What a nice day for a rescue patrol [ o p e n]

[Whiskers]

ooc// This rp has been continued from this one. So if you're confused, that's where you'll find the answer to all your questionss.

bic//

Willowpaw burst into camp clumsily, calling out her leader's name as she tripped over her own paws again. Every time that she fell to the ground, her legs screamed louder at her not to get up again, to just lie there and let the poison from the rat bites spread. But every time, she refused. And now that she had made it to camp, she got up quicker, yowling out "Gingerstar!" one more time before scrambling toward her den.

The two she-cats met in the middle, with her leader's eyes flashing with first, annoyance, and then concern. What a strange look, Willowpaw mused, to see in Gingerstar's eyes. Concern, for her. Willowpaw felt a spark of pride at this. She, Willowpaw, a lowly apprentice, had made her stoic leader feel something. Now there was an achievement.

"I'm fine!" she spat out immediately, before Gingerstar could even open her muzzle. "But he's not-- he needs our help, Gingerstar, can we get a patrol out to hi--"

"Willowpaw, slow down. Who is ‘he?’"

Oh right. Willowpaw’s head was so muddled with images—of her hero lying on the ground, gasping for breath, of the rats and their twitching eyes, of the blood trickling down her own legs—she could not even get a coherent sentence out. All she could think about was how she had to save him, how he had saved her and how he was going to die if they did not get out there soon. But she did not know who he was and so she was at a loss of what to say. She shook her head as hard as she could and squeezed out a frantic ”I don’t know! He saved me though—rats! There were rats, and I got attacked and then, then… then he came. He’s a…a loner, I think. Maybe a clan cat, but I doubt it because I don’t know who he is and it was near the farthest border out!”

” A loner? In Pineclan territory?” Gingerstar’s eyes took on that cool look again, and Willowpaw did not like that. She wanted to scream at her leader to show some damn concern again, especially for this cat!

”Yes b-but he wasn’t trespassing! He crossed the border for me, Gingerstar! Don’t punish him, please! He’s dying!”

Willowpaw met her leader’s gaze head-on and she nearly burst into happy tears once Gingerstar’s expression softened, her stance fell slack.

”I’ll ready a patrol. The outer border, you say? How large was this cat?”

”Massive. He crushed the rats flat. It was…amazing.”

Gingerstar turned her head and scanned the area, before her eyes locked on a few forms. ”Shrikewhisker! Get over here n—I don’t care that you’re eating, you pig, come here! And you, Loonstep, I want you too.”She paused in careful consideration before she called out the last name. ”Bluefur… yes, I think you’re big enough to handle this. You three will do,” She waited until the aforementioned toms arrived before her before she went on. ”I need you three to go out to our outermost border and find a loner. He’s critically injured and I want him delivered here safely. Loonstep, you’ll lead the patrol. Keep the other two in line.”

Gingerstar faced Willowpaw again. ”And you,” her voice was almost…soft, it was kind of scary, ”Go to the medicine cat den. I’ll alert your mother and mentor of what has happened.”

And with that, Gingerstar whisked away, off to find Swallowpelt and Ashstorm.

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[Slug]

Bluefur had only just wormed his large build out of the medicine cat den when Gingerstar;s yowl reached his ears, nearly dropping the flower in his mouth with surprise at his Leader's words.

”Bluefur… yes, I think you’re big enough to handle this. You three will do,”

Handle what, exactly?

Without another thought, Bluefur trotted over to the she-cat, his head cocked to the side so the violet between his jaws wouldn't be damaged. After all, it was a gift from Crowpaw, which made Bluefur determined to not ruin it-- even if said gift was a flower.

It's the thought that counts, anyway.

”I need you three to go out to our outermost border and find a loner. He’s critically injured and I want him delivered here safely. Loonstep, you’ll lead the patrol. Keep the other two in line.”

Bluefur managed to make a hrrmph of annoyance at his Leader in response, as if to say "Aren't I always in line?".

The world may never know.
---

OOC: So much fail in this post. e-e /shot'd

[Cloud of Diamonds]

OOC:-tries to persuade Slug that her post isn't fail-

BIC: The big tom had to admit he was surprised. He never lead patrols, being young and a tom and all. Gingerstar must've forgotten who he was. Keep the others in line? He almost laughed. What right did he have to do that? And even if he'd had the right, what about ability? Bluefur was simply terrifying, and Loonstep would freely admit he was scared of him. Shrikewhisker...was Shrikewhisker. There was no other way to describe him besides using his name.

