(This SRP takes place right before/during the events of the island volcano's eruption.) Gloamingveil's paws whispered against the stone streets, her claws barely clicking as she wound through the empty city. The silence pressed against her ears like a great weight. No flickering lights from the Twoleg nests, no distant hum of their monstrous machines... No Cherry Blossom. She had been gone for a few days now, and had returned to find her partner gone. Initially, the tabby had assumed it was nothing- Cherry was always flitting about, appearing and disappearing like the dawn mist. But now, as the city lay dark and abandoned beneath a heavy, brooding sky, unease settling like a cold stone in her gut. She slowed, tasting the air. Smoke. Faint, yet acrid and unnatural. It wasn't the sharp, greasy scent of Twoleg fires, nor the distant char of lightning-struck trees. It was deeper, older- something that made the very bones of the earth shudder beneath her paws. A hot gust of wind sighed through the streets, curling around the abandoned nests, whispering through the empty alleyways. The city was dead. Her breath hitched. Cherry Blossom? Gloamingveil suddenly spun on her heels, muscles snapping like a bowstring. She bolted. The roads blurred beneath her as she tore through the maze of the town, her lungs burning with each gasp of the poisoned air. The farther she ran, she darker the sky became, roiling with bruised purples and sickly oranges. Something was terribly wrong. By the time she reached the outskirts of the city, the ground trembled viciously beneath her paws. A deep, guttural groan rolled through the land like the voice of some slumbering beast awakening. Gloamingveil crested the final dune overlooking WindClan's sweeping sands- only to find the horizon alight with fire. The mountains had split open. A great wound in the earth spewed molten fury into the heavens, thick clouds of ash swallowing the sky. Even from this distance, she could see the inferno racing down its sloped, devouring the forests, rivers, hills, the very land itself. WindClan. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she launched herself down the slope. She sprinted faster than she ever had in her life, wind tearing through her fur, legs burning in agony. The air was thick now, clogged with ash and embers, every breath like swallowing needles. The closer she got, the more chaos unfolded. Distant trees along the border crackled as they went up in flames, embers raining from above like dying stars, and the desert- her home- turning to cinders and smelted glass. A deafening roar split the air. The warrior barely had time to react before something whistled through the smoke. A sudden, searing pain struck her skull- sharp, burning, white-hot agony. The world tilted. Gloamingveil hit the sand, her body heavy, her thoughts disjointed. Her ears rang, muffling the chaos around her. The sky above was no longer blue, no longer even sky- only a churning mass of fire and shadow. Get up. Her claws dug into the earth. Her legs trembled as she forced herself upright, the ground swaying beneath her like a ship at sea. Crimson trickled down her temple, hot and sticky. She stumbled forward. The desert was filled with fleeing figures- her clanmates, and those from neighboring clans- all running, their pelts stained with soot, their voices ragged and hoarse from coughing. She had to help. Glo threw herself into the fray, guiding frantic queens and elders, barking orders, dragging the injured to their paws. The world was unraveling, yet she moved as though she had no body, no pain, no fear- only duty. Somewhere in the madness, the tabby caught a glimpse of the shore. Boats. Safety. They were so close. She staggered forward, falling behind the crowd, vision swimming. The ground beneath her paws felt unsteady, distant. The firelight cast everything into shifting, golden hues, turning her clanmates into silhouettes, mere ghosts fleeing into the unknown... She was almost there, with them. Her steps faltered. The smoke coiled around her, thick and suffocating. Her breath rattled in her throat. The edges of the world grew dark. Did they make it? Through the haze, she saw them all- WindClan warriors boarding the boats, kits carried in their mother's jaws, elders helped onto the decks, the apprentices wild-eyed with terror. Gloamingveil exhaled shakily, her legs buckling beneath her. They were safe. Her vision blurred, red light fading into darkness. The hot sand pressed against her cheek, and she closed her eyes. She had done her duty. Cherry Blossom... It was but a final, fractured thought. And then... Nothing. ----------- Don't fret, Glo's still alive! She merely passed out on the shore, right before getting on her clan's boat to safety, but the stranger Arachnidspindle is going to see her body and drag her onto ShadowClan's boat, nursing her back to health as the dreary days roll by. Jig's SRP will be released soon!
