[ti]Open[/ti]Set A-Blaze

[Miss Tactical]

Eveningstar’s paws trudged through the territory, as he did so, dust kicked up behind him everything was so dry. Unsuccessfully they did their best to push the borders on Mistclan’s side trying to go unnoticed but their new leadership seemed to be on top of it. I will have to sit with Batstrike later on this one.” Things today…were terrible quiet. With narrowed eyes he looked into the distance, not single bird call, or mouse running under foot. Not a single hiss from the carrion place rogues something seemed off today. The black scarred tom scrunched his nose as a horrible sent tickled his fur. He looked up to the sky noticing an odd smokey tint sniffing the air one more time his eyes widened. No it couldn’t be could it? He crouched crawling through the dead grass and soon the ground under his paws began to rumble. He look towards the ground to see pebbles shifting slightly and soon he saw the cause.

Foxes and their pups running at high speed, a badger lumbering slowly he unsheathed his claws ready to lead them away when they were followed by small prey animals. ”What in StarClan…..” The black leader peaked around a tree, eyes wide with fear a large blaze storming through the dried grass at high speed. With eyes wide with fear the black tom turned around and ran as fast as his paws would take him, but that didn’t seem to be fast enough. Trees on the out skirts were lit up and engulfed rather quickly. Soon his path blocked. He coughed keeping low to the ground making sure to avoid falling branches.

This is not funny StarClan this is NOT how I wanted to go.” With quick thinking, the black tom back up and with quick movement leaped over a falling trunk he would over come this, he had too so many of his clan depended on him. The black tom certainly felt the heat noticing a patch of fur on flank scorched and his skin slightly blistered. The black tom came crashing into camp, panting barely able to catch his breath. ”EVERYONE OUT, KITS FIRST, QUEENS FIRST HEAD TOWARDS MISTCLAN!” He didn’t want to , it really was quite a burst to his ego, but fire couldn’t cross water right ? They could find a new place to go after the flames died out. ”HELP THE ELDERS, HELP PALESUN GET HERBS HELP WHERE YOU CAN!”

Instinctively Eveningstar went for the apprentices den, grabbing the newly named Lizardpaw by his scruff. His eyes scanned the hectic clearing for Bellfeather, his heart racing as he couldn’t seem to track her down. A black haze seemed to settle over MothClan, as he could hear the whimpers, the fear, the chaos. ”STAY LOW!!!” Eveningstar looked at Lizardpaw his eyes soft. ”I will meet you near Mistclan, follow the others you can do it son.” He saw Lizardpaw look back at him before running out of the camp entrance. Eveningstar watched his son go letting out a small cry as he did. He cared deeply for his family, and if anything happened to them…..a loud crackle and snap caught his attention as embers could be seen flying in the sky…StarClan was certainly relentless lately…

[Mama]

Honeypaw

Laying in the clearing on his back after an uneventful morning, the tom raised a paw towards the sky. He squinted before blocking out the sun, trying to spot a bird or two. Hmm... nothing. A silent exhale left his nose, as his tail twitched with annoyance before flopping onto his side. {It's so bright out today..} He thought, before peeking towards the trees with fluttering eyelids. The tom was nearly about to fall asleep when the new leader, Eveningstar, burst through the camp entrance shouting.

{Nghh.. Fire? What is that? Sounds like one of those stupid names or something.} Honeypaw thought with a scowl, before a loud boom of a falling tree caught his attention and kept him from falling back asleep. Slowly getting to his paws, he didn't seem to be in a rush as the danger was completely unknown to him. The embers sparked and twinkled like bright, happy stars, and black clouds stormed up from the flames. The... fire thing.. it was quite pretty. Oranges and reds, like a sunset. A soft smile went on his face, getting lost in the colors before the panic of his clan snapped him from the trance.

{Starclan, relax. It's not going to hurt you. It's like... Starclan gifted us the sun, and the sunset... and even the stars.} The silent feline thought, before looking back to the fire. It was so enchanting.... Slowly, hypnotized by it and completely tuning out the yelling and screeching of cats, he walked to the embers before one or two landed on his chest. They flickered for a second, and he glanced down curiously, before they started to grow into flames along his tabby pelt with more sparks fueling it.

What was there to be worried about?

Heronwatcher followed the warnings, nudging cats towards the exit before storming out to safety herself.

