The future's in your paws. Shape it well.Roleplay in a cat Clan of warriors. Based off the Warriors series by Erin Hunter. Takes place in an AU before the cats in the books existed.
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Scarletpaw had been lagging somewhat behind the rest of RiverClan, lamenting both the fact that they had to travel and mingle with the other Clans and that they'd had to leave behind their home; the very river that was their namesake and their lifeblood. The crack of thunder was a welcome sound, the chill of cold rainfall something he would gladly embrace in a world that felt too dry for someone like him to live in, but the torrential downpour that followed wasn't something he could have predicted.
Nor could he have guessed how it washed away the trail ahead.
"We're falling behind," he called to his companion. "This wind's so strong... We'll need to pick up speed if we're going to catch up!"
He tried to hide the hint of panic he felt by layering even more confidence than usual into his words. This was no time to show weakness.
"Pigeonpaw! How fast can you run?"
The ground was slippery, and even more so with every step. But if they kept moving at the same pace, they'd be washed even further back.
The skies had darkened considerably, and the low roll against the mountaintops threatened rain. Pigeonpaw tilted her head back, blinking up at the dark sky. With time to settle into the pace of walking, the nerves that had carried her to Highstones faded. Uncertainty and fear remained, but she didn't feel the need to stay buried in Dove or Swan's fur; still close, in her line of sight, but she felt comfortable drifting with the back of the Clan. The chance of an oncoming storm made her want to hurry ahead, but she knew Scarletpaw was nearby, anyway. She wasn't going to flinch at rain with one of her only friends maybe-watching.
An icy drop landed on Pigeonpaw's nose, which twitched in response to the chill it sent through her. Before she could say anything, or even bother to lower her head, the sky opened itself: great, heavy sheets of rain, battering down against them all. One of the many cries of surprise that went up through the Clans came from Pigeonpaw, staggering against the sudden force of the storm. In moments, her pelt was waterlogged (a rare bitterness over not being RiverClan blood rose in her throat, but this was no time for it), soaking her through no matter how much she tried to shake it off. It stung like claws of ice being driven through her coat to pierce her skin. Pigeonpaw shivered and pushed herself to walk against the blustering winds. She blinked as much water out of her eyes as she could and tried to look ahead, only to feel her stomach sink at the hazy sight of the Clans far, far farther away than she thought they'd been.
Her sudden panic would have frozen her in place, all-but ensuring she was lost to the wilderness, but the voice accompanying Pigeonpaw pulled her from it before her legs could lock entirely. Wasn't Scarletpaw scared? It was hard to tell if the apprehension was actually him or the drumbeat of rain burying his tone. Pigeonpaw's toes flexed, pressing against the muddying earth. She was scared. And she knew if she ran, she'd fall, and then she'd only be left further behind, and...
Pigeonpaw, wobbling against a sharp gust of wind, swallowed and forced her jaw to sit straight. They had to catch back up with their Clan--their families. There wasn't much of a choice. "I can run!" She called back, the uncertainty much more apparent in her voice. Her pelt was heavy and she trembled even standing briefly still, and she knew the slick ground to threaten treason on them, but Pigeonpaw gathered herself and made weary, wandering paws move faster. Catching up first to Scarletpaw, she hissed over the storm, "Jus' don't run off without me. We gotta stick together!" With a nudge to his shoulder to encourage he do the same, Pigeonpaw further picked up the pace, desperate to catch up to her Clanmates and outrun the worsening weather.
"I wouldn't!" Scarletpaw couldn't help feeling the slightest bit hurt at the implication that he'd even consider leaving her behind. He enjoyed teasing Pigeonpaw, yeah, but they were Clanmates and he'd at least like to consider her his friend; he liked her, if nothing else. That thought was washed away as easily as the trail, though, when she nudged his shoulder--a cue to follow. "I'll make sure you don't get left behind--if either of us slips, we stop to help."
