Sign or Symptom (Sitewide)

With her once luscious pelt now drenched from the sudden downpour, Sweetpaw scurried under the canopy of trees per her leader's orders. The rest of the clan had done the same and the crowd made the she-cat's temper grow even hotter than before. She needed some personal space, could no one get that through their thick skulls? Apparently not.

"Uuuuuugggggggg," Sweetpaw sighed to no-cat in particular as she gave her pelt a shake. Not paying any mind to those around her, she forcefully sat her rump down next to a soaked pelt, not realizing that she'd plopped down right against Mottlestar. "This storm is sooooo lame, why is StarClan being so dumb lately? It's almost like they don't want us to live through this stupid journey. Those mousebrains," the dark-pelted molly whined and droned on before she began to clean herself in hopes of returning her pelt to its former glory.

If the gnawing cold that had so far accompanied the clan cats’ journey was bad, the freezing sheets of rain that now barraged them were agony. Each time the wind whipped the rain would lash out, and it felt like claws raking down Silverpaw’s spine. She barely hid the chill that ran down her spine. Being newly apprenticed, Silverpaw was ablaze with the desire to prove herself, and like her mentor Quailprowler had said at their ceremony, become the strongest warrior. Silverpaw paused to survey the throng of cats. It didn’t look like becoming the strongest would be a hard task at all, everyone was starving and Silverpaw could count the ribs on several cats. Still, it wasn’t like Silverpaw wasn’t starving as well, or significantly smaller than they should be at this age due to malnourishment, they were just accustomed to it.

The wind lashed again, sending another torrent of icy rain over the travelling cats. The silver molly sucked in a breath, and gritted her teeth, determined not to let their stoic facade fall. This particular bout though, had caused Mottlestar to cry out, calling for ThunderClan to seek shelter. Silverpaw was quick on her paws, perhaps a little too eager to scurry beneath the criss crossing branches that provided meagre reprieve from the rain’s onslaught. Under the canopy, they released a sigh of relief, wrapping their bushy tail over her paws desperate to conserve their own body heat. Perhaps now the cats could relax just for a little bit. Silverpaw closed her eyes to that sentiment, until Sweetpaw’s exasperated sigh intruded on her peace of mind.

Silverpaw’s eyes shot open, and she wrinkled her nose in annoyance, pulling her tail closer around her. And then Sweetpaw shook out her pelt spattering the other apprentice. She barely suppressed an agitated growl, her green eyes narrowed on the older apprentice, but she held her tongue, now was not the time to pick petty fights. Then Sweetpaw opened her maw again cursing StarClan. Silverpaw’s patience, that had been hanging on by a spider’s thread, snapped. “are you mousebrained?” they snapped, unfurling her tail. ”do you think insulting StarClan is wise? I wouldn’t want to make our situation any worse.” Silverpaw curled her tail around her paws again. So much for holding their tongue…

Icy, frigid rain poured down on the huddled group of the Clans, as if the sky itself was weeping a torrential storm of cold. As if the stars hadn't made things difficult enough for them already. Perchstar was accustomed to being wet, though she hadn't been for some moons due to the poisoned rivers. Her fur was sleek and soft and water rolled off of it as if her pelt was the wings of a duck. Or at least, it would have, if the storm had not come down with such force. Every pawstep became even more of a struggle, slippery mud causing her weight to slide forward and backward with so much as a slight movement. If this were the only trial to deal with, it would be nothing. But it wasn't. The moon of near-starvation and half-death-by-thirst had taken its toll on her, and she felt like nothing more than a scrap of fur floating down a river. Like Cloverheart's corpse, waterlogged and dead-eyed, though the thought made her want to vomit as always. Water was nothing to her. But even she found her teeth chattering against each other as the chilling water battered her thin body.

