Ghosts in Search of...

Just a blog for following a ClanGen playthrough, mostly for the fun writing exercise it can provide, and because I like keeping logs and lists of things.

[ghostsinthewasteland]

Information

This story is not planned out! We're all going to learn about the characters and world as we go. Garden storytelling, and all that jazz. OuOb

Setting

Clans

Cats

[ghostsinthewasteland]

The sun has yet to rise when Skypelt wakes, stretches and daintily steps out of her nest.

It was odd to think that they’d been here for a moon now. While it couldn’t really be said that any of them desired to stay here, they had little idea of where else they could go. Slowly but surely, they were mapping out the area, and if they were going to all the effort of learning the lands here, here was as good a place as any to stay. Sure, they all grumbled about it from time to time, but they were…well, they were beginning to feel like a proper community now.

Everyone had their roles to play; from those that explored and hunted, to those that gathered healing herbs, to the few that gave advice and oversaw everything. They got on each others nerves. They looked out for each other.

They were all that each other had in this wasteland.

And for their youngest member, who had done so well to distinguish himself in the little time they’d been carving out a home for themselves here, Skypelt felt it was time to properly join the rest of them. Freezepaw was still young, only eight moons, but he had shown himself to be clear headed and capable. With so few of them to spare on any given task, it would be just a little bit of relief to have the young one helping out without the need for a mentor hovering nearby.

“Freezepaw, it’s time to wake up,” she nudges gently at the adolescent, trying not to smile too obviously at the way he was curled back to back with Slumberfreeze.

The older cat took a great deal of pleasure in getting on the younger’s nerves, but despite all of the arguing and teasing, they got on well and always came back with food for the group. Freezepaw would deny it, but he trusted Slumberfreeze and so clearly took what genuine advice was given to heart.

Rusty colored ears flicked at her soft tone, then a moment later copper eyes peered up at her through slits. “…Sky?”

My, he did sound his age when he was just waking…

She chuckles, giving him a quick lick atop his head before moving over to likewise stir Slumberfreeze. A much more difficult task.

—

It’s still dark by the time the three of them leave the warmth of the den, but the sun will rise in an hour or two, and this test isn’t meant for ideal conditions.

“Ugh, Skypelt, you really are a slavedriver,” Slumber yawns, complaints loud as he trundles on beside his ward, bumping playfully into the younger cat.

“I did give you warning, if you’ll recall,” she responds, giving him a firm but warm look.

Slumberfreeze shrugs, which turns into a languid stretch; back legs shaking and paws spread, tail curling up along his back before he settles back down. “Right then. Guess I’ll see you on the other side, kiddo. Don’t go makin’ me wait too long, or I may just fall back asleep,” he jabs good-naturedly, giving Freezepaw a wink before he goes running off into their little territory.

The younger cat watches him go, and his assurances seem to follow with him.

“So…what exactly are we doing?” he asks, the details of this test having been kept from him so that his reactions were as raw and natural as they could be. Preparation was not always a luxury they were allowed out here, after all.

“Slumberfreeze will hide somewhere within the areas we’ve become familiar with, and you,” Skypelt says with emphasis, eyes shining in the twilight, “Will track him down and confront him, as if he were a trespasser. We haven’t had to deal with any other cats before, but that doesn’t mean we’re the only ones out here.”

Nor did it mean that they would be peaceful.

“You two don’t have to go at it too rough, mind you, but you’ve shown some real promise. Rimestar and I have noticed, and we want to make you more…included in what the older cats were doing. You’re our youngest, but…you’re one of us, and we want to show you that we don’t just see you as a kit needing to be babysat.”

She could feel the nervous air around him, but she knew he had it in him. He could do this, and then, they’d all celebrate!

“Okay…Okay, yeah,” Freezepaw murmured, eyes searching the dark fields that Slumberfreeze had disappeared into. It’s not like it was the first time he’d had to sniff Slumber out and get him to do some work. This was…was going to be just like that.

“I’ll be right here, waiting,” Skypelt assured, brushing up against the adolescent’s side before nudging him encouragingly.

—

Freezepaw hasn’t been outside of camp when it was this dark still. They always came back from hunts before the sun fully set, and while he’d never felt fear of the dark before, he had never been in it so fully and so alone before.

Everything looked so different.