Olivebloom was returning from a stroll when the flames started to grow in the horizon... near the camp! Curly fur bristled up as she suddenly took off, launching into the heat and trying to make her way into camp. She flung herself through an open gap, her pawpads blistering while the tip of her ears and muzzle had already burned slightly. "Who needs help? Any kits or elders left?!" The giant warrior yowled, glancing around frantically.

Stormycloud tried to get help to the nursery, however the fire proved to be a risk to her life as the embers started to burn and blacken her inconveniently, and very long coat. Recoiling back, she glanced around at the chaos, trying to see if anyone needed help getting out.

Rueshine didn't know what this fire thing exactly was. Baring his teeth as he left the elders den, the tom glanced around to see what was this fire creature attacking them. "Where the mousedung is it?" The tiny, kitten like tom spat with his usual spicy attitude. That was, until the tip of his tail caught an ember, and started to blaze. Turning back with horror as he felt the pain, the tom panicked and suddenly took off in a random direction.

[LupTacco]

"EVERYONE OUT!"

-= [ Bleakbelly ]

   

    The sound of a small stampede reached his ears first, and then the not-too-far shouts of Eveningstar as the elderly warrior approached the camp, dropping the vole in his jaws to breathe in scents and recoiling with a retching cough as the sour smell of smoke filled his maw. Abandoning his kill, Bleakbelly charged forward through the undergrowth, bursting through the grass forcefully into the stones of MothClan's camp. Flames licked at the stones, catching onto the lichens before seeming to crawl onto the dens like a terrible lizard. Bounding past Eveningstar into the apprentice's den, he looked around for his children, but neither seemed to be in the camp for now- but Rosepaw was there, standing stiff-legged and dumbfounded. "Move, wretch! Help the elders, find the sick! Do something useful, rat," he barked at the young cat, roughly shoving him with a paw and sending the small tom sprawling forward until he stumbled onto his feet and ran outside. Taking one last quick look around to make sure nobody was cowering in the corner, he leapt out of the den, hissing with pain as embers flew into his face and fire latched onto his fur. Acting fast, he dropped himself into the sandy ground, rolling into it until the heat no longer clung directly to his fur. "Exit's this way! Don't go forgetting basic landmarks just because of a little heat! Move it!" he kept watch at the entrance, nosing cats through to safety and making calling others over. He could feel his throat getting rough, suppressing a cough every so often. I'm getting to old for this, he admitted silently.

{TLDR; Bleakbelly slightly burned, keeping an eye out for stragglers. Can be included in any reply as a mention!}

-= [ Otterspark ]

    Returning from a patrol, her pace quickened, bounding in front of her fellow cats to meet Eveningstar on the edge of the camp. She could already smell the fire, so there was no need to ask about that. "Is everyone out, yet- kits, queens, Shadowstorm and Rueshine? Batstrike?" Otterspark asked quickly, peering around at the camp entrance. "The rest of you- do as he says! Avoid the fire and get close to water as quick as you can!" she turned and called to her fleeing clanmates before walking up to Lizardpaw with a kind look. "Your father has a lot to deal with right now. Let's get out of here, little one," she murmured, her voice unusually low as she tried to keep everything calm around her.

{TLDR; Otterspark is following the clan to the mistclan border, helping Lizardpaw and any other young cats around.}

-= [ Lambcurl , Eggfeather , Gossamerheart ]

    "Psh, what would you know about that? You can't even smell your own tush," the warrior-queen purred teasingly at the young white-furred warrior sharing tongues with her. Eggfeather, once a moody child, had grown to be a fine young man in Lambcurl's eyes, and she had hopes he would find someone to share his heart with soon- if anyone could ever stand his attempts at humor, anyway. Even she didn't always understand his quips until he said he made one.

    "Mom, even I know dogs smell bad. And rogues smell like thirty dogs," Eggfeather's nose twitched as he paused from smoothing out- as much as possible, anyway- the fur around Lambcurl's neck. Something seemed to sting at his throat and lungs, but he couldn't figure out what. The pollen-boom should've been over by now, this deep into Green-Leaf. "Hey, do you smell anything? My chest hurts-" he began, but saw the stiffness in his mother's ears, and then the alarm in her eyes. He saw her muzzle move, but couldn't make out what she said over a sudden cracking sound overhead. "What?"

    She headbutted him roughly, repeating herself louder, "Go!" Falling over and landing mostly out of the warriors' den, he spotted a swaying, flaming branch overhead as he rolled back to his feet. Moving to pounce back in and bring her out with him, he felt a sickening knot twist his stomach as the creaking escalated and the branch fell, almost crushing him instead of the den.