So naturally, these who were his dear, dear leader gave him as traveling companions. Ah well. Life wasn't easy and never had been. Of course, his brain was just throwing up these facts to distract him from the strangeness of what he'd been ordered to do.

But, orders were orders, and it seemed best that he carry them out quickly. So, catching the eyes of his fellow Clanmates, he nodded, and padded quickly towards the entrance, assuming they would catch up.

They had a job to do, after all. No time to waste. Hopefully that would make his job easier, not having to talk for fear of losing speed.

[Whiskers]

The day had been one of those beautiful days. The snow had practically all melted in Pineclan camp, so it wasn't as sad and sorry and oh so wet as it was a few days ago. The sun had been gentle, and glided from cloud to cloud, gracing the clan with moments of delicious shade. There was the slightest breeze about, though it was getting stronger as the sun got lazy and began to drop down below the horizon. Shrikewhisker had thoroughly enjoyed his day. He had gone on two patrols, he had did a lil' hunting, he had chatted with some buddies.

Now he wanted to end that day perfectly. How to end a perfect day, one might ask? Well, Shrikewhisker knew-- have a delicious vole in the last meandering bits of sunlight. Don't share it with anyone, no, this is a treat for you because you deserve it. Just eat it, watch the sun, and sigh as one of those deep, philosophical thoughts reveals itself. Shrikewhisker had already had his small epiphany of the day: An early bird is a grumpy bird. This of course, applied to his sister, Swallowtail. He had tried to engage her in playful, harmless banter in the morning and had earned a scowl and a clawing at his face. Oh, the lessons he learned.

His perfect end to his perfect day was nearly done when a sharp, terrible, intimidating noise broke the peaceful calm that Shrikewhisker had created. His whole body froze on instinct and he thought, for a second, that maybe he should play dead...no, no, that would never fool Gingerstar. Reluctantly, he turned his head toward the leader and made a tiny little 'hm?' noise.

"Get over here n--!"

Oh no. He didn't want to move. Quickly, he made a desperate plea for pity. "Aw, but Gingerstar, I'm eat--"

"I don’t care that you’re eating, you pig, come here!"

With a reluctant sigh, he picked up his body and cast one last longing glance at his half-eaten vole. What a waste. But his leader was not a patient one, so Shrikewhisker left his food and scampered over to Gingerstar, and he tried to look like he was happy to serve (though he wasn't). When he heard her request, however, his happy-go-lucky smile vanished in shock. Save a loner? Wasn't that against the warrior code or something? Why was Gingerstar so concerned about a loner when usually she was so gung-ho about chasing away intruders, be it Fogclan, Streamclan, Meadowclan, loner, rogue, kittypet, even foreign-smelling mice. He just shrugged; there was no use arguing with her and she was already walking away.

Shrikewhisker turned to his travelling mates instead. "I think our dear ol' leader has finally gone off the deep end. Poor girl," he shook his head "Ah well! At least this little venture will be fun!"

And with that, the three cats left camp.

ooc// This thread is still open. However, the patrol will continue their..escapades here

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[Cloud of Diamonds]

Swallowpelt

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. When she'd seen a bloody apprentice stumble into camp, she'd only been concerned...and then she realized the apprentice was her daughter. Immediately a choking anxiety crushed her in its claws, and then was overpowered by a wave of anger, a desire to rip apart whoever or whatever had dared harm her daughter, she, Swallowpelt of PineClan!

She watched numbly, almost in a trance, as the orange leader gave orders. So it was rats that had done this evil deed, and from the sound of it, they were already dead. The scarred warrior felt almost disappointed, but then the disappointment was once again overwhelmed by concern. She saw her leader walking toward her but didn't bother to talk to her, just broke the trance and ran to her limping daughter's side, helping her to the medicine cat den.

"I'll help you, Willowpaw...it's okay now...you're safe...I won't let anything else hurt you..."

Part of her wanted to break down and weep, but Swallowpelt was made of sterner stuff than that. And she must help her daughter to the medicine den. Her son would care for her. Crowpaw would heal his sister.

The big PineClanner's green eyes shone with both fierce determination and tenderness as she aided her only daughter.

