[iliri]

Springpaw
long-furred, oriental-shaped, gray-and-orange calico molly with blue eyes; torn right ear
purrks: herbal knowledge - tier 2 | the collector | mind reader[all perm. active]

tw; gore; slight suicidal thoughts

Her mind spun and her body swayed. Her mind was completely awash to the situation that the blood-bathed calico had been tossed in. Distorted portions of voices and other foreign sounds echoed through her strained ears, fatigue tugging at her consciousness to the point where her mind couldn’t pull herself away from the sleeping world. Even with the haziness clouding her mind, the fragment memories of the incident still burned through her dizzying head like the bright, scorching, golden flames of an smoking wildfire, licking aggressively at the dying grass, continuing to smolder as time ticked and ticked by. The hazed imagery of the bloodied clearing of Sunkissed Creek touched the edge of her mind, just before fatigue had overcame her and her mind went completely blank.

Consciousness slowly seemed to slip into her battered body, her muscles sore and mind awash as her senses slowly began to work. Excruciating pain was the first thing that soared through her, mainly partaking her hind leg, face, stomach, and lastly, her throat. Exhaustion almost tugged at her to fall asleep again, but her weakened state fought against it out of sheer desperation as she felt her body being swayed and moved around. Was that tom-cat still trying to finish the job? Was he still on top of her? Was he still around? The final thought made a burst of panic surge through her veins, her muscles weakly tensing as if in preparation for yet another ungracious attack to fall onto her worthless, vulnerable body. She couldn’t move nor speak, being permanently stuck there on the ground while her mind awaited for the murderous tom to tear her arteries and finally just end this painful agony, her stomach just clenching from the horrible waiting for the strike to happen.

Yet, nothing came, and Springpaw couldn’t help but find herself in a moment of temporary peace, before another surge of unwiltering agony pulsed through her body, making her mentally bite back a silent cry of pain that was bound to expel through her blood-stained lips. Her overly sensitive nose was overwhelmed from the acrid, tangible stench of blood that was ultimately gushing from her wounds, caking the soft bedding that she was laying atop of. She was so damn tired and exhausted, yet every fiber of her being was screaming at her to wake up and open her eyes. To ignore the desperate plea to finally shut her eyes and allow herself to drift into a neverending slumber, to be away from this agony and unbearable pain.

The voices grew louder, and Springpaw’s head started to throb; mainly from the sheer amount of blood-loss that she endured and the creeping fatigue over her shoulders. The voices were distorted and her mind was fuzzy, yet another part of her yearned to know who it was. Was it Alderstep? Was it Bumblestar? Was it one of her clan-mates? Whoever it was, she hoped to the burning stars above that it was one of her clan-mates; someone that saved her from the malicious wrath of that bloodthirsty tom-cat. Her muscles almost relaxed in relief, only to quickly tense up again. Wait, what if they were still at the creek? That tom could be trying to kill whoever decided to save her! No, she couldn’t allow someone to save her all because of their idiocy to dive in to save someone who was practically bleeding out under someone’s mercy. Her muscles ached, and her heart raced as it pounded against her aching ribcage. The overly foul taste of blood was still stained to her tongue, and her throat felt just as worse than before.

Her body just gave up, sinking deeply into the crevices of the moss-bed. She couldn’t get up to save whoever was there. She couldn’t do anything about it and she knew it. Her body was all battered and caked with scarlet. How could she be considered someone that could save a clan-mate when she was lying there entirely mobilized at anyone’s mercy? She was vulnerable to anyone at this point and she knew it damn well. Everyone would be disappointed in her; disappointed that their own medicine cat apprentice couldn’t even properly defend herself against a ShadowClan brute that held the clear intentions of murdering her just as clear as day. Hell, whoever tried to save her was probably bound to end up as that tom-cat’s victim as well, and her impotence was going to just cause another death to strain her clan. What use is she if she can’t even defend herself? Her own mother would be so disappointed, and Springpaw could feel her own incredulous doubts digging into her heart as deep as her claws would go if they dug into the coarse soil just from the single thought lurking in her mind. God, that tom-cat should’ve just murdered her on the spot and have it be done and over with.

The gentle, yet firm sensation of a paw compressing against her oozing wounds was enough to make her body trigger into action. Her muscles tensed as the initial instinct of an fight-or-flight response pulsed through her body, and the fear of injured prey coursed through her body as it grappled with the situation. Her stinging nose took a deep, struggling inhale through her nostrils and the familiar aroma of the medicine den overcame her senses, and the triggering response was quick to die down. She was home, not out at Sunkissed Creek. A part of her questioned who took her back to the clan, and yet another part of her grew frantically worried about her wounded clan-mates. Were they alright? Did they come back to camp safe and sound? Did ShadowClan win? A painful sensation surged through as a tiny spark of anger surged through her veins, furthering her bubbling questioning about the situation. Whatever the answers were, she’ll get them later. Now, she just wanted to find out who in the world brought her back to camp, and if they were even still around.

Cracking open her eyelids, her hazy vision slowly grew adjusted to the fuzzy environment that danced and swirled around her. Her eyes barely even open enough to properly read the current view of her surroundings than just opened to the point of being a barely noticeable squint. The heavily scarred side of her face was more blurred than the other, and that was enough to cause a surge of worry to thrummet through her system. Definitely not good if she was permanently blinded on one side. All she could do was sincerely hope that it was temporary and would fade away eventually. It already hurt like hell looking around in the familiar environment of the medicine den. Her eyes stung and were only quick to land on two familiar coats. One of which being Cherrypaw, which wasn’t really an apprentice that she interacted much with, but the other…

God, her heart was quick to squeeze around a bitter cycle of yearning and hopelessness. Dovefluff, her own mother, was right beside her side. It was comforting, but Springpaw felt so much immense guilt that it was almost overpowering her other senses. Her lips trembled, her throat muscles aching as she tried to form her silent mumbles into words, her squinting blue eyes focusing on the bloodied, yet luxurious form of her mother. “M… M-mom,” the single word barely brushed past her lips, sounding only like a quiet, desperate whisper in hopes to grab the silver molly’s attention. A small trek of blood clawed its way up her throat and drooled messily past her blood-stained teeth and lips as she tried her hardest to focus directly on her mother, her lapis hues making contact with worried, motherly sapphire eyes. Her throat burned and throbbed, feeling as if she decided to swallow a whole mouthful of sand and gargled it before spitting it out. There were many things that the young calico wanted to say, yet it hurt her parched throat to even properly speak to her mother. She just only hoped that she would notice her and give her the loving comfort that she so desired.

@pumpkinbubble. @poppy. @Omari []