He moved faster, following her lead until he could keep pace and glad to see that she was still moving forward, and the thrill of moving swiftly through such heavy downpour was almost something like swimming. For the first time since the river was declared unsafe, Scarletpaw was in his element--all he was missing was a wealth of fish to catch.
Reckless as Scarletpaw's plan to reunite with their Clanmates was, it might have worked...
If it weren't for something that neither apprentice could have planned for.
"Pigeonpaw, watch out!"
Scarletpaw saw it coming only moments before it arrived; unsure of what exactly it even was.
The figure was shadowy, impossible to make out at a distance through the heavy rain; a low growl the only warning sound. They were in the wrong place to scent anything in weather like this, moving against the harsh winds.
Pigeonpaw wanted to feel reassured by the firm declaration they would help each other. No, no-- she did feel assured. Scarletpaw was smart and capable--way, way more than she was, however little she liked to admit it. She trusted him! But the rain kept beating into her harder, the howls of the wind and thunder ached in her ears, and her paws kept threatening to lose traction on the increasingly muddy ground. The weight of the water drenching Pigeonpaw's pelt wanted to slow her down, but she forced her strides to keep long and quick. Lifting her head, she squinted toward Scarletpaw as his splashing pawsteps came up to her side. He looked sleek and sure, even in the wash of sudden disaster, so Pigeonpaw swallowed down some of the water that leaked into her slack jaw and turned her attention forward again. Sure, she couldn't see all the too-many cats that were supposed to be ahead of them anymore, but she had to have faith in Scarletpaw's idea that they could catch up.
Her paws struck the ground. Grime splashed up around her legs, though she could hardly tell mud from rain-slick. Her paws struck the ground again. Pigeonpaw's lungs tightened in her chest, and she felt a rush of fool's hope flood through her as her gait found rhythm--
Then Scarletpaw's voice called out. Her ears swiveled towards him, but she couldn't figure out what he'd actually said. Only that his tone sounded like warning, paired with a realization that the low rumble helping to swallow Scarletpaw's cry wasn't thunder from above. "What?!" Pigeonpaw tried to press, voice cracking as she swung her head around again. Instinctively, she looked to Scarletpaw, as if he stood between her and the danger he called for---a fool's errand to search, as moments after her eyes found him, weight hurtled into her from the opposite side.
Pigeonpaw and the larger creature that bowled into her both yelped with alarm as their paths collided. She went rolling, flipped tail-over-ears, though the thick legs tangled around her body kept her from sliding after she bounced against the ground. A heavy block, feeling like a paw several times larger than her own very small feet, flattened one of her ears to the ground. The weight alone made her shout again, but blunt claws catching in the thin skin brought a proper shriek out of her. "Scarletpaw!" She cried out, trying to writhe herself onto her paws or at least twist her neck around to search for him between the limbs framing her; which, still caught around her, dragged her farther forward through the mud with another frustrated yap from the large beast they worked to support. At least being kicked across the length of field rolled her around enough that she could find her paws in the tumble--too shaky to support her, but she caught her footing long enough to slip out from under the beast's belly before she spilled forward again.
Pigeonpaw coughed around the muck that got on her tongue and caught on her teeth. The stinging in her ear pulsed, and she could feel heat leaking from it, a stark contrast to the freezing rain battering everything. "Scarletpaw!" Pigeonpaw shouted again, spitting out more mud and shaking it from her eyes. She gathered her paws and forced herself to stand up properly, looking desperately for her friend or whatever had run into them, whichever she found first. And it was their assailant her narrowed blue eyes found: towering over both of them, with paws the size of her head and a maw that could swallow her seamlessly. There was a sort of wild frenzy in it's burning golden eyes, the same fear that was pounding desperately in her own chest. Pigeonpaw prayed it was fear, at least: it could have just as well been bloodlust. This thing--dog? it fit the stories she'd heard of them--could have been searching the torrent to hunt, rather than fleeing the harsh elements.
The way its jaw snapped toward her when it noticed how close she was, massive white teeth cutting through the rain, provided no clarity.
