the warrior’s den, taking the time to get a quick meal and a groom in before Rowan returned to camp from his own patrol. It was nice, peaceful even. He’d been idly watching the rest of his camp wander around, trying to find the motivation he needed to get over his lack of appetite these days and actually finish his vole. It was a nice vole. It was supposed to be a nice day.

Then a jolt beneath his paws. The screams of panicked birds filled the air, drawing Stormdance’s eyes as his heart began to race. And then chaos descended.

Stormdance tried to get to his feet, but trying that swiftly proved to be a mistake. The sturdy gray tom was quickly knocked back down by the ground shaking beneath him, narrowly avoiding directly hitting his head and ending up frozen on the ground with puffed fur as the entire world tilted and shook. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even make a panicked scream or yell to express his fear. He could only hold on for dear life, claws digging in to try and give himself some semblance of security.
For a moment, his mind was a swirl of panicked thoughts. What was this? It felt like the very wrath of all of Starclan had descended upon them. He had never experienced something like this before, never even knew it was possible. The water soaking his fur, normally a sensation reserved for the comfort of the river, made his stomach lurch. What about the patrols, caught outside the safety of camp? What of Brookstone? Was she in camp? Outside? Was she alright? And where was Rowanpaw? Was he safe? Would the warriors with him protect him? Stormdance’s swirling mind couldn’t find the answer, and that made the fear in his heart only expand and threaten to overwhelm him.

It was only a few heartbeats before Stormdance recovered enough sense to raise his head again, though it felt like moons. His ears rang for a moment as he swept wide blue eyes over the camp, which, by this point, was nothing short of a mess. Perchstar’s familiar voice, shaken by the earth’s violent movements though it may be, drew Stormdance’s eyes to her. Her commands, like they had in the past, made him gulp in the air again. He felt panic coursing through his veins, but after a breath, he tamped it down to something manageable. He dragged himself upright, raised his own trembling voice, and called to his clanmates, “Listen to Perchstar!” His eyes moved towards Perchstar again as she ran as best she could for the medicine den.

Good, that meant Poppyshine would have Perchstar- and Rushingpaw, too- to protect her. Dovesight darted that way too. Another apprentice ran for the nursery, which was where Stormdance glanced next. More help would be needed there, but help was coming regardless. His gaze darted for the Elder’s den. Twistpool was out, and seemed to be moving alright, if slowly. The apprentice’s den was being evacuated. It was then that Stormpaw caught sight of Cloverpaw. If she did not start to evacuate with the rest of camp, she could very well get hurt or left behind in the chaos.

Stumbling as quick as he could to her side, Stormdance pushed at Cloverpaw with a paw. “Cloverpaw! Snap out of it, you have to move!” He said, nudging her towards the exit of camp. He looked around, and once more saw Twistpool nearby. “Cloverpaw, go with Twistpool,” He said, trying to keep the panic out of his own voice so he didn’t scare the apprentice more. “You can look after each other. Everything will be alright, but you have to move!”

Stormdance is trying to help Cloverpaw.

Rowanpaw

The day had been nice so far, nicer than most days had been recently. Things were slowly, slowly, returning to some degree of normalcy, Rowanpaw felt. There were moments where a chord of anxiety would strike him, days where others' lingering grief remained palpable (perhaps thicker than it had been before); Poppyshine, though still resigned to the medicine den, was doing a little better than she had been. He didn't like the fact that she was still ill, not at all, but better was better at least. He'd taken to visiting her more, now that she wasn't so delirious and he didn't feel so stricken with confusion and fear and guilt. The usual training program had resumed with Stormdance as well, not in the same way, but in a good way. He had bounced back to being snarky and cheery too, even if gloom occasionally nipped at his heels. In whatever way it meant, they were getting better.

And the singular day was pleasant too. Birds whistled too each other between the sparse trees, the river muttered quietly along beside them, and one more warm day decided to grace the forest. Rowanpaw had even caught a lark, and it hung by a wing proudly between his jaws. It'd been a good day; it'd been a good day. He was eager to return to camp, to say hello to his mother and to show his mentor what he'd caught.