It was grays on blacks on deeper, darker blacks. Places he knew well enough at this point, but they felt foreign and dangerous now.

Cautious steps out into the field turned into a wary trot, and then developed into a skittish run. Slumberfreeze couldn’t have gotten that far by now, right? He must have used something to help cover his scent, because after a short distance away from camp, Freezepaw lost any trace of it. He looked for any sort of trail in the dirt, but frustratingly, Slumberfreeze could be careful and light on his feet when he wanted to be.

He had nothing to go off of, and that only made his gut clench worse and his heart beat faster.

“It’s fine, this is fine— I can do this. This is Slumberfreeze, I’m sure he did just find somewhere to get some more sleep while he could—” The young cat goes quiet when a dark silhouette makes itself clear against the night, and he hunkers down instinctively. It was big enough to be Slumber…

Breathing in shakily, Freezepaw shuffles forward a few inches. The other cat doesn’t move. He breathes out, and pounces.

An unfamiliar scent washes over him as he lands on the other cat’s back, a surprised yowl piercing his ears. They roll in the dirt, briefly, and before Freezepaw can recover and try to explain himself, there are savage teeth in his throat and claws raking his belly.

Tears blur his vision of the stars until they melt together in the sky above.

I didn’t even get to scream…, he thinks, No one will know…I don't want to--

—

The dawn brings a splitting pain to Rimestar's head, and though he feels like doing little else but curling up for the day in his nest, something...pulls him outside. He squints and blinks, staggered by the ache in his skull as soon as light greeted him, but he pressed on with a soft grunt.

Something glittered off a short distance away, and with his face pulled up in a grimace, Rimestar stumbled towards it.

Where one was, more followed -- like a trail of sparkling frost. Pawprints, faint and glimmering, and the familiar scent of Freezepaw. Something pangs heavy and echoing in his chest, and Rime tries to push the pain to the back of his mind as he takes off after this trail.

He knew Freezepaw was being tested today. He didn't hear Skypelt's questioning voice, or the sound of her following him out of camp.

The dread only grows when the smell of blood hits him, and he quickens his pace -- only to burst out of the brush and onto a grisly scene.

Slumberfreeze sits, head hung and terribly still, by the too small body of Freezepaw. Eyes half closed. Blood soaked into rusty fur, into cracked earth, as if it could quench some sort of thirst that the ground held. Skypelt makes a noise like a choked bird as she rushes forward, heedless of the gore as she nuzzles the still body before them.

Slumberfreeze finally looks away, cyan eyes dull as they stared into Rimestar's cobalt blue.

The silence between them is loaded, Skypelt's muffled cries the only sound as the sun climbed higher.

[ghostsinthewasteland]

finally getting caught up here so i can progress to the first moon!

instant tragedy...

[ghostsinthewasteland]

Lilacfern sighed as he looked up to the sky.

It was so dreary here it was difficult to tell what time of year it actually was. It was chilly in the mornings still, but there wasn’t any snow on the ground either. Newleaf? Possible…but this place was just so…gray and bare, it was hard to picture any new life popping up, fresh and green.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Skypelt speaks up, padding along Lilac’s left side, eyes trained on the bushes around them.

Lilac’s ear twitches towards her, but he gives her little else acknowledgement. “Blackberry leaves,” he answers, short and mildly irritated at the unwanted company of Skypelt and Rimestar, “If we’re in the correct season…which…I don’t, not in this dead place, there should be new leaves on the bushes. They’re good for treating stings from insects.”

Rimestar hums in interest at that, blue eyes feeling heavy against Lilacfern’s fur. “You sound quite knowledgeable about this. Are you a healer?”

Lilac’s muzzle wrinkles at the suggestion. “Hell if I know. I just…I know about plants.”

A slightly dissatisfied silence blankets over them for a while as they walk, none of them really accepting that answer but unable to call him out on it. After their first night in the gully, they had all shared bits about what they knew of themselves. It didn’t amount to much. Names. Some experience in certain survival skills. The obvious instincts they all had as cats. But nothing too solid about themselves or where they came from.

It was frustrating, unnerving.

Thankfully, it didn’t take them too long to come across a bramble, and it gave Lilac the distraction of explaining to the other two what to look out for to identify this bush from another.

