TW: Gra/phic Inju/ries *ੈ✩·₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩·₊˚ Raven’s Wings are Falling Down★࿐࿔ The mountain loomed like a jagged scar against the horizon. Darkstar’s paws carried her up its broken path, every step unsettling loose stone. It was a fragile slope near camp, and rumors whispered it could crumble at any moment. She had thought it was only fear. And FalconClan’s leader had no room for fear. But if danger lingered so close, she would face it herself. The air thinned as she climbed higher, sharp enough to sting her lungs. The rocks beneath her paws were brittle, cracked from seasons of rain. Darkstar let out a faint hiss when her paw scraped against a jagged stone, leaving a red mark behind on the gray surface. Then, as if by misfortune— The mountainside collapsed. Darkstar froze as she looked upward. She pitched forward with a startled cry, wings flaring instinctively as she prepared to take off. It was a good plan. A simple execution. But it wasn’t. The rockslide came tumbling down and swallowed her before she could catch air. Jagged stone battered her body as she tumbled, slamming against her ribs, scraping skin from her shoulders. Her wings curled tight around her frame as she squeezed her eyes shut. One boulder clipped her head hard enough to make the world go white. Another struck across her hind leg, pinning her in the chaos. The silence after was deafening. The air stilled, as if the mountain itself was holding its breath. Darkstar lay half-buried, sides rising faintly, dark stains streaking her fur. One wing bent at a strange angle, her mouth filled with the taste of dust. Pain echoed through every nerve, a constant ringing in her ears was all that kept her awake—until suddenly, everything went still. And StarClan reached down, drawing one life away. Darkstar’s eyes snapped open with a raw gasp. The air scorched her lungs as if she were drowning in stone-dust. Her body still throbbed with agony: the twisted wing, the pinned leg, the sharp lines across her side. But she lived. She clawed free of the rubble, trembling, every movement sparking new pain. Her once-pristine wings that Camelliapaw fussed over dragged in the dirt, feathers frayed, red marking the trail she left behind. But at last, she had to get home. Darkstar limped down the mountain’s slope alone, the cursed peak looming behind her. Its silence pressed heavy against her back, as though it knew she had left one life behind—and carried only eight more.
