TWs for : Death, Panic, Drowning ~0 Squander & Squall : A Fleeceflare Death SRP 0~ Howling winds and falling rain, uncomfortable but herbs weren’t going to gather themselves. They never did. Fleeceflare’s paws felt sore as he rooted around the muddy, waterlogged ground as the winds howled around him and the rain continued to fall. Things had been easier since Citrusmelody had come around, but he still felt the need to push himself. Like he owed the clan something, for all the clanmates who they’d had to leave in those blasted scorching sands. Fleece snorted and winced as his sore paws managed to dig up another burdock plant, tearing the leaves and the roots from the stem with a grumble. He heard a few of his clanmates who had come out with him, who were more playing in the mud than actually hunting or helping him, but tried to ignore them as best he could. His head was already swimming from a mix of exhaustion and annoyance, making focus hard. He thought back over the moons, how long they’d been and how hard. But he’d made it through, when perhaps he shouldn’t. He knew he was doing better than before, that crushing burden that seemed to loom over his shoulders had been lighter since he’d spoken to that Starclan cat. Krakenheart, if he remembered right, had given him some advice and speaking to the other silvery pelted cats had certainly eased him somewhat. But that guilt, gnawing and festering that he’d never been taught how to deal with still sat heavy in his stomach like a stone. All he’d ever done is watched those he cared about suffer and die, unable to save *anyone*. Well, no that couldn’t be true. He had saved cats, Iceclan still lived. They’d made it *here* instead of wasting to nothing in the barren lands, hadn’t they? But still, as Fleeceflare trotted along the marshy ground the faces of those cats who hadn’t made it burned themself into his mind. His paws moved on their own as he dug up yet another burdock plant and tore the leaves from the steam. He couldn’t help but watch the leaves drift to the ground before he picked them up, letting out a deep sigh. He scooped the herbs up, his thoughts still swirling as he continued to walk. It was so hard to keep his eyes open, to think straight anymore. He was just so *tired*. Moons on end of not letting himself rest, even after reaching this place took its toll. Maybe if he had let himself rest he’d have heard his clanmates in the distance shout his name in warning through the rain and howling wind. It was his paw slipping that snapped him out of his deep thought, but it was far too late. All at once Fleeceflare was weightless as with an unceremonious cracking, the sheer edge of the tundra’s cliff face giving out under his paws falling away to the churning waters below. The medicine cat let out a scream as he began to fall, but the cats he’d come with were too far to save him. Nobody could save him. He couldn’t even save himself. Fleeceflare’s paws flailed as he plunged, trying to dig into the sheer cliff face for a hold but with no luck. For a moment, his vision changed and the sight above him wasn’t a stormy sky, not a sheer cliff as he fell away, but the thick iceberg where he was born. His scruff was caught, yanked, and his tiny paws were suddenly on solid ground again. “Flea, I told you not to go playing near the edge, my cloud–” A soft voice scolded him before nuzzling his cheek. “Drops like that are oh so dangerous, you could fall and get very, very hurt. So please, don’t go near them.” Fleeceflare opened his mouth to speak and the memory shattered as he struck something, sea water spraying around him before it consumed him. It was dark and cold, and he spun as he hit the choppy water, struggling to find which way was up as he flailed helplessly. His head managed to break out from the water, coughing and sputtering as his eyes stung with salt. He could see the shapes of cats far above, he tried to hear what they were yowling at him but between his ringing ears and the crash of the water as he was dragged under anew made it impossible. Again his vision spun and tumbled as he was dragged back under the water, his pelt soaked and only taking on more water as the waves thrashed him about. Another memory came to him, sniffling and bleary, pressed against the flanks of three other kits his size. All of them mewled and whined pathetically, sick as could be. Fleeceflare felt how warm he was, even as a cat he couldn’t quite see pressed their cold paws to his forehead. “They’re all fighters, Nimbusbleat. Give them time, and they’ll fight through this, and you’ll have yourself a pawful of rambunctious kits.” A voice he couldn’t quite remember said, as his mother sighed and patted him again. “I know, I know they’re fighting. They’re just… so small… and I feel like it’s my fault…” His mother sighed, curling up around the four small kits for a moment. “I don’t think I can forgive myself if anything happens to them…”