“You have to be careful because of the thorns, obviously, but once you know how to weave through, it isn’t too ba—” He’s in the middle of doing just that when the sharp tug of throrns in his fur immediately makes him hiss and come to a stop.

He can hear paws padding around the bush before Rimestar spots his predicament, blue eyes clear through the gray mass of tangled branches. “Do you need help?”

Lilacfern’s ears flatten in embarrassment, gaze darting away from their de facto leader. “…Not you. Your fur’s longer than Skypelt, you’d probably get caught up worse than me if you try to stick yourself in here.”

There’s an amused chuckle, and a faintly exasperated huff.

“Well, just go ahead and volunteer me, I guess," Skypelt speaks up from somewhere Lilac can't see, feigning any real annoyance. There's a pause as she seems to look for the best entry point to the bush, and then he can hear her slowly moving through the thorny bush. He didn't get very far in, all things considered -- winding through and talking at the same time was apparently not something he was good at -- so it didn't take long before he felt her nosing gently along his side and back.

Lilacfern releases a relieved puff of air when he feels steady paws carefully working sharp points out of his fur.

"I don't see any blood, so I think you got lucky," she beams, giving him a little rub against his side before carefully maneuvering her way back out.

Lilac was quick to follow her out.

It should have been an awkward trip back, emptyhanded, but Skypelt and Rimestar kept up the banter. He was pretty sure they were just making stories up about times they'd messed up something they were good at, but it soothed his bruised ego a bit.

[ghostsinthewasteland]

Bristlewind

Elder | Alive Male | Senior Adventurous Good climber Learner of lore Clan founder

Bristlewind was old, but that did not mean he didn't still have his uses.

While the younger cats went about handling the important business, he took his time and got his mind settled on his own task. He couldn't travel fast or far anymore, but he still had the strength in his tired body to climb up into one of the bare trees that rested next to the site they all awoke in.

Bark broke underneath his claws as he carefully made his way up as high as he could, gold eyes scanning the location with a keenness that came from years of experience.

Ah, there we go.

Rumbling low in his throat with triumph, the old cat slowly and with little grace gets back down to ground level, shaking himself off with a grumble about old bones. There's paralleled slices in his fur, over his left forearm -- healed, of course, but still stark as the scarred skin never seemed to regrow any fur -- that make the limb stiff. It gets a bit better the more he moves around, but he just doesn't do that much anymore, so stiff and achy is how it remains.

He walks for a while, the sky slowly beginning to darken into night, before finally reaching his destination.

It was a little gully, not too incredibly far from the tree he'd climbed to spot it; rather shallow, really, but sheltered enough from the wind and not easy to see without getting the advantage of height. Whatever river had made this gully had clearly dried out long ago, and something had been dumping unnatural things here from the looks of it.

Big cylinders that echoed strangely when jumped on or struck with a paw, one overturned and leaking. Black rounds that were hollow in the middle, and held a smell that faintly put him in mind of a skunk. A pit lined with rocks rested in the middle, charred wood laid inside and still carrying a hint of smoke and ash.

But what Bristlewind was truly pleased to have found was the large, rectangular nest off to the side. Sure, it was musty and had some rips in it -- what were those pointed, swirly things sticking out in some places? No clue! -- but it was softer and warmer than the ground. Just right for his old bones.

So, with a self-satisfied smirk, Bristlewind marked the outline of this little area so that the others could find it, and then made himself comfortable as can be in his nest.

Those youngsters could run around all they liked, he was content to have his adventures from one side of this nest to the other.

[ghostsinthewasteland]

Freezepaw

Apprentice | Alive Male | Adolescent Grumpy Quick witted Clan founder

It's almost dark by the time the hunting pair find a good spot to sniff around, vast plains of dry grass as far as they can see. Likely to be field mice, birds, small things they can nab easily and bring back for everyone to get enough for the night at least.

As lazy and uninterested as Slumberfreeze had been in their initial talk, he did seem to be taking this seriously. They stay within earshot of each other, but split up to cover a bit more ground.

It dosen't take Freezepaw too long to bag a couple of rodents, moving silently through the grass as he pounces, then collects his prizes. They never knew what hit them, and that's how he preferred it. Plucking them up by their tails to carry easier, Freeze's attention is grabbed by the sudden rustle of grass and scampering of paws in the dirt.