Pigeonpaw's claws flashed out on instinct, though she felt nothing but fur catch on their points while teeth caught in her scruff. She couldn't see Scarletpaw, but then, she couldn't make out much of anything: she was hauled, flailing, off the ground, and the already hazy world spun. Wriggling desperately, she kicked her hindpaws out in search of anything to connect with, feeling some skin catch under her battering, but the bite persisted. Never, not when Larkspring bit at her or her murky nightmares bled into the waking world or even when she gathered herself to leave everything the Clans knew behind, had she been so terrified. She could---mortality struck her. "Scarletpaw! Help!" She could get eaten and die here--they both could. They would anyway, if they got away and and were left behind by RiverClan and forced to fight the freeze alone. Should she tell Scarletpaw to run instead? She couldn't let him get eaten, or freeze to death. She couldn't. But then-- they'd promised to stay together. Her mouth worked uselessly as she continued to kick out in an attempt to force loose the pressure around the back of her neck. "Get help!" Pigeonpaw tried instead, voice strained and buried under another rumbling snarl from the dog.
The first thing Scarletpaw realized, as everything blurred together, was that he couldn't see. He couldn't see their assailant, he couldn't see his own front paws, he couldn't see--
"Pigeonpaw!"
Her shout reached him at the same time as the scent of blood, and his heart sunk low in his chest: was this his fault? He was the one to insist on pushing forward, to promise they could keep each other safe.
A promise he still intended to keep.
Whatever it was, the figure was massive and towering, obscured by the storm; there was no time to wonder exactly what they were facing. It was large, it was angry, and it was clearly an immediate threat.
He was grateful now that his father had pushed him so hard, to train longer and harder from kithood; even in the present, when he wasn't training with Mistwalker, he was still pushing himself to improve. Battle skills were all he'd had to his name when the water turned too dangerous to swim in. He would need them now.
Thank you, Father.
He wasn't as large or as experienced as the warriors they looked to for protection, but there were none to be found. He was strong, and he was skilled, and that would have to be enough.
"I'll protect you--!"
He struggled to make out the mass of shadows, a blur of movement in the endless dark, and leapt forward. He himself became nothing more than a blur of teeth and claws, calling on every ounce of strength in his body as he delivered strike after strike and blow after blow.
The shadow-beast had lifted Pigeonpaw from the ground, but after his relentless assault it dropped her back down, or at least he thought it did; as it turned its focus then to him, with claws and teeth so much larger than his own. He felt a massive appendage slash at him, a stinging pain that didn't seem to go away, but it wasn't important in the moment.
All that mattered now was the promise he'd made.
In the adrenaline rush, he didn't feel much pain even as the beast remained on the offensive. His own counters grew more and more desperate, relying on every strategy he'd ever learned and some he'd only heard of, but nothing seemed to drive it back or push it down. It couldn't be entirely undefeatable; if he could damage it with teeth and claws, it had to have some kind of weakness that he could somehow exploit.
He slashed repeatedly at what appeared to be the creature's face, claws raking through what might have been a nose. In the blur and the storm, he couldn't see if it shed blood; he still wasn't entirely convinced it was something real and solid enough to bleed rather than some sort of vengeful spirit. But it was real enough to hurt.
The beast let out a haunting sound, low-pitched and deeply pained, and as swiftly as it had appeared it was gone.
"We're safe," he gasped, turning to check on his traveling partner. How close had they been to a bloody, painful death? He didn't want to dwell on it. Didn't want to question whether the pool he was standing in was water, or mud, or blood; or whose it might have been. Was there mud of the reddish color that stained his paws, that was supposed to stick to your fur? "I got it to run away. Look, I told you I'd keep you safe!"
Had he said it in so many words? Maybe not. It was all kind of blurry, now; the adrenaline fading meant the pain was returning and making him a little bit dizzy.
They couldn't stay here long: it might come back. Still, he wanted to celebrate their survival, if only for a moment.