    "Mom!" Eggfeather's fur prickled, standing almost on end as his heart pounded, waiting for a reply. She can't be... He felt nauseous, swaying on his paws as he waited and waited for a reply and the silence in front of him drew longer. He was only dimly aware of the commotion of his clanmates behind him, or the sound of heavy pawsteps behind him. Someone's voice reached his ears, murky and watery until a paw jabbed his shoulder and he turned to glare tearfully at whoever it was.

    "Where is she?," Eggfeather blinked as he slowly recognized his brother's dove-grey face and pale fur, Gossamerheart's blue eyes staring into his own intently. He couldn't muster up an answer, only swinging his head back towards the burning bush they'd been chatting in together and untangling her fur from the branches. Gossamerheart stared at it uneasily, before suddenly growling, "You're wrong! Talk! Where did she go?" Unsheathing his claws, the lilac-pointed tomcat could feel warm tears rolling down his face as he lashed out at his brother, slicing his pink nose open, "Speak up, you useless-! You could have saved her!" Eggfeather rubbed his nose with a paw, blinking at the red that now smeared across his white fur. For a second, he wanted to hit back, and insist that he couldn't have done anything- but part of him felt, no, knew that Gossamerheart was right. He could have done traded himself for her. But, before he could respond, a yowl cut in:

    "What in the hell is going on here!?"

{TLDR; Lambcurl is dead. Egg and Goss fight, so Egg's nose is scarred now. Patch tells them to stop it. }

-= [ Patchfrost ]

    "Well!?" the large calico tom snarled, shoving himself between the two young brothers and giving each a cold stare; Gossamerheart tried to match it, but averted his eyes in shame, while Eggfeather seemed to stare back as if there was only air in front him, his eyes blank and dull. "MothClan is going to need everyone it can get after this- even you two brats. Get out of my sight and find the river," Patchfrost growled, giving both a bump with his shoulder a few times until both of them picked up their pace and ran out of camp. Glancing around him, the tom nodded as he prepared to leave the intense heat behind until a pathetic voice reached his ears, and then a light thump. Great.

-= [ Rosepaw , Pikesting ]

   Do something useful, rat! Bleakbelly's words still echoed in his ears as Rosepaw ran through camp. "Wolfdusk, over here! This way's still open!" Rosepaw yowled, leaping between two plumes of fire to reveal himself to the older warrior. "And- you, too, Redwing!" The apprentice darted around the back portion of the camp, leaning into the medicine cat's den and filling his jaws with as many herbs as he could possibly carry. As he turned around, though, someone blocked his path- at first, he couldn't make out who exactly. "S-silvertongue?" he called questioningly, frowning as he was met with a feminine chuckle.

    "No, fool. It's Pikesting. I'd tell you to remember it, but I'm not sure you'll make it out of here," she cooed. The blue-grey tabby leaned on the cooler stones, raising one paw and flexing it to reveal her long, sharp claws, staring at them half-lidded. Rosepaw gulped, setting the herbs down and holding them between his paws protectively. "Well? Curious what I mean?" He shook his head- No way, lady. I don't think I want to know anything about you. She scoffed, feigning offense, "Rude boy. Do you know others whisper about you and your weird little family? How you don't feel anything?" Her yellow eyes glinted in the distant flickering flames that must be approaching the den by now. "Can you feel it? The heat around you? Would you feel anything if you caught on fire? I'm dying to know."

    Rosepaw's ears flattened to his head, backing up a single step. His heart sank as she stopped leaning, taking a step forward. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he bluffed, holding his head high. Pikesting laughed scornfully, flicking her tail to gesture at his hind paws- one had the spiny shell of a poppy seed case embedded in it. Shaking it off with fear and annoyance, Rosepaw jumped as when he looked back up Pikesting was almost nose-to-nose with him. "If you stay, you're going to get hurt too," he mumbled, a wheeze entering his voice as the air in the den became grey and heavy. She glanced behind her, considering for a moment before shrugging.

    "Fine. You have siblings. I'll just experiment another time," she sniffed, turning to leave. Relief washed over him, sighing and letting his head hang for a second- only to be kicked back into the wall. "Bye, freak!" Pikesting leapt out of the den swiftly, leaving him stunned. He couldn't feel it, as usual, but he knew he had to be pretty roughed up, cursing as he noticed dots of red in the moss that tangled up his legs. Lurching forward, he yelped triumphantly as he was finally freed from the clinging plants, skidding to a stop at the entrance and snatching up most of his collected herbs before heading for the exit again. Darting out of the medicine cat's den, he squinted painfully at the thick blackish-grey smoke that towered around him. Where was his path? What was clear, now? A cough clawed its way up his throat, forcing him to drop the herbs. Suddenly, something blocked his eye- something bright, and a rush of wind, knocking him over. Confused and startled, the young tom chose a mostly random direction and ran for it, gasping as a wall of fire appeared before him. Swallowing, he bunched up and leapt through it, wincing reflexively though he couldn't feel it- he didn't want to imagine what he might look like, but he was pretty sure he felt fine- until he landed.