Her mind was so fogged with exhaustion that it took a particularly loud crack of thunder to bring her back to her senses at all. Her Clan. Wildly she glanced around, seeking for familiar faces. Poppyshine, Willowwisp, Mistwalker, Wrenpaw--where was her family? "RiverClan," she called desperately, hoping that her hoarse voice was at all audible above the roaring downpour. "Stay together! Find each other! Find shelter, if you can!" The sheets of rain fell too thick and fast for her to see even in front of her own nose. Still, her eyes roved the shadowy river of cats, hoping to catch any glimpse of familiar calico or silver or black pelts. She opened her mouth to call again--but her legs, pushed to their breaking point by the lack of food or water or rest, finally failed her. One pawstep slipping on the mud was all it took for her knees to buckle and send her crashing down. Huddled half-lying, half-sitting, almost in a strange resting position, she let out a shuddering breath. Her limbs were too numb to feel any pain, but she couldn't move. That was a bad sign. She had to get up--she had to look for her kits, for her friends. There was no time to rest. But she'd pushed her body to the breaking point, and her thin blood began stutter-stepping on its way to her heart. Cold. She didn't even feel the cold anymore. What was happening? Movement failed her. Her body failed her. Even the last traces of fear for her loved ones began to slip away from her mind as if they were washed away by the heavy rain. Was someone talking to her? Was someone close? She couldn't hear, couldn't see. Her senses all faded down to black and cold and empty darkness. The final thought that crossed her exhausted brain was that at least if she were to die, no one would see. A shuddering exhale would be missed in the crack of thunder. At least Poppyshine wouldn't see, this time. At least her kits wouldn't see. At least they... wouldn't.....

Perchstar's eyes went glassy.

Sweetpaw plopping against her side had stolen her attention, and the tortoiseshell's head whipped towards the apprentice with a gentle chuffle. "StarClan does not always have all the answers, Sweetpaw. But I do not think calling them mousebrains will help us out. Go see if you can find your father, or Aunt Firefly. They could use your fluffy pelt to help keep warm." Though she did not mind youth in the slightest, the tortoiseshell had other matters to attend to. She typically would have given the world to spend time with her grandkit. It hurt her heart to make that realization as she nudged the apprentice away with her nose, giving her the order and task. Even if she knew her grandkit had all of the sass of her mother, it still hurt her to see it sometimes, too. While the rain was pelting down around them, she had to be able to focus. Now was not the time to let grief's snarling claws grip at her. She had hardly even had the time to process it all before they had to leave camp, and that enough had given Mottlestar reason to send precious Sweetpaw away. For just a moment, her gaze had searched the crowd to see if she could even spot either Curlyfluff or Firefly, but it was the sensation of something else that caught her attention.

Sweetpaw had radiated a lot of warmth. Though she had pressed herself up against the Riverclan leader's side, there had been no response. What warmth should have been there was turning much more frigid, and what should have come with at least the rise and fall of breath had gone much too still. She had been too distracted to see it at first, too exhausted from taking care of her own Clan to notice how she did not rest in a normal way. Regality always cloaked Perchstar in a draped hug, as if they were kin, and it had slipped away. Turning to truly assess the silver and white molly, it took all of a heartbeat for the tortoiseshell to realize what had happened. Her eyes had immediately met with what should have been the icey hues of her ally's own, but instead was met with frosted glass. Glass that should not have existed, breaths that should have been taken, a stillness that should not be there.

It was impossible to keep the momentary panic from her gaze. How had she not noticed? She knew that she had been struggling, but had failed to notice just how severe it had gotten. Her mind raced back to the gathering. The signs had been obvious then: the typically sharp-witted, perfectly neutral responses had been sluggish. While Perchstar typically sat with the stillness befitting of an empress, she was now with the stillness of death. At the gathering, she had been swaying in the breeze as if she were its puppet. It had taken a fair bit of effort on Mottlestar's part to even simply lower the molly to the rock in such a way that still gave her dignity, but it was that very effort that she realized what had caused this. Perchstar's stubbornness meant she carried herself on far. Much, much too far than her body had allowed. She had known what that was like all too well: if a cat didn't rest, their body made them. Curse you, Perchstar, for being so stubborn. It was more of a grief-pang than a true curse, but she knew the molly would return. She had to return, after all.

