Hunted [SITEWIDE]

Fawnshine

Terror erupted in her at the howl of the wolves—leaders and deputies sent into a frenzy of panic and pain. Fawnshine shot up from her makeshift medicine den and bolted outside - grasping whatever herbs were necessary before she ran for it. She didn't need to be told twice. Mottlestar's yowl scorched with pain, leaving her stomach knotting uncomfortably.

Then she saw it: Horrifying, sharp rows of teeth with beasts at least fourfold their size snarled, bearing white rows laced with gum and large claws dug against the earth; gathered in each other in groups of what she estimated to be about ten. How in the entire StarClan are we supposed to escape now? She remembered the howling winds, carrying ominous threats of danger—and it only dawned upon her in this very late moment now that this was what their ancestors meant. Her teeth gritted, holding back a barely-contained hiss of frustration. Of course it just had to be wolves.

"THUNDERCLAN! Follow Mottlestar and Acornstem to safety! Do not try to attack back - just run!" Fawnshine yowled, hoping the winds carried her voice far enough to be heard by all of her clanmates amidst the smell of blood and freezing snow. Dear Stars, how she hated being a coward; tail tucked between legs while useless paws only learned of minimum battle expertise could only rely on brains and agility to flee. It wasn't as if this was her first time seeing such bloodbath, but...

A gruesome crunch sent her body nearly halting and falling uncharacteristically frozen in the snow—hot crimson spilling out from the body of an all-too-familiar chimera cat; Darkspirit.

"No...!" She cried out, but her voice seemed almost muffled amidst the rampage of snow. Bitterly swallowing her tears, she looked back to the looming beasts with stifled pain and cursing spite. She gathered Comfreyheart close to her, scurrying to the she-cat and helping guide her across bleeding, snowy grounds. "Come on, let's go. We have to continue walking," she murmured through bitter farewell, casting one last, longing glance to the body of her brother before hurrying off.

Fawnshine is urging her clanmates to run and helping Comfreyheart get away!

thrushnose

Palpable horror echoed around him as Thrushnose froze, ears pinned tightly against his skull in flat-out horror. Breathe, just breathe - he tried to remind himself, but the constant pounding of claws and blood drumming in his ears made him paralyze in fear. Only when he heard of Fawnshine's yowl again did he snap out of his trance, sprinting forward to gather with his clanmates until they reach safety.

Thrushnose is fleeing!

Fennelbreeze

Fennelbreeze was jolted from her sleep in berserk cries of pain and horror, fear-scent clouding her nostrils where she was forced to stumble from the nursery to emerge in absolute terror, much to her fear: Wolves. Ten of them, hoarding like beasts and tearing into trembling bodies of cats with pristine fangs despite their pained, helpless cries. She flattened her ears against her head, attempting to calm her breathing down when Sootstorm's call reached her ears—

"Nectarflower, Fennelbreeze, Coyotegrin, Eaglefly, assist anyone who falls behind and make sure everyone is safe!"

—and then proceeded to just recklessly, idiotically toss himself right into one of the wolves' jaws. "NO! Help me, Stars—you mousebrain!" She cried out. It was the first time she'd ever called him a 'mousebrain' - but it was out of pure adrenaline and fear, fear of losing him as one of the only cats and hopes of light she still had during darkness. "Let's go! Please!" She begged him.

Fennelbreeze is begging Sootstorm to flee from the wolf!

Birdstar

Sleep rarely came to Birdstar anymore --not wholly. Only in brief fits, broken by a coughing fit, or a spike in her fever, or chill-shivers so intense they would wake her... but what dragged her to consciousness then was unfamiliar. Birdstar lifted her head, any grogginess sleep might have attached to her gone in an instant. Strange songs echoed through the territory, ricocheting from tree to snow to distant ice-cast lake. Birdstar heard dogs baying before, but the howling that sounded now was of no dog she'd encountered before. Their voices were beautiful, crying out to the night in wavering pitches... crying out for a hunt. The thrum of hunger--of bloodlust--undertoned the ghastly notes. They'd gotten close enough that even through her congestion, Birdstar could smell their acrid coats on the frosted air. As if to confirm her processes, Sunfire's voice cracked the silence.