    His legs gave out from under him, and he finally caught sight with his un-blocked eye of the flickering fire that was latched onto his own pelt. His heart raced as panic filled his head- What!? What do I do!? He almost felt like he was short-circuiting, flipping around in circles and seeming to try to run from the fire even though it was on him, it was inescapable now. "I- someone!" Rosepaw called for help, his voice harsh, almost a whisper. "Help me," he took one more step forward as he spotted a shadowy figure a few tail-lengths away, before falling over. I really am messed up like she said... I didn't feel a thing. I'm on fire and I can't even tell... his thoughts turned on him as he drifted into a heavy, dreamless sleep, passing out on the ground as Patchfrost scuffed sand over him and pat the fire out with his paws. He wasn't aware of a thing by the time the older warrior, joined by the tubby younger apprentice Sneezepaw who had just come back from a patrol, picked him up and carried him out of camp.

{TLDR; Rosepaw tries to help out, overextends himself. Pikesting is an evil girl. Patchfrost and Sneezepaw have to carry a passed out Rosepaw. Rosepaw is now missing his left eye and has severe burn scars from his face to his shoulder. }

[fortsumter]

Cougarstrike's thoughts were blurred in panic. She stood still for a moment, watching the flames engulf the camp. She couldn't figure out what to do. But she wanted to save her Clan. Do anything that could help. When she noticed the medicine den, she realized that grabbing some herbs for Cedarleap and Palesun wouldn't be a bad idea. The air around her was growing smoky, and Cougarstrike struggled to breathe. She quickly ran into the medicine cat den, collecting a few leaves. She had no herbal knowledge, so she had no idea what these herbs were for. But she didn't consider that as she hurried out. She scrambled through the camp, kicking up dust and a bit of ash. She yelped as a stray ember struck her pelt, and she knew that the fire was coming close. Panic rushed through her, and she made a run for the camp exit.

[Broadwaykat]

It was odd to find the camp too quiet - not like this. Of course, Slightshrew wasn't about to complain about it. It was a rare thing; a quiet, peaceful camp. The older warrior was enjoying a good sunning spot, tail flicking leisurely over one shoulder, when he noticed something...stranger.

Keenly aware of subtle changes in the air quality, he felt the strange flutter of a cough deep in his chest before the acrid scent even reached his nose. He cleared the irritation quickly - only to have it stay tight, and harder to clear. Not one to panic - a cough was something he could get some honey for later if it became a problem, he nonetheless was a little more worried by the feeling of warmth. 

Or rather, not just warmth. Heat. Oppressive heat.

It was then, of course, that Eveningstar returned to camp; the panic in his eyes singaling everyone to just how much danger they were all in. Slightshrew, persistently clearing his throat by now and trying to fight against a wheeze, turned not from the flames like some, but tried to duck through the dens back towards the nursery. Other cats like Stormycloud or Olivebloom might have had a problem getting through - but he was small enough that his scrawniness was, in this case, sent by Starclan. 

"I'll go!" He snapped quickly to the she-cat (Miss Tactical - Olivebloom) and ducked into the nursery before anyone could protest.

"Little ones, follow me!" He did his best to make his voice sound light, friendly - even as panic was steadily rising in his chest and bile in his throat. "We're leaving. I promise...it'll be...heck...alright." He was going to say 'fun' - to make it more appealing, but of course...the minute they left the den they'd see that that wasn't exactly true.

{TLDR: Slightshrew has gone into the nursery to try and bring some kits out to hand them out to bigger warriors and evacuate the camp}

----

Bloompaw was getting an afternoon nap in in the Apprentice's den when his ears caught their leader's voice; excited about...something. Bloompaw wasn't a heavy speaker, especially when something exciting was happening, and of course he scurried out to see what was the manner - almost certain that it would have something to do with a reward of some sort. He'd been awfully good, after all - maybe he was being made a warrior already for his special skills.