The memory shattered again as Fleece broke through the surface again, his lungs burning. He knew he was fighting a losing battle, the exhaustion creeping into his limbs and the weight of his own fur starting to drag down harder and harder on him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as his mind and vision spun and swirled. “h– HELP!” The icecat screamed to the open air, not that anyone could hear him. “MAMA, PLEASE! HELP ME!” Tears, warm against his face amidst the cold spray around him, started to blur his vision further. “PLEASE, I CAN’T– HELP ME!” He wailed to the sky, his paws flailing towards safety he could never reach. He started to yowl again but salt water filled his mouth as the waves flipped him again and threw him under again. More memories crashed over him each time he was thrown back under the swirling wave, both old and new. His time with his mother as a small kit. The way his father had looked at him when he’d tried to get him to play with him. His grandparents telling him stories. The look on his mother’s face when he’d left her behind. Grizzlehollow shouting and scolding him. His own reflection staring up at him in the oasis waters. The feeling of Hadalshatter’s flank stilling under his paw. Burning and sore pawpads as he trudged through the barrens. The sound of his own scream ringing out across the moonlagoon. The cackles of those witches as they placed both tricks and bestowed treats upon the cats of the shore. The pure white of his clan’s territory when they reached it for the first time. The smell of herbs as he taught his apprentice. “I’M NOT READY!” He screamed weakly as he surfaced again, coughing and sputtering. All he could taste was salt, both from the water and his own tears. The waves had dragged him out further and further with each tumble, and now whoever could have seen him was too far. Fleeceflare was alone, hopeless and slowly fading. “I’M NOT– PLEASE!” He coughed and sputtered, head dipping below the waves for a second before thrashing back up. “MAMA, GRAMPS, GRAMS, ANYONE!” He wailed, his voice cracking. But nobody was coming, not fast enough to save him from this. Fleeceflare didn’t know when he gave up, but he knew he must have, as his thrashing and crying out ceased. The cold water wrapped around him, still rolling and crashing but seemingly gentler as he stared up at the surface. His eyes were so heavy, his lungs burned, but for a moment his mind was calm enough to think. ‘I’m… I’m not done…’ The icecat thought weakly to himself as the darkness started to set in at the edges. ‘I’m not… done…’ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ It was cold. Not the bone chilling, horrid cold he remembered before that darkness had swallowed him, but the pleasant cold of the snow. Heavy eyes slowly opened to a landscape of pale white under a star filled sky. Fleeceflare tried to sit up, disoriented, but his paws wobbled under him. He looked down to steady his own feet and… shimmery silver white shone across his starry pelt. Panic shot through him, dread crawling up his throat as that salty taste clawed at the back of his throat and– “Oh dear, no no, breathe my little cloud, you need to breathe–” A soft voice broke the quiet air as a set of paws gently took hold of his face. Sat before him was an icecat with long curly fur and saddened eyes, who smiled at him as he started to breathe finally. Nimbusbleat. His mother, with a starry shimmering pelt just like him. “Ma–” He tried to speak, but tears and a sob ripped out of him instead. His mother simply pulled him close, holding Fleeceflare tightly as he began to weep. “I wasn’t– I need to go back I–” His mother hushed him, gently running a paw down his back. “You cannot go back my dear, not the way you want to.” She said softly, gently holding her son’s face again. “And for that I’m so very sorry, you did not deserve to be here so soon…” She trailed off, before the silence was broken again. “FLEECE!!” Came a shrill squeal as the medicine cat felt a– no, *three* tiny bodies slam into his side. Looking down, staring back up at him were three kits, with curly and woolen fur like his, grinning widely. “Wowzers. You got *big*! You’re taller than mama now!” A tom-kit with sharp horns like his mother squealed, snorting at him. “Yeah, but he’s got gramp’s beard, look at how long it is!” A she-kit with curly fur like his mother said, reaching up and batting at his beard with her paw. “But he’s still our crybaby little brother, ain’t he? Look at him!” The third, a tom-kit who was almost a twin to Fleece but much smaller, teased as he headbutted the medicine cat’s leg. Fleeceflare blinked through his tears at the small kittens, his sobs starting anew. His *siblings*. He crouched down to be their height, and the three small kits giggled and squealed as they tackled their brother. ( final paragraph in comments, i wrote to much </3 )