Others quickly began calling out. Apprentices rounded themselves and made for the nursery; Wolfblossom and Smokepetal ordered the Clan to leave. Birdstar's attention swung around, accounting for as many cats as possible as she rushed out of the den. Could she see Rainfrost--Beechfang? Where were her nieces and nephews? She shook her head. She couldn't look for them individually. Birdstar's jaw parted, lungs working to fill so she could scream above the cacophony of panic that had erupted, but the sight of Lionstripe bolting past dragged her attention away. Her eyes followed him on instinct, watching as he joined Stormwatcher and Falconmoon in rushing to Sunfire's aid against-- stars, the beast they tangled with was massive, with paws as big as her body. The flash of golden fur that was Lionstripe throwing himself into the canine's mouth was gone in an instant, snapped cleanly like a mouse swallowed whole.

Birdstar had to fight not to turn up the bile of her hollow stomach on sight. Falconmoon and Stormwatcher ran, but Sunfire-- Sunfire. Her stupid, stupid nephew, with his gnawed leg. Sunfire was struggling to his paws, trying and failing to scale a nearby tree. Bark showered down around him and the great dog--a wolf, if stories were anything to go by--set on devouring him moved closer. Birdstar had the helpless feeling that, even if he could make it into the branches, the wolf was big enough to leap into a brief scale after him. Her heart froze and sank into her leaden paws as the wolf, if stories were anything to go on--gripped his tail like it intended to throw him into the air, tossing him around for amusement, but the force of its massive jaws severed the fine bones tying Sunfire's tail to his body.

Something about watching the double showing of viscera, the display raw power the wolf held, shook loose the words which had caught in Birdstar's throat. "RUN!" She yowled over the tumult, paws finally driving into action as well. "Run for familiar territory! DON'T ENGAGE!" "Help the vulnerable--get OUT! I will help anyone left behind!" And Sunfire would not be one of them. Ambersun dragged Brackenpaw away from getting embroiled in the fight, thank the stars. Birdstar's lungs couldn't afford the air for the sigh of release she wanted to release, but seeing the way Lionstripe had been... popped made her heart sink seeing an apprentice so close. Refocusing, Birdstar pushed herself to run faster as Sunfire miraculously found his balance and managed his way onto the lowest branches.

Ducking, she sped beneath the wolf's belly and gathered her weight to spring up in pursuit of her nephew. "You feather-brain!" Birdstar hissed as she collided haphazardly with the branches, voice thick with panic and concern. The loud clack of heavy teeth snapping shut sounding in the space her tail had just been made a small shudder pass through her. Though she was wobbly herself, Birdstar bolstered her weight against Sunfire's, holding his scruff occasionally when needed, guiding him higher into the branches with ginger urgency. They could figure out getting down later--right now, she needed him out of the wolf's reach. "Careful," she said, taut, "don't lose your balance. Can you move through the trees?"

Birdstar ordered SkyClan to leave and ran to assist Sunfire.

Rowansong

Their put-together medicine den had become a space of frequency for Rowansong. It felt strange, intrusive, to enter the space without the excuse of Sandyshell being one of its occupants. But... he did not like to be away for too long. Littlepaw, despite how brief his tenure as medicine cat so far, had figured out the means to a cure. Perchstar and many others were well on their way to optimal health again. While Stormdance... wasn't. Rowansong didn't know whether he'd denied any herbs offered to him, or if none had been left to spare, or if he'd simply been too ill to manage them. Whatever the reason, his sickness persisted. And, equally stubborn, Rowansong remained by his side. Blast his own cough--he could swallow it.

It was one of his minimal ventures beyond the den that the howling broke. He was sleepless, convincing himself pacing was akin to keeping guard. The cold air made him ache and wheeze, but there was nothing else Rowansong could think to do with himself. All his restless stalking was for nothing, though: when the beasts, with their beady eyes and glinting teeth long enough to rival his own legs, came encroaching upon the camp RiverClan made for themselves, there was nothing Rowansong could do to stop them.