She did not want to draw attention to the leader's condition. Did not want to stir panic within any of the clans, much less Riverclan. Part of it, too, was in selfishness to repay the favor that had been granted to her several moons ago at a different gathering. The one where Mottlestar herself had lost a life, and it had been Perchstar and Birdstar to be the ones to assist her. Shoving thoughts of memories away, her first task was to at least get her to a better location. Summoning every single ounce of strength that she had in her, she took hold of the leader's scruff, pulling her closer towards the base of a nearby tree. Thunder cracking ahead muffled the grunts of the tortoiseshell leader moving her taller compatriot's body, and the flash of lightning hid the movements. It also at least pulled her body into a more convenient position to rest, rather than being half-stuck standing in mud. A sharp sniff told her there was at least no blood, so there was no hidden wound that would force her to call the aid of a medicine cat.

Using her teeth to gently manipulate the leader's body, it wasn't much longer until Perchstar at least appeared to just be resting her head on her paws. Though she could not do anything about the fact her friend's eyes were stuck open... she shielded the rest of her with her own body. Motherly instinct kicked in immediately as a shiver of her own passed through her body. Cold. Though the Riverclan leader was likely only losing a singular life, it would quickly turn into more if she allowed her body to get too cold beneath the frigid drops of rain. Stepping away to shake out her own pelt, she was back in a heartbeat, pressing her side up against the most vulnerable parts of her friend. What was not half-covered by her own tortoiseshell pelt was free for her to groom, and instantly, she was working at grooming away every drop of moisture that she could. Even if her maw wanted to contort as the deep-rooted scent of fish crossed her tongue as she swiped at her friend's long fur the wrong direction, she worked passed it. Any cat passing by would simply see a friend tending to her exhausted companion, and truth be told, that was all they needed to see for the time being. She did not want to ruin Perchstar's dignity, but at the same time, it would be horribly amiss to simply sit next to her like nothing was going on. Sharing tongues was a simple enough gesture, and it had purpose. So she groomed. She would keep grooming her friend until she stirred, and at that point, she would grab her a medicine cat. But for right now, Perchstar needed warmth. As much warmth as she could get, and privacy.

Sunlight. Warm, gentle greenleaf sunlight dancing on the backs of her eyelids. Perchstar flicked an ear as she felt herself gradually awakening. It was a new morning. She would go over the patrols with Poppyshine, perhaps, and then speak with her kits about... her kits. Her kits. The rain, the storm. Were they all right?

Her eyes flew open and she leapt to her feet, scanning her surroundings. This wasn’t her den, but neither was it the strange stormy fields she had just been traversing. This was an achingly familiar scene of RiverClan camp, with the same willow-branch den and river encircling, but there was no stench of poison. There was no meager fresh-kill pile. In fact, there were none of her Clanmates. This... wasn’t RiverClan camp, even though it looked so perfectly like it that her heart felt as if it had been clawed to pieces. So where was she?

”StarClan,” a gentle voice said from behind her.

Perchstar whirled to see a fluffy silver tabby she-cat resting against the wall of the leader’s den. The face was familiar, but for a moment she couldn’t put a name to it, until she belatedly saw the bright stars poking through her fur.

”Finchstream?”

”You remember me, then.” Finchstream’s eyes were warm, but there was an underlying sadness in her words.

StarClan. She was in StarClan, rather than suffering with her Clanmates. It seemed unfair. But Perchstar swallowed the lump in her throat and attempted to confirm her suspicions. ”Then... I...”

”Lost a life? Yes.” Somehow, Finchstream was still managing a smile. ”I wish I could say I was surprised, but with everything you’ve been through, it was only a matter of time.”