He exited into a scene of hurrying cats and odd snow - at least, that's what he assumed it was. Some of it was ashy as snow - the way his mother described it, not something that he had actually seen. Others were red and yellow and the color of butterflies. Cool! Bloompaw rose his nose to the sky to try and catch one on the delicate dark snout, seeing it land and noticing an odd little sizzling sound as the ember caught against his skin.

Another touched the side of his ear, though he didn't notice it; eating a sizable chunk into the flesh with a sickening smell, to which Bloompaw, of course, was none the wiser. 

He stood with his head to the sky, and pondered the fuzzy feeling in his chest. Had the sun always been that close? And caused it to snow sun-pieces.

{TLDR: Bloompaw is a moron can't feel anything burning, and therefore is taking in the view. Like a moron.} 

----

As she had spent a good part of the night hunting, Mottledfeather was attempting to sleep - far near the back of the den near the elders, where it was a good deal quieter during the day. Due to the recent dry weather, there hadn't been a lot of food, and therefore her hunt was rather lackluster - she felt like she could sleep forever, honestly. And if the smoke had had it's way, she may have. 

She woke with a particularly strong inhale and coughed - long and hard. Others were running around her, scurrying and fretting about - fire. The dark shadowy she-cat's eyes widened as rather than run, she backed further into the den in panic, half-awake, choking, and confused as to what she was supposed to do. 

{TLDR Mottledfeather has retreated closer into the Elder's Den to try and avoid the smoke, and is very confuddled. If you want to help, you can!}

---

Badgerstrike was a proud warrior for sure - but she was young - and as much as she would like to claim she already knew everything about anything, she had little dangerous life experience. Her apprenticeship had been blessed - or cursed - with peace. So her confidence was built on a solid, untested foundation.

Which was about to change very quickly. 

"Those Mistclan fox-sniffers would never know what hit them if they let ME make those borders." She grumbled to no one in particular. The sun was pounding down something fierce, as she padded back to camp, head held high. "I could...what's that smell?" 

Smoke was not exactly foreign to her - the faintest echo of it hung from the exhausts, after all, around the thunderpaths - but so much of it, all at once, caused the young queen to wrinkle her nose in disgust. The ground was dusty and hot and already unpleasant - but she could swear it was almost too hot now; sinking into her pelt with an oppressive heat. 

"Starclan!" She exclaimed when she finally approached the camp - and the cats fleeing it. For a moment, she froze, eyes wide, as some of her clanmates fled past her. Her ears lay back on her head, and her eyes became almost...almost too large, covering up their color. Their camp was - was - 

"Mom!" It was an embarassing kitten wail that left her mouth as she dashed not from the camp, but towards it. She may have been a warrior, but she was young enough to remember the comforting touch of her mother, and in that moment of panic - to instinctually seek it out. She only got pawsteps into the camp, bustled back as she was by flames and fleeing clanmmates when she almost tripped on - something.

Hissing in pain, she stamped her paws against the packed earth, batting at flames that threatened to catch her pawfur on fire and scorched her delicate pads. A log, or...something - but the log had a face.

Holy Starclan, it was a cat!

Almost convinced at first that she had almost stomped on a dead body, she realized how wrong she was (and oh, she wished she'd been right) when it sort of...moved. While on fire. The tabby fur singed and burnt and...oh hell..smelled...She barely recognized it as Honeypaw, looking past the glare of the flames that licked at parts of his back. 

"Stupid runt, what are you doing!" She snarled - partly in fear, but mostly disgust, as she batted at the flames along his back. In any case, they were blocking her path towards her mother. "MOVE! GET! NOW!"

{TLDR: Badger wants her momma, gets (Miss Tactical ) Honeypaw: the cat on fire instead (and not just because he won the Hunger Games Recently O.O *Shameless plug*)}

[Bumblebee]

Volekit hadn't been alive very long and, despite his best efforts to prove otherwise, didn't have very much experience. He was in the camp, as always, playing with a ball of moss he had pulled from his nest. While the clan seemed somewhat uneasy about how quiet and still the day had been, the little kit was completely, blissfully unaware anything was up.

He batted at the moss, picturing it as a wild little mouse he was attacking. He finally ended up shredding the moss ball and sat among the mess, glancing around at the mess he had made. "What now....?"[/I] he pondered, bored now that his fun had ended. It didn't last long though before Eveningstar burst into the camp yelling something. Volekit tipped his head, wondering what in the world he was yelling at.

Then he saw the hint of the flames. Bright and colorful and..... wrong. It seemed like it was a monster devouring everything in it's path. A big bright monster destroying the lands he had never seen but loved with his whole heart.