But as his patrol walked along, the ground... stuttered. All the cats gathered stumbled a step, and Rowanpaw's ears angled downwards as the singing birds abandoned their roosts in a flurry of beating wings and cries of terror. The woody tom's gaze refocused ahead, searching for Reedpaw. His brother had been with him, though the tom had ranged slightly farther ahead of the warriors and thus, him. A sense of dread was encroaching on his heart, a deep and instinctual sort of fear. Just as his hackles were starting to bristle, the earth rolled again. Bucked, thundered, shivered. It was violent, ceaseless. The warriors that had been accompanying them, as proud and experienced as they were meant to be, staggered and collapsed under the force of it. Rowanpaw was not far behind them, legs buckling beneath him with the first pounding shock. He grunted as his chin hit the earth, lark spilling messily from between his teeth. What was this? All the stories he'd been told, all he'd experienced, nothing had prepared him for this.

Or for Reedpaw.

As he was lifting his head, shaking away the daze and trying to gather his legs under him again, he saw Reedpaw stumble. The quake had knocked his brother clean off his paws, and from where Reedpaw had walked along the riverbank, he folded over into the current with a shout. It had somehow all happened in a blur too fast for Rowanpaw to see, and yet slow enough that he could pick out the individual movement of every hair on his brother's pelt. A terror so absolute, strong enough to rival the grave feeling that had come with Poppyshine passing out, settled in his chest like a stone. Reedpaw's head bobbed along the surface, sinking for moments at a time; his legs flailed helplessly against the pull of the water. He wasn't getting out. He couldn't get out.

Unthinking, Rowanpaw found what footing he could, even if his legs threatened to give out again any moment now. He couldn't just-- he couldn't. Though they may not have been the closest, they were still brothers. Nausea twisted in Rowanpaw's stomach and his mouth went dry and he lurched forward, desperate. Everything in his body was pushing him forward, trying to figure out how to run on such unstable ground, even if a thin voice in the back of his mind told him to stay where he stood. His jaw worked, trying to call out to his brother, trying to beg the other's to help him, but no words came out, only a frightened yowl. Just as he'd found his stride, made himself move faster than a drag, the ground to a slurry of silt and muck below his paw. It was as if one second there was solid earth (even if it seemed it would give way right then), and the next his paws were scraping the bottom of the river. And the river-- the river. It gurgled, heaving, and a swell of water pushed over its banks, spilling onto what was dry earth. Green eyes shot briefly towards the rising pressure, knowing it was a danger-- memories of his loved ones warning him of the water's temper flashed through his mind --but attention just as quickly snapped back to his brother.

Reedpaw had disappeared, swallowed.

Again, Rowanpaw lurched forward, but this time he was hauled backwards by strong teeth dug into his scruff. He shrieked and wailed, forelegs wheeling in a desperate attempt to free himself from the warrior's grasp, to throw himself heedlessly into the river in pursuit of his brother. But the second, larger warrior had come to his other side, bundling him hurriedly along. They stumbled, tripped; more than once fell entirely to the ground and had to fight desperately to right themselves again before they were swallowed by the river, the earth as well. All of Rowanpaw's howling and begging and struggling earned him nothing except the knowledge that he would not be seeing Reedpaw again. At least not today. He prayed for one day.

As they neared camp, the panicked cries of his Clanmates rose to join his own. The terrible feeling that had overtaken him only swelled. And stars, oh, stars, there was no reprieve. The rushing but steady current was interrupted by the sound of a heavy splash. Jolted by the sound, Rowanpaw turned, just in time to see a dark, patchy pelt pulled into the water. Impossibly, his heart sank further, and here he found his voice well enough to do more than to cry. "Sprucebark!" He yowled frantically. His elder brother fought, harder than Reedpaw had, but he gave up far faster. He was pulled under the water for a moment, and when he rose the next moment, it looked like he'd gone limp. The last thing he saw before he was blinded by thick fur bustling him forwards was Sprucebark's still body being tugged downstream alongside scraps of branches and heavy debris.