Chaos broke out in an instant. Perchstar's voice ordered them to leave--to run--and so did Poppyshine's, and she asked senior warriors to lead the way. Almost dreamily, Rowansong thought, Oh, that's me. His paws moved outside his own command. Did he remember the way away from here, the way home? Rowansong didn't think so. Everything was so foggy and far away without the barking and baying, the cries of panic, banging around in his ears. What did he do? He always knew what to do, when to act. The rush of Clanmates racing in numerous directions around him moved Rowansong more than he moved himself. His chest felt brittle; every breath threatened to shatter his iced ribs. What do I do? Rowansong's head whipped disorientingly around. Did he run for the medicine den, nearly his own den, first?--for the nursery, or for Mistwalker? Be the first to rally the fleeing cats around his position, give them a beacon to follow in racing through the snow? Where were Larkspring, Egretswoop--?

Pale fur tugged at Rowansong's muddying attention. Egretswoop was depositing her trusted pelt with one of her apprentices--Dovepaw, the steadfast one. Rowansong's heart clinched watching that. Though he couldn't place it, something in the action resounded as final. He felt the uncomfortable witness to a private goodbye. Then she was turning and rushing off, running after--oh, Mistwalker, one of the very cats Rowansong thought of himself--pushing her on through the scramble, toward Perchstar. She hadn't noticed the dense-furred canine coming right for them, drawn by their movement.

She'd already whirled on its snapping jaws before her name could bubble out of his throat. Rowansong turned hard, wondering if his fights with foxes and dogs were enough to help against this sight of horrors as he aimed to propel himself forward, only for his paws to tangle in his desperation to change direction. Already dizzy, and unsteady even when at rest, Rowansong was unable to catch his balance before he spilled forward. Even though the packed snow prevented him from connecting with the solidly frozen ground, the fall still sent a painful shock through his head, making his eyes cross and screw shut. Still, he had to-- Move!

Rowansong scrabbled at the ground, struggling to find his paws under him. He half-dragged his face and chest through the snow, clawing himself forward in a flailing lurch until he finally steadied his weight and met his stride. By the time he reached a bound, Egretswoop had already thrown herself off the ground, was suspended in the air for a paralyzed second as everything ground to a halt. The No, no, no! sizzling on Rowansong's tongue wouldn't come out, no matter how desperately he tried to force it to. He was the only thing in the world that moved, and his trembling, flexed paws beat the ground hard, legs overextending in a desperate, futile attempt to swallow the ground between him, Egretswoop, and the-- the-- wolf as swiftly as possible.

The rest of the world swung back into nauseating motion. The wolf's cavernous maw parted just to snap shut like the viciously swift latches on twoleg cages and traps. Its long teeth, designed to pierce and tear, plunged through either side of Egretswoop's head. Her down-colored coat was painted red in an instant.

Any remaining coherency fled Rowansong's mind. It felt like he froze upon watching the moment of impact, but his useless paws charged onward like somehow, if he could just reach her, he could reverse the damage and drive her away. Rowansong collided with the wolf's leg, dumb and aimless and stunned that the distance was gone. Clumsily, Rowansong tried to find somewhere to sink his teeth or his claws, ignoring the heavy thump of Egretswoop's body falling to the ground. Panting heavily, he opened his maw fully, preparing to bite into its hock where tender veins lie, but much heavier jaws made their move faster. The wolf's mouth closed around his flank, teeth immediately piercing through flesh.

The shriek of pain and alarm that tore out of him made Rowansong's already-irritated throat feel bloodied. He startled to wriggle immediately, writhing against the pain that the vice applied to him. He swung at anything he could reach--its jowls, the soft underside of its jaw that led into its throat, its cheek--until the wolf tightened its grip. An ugly series of cracks answered the greater pressure. What would've been another scream turned into a choking gasp. The pain was fierce, blinding, making his vision blur white and his head tilt like all his brains would pour out his ears--and then it simply wasn't. The absence of such was more alarming than having to endure the torture. Rowansong tried to keep wrestling for himself but found he could hardly move as he was just moments ago. His chest heaved deeply but only managed shallow breaths. He could hardly process the gruesome seconds all whirling together when the wolf tossed him to the ground like he was little more than a mouse to be played with.

Rowansong got bit.

Rookflight

Littlepaw's herbs had been like miracles. Rookflight was confused, and a bit dismayed at the change, upon coming to awareness and realizing that Sandyshell and Wrenpaw were no longer medicine cats. But... they could not really complain when Littlepaw managed to heal the ill so soon after stepping into his difficult rank. Rookflight was still finding a concerning difficulty with drawing breath, still filled with ache in their chest, but... they felt better. Their head was clearer now. And they wished, desperately, that it wasn't.