Perchstar nodded slowly. Another life gone. It should have made her feel more upset, but deep down she realized she had been hoping for it. Hoping that the first RiverClan cat to die of the endless thirst and starvation and exhaustion would be her rather than her loved ones. But she wasn’t glad, either. She just felt... empty. Frustrated. Restless. It occurred to her that she had been upset with StarClan this entire time for their lack of help, for their cryptic prophecies, for the struggles RiverClan had been put through. But it was easy to hate a nameless entity. With the kindness of Finchstream here, in front of her, it was impossible to muster up the anger she’d felt previously. Looking at the golden eyes and the gentle smile she had seen on Finchstream’s face before was bringing up other memories.

”...Ashflight.” The name left her mouth without her permission. The last time they had spoken, she had introduced herself as Ashflight’s grandmother. She had encouraged her to realize her feelings for the tom... the same feelings that tore her apart every night with raw, agonizing loneliness. ”You’re in StarClan; you would know. You know the world of the living. Where did he go? What happened to him?” At some point her voice had risen. It sounded less like a demand or a neutral query but like a plea, like begging. She was glad that none of her kits were here to see her like this. More vulnerable than she’d meant to be. Death did strange things to her psyche.

Finchstream winced when she spoke the name. For a few moments she glanced around the empty copy of RiverClan camp, as if looking for someone else to answer the question. Then, she looked silently into the mouth of the leader’s den. Perchstar’s den.

A slow horror grew in Perchstar’s stomach. But she didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to acknowledge the fear that had consumed her heart ever since the first morning she had awoken to his absence. Reluctantly she stepped forward next to Finchstream and looked into her own den. Where she’d slept for moons. It looked the same as she’d left it... except there was once again an empty, dusty nest in the corner. Unoccupied.

Realization crept up her spine, unwanted but inevitable. She could no longer push it away. Quietly, almost numbly, she spoke once more, gaze fixed painfully on the empty, empty nest. ”He’s... he’s dead, isn’t he.” It was less of a question and more of a hollow, horrible statement.

Wordlessly, Finchstream nodded. Sorrow shone in her soft golden eyes.

Grief began to seize hold of whatever was beating in her chest. Perchstar let out a huff, half-laugh, half-sob, emotions too strong to be contained any further. ”That liar,” she said, attempting to sound nonchalant despite the shaking of her voice. ”He said he’d never leave. And then what happens? He disappears, no trace. Not even a body to bury--!” The last word was a loud, convulsive gasp. She choked, trying to shut her throat, but it was too late. Water started leaking from her eyes. How humiliating. She hadn’t cried in front of anyone else, not in moons. She’d been stronger than that, she thought. But here she was, a ghost, dead due to StarClan’s abandonment, and all she could do was cry for a tom who had been gone for who-knew-how-long. Pathetic.

Perchstar’s eyes were shut, but she felt a warm figure press close to hers. A tail wrapped tightly around her. Gestures of comfort. ”He did love you,” Finchstream whispered. ”If it helps. He didn’t want to leave.”

”It--it doesn’t help.” Perchstar was ashamed of the wavering in her voice, of the hot tears streaming down her cheeks. ”It doesn’t. I miss him... I miss who I was... Finchstream, sometimes I just feel so alone.” She was weeping now.

”It’s all right.” Finchstream’s voice was soothing, motherly. ”You’ve been keeping it in for too long. Just remember that he loved you... but he’s not the only one. You still have so many alive who love you, with all their hearts.”

She knew that. She knew that. It did not lessen the loss. It made her life bearable, but... it did not dissolve her grief. It did not fill the same gap in her soul.

”Poppyshine loves you. Your kits adore you.” A gentle face nuzzled into her neck. ”Rookflight and Cindersky love you. Stormdance and Rowansong and Sprucebark and your many Clanmates all love you, Perchstar. You have so much love in this world.”

Perchstar attempted to control her breathing, to stem the flow of tears and keep herself from choking on her own sobs. ”I... I know. I love them too.” She did, more than anything. It was the fiercest passion in her life. Her best and dearest friend. Her kits. Her Clanmates. They were the reason she woke up every morning, no matter how little she ate the day before, no matter how tired she was. ”I just... I just miss him, sometimes.” She hadn’t admitted it to herself. She’d tried to let go of him, tried to write him off, tried to justify it to herself. But even as she spoke the words, she felt some of the agonizing pain begin to ease in her chest.

