Beware, there is mentions of corpses, mummification, death, and TOES. And writing. Good lird this boy can yap.
Warmpaw was never in the forefront of Nettleclan’s mind, and that was perfectly fine for him. They were always in the background, content to lie in the shadows of others. It was humble. That didn't explain why, somehow, it felt like Starclan was turning its wrath on Warmpaw. Why every night, the poor cat's dreams were filled with falling, painfully crashing, and sand between her toes. They knew about Pebblespeckle, the cat who met their demise in a cave under the sands... so why did he torment her?!
Greydrizzle was of no help, neither were Perch, or Mothleaf. Even Fallowshell, when she was alive, had no help to give. They all had conflicting diagnoses, opinions- none of them helpful. It got worse when Warmpaw's eyes were clawed at by a hare- the dreams came every night, disrupting his sleep. It felt like torture. They did manage to recover, with both eyes intact, but that helped little. The only thing that helped was being with Rainflick. He helped soothe their worries, and was just overall a good cat to vent to.
So that was the name they screamed when the soft sands of the eastern territory caved in, plummeting her into the unknown. Thankfully, she didn't land on anything hard- only sand. It was plush, soft, and warm- like a nest laid out in the sun. They struggled to their feet, shaking off the sands clinging to his pelt like fleas. It felt... less intense than their dreams. Now that he actually knew what falling felt like... it wasn't that bad. But then, there was the issue of getting out.
The cave was dark, with only the light of midday to guide her. There were sandstone walls, clawed at by small, desperate claws, leading to a tunnel. At the end of that partially dug out tunnel was the mummy of a cat. ‘Flailpaw,’ Warmpaw knew instantly. His body was small, hardly apprentice sized, and clearly malnourished. How long did the poor thing spend down here? How long would Warmpaw?
Warmpaw refused to let this cave remain a graveyard for apprentices. They, very carefully, dug around the corpse of the kit, and easily- at least, easily in comparison to Flailpaw- began to dig a good enough tunnel to the surface, just barely wide enough to fit themself. It took hours, long into the night, until Warmpaw finally broke through the dirt and soil to the surface. The tunnel ended along Nettleclan and Bigclan's border.
With no strength to haul herself to camp, she rested under the roots of a scraggly scrub-tree. When he woke, it was barely dawn. Using what strength they had gathered in the night, she went back into the cave to gather the remains of the departed. In the mouth of the tunnel, he set Flailpaw. They knew, somewhere in that death trap, Pebblespeckle's remains were lying. Perhaps, that was why she was being tormented. So in the sand, they dug, smoothing down the fall, removing stones and beach rock that made a fall into there deadly. The rocks were shoved onto the walls, reinforcement like no other. Warmpaw felt like she was making a den out of the sand cave.
By the time she heard her name being called by a terribly worried Rainflick, she had found every bone from Pebblespeckle's skeleton and placed them in a shallow hole for the time being. It was nearing night by the time Rainflick’s voice pierced the skies. A cry of Come Home! Her legs burned with effort, but the thought of stopping for a moment hurt worse, so they kept moving. They dug more of the tunnel out, to where she could finally bring out the malnourished Flailpaw and herself in a single trip. He'd have to bring a basket for Pebblespeckle, unfortunately.
"Warmpaw?!" Yowled Rainflick, backed up by Lavenderstep and Billowspot. They all stopped in horror when Warmpaw emerged from the earth, holding an apprentice-sized body in her large jaws. "What..." Rainflick was immediately by their side, as the two apprentices fell to the earth - one exhausted, the other...
~~~
When Warmpaw woke, she was in a hospital nest, lying at the back where it was coolest. The only cats in the Hospital were Nettle, Sleepykit, and Octopuskit. Nettle was assisting the two newborn kittens in eating their milk (totally not stolen from the cows that roamed the border of the clans. Totally)
Nettle used her foreleg to dip a paw into the milk, then allowed a kit to nurse off her. Gross- but surprisingly effective. Warmpaw purred while watching, which caused the injured molly to look up, and she smiled at Warmpaw.
"You're awake." She said, matter-of-factly. "You've slept through two moonrises." She looked back down to Octopuskit, who finished suckling with a full, sleepy look. Instantly Sleepykit was trying to latch, mewing pitifully. Nettle had to gently push the kit off with her nose, then wetted her paw. Warmpaw laughed a little.
