{til there's nothing left of her} cheetahclan

[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i42.tinypic.com/351h3ph.jpg] DAWNFLOWER hovered in a strange black space somewhere between waking and nightmares. Her memories flowed freely in this place, taunting her with faint blurry memories, happy and sad alike. Happy memories from kithood when she would bask in the sun outside the nursery beside her mother or the little stream she'd found on patrol as an apprentice that had always served as a resting place with soft cool sand and rippling babbling waters. The nightmarish scenes of apprenticeship when Stingpaw was violent and moody intruded on the younger, lighter memories, covered in a dark haze like the smoke enveloping CheetahClan. Now, grown and wiser, Dawnflower recognized the haze for what it was, sadness and fear and pain. Black and oppressive, oily like the soot clinging to her pelt. Stingclaw burned like CheetahClan when he became a warrior, burning with hate and anger until Dawnflower was enveloped in the smoke so thick and dark she couldn't escape until it was too late. FOR a while, the young she-cheetah merely floated in this harmless semi-dream state. Nothing hurt here. Even the more violent memories that rose up like angry vipers didn't hurt her because she knew they weren't real. They'd already happened, she had the scars to prove it. Slowly however, her mind became aware of the fact that she had to wake up, had to rouse herself and make sure Monarchpaw was cared for. She'd dived back into the river and ran over embers, pushed herself to the brink of endurance for her petite frame, all for one little strong-minded apprentice. If Monarchpaw faded out now, it would all be for not. All the pains from the burns and the rasp in her lungs, the metallic taste trickling down her throat. It would all be pointless if she wasn't certain Monarchpaw was okay. THE first real sensation Dawnflower was aware of was the burning on her belly. The skin felt taut and angry, bubbling up and furious blisters, the fur burned away. Unconsciously, she clenched her jaw, a low groan working its way from her throat until something astoundingly cool and soothing was spread over the angered flesh. It soothed the abuse and pulled the sting and heat from the blisters. Dawnflower very nearly melted into the ground at the sensation but the contrast dragged her mind to even higher levels of awareness. Her eyelids felt heavy but she tried to drag them open as new pains awoke on and in her body, vying for attention. Under her head she could feel subtle vibrations as if someone was pacing or dancing on the spot very near her head. Her throat felt rough and gritty, like she'd swallowed sand and jagged stones. All throughout her respiratory system she could feel a constant unpleasant burning rasp each time she drew a shallow breath and found it impossible to breathe deeper. Burns along her haunches and sides fought to make themselves known and sharp stinging on her paw pads told her blisters were forming. "M...MONARCH..." THE single word was all Dawnflower could muster and a barely visible twitch of limbs as the petite she-cat sought out her wayward apprentice. She tried to raise her head only to have it begin throbbing sharply in protest until she laid it back down on the soft river bank. Bleary dark eyes fought through a haze of smoke and pain, glimpsing a shot of brilliant blue. Rapidfire. Dawnflower opened her mouth to speak again but no words would come up. Squeezing her eyes shut, Dawnflower struggled to command her muscles to move so she could rise and see if her apprentice was alright. Nothing would respond. A dry ghost of a wail, barely audible, escaped the dappled warrioress. ONE thing. She'd been given one thing to protect in the clan, entrusted with one apprentice on the faith of a leader that had barely known her. Dawnflower forced her eyes open and sought out the single blue iris, hoping he'd be able to understand the request she couldn't voice. Monarchpaw had been Dawnflower's responsibility. She'd been foolish to send Monarchpaw off to train with Rapidfire without going along. Even if she couldn't fight she could have at least kept an eye on Monarchpaw and made sure she behaved. Now she didn't even know if she'd brought back a live apprentice or a corpse. It had been rough at first, Monarchpaw challenging Dawnflower at every turn and demanding demanding demanding until Dawnflower broke down and fled. They'd worked it out in the end, more or less. Dawnflower taught Monarchpaw stealth and subtly, drilled patience into her whether she liked it or not and worked as best she could to make a fighter out of an already ambitious apprentice. If Dawnflower failed in keeping Monarchpaw alive...It would be Sting all over again, a trauma she may never heal from. Tagged;; CheetahClan Word Count;; 831 Background Song;; NA Notes;; </3

[alice?!]

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[atrb=background,http://i43.tinypic.com/14l682o.jpg] [scrolly:h(188),w(189),sy] He hastened to do as she'd asked, flitting around where they'd settled and searching for the thyme that she'd requested. Slittedwing had been right when she said it wasn't too far from their position, and he found it quickly enough. His stagger was more pronounced now, as his poor legs had seen their fair share of running today -- and swimming none the less! -- but it was looser than it had been in a long time, and pained him far less than it first would have. An improvement. It would be easy to track his movements among the others, for one -- he was rather small, even by cheetah standards and his lopsided gait was quick enough to spot -- so his clan-mates didn't question the thyme leaves being placed by them, and if they did he merely gave them a stern, but somehow still timid "eat this please." He doubted he would ever be as commanding as his mentor, but at least they were afraid enough of her that they wouldn't question her timid apprentice, lest they face her wrath. The task wasn't enough to distract him, not by a long shot. But the pattern of passing out leaves and returning to the plant was monotonous enough to lull him into a calm -- either that or he'd accidentally swallowed a few of the thyme leaves Slittedwing had prescribed to everyone. He'd been winding his way through the warriors farthest from the bank, checking over to make sure he'd missed no one -- and then also seeing that they'd gotten honey from Slittedwing. Her call cut through the air like he'd been standing next to her and she'd shouted to him. Hurrying a bit fast that he should have, he somehow managed to scramble over someone's poor tail and when the older warrior in question turned quickly with a yowl of protest, he'd tripped over himself in his haste to get away -- and then promptly apologized profusely while slinking backwards and still hurrying toward his beckoning mentor. "Watch what I do- repeat on your sister." Eyes widened. No. Not now, not now. He was shaky, and no doubt a bundle of nerves -- but he was horrified enough to commit every one of Slittedwing's actions to memory, and then scrambled to repeat them when she shot him her customary disapproving glance. He was by far less graceful and calculated, dropping his supplies a few times -- and wincing each time -- as if expecting Slittedwing to bite at his ear. He was very careful to copy her motions exactly, and soothed over his sister's fur with careful strokes. It took him sometime longer than Slittedwing -- merely because this was his first ever major assignment, and he double and triple checked over all things that she'd done. Then, he scuttled backwards -- eyes cast to Slittedwing's Hoping that he'd done enough. Not to impress her -- because he doubted such a thing could ever happen, but that he'd done enough for himself. For all his acceptance of this crippled figure -- he couldn't bear for Monarchpaw to suffer the same, even in the form of fire scorched skin. He sent a plea to Starclan that she and Dawnflower would recover well. He owed the timid warrior his thanks, and he planned on making sure she knew that. He hoped for few mistakes -- if there had to be any at all -- and little for Slittedwing to chastise him with. If he had been able to look away from their still figures -- he perhaps would have noticed the bleak feelings that hung in the air -- it wasn't a thing that was well-received, having to stoop so low as to ask another clan for shelter -- because their own had been destroyed. To ask another clan for their resources, their fresh-kill and their herbs because theirs had been lost to the hungry heat of the flames. All they they knew had been lost.. But not everything. Cheetahclan still had it's loyalty determination and spirit, and that -- he hoped -- would have to be enough 695 or something... idk This alright? "Speech", " Clan-mates Speech" [/scrolly]