Silver moonlight bounced off the white teeth scraping through the darkness. Every hair on Rookflight's pelt stood on alarmed end. One moment, distant cries were echoing from the throats of unfamiliar animals--the next, heavy-sounding paws were drumming the snow as towering beasts stormed RiverClan's now-home. Rookflight stared into the yellow eyes of one far away, caught in a moment of fear absolute until voices snapped up his attention.

Perchstar's resounding cry to leave rang in his ears, but Rookflight was focused only on those beside him: Larkspring and Cindersky. He looked to the latter when she shoved her head into his side and began insisting the two brothers run while she ran to escort Littlepaw. Rookflight's ears quickly pinned flat. "No," he tried to protest, voice torn by disuse and damage, soft because of it. After a passing gesture of affection to Larkspring, she tore off before he could protest further. Rookflight's stomach turned like the infestation that sought carrion. He insisted on following her to dangerous places before--why run now? Why let her chase Littlepaw alone? But even Lark insisted he run away, turn tail and let them risk their lives. Rookflight's paws trembled where they stood.

They took off like a shot, just like the cats before them. They struggled through the first few paces, but Rookflight found their rhythm soon enough. Almost immediately upon racing out of the den, as they looked across the chaotic scene around them, they watched one of the giant dogs snap up Egretswoop between its teeth. The force of its plunging bite nearly severed its head. Rookflight stumbled before jerking their head forward to focus on weaving through the tangled route ahead. Cindersky. Larkspring. They chanted the names repeatedly in their head. They had to find them, they had to be okay. Rookflight wouldn't know what to do if they ran upon either of the two in the position they'd just seen Egretswoop. They felt sick.

Larkspring caught their attention through the blur of pelts, and Rookflight shifted pace to move in his direction, though their eyes continued to sweep the desperate scene in search of Cindersky. When Rookflight did spot her, it was with the medicine cat she'd gone after: Littlepaw was turned over on his side between a hair pelt and scattered remnants of herbs, with a wolf bearing down on them both. Resolute and brave, Cindersky threw herself at the wolf with all of RiverClan's teeth--and was punishingly thrown to the ground, large jaws bearing down on her teeth and ripping--

Rookflight's heart leapt up into his throat. He jerked to an abrupt halt, swallowing several times to keep from turning over the hot bile sitting in his empty stomach. The wolf stood over her, steam billowing from the hot blood that soaked its dripping maw. Cindersky's thick tail hung between its vicious teeth, stained with blood both her own and others'; she was bleeding, terribly, and the even rise and fall of her flank was growing erratic, fading--

Before Rookflight could throw themself into it with the same reckless idiocy which had grievously wounded one of his dearest friends, a larger form leapt to draw the wolf's attention: Perchstar. Another cat important to him. Rookflight's entire body quaked. He was too small to contain the extremity of the emotion that spun within him. Perchstar couldn't be mauled. She couldn't die--even if it was her destiny, even if she was meant to resurrect at StarClan's whims until their entertainment had run out. Surely even their ancestors couldn't heal her from the wounds these grotesque hounds sought to inflict. Desperately, Rookflight wanted to run toward her, to fight for no reason other than to give her company in assured death, but--they swallowed again, thick and acrid. Littlepaw and Cindersky were being shoved toward Larkspring--he would need help shepherding them. If anyone were to die to guarantee their escape... it was best, if it were Perchstar. So long as StarClan continued her right to walk again... This is the logical course, Rookflight assured themself, own voice watery and faraway in their head, before forcibly dragging their sight off the mounting carnage.

Focusing their attention where they could assist, Rookflight hurried to intercept Cindersky and Littlepaw both stumbling toward their brother. They ran up to Cindersky's side first, rushing to press against her in a motion that served to both offer support and put Rookflight in effective position to shove her toward Larkspring faster without getting rough with her. They said nothing when they reached him, chest burning furiously and too breathless to manage words, but they briefly held his eyes in a meaningful look tangled with several variances of concern. When Cindersky was safely settled with his brother, Rookflight struggled down a drowned breath and turned to jog toward the young medicine cat. "Littlepaw," he called with a slight wince over his aching voice, "I can assist you. Let me carry your herbs. We must hurry."

Rookflight is helping Larkspring, Cindersky, and Littlepaw.