"Hey, hey, hey! Cut it off, kid, before it can get away!" comes Slumberfreeze's voice, quickly followed by a rabbit bursting through the wall of grass with the older cat hot on its tail.

Freezepaw startles a little, but is quick to join in the chase as well. With the two of them on it, keeping it from darting off to either side so easily, it desperately barrels forward. Further and further through the fields they give chase, finally exhausting the rabbit enough to close the gap and catch it for good. It struggles and kicks, briefly, but it doesn't take them long to dispatch.

"Whew! Well, can't say we didn't do anythin' when we bring this back, huh?" Slumber huffs, catching his breath and resting in the dirt beside their catch.

Freezepaw goes to collect the mice he'd dropped once they'd downed the rabbit, joining the older cat in recuperating for a moment. "Yeah, I'm surprised you actually had it in you. Thought you'd be more suited to finding a place to sleep with the old man."

There's an offended gasp, entirely played up even without looking at Slumberfreeze.

"Hey now, I'm in the prime of my life still!" A pause, a low hum becomes apparent now that they're just sitting and talking. "Although...a nice, cozy place to sleep sounds divine after all this effort--"

Freeze sits up, head on a swivel as he tries to locate the source of that faint buzzing. "Shh, do you hear that?" he asks, voice lowered.

"Do I hear what? Your sorry lack of respect for your cool, totally not too old elders--"

"No, I'm serious, shut up!" he snaps, swatting at the other's muzzle.

Silence. Silence.

That low, droning hum is now clear to them both.

"What...What is that...?" Freezepaw mutters, head on a swivel as he scans the field for...

Wait...

Was it coming from those trees...?

Tail flicking in agitation, Freeze shoots a look to Slumber, a quiet follow me as he lopes over to the strange, white trees he spotted in the near distance.

The closer they got, the more apparent it became that these...were not trees. They didn't know what they were, but they were sleek and devoid of color; what few branches they had moved -- in the wind, yes, but they rolled through the sky, one over the other over the other, in the same unbroken pattern.

The two cats stared up at these...fake trees for a time, before Slumberfreeze eventually nudged the younger cat away and back to their small pile of prey.

The walk back to the group was now made with glances over their shoulders and ears primed for any odd noises as they left the field of white trees behind.

[ghostsinthewasteland]

Slumberfreeze

Warrior | Alive male | Young adult Wise Den builder Clan founder

Really, everyone is overreacting.

Slumberfreeze can't help but wish that he'd never woken up from that nap. Everything had been loud and chaotic ever since. While most everyone else seemed to want to pipe up in the absolute mess of a meeting they'd had, he was content to find a comfortable enough spot to curl up in.

So what if they woke up with no memory of how any of them got here? They were here now, and that was the only fact that mattered right now.

He rolls over in his -- frankly, disappointing -- little nest of grass, tail lashing lazily as he idly notes that the voices of the others have seemed to come to some kind of agreement. He doesn't really care what they've all decided, he wasn't in a position to go against the flow right now, so he may as well let it carry him where it will.

Eyes still closed, he listens as the others break off into pairs or a trio, if the amount of noise was anything to go by.

Finally, some peace.

...

Slumberfreeze grimaced at the sensation of being watched, cracking open an eye to see the youngest of their makeshift group staring him down with a look that could kill.

If he had the energy to die dramatically, that was.

"Mm, can I help you?" he drawled, bringing a paw up to fuss idly at his ear.

The adolescent growled something low and indiscernible, ears flattened back and tail puffed up.

Slumber waited to see if the kid would repeat himself, faking a yawn and rolling to his other side just to see the response he'd get.

"You're gonna be worse than having fleas, aren't you?" the younger cat muttered, lip curled in disdain.

Slumberfreeze laughed at that, rolling back over -- paws flailing in the air -- to face the kid. "Are you admitting to having a flea problem? Ooph--!"

The wind is knocked out of him as paws land squarely on his belly, the adolescent walking over him as if he were little more than an annoying obstacle that wasn't worth taking seriously. Not entirely incorrect, given the attitude he was trying to project.

Was it so wrong to simply want to rest a bit longer?

"Everyone's off to do something. They didn't want me to go hunting alone, and the old man can't exactly go far," the younger cat explained, tossing a withering gaze to the grizzled cat watching them with a smarmy grin. "So get up. We're leaving."