Then the chaos broke out as it grew closer. Cats were running everywhere, yelling and shouting and causing havoc in the camp.

Horror overtook the small kit. He didn't know what was happening or where to go. The bright colors seemed everywhere, making everything look the same to him as panic sank in. Then the darkness. A thick cloud of it. Even more confusing than the heat and light. "h...h..help!....Momma! Pappa! Help!" Terror caused his already quiet voice to falter and grow even quieter as the kit cowared to the ground. Surely his parents would find him. They always did when he was scared other times. Surely. Surely this time. Surely..... Surely

[noctemq]

Cherryhawk’s eyes went wide as she felt the heat of the fire surround her. Her heart felt like it was stuck in her throat as she watched the home she grew up in engulfed by bright red. Panicked cats shoved past her as she stood there, momentarily frozen in her tracks. The first cat that popped into her mind was Redwing, Where was he? Was he safe? She broke out from her spell, determined to save herself and any other cats she found along the way. Her trot towards safety was much slower than the others; her mind was swirling with confused, incoherent thoughts. Where was Batstrike? Rosewish? Thump—

Absentmindedly, she stepped on a hot branch and pulled away with a hiss, her paw pad now throbbing. Usually, Cherryhawk was good with these sort of scenarios; she was very composed as an apprentice in the battle against the tribe, but this, on the other hand, was downright overwhelming. The warrior continued to limp forward, her usually bright brown eyes now glazed over with internal panic. Everything familiar was burning away and part of her wanted to stay and fight, though this was not a battle she, nor any cat, could win. All she could do was try to focus on Eveningstar’s words to ground her. Kits, Queens, herbs, Mistclan. Cherryhawk looked around for anyone that looked like they were struggling, which felt like everyone in the moment and only made her feel more overwhelmed. 

Tldr; Cherryhawk is walking around all confused with a burnt paw, she’s willing to help someone though she probably won’t be very useful. 

[Storm]

Batstrike
MothClan | Deputy | Tom | 36 Moons | Heterosexual

The hazy wisps of smoke carried the oaky scent of the forest and brush the fire ate up.  MothClan, like all of the other creatures, seemed to tremble in silent fear beforehand.  The ache of something bad to come in their bones, but not apparent to them quite yet.  Just as any experienced warrior would have placed the scent of danger and rising cloud of ash, Eveningstar seemed to bring it to their camp entrance.  

Everyone out!

Batstrike's sharp yellow gaze fell on his leader, the word fire resonating in his skull.  He was a mousebrain for not figuring it out sooner and giving his clanmates a head start on escaping.  He didn't have time to laugh at how the kits and queens, as always, were at the forefront of Eveningstars mind.  No, instead he sucked in a deep breath.  It was already becoming stale, it might have been the last of the fresh air his lungs would taste.  Heading to MistClan was a good plan, MothClans water supply was dwindling- heading out of their lands would be the best bet.  "To MistClan!" Batstrike repeated so the order could be heard over the unfolding chaos.  His voice rang loud and clear, but the sweet honey tune had turned to a dry bark.  

Black and white fur bristling, he glanced to the warriors den.  Where was Cherryhawk?  She was young and capable, she'd be able to handle herself right?  As much as resented her blooming closeness with Redwing, as any good dad would, he hoped the tom would meet his high standards and keep her safe.  He knew Cherryhawk would be looking after him as well, but would she know when to give in and let the fire win or would she risk her life to the end?  What of Otterspark too?  He thought he caught a glimpse of her by Eveningstar, but how could he be sure?  He had to push the thought out though as he turned and sped to the elders den.  The clan would be quick to tend to the kits and help the apprentices, but they may think the elders were too slow and too big to pick up.  They'd easily be overlooked, but Batstrike had plenty of reason to ensure the two got out.  Rueshine breezed past the deputy on his way to assist, his flaming tail going unnoticed by the tom as he squinted in the shadows.  The tall tom instead dipped into the elders den, "Shadowstorm!?"  The elder would tell him he sounded like a kit crying for his father, but there was no response.  Batstrike huffed in the dark and hazy space, he prayed to StarClan that the gaited tom was already well on his way out of camp.  His ears caught the sound of breathing and strode deeper in, long tail sweeping for anyone on the ground.  