"Mothleaf has milk, " Warmpaw croaked, "why are you feeding them?"
"Mothleaf only has so much. She's weaning her kits, and isn't making as much as the new ones need." Nettle said, helping Sleepykit suckle. "So I am filling in. My previous colony did this for the orphans. If not with milk, then with prey-blood. Didn't… always work, but it was better than letting kits starve." Warmpaw didn't speak after that, a bit sheepish at being corrected. Nettle sure was a strange, but wise cat...
Warmpaw only meant to close his eyes for a minute, but when they were open again, a bowl full of Nettleclan's signature clam chowder was resting to the side of her nest. It was still steaming, so Warmpaw wasted no time in lapping it up. Out of the corner of their eye, she saw Mothleaf curled around her kittens, along with Lavenderstep and Honeypelt's. Despite the two or so moon difference, they were all curled up like siblings. Greydrizzle was nearby, preparing a salve for storage and replacing what looked like an old, moldy one. Warmpaw didn't know- she's not the medic here. Perch emerged from the entrance of the Hospital with a wad of fresh moss to line the spot where new patients lay. He was the one to notice Warmpaw awake.
“Warmpaw, ye be in a world of trouble. Rainflick’s mighty cross wit’ ye, and Juniperstar be too.” He said as Warmpaw ate. Their ears lowered instinctively, and they bashfully looked away. “But-” he started again, “yer heroics be not ignored. Peace has come to the Starred Clan, and Wayfinders of the Lost be taking back their charges. Yer punishment be delaying yer warrior naming ‘til the next moon.”
“Th-thank you, Perch. I- I didn’t mean to worry everyone! I- I swear! I just- fell. It was like it came out of nowhere…” Warmpaw huffed, but honestly was thankful there wasn’t any real punishment. “... Did they get Pebblespeckle’s bones? I- I had them all collected ‘nd ready to take out-”
“Aye, laddy, his bones be buried right next ta Longriver’s, as be Flailpaw’s. I be arguing wit’ Juniperstar ta name Flail something ta’night, but Greydrizzle will be the one to officiate, wit dem being a healer bef’r.” Warmpaw nodded, supposing that made sense, Greydrizzle is the head medic, so he’d have the final say. She doesn’t know how Starclan works, honestly. Only the torment they brought. Hopefully with this, they’d finally leave him alone.
It was a wet, cloudy day. The only things the clan could do was gather the moss of the walls of the camp before the stray rain drop or two started to pelt down upon the cats. Even their hunting was spoiled, the beaches too precarious to hunt in. During the storm's earliest phase, Honeypelt decided to re-check the two-leg dirt road. The clan use the man-made paths to get up and down the beaches in a pinch. He took Honeytide, Sporepond, Chasingleaf, Slipgoose, and Bluepaw.
While the rain lazily fell, it didn't obscure the horrible stench of the two-legs- it smelled fresh even. A two-leg beetle had been here, recently. Bluepaw gagged at the stench. Honeypelt had half a mind to tell the 7 moon old apprentice off until the stang of blood hit his nose and made his stomach churn.
"Someone's been injured!" He yowled even though everyone was in a tight group. He and Honeytide led the rest along the trail until they came upon the body of a cat, one leg sprawled out and marked with the pawprint of a two-leg beetle. Honeytide ran to the cat's side and gently sniffed at their face, which was responded to with a lazy growl from the injured loner. With haste, the patrol shifted their focus to getting them to camp, where Greydrizzle could attend to them.
ε> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <3
When the patrol arrived to their home, the storm was finally closing in. Through the gloom, Juniperstar lay grooming Meadowshade by the fire of the hearth, with Springpaw and Snapchomp mixing in chunks of stew meat into the pot of perpetual stew. Bluepaw ran ahead and rushed to the hospital to grab the herbalists, which alerted the leader. He froze mid lick, tongue out, and stared owlishly at the cat on the Honey Bitches (of oats) backs.
"Nettle?" He shakily mewed, getting up and following them into the sheltered hospital.
"You know them?" Honeypelt asked, helping ease the injured cat into a nest freshly done up.