Ashstorm

She'd been lying in the shade at the edge of camp when she heard some commotion in the center of camp. Something had happened...she watched as Bluefur and Shrikewhisker, being led by Loonstep, strode purposefully out of camp. Something must be going on...

Padding cautiously into the center of camp, she realized that Willowpaw, covered in blood,was being led by Swallowpelt to the medicine cat den! Immediately terror rose in the small gray warrior. What on earth had happened? How had her apprentice gotten so badly hurt? And why?

Her mind worked furiously. She must know what had happened, but she didn't want to interrogate the gray apprentice when she was so obviously in need of medical attention.

Keeping mind how protective Swallowpelt would probably be, she padded behind them by about a tail-length or so. The bigger she-cat glared back at her, but made no comment as they all eventually reached the medicine cat den.

[Whiskers]

Willowpaw

Willowpaw was relieved when she saw the three cats Gingerstar picked. They were good cats, in her opinion, good cats for this mission, at least. Bluefur was a walking mass of muscle and ferocity. He could lug the other tom back safe, and he could eat up any rats that tried to chew at her hero's innards. Willowpaw did not know Bluefur that well, true, and since he seemed to be glued to Crowpaw's side, she had this gut feeling that she didn't like him. But this wasn't about what she thought of him personally. She could recognize a strong, capable cat. He was one, despite his clingy, annoying love affair with her brother.

On second thought, she didn't like him at all.

And then there was Loonstep, mentor to her brother. There was his relation to Fogclan she didn't like. But he wasn't really that bad, just a cat who she would avoid. She didn't like to waste too much brain cells on the likes of Loonstep.

As for Shrikewhisker, well what wasn't to like! He was her uncle! They had the same color fur, though he had white peppered on his muzzle and chest and paws. He was fun, if anything, and he would find her hero lickety-split. He was named Shrikewhisker for a reason, and that reason involved superb tracking skills.

So yes. On the whole, she was okay with the group Gingerstar had picked out.

What she was not happy with was the immediate presence of her mother, ushering her into the medicine cat den. Figures her mother wouldn't even embrace her, lick her head. No. She was too eager to see her perfect Crowpaw do some healing. Oh badger. Oh oh no, Willowpaw did not want to be stuck in a den with Crowpaw, she did not want Crowpaw to practice his stupid "gift," using her as his learning dummy. She did not want to watch her mother's eyes shine, she did not want to have stupid little cobweb bandages wrapped around her throbbing, burning legs.

She'd just die from the rat poison, or the infection that would set in.

"Yup, safe, so no medicine cat den! I'm fine, Mom, fine. Look, it's like four scratches, gosh, it's not even bleeding that much!" Willowpaw exclaimed fervently, as she was backed up near the den anyway. "Moooom! Crowpaw needs to focus on the other tom, not on me, really, I'm fine!"

Her efforts, though, were in vain.

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[glowlynose]

Crowpaw sighed in annoyance. Now that Bluefur had left to go do something for Gingerstar, he'd be bored again. Why couldn't he just stay and keep him company more? When he'd signed up to be a medicine cat apprentice, he hadn't expected being shut up in the medicine den all freaking day without being taught a single thing. He'd barely seen his mentor, only a few times, and even then, fleetingly. She probably thought that he wasn't worth her attentions. It was a wonder that he'd managed to learn a single thing at all in the half-moon that he'd been in here. He held Lynxpelt in the highest esteem for that. He'd sometimes allowed Crowpaw to listen in on his training sessions with his own apprentice, and the little black tom had begun to identify some herbs. Of course, some of them weren't very difficult to pick out, like marigold, burdock root, and oak leaves. After all, how many roots could one really have in an herb store?

Something was happening outside. Crowpaw could tell from the raised voices and the buzz of tension that had so suddenly permeated the medicine den. The stench of blood wafted over to him on the breeze, and he fought the urge to vomit. He'd never smelled blood before. His reaction to it was so strong that for a moment he actually thought that he might not be meant to do this after all. He shook his head, clearing both his nausea and his uncertainty. Whoever was injured would not want their medicine cat to shrink back from the task of healing them. They would want calm assurance and swift, assured medical assistance. But Crowpaw was barely over six moons... and he was alone in the den. Lynxpelt must have taken Littlepaw off to train or something. He didn't know. His pulse pounded in his head as he tried to calm himself. The injury wouldn't be that bad. He'd be able to deal with it. All it would need was a nice little pain relief, a poultice to stop infection, and a good wrapping. He'd seen Lynxpelt do it... once. He could do this.