He nearly bumped into a body at the back of the den before he saw her.  "Mottledfeather?"  He was relieved his former mentor wasn't still here, but still worried he hadn't seen him.  Batstrike refocused, "What are you doing? Come on," he coughed, grabbing a mouthful of her scruff and pulling the confused cat in the right direction.  The black and white tom released her as she got moving and paused at the den exit as extreme heat lapped at his face.  He stumbled back a step before lowering his head and driving forward back out into the clearing.  Once Mottledfeather was out, he'd push her toward MistClan and hope someone else could help direct the she-cat the rest of the way or that she'd regain her bearings.  He still had more work to do here before the fire consumed the camp.  

TAGS: Broadwaykat (Batstrike helps Mottledfeather out of the elders den)

[pants]

Ocelotjaw looked up from his sterling, his attention caught by the sound of his leader calling to the warriors as well as the abrupt chaos that begun. One moment, it had been quiet and the tom was going about his day being the clan annoyance - and then the next, everything was in flames.

The lilac warrior sat for a few seconds, taking in the scene. The fire seemed to have come out of nowhere, yellow and red flames lashing out at anything it could reach, the dry grass becoming engulfed, followed by the bark of the trees, as well as the bushes. Everything became a whirl of bright, warm colors. Ocelotjaw had never seen a fire so big before... He could feel his heart sink, the heat becoming palpable as it inched closer. The tom's fur bristled and his eyes widened as he leapt to his feet with a yowl, looking for the closest escape. Oh StarClan.... he thought, his eyes locked on a pathway out of camp that he often took to go hunting. That path would lead him to MistClan, as Eveningstar had commanded. This was it. This was his chance to go back to his home clan.

The tom bolted, pushing against the ground as hard as he could with his paws. The wind and heat brushed through is pelt, his tail trailing behind him. He felt his heart pound, the adrenaline pulsing through his body. As he got closer to the exit of camp, he heard something. The wind? A unfortunate bird that didn't escape in time, crying out? No... No this sound was more familiar. Suddenly, a small kit came into his line of sight, crying and mewling, obviously terrified by the sudden change of events. Ocelotjaw recognized the kitten as Featherkit (LupTacco), his legs shaky and eyes wide with terror. The poor thing was probably looking for his mother...

With little time to think, he surged forward, smoothly grabbing the kit between his jaws, carrying the young tom towards safety. At least he got his one good deed in today. Ocelotjaw might have been a major jerk, but that didn't mean he lacked morals altogether. He was just misguided by his bitterness. As he fled, head a bit higher to accommodate the kit he carried. His eyes were set ahead, tunneling only on his way to freedom. His way back home. He was nearing the edge of the forest, and the older tom

That is, until a crack split the air, louder than the ones that the fire spit.

Before Ocelotjaw had time to react, his legs suddenly didn't move anymore. A huge weight slammed down on his lower half. Then nothing but pain flooded his mind. As he hit the ground, Featherkit flew out of his jaws, landing a foxlength in front of him. Ocelotjaw have a blood curdling screech, trying to figure out what had just happened. When he had a bit of clarity, he managed to look back, seeing his hind legs trapped under the burning tree trunk. The light of the flames reflected in his eyes. His breath began to become heavy and he turned back to Featherkit.

"RUN! RUN, FEATHERKIT!" The tom commanded with a yowl, preparing for the doom that he was expecting. The flames were getting closer and closer, like a hungry pack of dogs ready to consume their next meal. Ocelotjaw tried his best to wedge himself out from under the tree. Between his wiggling and shifting, he managed to only get one leg out. The rest was a race of time, and Ocelotjaw wasn't sure he had much of that left.

[Fireflake]

Not long ago, Mantisclaw had been resting in the middle of camp, completely unaware of the disasters about to unfold. A patrol had taken her apprentice Sneezepaw out of her paws for the morning, and she had seized the opportunity to brush up on her skills with someone on her level, leading to a challenging practice fight with a friend. The two had just returned to camp to cool down and chatter a bit, forming a loose plan to take some others on a hunt later in the day, but Eveningstar apparently had different ideas.

Mantisclaw's eyelids snapped open at the sound of her father's voice. She scrambled immediately to her paws, taught to respond to the leader's strained voice before most, and her face crinkled with confusion. She stared at him, wondering if the pressure of leadership had made him snap already. Everyone head to MistClan? That was quite an invasion.

An unfamiliar but instinctively worrisome scent hit her nose and her yellow eyes stretched wide. Enemies, she could deal with. Foxes and Twolegs, sure. Maybe badgers with some backup. But fire, that force of nature that she'd heard stories of but never experienced, was a completely different type of fighting. A type that always did more damage than a cat could return. A type, unfortunately, that Pinetuft’s battle training had never covered.