Squinting his eyes at the old cat watching them in amusement, Slumberfreeze gets up with a languid sigh and stretches himself out. Guess this is where the flow was taking him for the moment.

"Guess that makes us partners, huh?"

"Don't say it like that."

"Aw, but why not? I think we'll get on swell!"

[ghostsinthewasteland]

Fiercenewt

Warrior | Alive Female | Young adult Righteous Great storyteller Clan founder

Fiercenewt isn't about to be looked after or taught anything by this cat just because she has the benefit of more moons. She was in her prime, and age didn't always translate to the best knowledge or techniques. And if she was having a little trouble keeping up with Frozengale as they ran, making a mental map of the surrounding area they had woken up in, no one could prove it...

"C'mon, kid! We've still got some light left, we can start circling back in a few, but I see somethin' up ahead!"

Her ears flattened at the nickname, irritation making her push harder in order to catch up.

Talking to her as if she were some soft-pawed kit. The nerve. The condescension--

Wait...what was that?

It cut through the landscape like a scar; black and unnaturally straight for most of its length, before it began to twist and bend where it entered the woods.

The oddity is a draw for Frozengale, and though Fiercenewt is wary, she can't argue the desire to find out what it is. They don't slow down.

Not until they get closer, and hear the distressed wail of...another cat?

They both scrabble to a halt, lowering down into the dry grass for what cover it can offer. Ears pricked forward, trying to get an idea of the situation just ahead of them.

The voice was loud enough, but...the words weren't quite right. It was disjointed, broken -- almost like how a very young kit might speak. But the voice was no child, and this juxtaposition made the fur prickle up Fiercenewt's spine.

Something isn't right about this.

Brittle grass rustles beside her as Frozengale rises and begins to step forward once more-- only for Fiercenewt to dart in front of the older cat with a sharp hiss.

"What are you doing?! We have no idea what that is!"

Frozengale's eyes are briefly widened in surprise at her reaction, but instead of rising up to meet her in disagreement as Fiercenewt expects, she merely ducks her gaze away and towards the warbling noise. "...Sorry, I...must have gotten caught up in the thrill of it all. They just sounded so..."

Hurt? Lost?

Tail flicking in agitation, Fiercenewt lets out a tight breath, casting a glance over her shoulder to the crying near the land-scar. It sounded miserable, like its life was coming to an end. It wasn't that she didn't feel the urge to try and help, but they had their own to worry about in this strange place. They hardly knew anything about what was going on, or who any of them were to each other beyond unfortunate strangers caught in the same situation. Adding another mystery to that mix could only lead to problems.

"...I know. But we can't. Not...not right now. Maybe, once we know more...we'll come back here, see if...if they're still here." It was a compromise, even if it felt like a condemnation of this poor creature crying like a lost child.

They head back to the rest of the group.

[ghostsinthewasteland]

Frozengale

Warrior | Alive Female | Senior adult Adventurous Incredible runner Good mediator Clan founder

Everyone was talking at the same time, and nothing was getting done.

Frozengale's tail flicked as she watched, listening with half an ear to complaints, fearmongering and the rational few trying to calm the group down. From their waking in this place, the sky had remained gray -- but, to her, she could still see the muted light of the sun behind the clouds, and it was beginning to drift later and later into the day.

They may have had time to squabble during the day, but without knowing where they were or what threats may reside here, it was only going to get more and more dangerous the longer they waited. She wasn't fond of spending the night out in the open without even an idea of what the surrounding area looked like, especially with an adolescent being among their number.

Glancing around, she sees the bemused expression of the eldest cat, the concern of the younger members, the attempt at annoyance from the youngest.

The day is beginning to wane.

"Well," Frozengale finally interrupts the back and forth, getting up to stretch out her slightly stiff limbs, "We can all keep going around in circles about how we don't know what's going on, accomplishing nothing as night sets in--"

Several cats exchange glances as she speaks up -- some look appreciative, while others seem a little surprised, like they'd forgotten she was there.

"--Or we can check out the nearby area and at least secure some shelter and food for the short term," she continues, gesturing with a nod of her head to the dreary fields ahead of them. "It doesn't have to be forever, but it needs to be before the sun sets. I think we'd all feel better with a safe place to sleep and a little something in our bellies. Anyone up to joining me on a little exploration?"