Finally Finchstream stepped back. The smile on her face was less sorrowful, far more warm, like the dreamlike sunlight glowing from above. The warmth seemed to strengthen Perchstar, to rejuvenate her aching and exhausted muscles. ”Now, you need to go back to them. Keep them safe. Let them know that you care.”

Right. It was self-indulgent to remain here in the stars when her Clanmates were struggling below. Perchstar squared her shoulders, trying to collect as much of the sensation of warm sun as she could. She began turning to go--then stopped. One last time, she met Finchstream’s eyes. ”If you see him...” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

Finchstream nodded in understanding, a twinkle in her gold eyes. ”I’ll tell him. But you’ll see him again, don’t worry.”

Right. She would see him again. But she was in no rush to do so. There were so many who needed her right now. Feeling resolve rejuvenate her limbs, Perchstar stepped forward--

--and blinked hard. Rain was coming down into her wide-open eyes. She closed them, then opened them again. She still felt cold and wet, she still felt tired... but she was no longer on the verge of collapse. StarClan had given her that much. They had given her just enough.

The storm didn’t seem to be halting in the slightest. But for some reason, the rain wasn’t falling quite as hard on her as before. Was she under shelter? A blink upwards gave the sight of a tree. How had she gotten here? Her answer was beside her, warm body pressed into her side. Tortoiseshell pelt, amber eyes, the gentle sensation of a tongue grooming her fur. ”Mottlestar?” Perchstar’s voice was not as painfully hoarse as it had been, but it had not quite regained its full strength. The ThunderClan leader must have helped her when she died in the middle of the storm, in the middle of the crowds. A far more difficult task than offering words of assistance on the Great Rock, as if that favor had not long been repaid by this point. Guilt swam in the pit of her empty stomach. Mottlestar had been looking after her, instead of her own kits. Instead of her own Clan. ”Sorry. I knew it would happen sometime, but... this was certainly... inconvenient.”

Finally she was warm enough to shudder from the bone-chilling rain. Perchstar tried to adjust her position--if not to a standing one, at least to a sitting one, so that she would not look quite as weak as she felt. If not for Mottlestar, she might have been trampled in the mud. ”Thank you, truly. I... owe you a debt.” And yet even as she spoke the words, she was aware that Mottlestar would not accept them. That she would consider this a repayment, or even an unpayable gesture. It was simultaneously frustrating and heart-warming. Mottlestar was far too kind. What would she do without her staunch ally and friend? ”I will be all right. I should... I should go back out for my Clan. I shouldn’t be keeping you from your Clan.”

The sudden rainstorm caught her by surprised, Acornstem digging her claws into the ground to brace herself against it. She had started to try to lift the furry bundle that was her tail as something for her Clanmates' gaze to latch onto it as Mottlestar wasted no time shouting orders. However, the rain was quickly weighing down the fur and it took quite a bit of effort to move it. A huff escaped her - she didn't have the strength for it - she couldn't even offer it as shelter for the kits with how heavy it was getting... Before she glanced at it, and used what strength she could to curl it around until most of it was plopped unceremoniously across her shoulder and head.

She had managed to move her tail to being a shelter just in time for the rain to turn sharp - biting at what made it beneath her tail shield while the cold air nipped hungrily for the warmth. As ThunderClan managed to find some sort of shelter, she started to weave between the gathered cats, doing her best to make sure everybody was accounted for. She could see Mottlestar doing the same, but it didn't take long for the leader to peel off on her own. Acornstem, for her part, couldn't dare take her eyes off of her Clanmates - she had to make sure that they would survive this harsh weather.

Acornstem is checking on all of ThunderClan

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Badgermask let out a muffled hiss as the weather turned against them, ears quickly slicking back as the rain battered the group. She had a bundle of herbs in her mouth - she had been eager for the excuse to not speak to anybody...But it was also nice to simply have the chance to help her sister. She quickly ducked her head, curling her tail around to further shelter the herbs from the weather. She could hear voices rise up - the leaders calling out to their Clans to seek shelter.

