February 20, 2021 at 2:43 am #11256ChrisParticipant
“Help! Is there anyone out there! I am Rainysly, Medicine Cat of RiverClan and I’m…” The young tom paused to take a breath, his voice falling from a shout to complete his plea. “I’m trapped…”
His tone was laced with pain, as he cast a backward glance at the sizable dead branch that pinned his back right leg to the ground. It was a fairly old bit of wood, but still heavy enough to restrain him. Not that he was the beefiest tom in RiverClan- far from it. His provliciety for avoiding water didn’t help either. He was surely regretting skipping swimming day as he lay helpless like a kit.
He was miles away from camp, closer to the WindClan border than his own home. His only hope was a patrol of either side passing by. Thankfully while he was in pain, he wasn’t dying. It hurt like hell, but the tom was more worried about the cold after the sun set or passing predators smelling his blood.
Briefly he reflected on how his former self might have panicked in this situation. He felt less concerned now, he knew he’d get out of this. The solution just hadn’t presented itself yet.
He perked u as the rustling of undergrowth signaled from a few meters away. And gradually drew nearer. It wasn’t big, so if it was an enemy it was at least not much larger than himself. Though in his present state a chipmunk could take him out.
Thankfully, it was another cat. A WindClan Warrior he did not know.
“Thank StarClan you’re not a fox.” He laughed weakly. “Would you mind lending a paw..? Darkstar will thank you, I’m sure.” Not for saving my life perhaps, but he wouldn’t want to lose his Medicine Cat… Well, perhaps it was a bit harsh to assume his Leader would feel nothing at his demise, but neither could he deny that the list of cats he’d mourn before him was presumably long.February 27, 2021 at 12:58 am #11338PheebsParticipant
Common decency said: Go help that poor medicine cat! Horrible conscience argued: Or- y’know- keep walking. Quiethawk, being the Starclan-blessed creation he was, allowed Common Decency to win and, despite protests from his burning shoulder, approached the source of the noise.
Quiethawk swore he wasn’t aiming to cause trouble. Beyond the whole: sneaking-out-of-camp-and-ignoring-Startledcrow’s-paranoid-ears. Other than that, he was just searching for a place to lie down. Or hunt. Or hunt and lie down- in that order. Desertstar, a lovely friend she was and the platonic love of his life, was beginning to breathe down his neck any time he tried to do anything fun. His shoulder was fine, seriously. (Denial is great). Eveningstorm still hadn’t asked about the shoulder, and Quiet suspected the story behind it would either amuse or exasperate the other. Besides the point- the point being Quiethawk was tired, and the tabby just wanted a break from all his friends and loved ones trying to force him into being safe! He was always safe-ish.
Which was why this was a truly awful idea, but he had a knack for them. “I’m a bit too small to be a fox,” he huffed, eyeing the sprawled-out mess that was, apparently, Rainysky the Riverclan medicine cat. “Darkstar shmarkstar, I’m helping you because I’m trying to not get the stinkeye from my mates. Trust me, if they ever heard of me not helping someone in need, I would get the worst glares of a lifetime. My mates are gorgeous in the terrifying-could-kill-you way.” Or maybe that’s just Des. “I’m oversharing.” Quiethawk frowned, disgust curling his lip. “Forget everything I just said, and I will consider you the nicest fish-loving fish-breath to exist.”
How do I- yeah, okay this seems like a good idea. With surprisingly steady movements, the lean Windclanner fit his shoulder beneath the tree trunk. This is definitely going to hurt later. The extreme force with which Quiet shoved the log sent a jolt of pain to his right shoulder, but he figured after a few more tries it would move further. Which, thank his lucky stars, it did that exactly. “You- stop moving.” Quiethawk snapped, sitting down to inspect Rainy’s leg. “Not broken, and everything looks in place.” I would know, I’ve broken and sprained my legs at least twice before. Another thing he wasn’t sharing (because of pride). “Does this hurt?” He lifted a small paw and pushed, brushing over his leg and eyeing his face for any signs of hurt.
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