There's a little grumbling, but it doesn't take long for Rimestar to settle everyone down and encourage the group to pair up to get these tasks accomplished. He may be young, but he seems to be stepping in pretty well as a leader -- with the help of Skypelt as well.

"Alright, lets get this show on the road!" Frozengale beams, excitement stirring in her chest as she's joined by a young, white coated cat. "Stick with me, I'll show you my best tricks of the trade, kid."

And then, they're off. After an indeterminate amount of time asleep or knocked out -- whatever had happened to leave them all scattered around, unconscious -- Frozengale was grateful to be able to run, to let the wind brush against her fur and to feel the earth beneath her paws.

It just felt right.

[ghostsinthewasteland]

Lilacfern

Medicine Cat | Alive Male | Adult Sneaky Deep Starclan bond Clan founder

Lilac had woken up before the others, but not knowing where he was or who these other cats were, had slunk off to hide beneath a delapidated structure. He kept low and quiet, utterly still as slowly but surely the confused voices of the others began to trickle into his hiding place.

None of them seemed to know anything about their shared dire circumstances. Disappointing, really. He didn’t like not knowing things.

Lilac listened in on the group for a while longer, just in case someone was holding out on information. But they weren’t, and as cats started to get their bearings and truly realize that they were in a bad spot, Lilac twisted around to retreat on the other side of his hiding place — intending to leave without being seen. Squeezing out the increasingly tight space, he shook dust from his coat and stretched.

“Well, best to move on to greener pastures,” he hums to himself, trotting off with a flick of his tail.

Only…there didn’t seem to be any greener pastures here. No green freshness anywhere. The sky was gray, like it wanted to rain, but the earth was dusty and barren beneath his paws. Lilac slows for a moment, glancing around himself with more focus now. There are some hardy growing things, but…nothing that he knows. Which, in and of itself is a strange thought, considering he woke with no knowledge beyond his name and…and that plants were a good resource to have. Healing, saving.

Someone whispers behind him.

Fur bristling, Lilac whirls and sees nothing. Teeth bared and back curved, he sprints away. A frantic run that kicks up pebbles and dust.

Distance. Distance is what he needs. He needs to get away from this place, he needs something green and living—

The whispering follows at his tail, and its voice multiplies into many -- too many.

Lilac reaches a dead and wispy tree line that leads into a darkening wood, fear spurring him to keep going where logic might have told him to turn back. Birds cry somewhere up above in the tangled grasping branches of this dead wood, but they are nearly drowned out by the fervent whispering that chases after him like a dog on the hunt.

Eventually, he spots a hollowed out tree and dives into it without a care for what might already have made its home there. Lilac pants, fur standing on end as he tries to press himself up against damp wood, tries to disappear into this dark place.

The whispers become demanding, growing frantic — angry, desperate, wanting.

Until a twig snaps somewhere in the deadwood, and everything falls into a terrible, sudden hush.

His breathing sounds too loud now, and Lilac clamps his jaws closed and grits his teeth in an effort to make as little noise as possible. He stays there; stalk still, eyes wide and staring at the entrance to his sanctuary.

The wood outside is silent. Unnaturally so.

And that’s when he sees them. Glittering through the air like frost, like fireflies, like stardust. They shine, yet it doesn’t feel…bright. It feels muted. Grayscale. Light in a colorless world. They drift by the opening of the hollow, and he watches them in their dance until a paw appears among them.

It makes no noise, leaves no indent in the leaf litter. Lilac can see through it, partially, as if it was only half in this world. The paw is joined by a face, peering in at him from outside the hollow of his tree. It is likewise see-through, and if it has features, he can make out little beyond its eyes that glow and glitter like those speckles in the air.

They stare at one another for a long moment. Lilac goes deathly still, not even daring to breathe. The Ghost, likewise does not move.

Until it opens its mouth in an unnaturally large gap; jaw unhinged like there was no bone, no muscle.

Lilac expects noise — the whispers, maybe — but there is deafening nothingness that emanates from that mouth with a weight he can feel in his chest.

“What do you want from me?!” he eventually yowls, pressing down into the damp earth as if he could hide further into it. His claws leave gouges in the dirt.

The Ghost’s mouth remains gaping, glittering eyes blank. But it moves now. One step. Another. Stiff, like it hadn’t moved in a body for many moons. Lilac didn’t wait for it to get closer before he made an irrational choice: he bolted through the Ghost.