In a bit of an awkward shuffle - she would have it be said that she did her absolute best to shelter the herbs left in her care - she followed after ShadowClan. She could feel the cold air sink into her body, causing her to shiver but she remained focused on her mission. When she finally had a chance to stop as they reached the shade of the nearby trees, she carefully dropped the herbs on the ground before she crouched above them to shelter them complete with her body. "Heatherberry?" she called out, eyes searching for her sister.

Badgermask is calling out for Heatherberry

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Creamsky had been ahead of the group as one of the scouts - but when the first rumble echoed across the sky and he noticed the sky started to turn sour, he turned and started to head back. He didn't make it in time before the rain struck - leading him to have to sprint the rest of the way even if his hungry and tired body screamed at him to do otherwise. But as the Clans came into view, he felt a wave of relief as they were already moving to the closest form of shelter - even if the nearby trees were nothing compared to the interlocking canopy that would have protected them at home. His quick pace slowed as he approached, his breath curling around in heaves as he tried to catch it but the freezing air only stung his lungs and drew a series of coughs from him.

Glancing around, he tried to do his best to account his Clanmates - see if there was anybody lagging behind he could help but in truth, his eyes were searching for white pelt and grey tail.

Creamsky is subconsciously looked for Astershine

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Duckpaw was tired. Of the lack of prey, of all of the walking...And also they were literally tired. They were doing their best not to fall behind once again, silently cursing their exhausted existence and thus were caught unprepared when the torrent started. They jolted in surprise as they came to a stop, raising their head briefly before the rain that stung their eyes made them duck their head. Their eyes were barely open as the rain quickly turned colder than they had ever imagined water could feel and started to hurt as it pelted them. A yelp - the tiredness being further pushed away as the cats around them turned to flee to shelter and they were carried along with. Soon, the cats started to separate to cling to each other but Duckpaw found themself collapsing into a pile the moment they could - the rain weighing down their pelt, the cold sapping the strength from their muscles...All helping their exhaustion that clawed at them like a starving predator.

...Wait, no, sleeping in a time like this would be bad, right? Cuddle for warmth - they could hear voices call for that but when they tried to lift their head, they found they had not the strength for it. They barely had enough to flop onto their side, pulling their tail close as they bundled into as tight as a ball they could. This was bad, they shouldn't sleep - what if their Clanmates had to move? What if there was danger? What if...?

Duckpaw didn't have the energy to consider anymore as their eyes grew heavy, shutting as the sleep that their body ached for finally claimed them.

Duckpaw's narcolepsy has won out, leaving them unable to properly cuddle up. Duckpaw needs somebody to help them keep warm, please.
Please help Duck, I don't control the narcolepsy and was not prepared for the worse roll I could get

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Eveningpaw's breath came in panic gasps as the rain started to fall in such force that she had never seen - her fur quickly clinging to her frail frame as there was some amount of panic between the Clans as they all started to move towards safety. She had little recourse but to be pushed alongside them, doing her best not to get stepped on as she lifted her head - trying to make out the pelts around her in the harsh shower of gray. "M-Mom? Finchspeckle?" she called out for her family but her voice was nothing compared to the pounding of the rain. She could barely hear herself think as she found a safe spot to crouch, curling in on herself. "Mom? Sis?" she called out again, but it was quickly followed by a whimper as she buried her head below her shaking paws

Evening has attempted to call out to her family (Nectarflower and Finchspeckle) but is now just cowering from the storm

((OOC: Short and not as detailed as I would've liked, but wanted to get this out))

Beechfang watched as the black clouds rolled in, a heavy frown across her face. Starclan had seen fit to leave them starving and cold on their journey from the forest, and now there was to be rain. How lovely. The skies opened up, sending a frigid rainfall upon the weary cats below, and Beechfang shivered as cold droplets of water soaked the back of her neck. Her instincts as a medicine cat, or perhaps common sense or a mix of both, told her that this would not end well as cats all around scrambled for what little shelter they could find, with queens doing their best to shelter kits and warriors moving to help each other. Beechfang plodded forward, sticking closely to the group of Skyclanners.