When the unfortunate cat poked her head into the den, Crowpaw stopped breathing. Good StarClan, it was his sister! His sister, who hated him almost as much as he loved her, was hurt. A series of pockmarks riddled her pelt, and underneath the scent of her blood lay the very faint tinge of... rat. Yes, the stink of rats filled the medicine den now that he'd picked it out, making his head swim. What had Lynxpelt said to use on rat bites? Was it borage or burdock root? He was pretty sure that it was burdock root... but they both started with a 'b.'

"Cripes sake, Willowpaw, what happened to you?" His voice was barely more than a murmur, and his eyes swept over his sister hurriedly. She didn't look to be injured that badly, which was good, because he could save a lot of the burdock root for the 'other tom' she mentioned. He would only mix the tiniest amount in with the poultice, which he wouldn't need a lot of either. There was not a lot of anything left except for cobwebs in the herb store, he realized as he looked around, sending concerned glances back in the direction of his sister. "You should lie down while I get this stuff ready for you. Just choose a bed."

He had only seen Lynxpelt prepare one poultice before, so that's the one he made, augmented with a bit of burdock. He wondered how he had managed to remember which herbs had gone into the medicine, but chose not to dwell on it. Carrying the cobwebs and poultice out to his sister, he realized that he'd have to work fast. The poison was probably setting in by now. If he didn't get this bound on her soon, she could die. That would be horrible. He tried to work quickly as he could while not pressing too hard on his sister's wounds. Putting her in pain would be unbearable to him. He completely forgot about their row a few days earlier.

"You said someone else was coming? A tom? Did he get attacked by rats as well?" Crowpaw tried to distract his sister, knowing that his poking and prodding with the poultice was probably getting on her nerves a bit. If she could have chosen any cat to treat her, it would know have been him, he knew. She hated him for some reason. Despite this, he tried his very best to treat her, always making sure to be gentle. Maybe if he was nice to her, she'd start to not hate him as much.

"There you go, you should be all set now, Willowpaw. Just stay here for a little while, and take these. They'll help with the pain." He placed a few poppy seeds infront of her, then stepped back to eye his handiwork. It wasn't exactly perfect, but it would do until Lynxpelt could come back and fix a few things. "Will you watch her for a bit, mom? I've gotta go and make some more of this for the other cat." Crowpaw gestured with his tail, indicating the leaf that had only a few specks of poultice spattered across its surface. Without waiting for an answer, he spun around and vanished into the herb store. He could only hope that there would be enough herbs to make the medicine again.

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[Cloud of Diamonds]

Ignoring her daughter's protests, the large, scarred warrior went into the den with her. She barely even noticed that Crowpaw was talking to them, so concerned was she for the little gray she-cat's fate. Ashstorm, too, followed cautiously a little after, poking her head in to watch.

Swallowpelt answered for her daughter.

"Mm, apparently he helped her with some rats." She yawned. "Sure, Crowpaw." Her tone was less affectionate than usual than when she usually talked to her black-furred son. It was not that she didn't love him right now - in fact she was always proud of him and even more so now for caring for his sister so well - but she didn't feel like showing it. All her emotion (what there was of it) was reserved for Willowpaw right now.

She'd watched with concern as he put the poultice on the small gray apprentice, hoping it wouldn't harm her. It was the first time any of her kits had been notably injured, and she felt unusual pain and concern. It was like...what dared hurt her kit, her beautiful, precious daughter? Anger rose in her, wanting to wipe out every rat alive.

Ashstorm padded in warily, uncertain if Swallowpelt would make her leave. She recieved a green-eyed glare, but then it subsided and the bigger PineClanner merely grunted, lying down beside her daughter. Ashstorm sat at the edge of the den, anxious for her apprentice but not wanting to disturb the mother or her two kits.

[swift]

"What is with this racket?"

A large, attractive cat was sprawled out on a nest a few tail-lengths away. Its long limbs were thrown casually across the moss bedding, and its dainty paws and tail hung low over the lip of the nest. A few digits scraped across the floor, stirring clouds of dust. Its head was also resting on the dirt floor, facing the direction opposite the now occupied nest adjacent, so that its white throat and underbelly could be seen.