The she-cat’s first reaction was to run, but Eveningstar had said elders and kits first, and this was a concept that registered in Mantisclaw’s brain even in its fear-addled state. It was her way of life, after all. A rapid list of the things she had to get flashed in her mind as panic struck. Or, that is, the cats she had to get. Prey was replaceable. Moss was replaceable. But her clanmates...
She didn't have to worry about her father. With even half of the lives given to leaders he should make it out alive. But her mother was a different story. Her siblings. Her friends. And great StarClan, her apprentice!

Trusting that the others would get the kits, Mantisclaw sprinted toward the apprentice den and looked around with flattened ears. She didn’t know if he was back yet, and assumed that he wouldn't be out in the territory alone, but she didn't know for sure. It wasn't the sort of thing she was picky about. "Sneezepaw?" she called in a high-pitched tone that embarrassed her to hear. This was not the bravery she'd be raised and trained to wield. It took Mantisclaw a moment to realize that she was blocking the exit to the den, at which point she stepped aside and continued to peek in around the corner.

Her father’s voice reached her and, for once, her ears pricked eagerly for instruction, but he was only shouting for everyone to stay low. Stay low?! Mantisclaw glanced down at her long legs. Great. As she raised her head again, the flames licked the inside of her ears like her mother had when she was young, but this was no gentle grooming. Mantisclaw pawed at her ear in a panic, trying repeatedly to get out a fire which had only really been a fizzling spark in the first place. It was Bleakbelly's calls that brought her back to her senses. The tom was snapping not to “go forgetting basic landmarks just because of a little heat”, and it was exactly the kind of MothClan phrase that she needed to hear.

The smoke cleared from her mind even as it grew increasingly thicker around her. Someone would make sure that Sneezepaw was okay, if he needed help, and her standing there like a tree wasn’t going to help anyone.
"There's a way out over here too!" Mantisclaw yowled, glad for the loud voice that let her be heard over the destruction of her home. The ‘alternative’ exit had only been big enough for a kit when she was one, facilitating one or two small escapades which lingered in her mind as adventures never to be told. But now, with the bushes around it collapsing, the exit had grown to accommodate full-sized cats as well, if they crouched. And they should be crouching, as Mantisclaw was, with the cloud of smog settling over their camp.

Her way wasn’t exactly ideal, requiring a short detour to get on the same path to MistClan as the others, and she wasn’t sure how long it would be before the fire reached it, but it was a possible lifeline for those nearby. As the logistics flashed through her mind, a burning twig sprang away from the bush and hit her hind leg. She hissed in pain and shock, stumbling backward, but she had been lucky. It was nothing more than a surface wound.

The tabby remembered, way back in her kit moons, someone wiser than herself telling her what to do in a fire, but she hadn't been listening. Fire wouldn’t dare approach the home of the great MothClan. And if it did, it wouldn’t get past MothClan’s warriors or the more exuberant kits. "I'll just blow on it really hard! I'll just stomp it out!"
The memory fled as the flames rushed nearer. She realized that she needed to keep her breath, and stomping even on the embers scorched her toes and paw-pads. She had heard the tales of tragedy and heroics, but nobody had ever told her just how fast flames could go.

The warrior shouted about her formerly-secret way out once more, then stepped closer to the inferno and peered into camp’s main area once more. Glimpses of her clanmates in pain were all she could see. Loud crashes drowned out their voices. A more experienced cat might have been able to pick out which cats needed help and which would be alright on their own, but to the young warrior it all looked the same. (Broadwaykat) All except for one cat near the apprentice den, a cat she had apparently overlooked in her earlier hysteria, who didn’t seem the slightest bit alarmed… despite the flames eating away at his ear. She assumed it must have been some combination of fear and shock that kept him stationary.

Mantisclaw made her way over as quickly as possible, safety be damned, and gritted her teeth as she accidentally jammed her paw onto a sharp rock. "What are you doing?"
He needed something to knock him out of it, like Bleakbelly's words earlier, she decided. But who was this cat? Though Mantisclaw knew many of her clanmates, she had avoided the younger ones since her father had his newest litter. She insisted that she was giving them space, but it left her slightly out of touch with her younger comrades, with even the familiar ones fading away. Her mind jumped back to the apprentice’s ceremony, the last that her father had performed as deputy if memory served, and his name came to her tongue. She rammed her paw into his shoulder to give him a rough shake. "Bloompaw! Move, now!! To the exit."