It feels warm when he passes through it.

Lilac doesn’t stop running. He trips over tree roots until he’s made it back beyond the clinging grasp of the deadwood.

“Hey!”

Someone calls out to him, and they sound so alive and there that he gasps in relief as he comes to a heart-pounding stop. He tries to catch his breath, head hanging as he pulls in desperate breaths.

“There’s a group of us over here, if you feel comfortable joining. We’re, uh…well, all sort of strangers, but we’re all we’ve got out here for the moment.” The cat that speaks to him has blue eyes, dark fur. He can’t see the landscape through them. They’re real, they’re here. “You okay?”

“What…?” Lilac asks, blinking away the tears he hadn’t realized were gathering in his eyes. He dips his head, brushing a paw over his face. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

If asked, he would say that it was fear for his life that had spurred on such a reaction. But, deep in his heart, what Lilac fears to admit is that it was that brief brush of warmth from passing through the Ghost that brought tears to his eyes as he ran.

[ghostsinthewasteland]

Skypelt

Deputy | Alive Female | Adult Responsible Good teacher Good speaker Clan founder

"You may want to take this slow, but are you alright? You don't smell dead, at least."

Skypelt's eyes flutter open at the sound of a soft, faintly concerned voice above her. Her dizzy gaze eventually focuses on dark fur, blue eyes and a young face. She should probably be concerned as well, but instinct tells her to remain calm and move slowly.

She feels...fine. Foggy, but nothing hurts.

Sighing, she shakes some of the drowsiness from her mind, tail curling around her front paws as she pulls herself up into a sitting position. "I'm fine--"

Something glittered around this cat in front of her for the briefest of moments.

"I'm fine," she repeats, more firmly this time. She looks this cat over, up and down, and can't help but smile knowingly. He could hardly be many moons passed being a kitten, really. "You're surprisingly steady for a youngster. What are you doing all the way out...here..."

The younger cat watches her as her head swivels, taking in the dead landscape around them.

What were they doing out here?

There were no sounds -- no wind, no animal calls, nothing. Just the stillness that came with a dead place. Skypelt isn't sure why, but it makes her chest ache. She thought...that there should be green, trees, birds.

The young cat before her moves, brushes her side with light reassurance. Wise for his few years. "Yeah, I...I know. Well, I don't. I don't know why we're here, or where here is. But I do know that we're here together, and we're not the only ones," he says, mouth crinkling at one corner. "It's going to get dark soon, and there are others to check on."

There were more? More cats?

Turning around and taking a few steps forward, Skypelt did indeed see others -- most were motionless in the dry grass, but others were beginning to stir in confusion.

"I don't know what's going on, but I know we'll have a better shot of figuring it out and surviving together. I'm Rime...Rimestar." He sounded unsure about that, but as soon as she thinks it odd, she realizes that she doesn't recall where her own name came from beyond herself. "Think you could help me out...?"

"Skypelt," she supplies, already sprinting off to one of the other cats, "And I've got you covered, Rimestar!"

[ghostsinthewasteland]

Rimestar

Leader | 9 Lives left Male | Young adult Wise Very clever Great teacher Clan founder

He wakes with a start, pupils blown wide and limbs shaky as Rime scrambles to his paws.

Where...Where is he?

Heart thumping wildly in his chest, blue eyes quickly take in his surroundings. Gray, damp. Lifeless. That...This cannot possibly be correct, cannot be right. He feels as if...something is missing. Something is wrong.

But he doesn't know what, does not even know how he came to be in this place he does not recognize the smell or feel of.

What he does know is that he needs a better lay of the land. He may not know how he came to be here, but that didn't mean his confusion was an excuse to not be as prepared as he could be. Dead grass crunches beneath his pads as he trots over to the lone tree within sight, bare branches clawing at the gray sky above; a leap and some scrabbling is all it took to get a better view, and what's laid out before him leaves an unnerved pit in his gut.

The hillsides here were dry and ghostly, pockmarked by heaps of broken and worn out...things. They stank of age and decay. But, more worrisome than that, were the bodies of other cats littered across the landscape.

Rime's ear flicked as an indecipherable whisper brushed by it, the glittering over his shoulder missed as he leaps back down to check on the closest cat.