From across the den, only its slender silhouette and rust red pelt would have been discernible, but at this close proximity, the presumed dying apprentice, if she so chose, could have been able to turn her head and see the crisscross of scars that marred the cat's stomach. The ribs, lined with hard muscle, were laced with rips and tears that were so thin and precise that they resembled small brushstrokes. The scars were evenly spaced and seemed to be organized in columns and rows so accurately placed as to suggest a deliberate and purposeful mind behind them, but below the rib cage was utter chaos. The abdomen was riddled with lacerations that joined, branched out, curved, and stubbed. It could be gathered upon closer study that someone sinister had crafted the aforementioned hideous map of corrosion and defacement and took so extreme--almost overzealous--glee in affecting his horrid masterpiece, that after the first few strokes, the presumed artist had been seized by such emotion that he was unable to control the movement of his brushes--or claws in this matter--that he had torn lustily into his canvas of flesh and dissolved into a ferocious desire to induce as much pain as possible.

But then the cat rolled onto its side, as if suddenly remembering the scars and wished for none to see them.

After a few heartbeats, it raised its head, hoping to catch a glimpse of the cat resting beside it (probably at death's door judging by the noise of the racket), but to no avail: the medicine cat had arrived on the scene, obscuring its direct line of sight. It moved its head to the left in an effort to see past him, but was rewarded with yet another obstacle in the form of a smoky grey she-cat. Although it still could not see the cat on the sickbed, it had a clear view of the she-cat's face, and from the aggravated expression that darkened her still-youthful features, it could conclude that the cat was in fact the mother of the patient. From the worry that danced in the mother's eyes, it imagined that the patient was perhaps a victim of a clan border skirmish, or maybe a badger attack. It shrugged to itself, rolling its broad shoulders together, dismissing the former situation for the latter. A badger attack was much more exciting than a border fight, and involved less spitting.

"Hey, who's dying over there?"

The cat turned from the mother to the much closer medicine cat. Through narrowed eyes, it studied him, trying to place a name on the little black form that was tending so cautiously to the patient. Was it Crow? He was too small to be a fully grown tomcat, so the safer choice between a warrior and apprentice suffix was an apprentice's. Crow-paw. Crowpaw. Yes, that sounded about right. Its nose twitched in frustration, but the rest of its face remained resolutely stoic. How long had it been here? A few moons. Yet still the names of clanmates proceeded to evade its memory? It heaved a sigh, feeling its scarred chest give a dry heave before it returned to its normal rhythm of rising and falling in time to its breathing. Pathetic.

[/blockquote][/justify]

[Whiskers]

Too much was happening at once that Willowpaw could not get her head straight, could not distinguish from one moment to the next. She was out in the camp clearing, she was in the medicine cat den. She was with her mother, she was with her brother. From the corner of her eye she spotted Ashstorm.

She wanted to tell everyone to stop, stop, stop for one second, to press pause, stand stock still, just so she could breathe. She wanted to fully assess where she was, what her options were. She did not like being pushed from place to place, with no one asking her what she wanted, or how she was doing, and if they did ask, they were not waiting for her to answer. Instead, she heard empty orders, felt the pressure of her mother's presence.

She gathered together the rough images that passed so quickly in front of her, and she pieced them together. It was enough to give her a shaky perception of what was going on and she did not like it.

She did not like her mother standing over her shoulder.

She did not like Crowpaw pressing herbs onto her wounds. "Save it for him!" she cried out and tried to draw away from hre brother, hissing weakly at him. "I already told you, these wounds aren't anything! I'm fine!"

The outburst sucked her of all remaining energy and Willowpaw let herself drop, her body hitting the ground with a thump. she sprawled out and put her head down against the cool earth, before repeating herself. "Really. I'm fine."

Another voice reached her, one that Willowpaw was not very familiar with. She lifted up her head and turned it with aching slowness, trying to catch a glimpse of it. It was very clearly male and a stirring of a memory told her that she had heard it not so long ago. IN the apprentice den! A fellow apprentice then, here to see her. Willowpaw wanted to smile happily and hiss at the intruder to go away. It wasn't any of his business...though at least he cared enough to check it out.

"I'm not dying!" she called back with a spitting ferocity, her tone mimicking how she had snapped at her own brother. "I"m absolutely f-fine, people just like to...to overreact." Her tail lashed once before she let her head fall again. Maybe if she just closed her eyes, she'd open them and everyone would go away...

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