A wretched, roaring thunder split the air, sounding as if it was directly overhead, and Beechfang's fur would have poofed out in alarm if it weren't hopelessly plastered to her sides. The she-cat's ears flattened, eye closing as the bright flash of lightning lit up their surroundings to painfully bright levels. Heart pounding painfully against her chest and paws trembling, Beechfang swore she could hear Cloverheart's shrieking.

Impossible. She was dead.

The warrior gave her head a shake, risking a glance to the side. Nothing seemed to be on fire, cats were standing...Most cats. A gray and white pelt caught her attention, as fuzzy as her vision still was. Perchstar... Before she could focus on it other shapes had moved, blocking her line of sight. Beechfang blinked, vision clearing a bit as she did, and forced her paws to move. Retreating further into the mass of Skyclanners.

---

Wolfblossom shivered as the torrent of freezing rain soaked her pelt, cursing their luck under her breath. She wished all at once to be back home, to see her clanmates sheltering in their own nests in familiar territory, but they were in unfamiliar lands now. The storm however, was not unfamiliar. "Skyclan!" She called out, "Help each other! Stick together, shelter as best you can!" A peal of horrifically loud thunder split the air, a flash of lightning following, and Wolfblossom grimaced, hoping her clanmates had heard. At least, she thought, this wasn't a gathering being interrupted. This wasn't Starclan's wrath upon them... Or maybe it was?

---

Stoneheart pressed against Mistflower's side, grimacing as the skies opened up. The rain was quick to sink into her pelt with icy claws, and the warrior found herself wishing for the storm to be over with quickly. The dark, threatening clouds above spoke otherwise, it would seem.

---

Swanpaw flinched at the sudden onslaught of rain and the rumble of thunder, pale paws hurrying toward the nearest of her siblings. She just wanted to go home, to get out of the rain, but they were all stuck here in unfamiliar territory. At least she still had her siblings by her side.

The rain was unlike anything Kitespring had ever experienced.

Cold - icy, even - droplets battered her pelt as the russet-furred she-cat pushed forward. Each raindrop grew harsher and harsher, with every moment breaking her down into smaller and smaller pieces. Her body seemed to grow weaker and weaker, and the rain was not helping.

A droplet smacked her right in the head. Kitespring paused for a second, groaning.

Don't you dare stop.

Heeding her internal voice, Kitespring continued trotting forward. I can't stop moving. Can't stop moving. Find shelter, something. She was starting to feel dizzy. Poppyshine said something in the distance, but Kitespring couldn't make out what she said besides the word "RiverClan". Survive. That's what she wants. Do what you can to survive.

Hurrying into the trees, Kitespring quickly shook off all the water on her pelt before locking eyes with another one of her clanmates - Willowwisp. "Let's huddle up," she said, before pressing her pelt onto her clanmate's. Hopefully, they'd be able to weather this storm together.

Kitespring is with Willowwisp.

~~

Rookfire was searching for a place to wait out the storm when he noticed an apprentice laying down in the middle of the rain. He assumed they were dead, until he noticed faint, shallow breaths in the cold air. He remembered when Fennelbreeze was in the elements for ages as well, and when they were still breathing. It was a different scenario, of course - she had been wounded by a predator, while this young apprentice passed out due to the rain - but in both situations the cats in danger were in danger of the elements from losing their body heat.

You gotta save him.

Dashing over to the apprentice, he pressed his body onto theirs. They were still warm, but they seemed to be losing heat. Licking their forehead, the black tuxedo hoped that would be enough to wake them up. "Hey, RiverClan!" he shouted, calling for anyone to respond. "One of your apprentices is unconscious! I need your help bringing him to shelter!" Until that help came, though, it was Rookfire's job to keep them warm.

Rookfire is helping keep Duckpaw warm.