The noise that rose out of Rowanpaw was primal, a ragged sound that tore right through his throat. He and Sprucebark had never done anything but fight. If anyone had asked, he would have announced that he couldn't stand his brother; detested him, even. But that wasn't true, it never had been. Despite their clashing views, there had been affection for his brother. It tore at his heart in such a horrible way he thought he would collapse and turn over the contents of his stomach.

Two brothers, gone in the span of minutes.

Only seconds later, still reeling from the sights and debating just throwing himself to the rattling earth, Rowanpaw was swept into camp. One of the warriors that had been with him lingered a moment, pressed gently against his side, though the other had tore off immediately. Even the one who wavered disappeared far too soon. It felt like the whole world was spinning. Rowanpaw knew that wasn't just from the jostling underpaw. It was in his head. Spinning, spinning, spinning. He couldn't see straight. His heart was beating too fast; it hurt. His stomach turned again, the nausea deepening until he really thought he would be sick; and that hurt, too. A flash of heat hit his body, burning under his pelt. He could feel sweat collecting on the pads of his paws.

I am going to die. This must be dying. Is this what drowning feels like?

His thoughts whirled and Rowanpaw blinked furiously, desperately, trying to force some focus back into his sight. He could see... he could see Poppyshine, with Perchstar and... others gathered around her. She was saying something, calling out to somebody, but he couldn't make out the words. Rowanpaw leaned, about to go to her, feeling helplessly ready to throw himself against his mama's chest despite her own stress and illness. But as he was rocking, his gaze continued to slide, and he saw Stormdance. Stormdance with some murky blur of a cat beside him, but Stormdance.

Thoughtlessly, Rowanpaw stumbled towards his mentor immediately. His mentor-- his brother, through all but blood. Rowanpaw had just lost two of them. He needed the one he had left.

Staggering across camp, tripping over his paws and muttering senselessly to himself, Rowanpaw stumbled blearily straight into Stormdance's side. Whatever cat was with him went entirely unaddressed as Rowanpaw collapsed against his brother, head falling limply atop his soft neck, his full weight born down on Stormdance in an instant. Incoherently, he bayed into his brother's fur, babbling senselessly against him. Eventually, he managed a cracking, "The'yre go-one," before he devolved again into howling.

Hawkshriek

Hawkshriek was dozing soundly in the warriors' den, his tail curled with ease as he slept. However, it wasn't until a sudden vibration rattled him awake, sending the tom jolting to his paws in alarm. Instantly alerted, his fur spiked with anxiety as ran outside. Frightened yowls tore apart the once quiet atmosphere, replacing it with panic and fear. And as he stood, the tom hurriedly scanned the area for the sight of his family, unsure where they were.

Perchstar's call for evacuation caught his attention, and Hawkshriek ran to his mother, finding her first accompanied by Perchstar and Rushingpaw. "What's happening? What's going on? Ma, let's get out of here!" As glad as he was to find her safe, his pupils widened in horror at the sight of a familiar pelt far away. Somehow, ever so luckily, he'd managed to spot the sight of him.

"Sprucebark!"

Whatever yowls the others called out for each other and him blurred out from his ears, as the tom bolted out to rush in an attempt to rescue his brother. Hawkshriek's heart raced with horror as he dived into the river, his body moving faster than he could think. He could barely spot Sprucebark's head bobbing up and down, carried helplessly with the strong currents of the stream. "Sprucebark! I'm coming, please - wait!" Gasping, he soon came to a realization of what this was.

A flood. He too had brought himself in danger by attempting to help his brother. Fortunately, for his skills in swimming, Hawkshriek could at least manage to keep his head above the water — though just barely. Struggling, he inched forward, his movements clumsily padding through as the currents overpowered him. His head dunked under the water, Hawkshriek attempted to gasp for air, yet what he got instead was water. Water muffled the sounds out of his ears, and his paws were already too sore to fight back. Exhaustion and lack of air got the best of him, and so, he let go, the faint blur of his brother fading out of view. And silently, he prayed for the best, for them to reunite.

Hawkshriek has gone after Sprucebark and is carried away by the flood. He will (or will not, depending on how it goes) be at Fourtrees!