» Ɛ ν α η є ѕ c є { ✧ } - On hold until next month!

The rain falls in cold sheets as dusk settles across the horizon, bringing with it a quick and stiffening cold that bites and nips at flesh and bone.

Dusk is known as the darker part of twilight; twilight being the thin lining between the light and total darkness. This is when the stars start waking up, shivering and quaking until a crack forms in their shells and spills starlight onto the world.

But there are no smiling stars this night…or any night since the rain started…

It’s been pouring for moons.

All the rivers and lakes, which used to be dried up, are now spilling over, their banks flattened and now teeming with aquatic life.

Any natural depressions have also flooded, leaving only ridges, rocks, hills, and trees to poke out from the watery depths.

Not only has the landscape changed…but so has its residence.

CRACK.

A lightning bolt strikes a target, lighting up the oncoming darkness and also setting an oak tree ablaze.

Ahhh…heat.

One of these residents stands alone in the downpour, a tom whose fur is plastered to his skin which is covered in goose bumps from the cold. He casts his watery blue gaze over to the tree, a relieved smile lighting his masked features.

He runs, his legs kicking up mud and water behind him, spraying his cream and brown tinted legs with muck. His paws which used to be white mittens seem to be permanently stained a dark brown.

A screech piercing the storm makes him halt, his eyes widening and his fur spiking up along his spine. He skids in the mud, keeping himself upright with ease due to many moons of practice.

He peers into the onslaught, knowing that trying to scent out the thing that made the sound would be pointless.

BOOM.

Thunder erupts on the hillside across from him, and in that brief flash of light he sees a large, bulky silhouette of an animal…that’s running full-tilt towards him.

He gasps, scrambling backwards and turning, clenching his teeth as the animal screeches again, sounding much louder and closer than before.

Get to the tree!

He digs his claws into the earth to get a better hold of its slippery surface, the rain pounding harshly against his back, adrenaline now coursing through his body, the goose bumps long forgotten.

Once he reaches the tree the fire has eaten away at the topmost branches, but there is a little hollow at the base where he can press his body into. Unfortunately he is still exposed, but at least the rain is no longer soaking his pelt.

He turns around to face the open terrain, crouching down until he is as small as he can possibly be.

RUMBLE.

Multiple thunder strikes slowly develop across the sky, causing the ground to shake beneath his paws, the last of them going off just above his tree, turning the tips of the bushes and ferns shiny silver.

A high-pitched, sinister growl resounds through the air next to his ear, and with his back flattened to the trunk of the oak tree; he dares to slowly look over into the golden eyes of a monster.

It has no fur, instead its plates; spiked plates that let water pass through and glide off its dark colored body. It has ears, a nose and eyes, but its face is carnivorous in nature.

A thick neck attached to a large head with strong, angular jaws made for crushing bone. It’s ears folded back on its head end at spiky points, but the most chilling aspect is it’s canine teeth that protrude several inches out of its mouth; nearly as large as his own small torso.

He holds his breath.

The golden-eyed beast stalks out from behind the tree, the fire casting an orange glow on its body. Its feet making large impressions in the ground that quickly fill up with water.

It sniffs the air carefully, its whip like tail lashing to the side and nearly catching the tom in the face. He crouches down lower, determined not to be noticed.

The beast pauses, and turns its devilish golden eyes directly towards him.

His heart beat pounds at an unstoppable pace.

You can’t see me, you can’t see me, you can’t see me…

It comes closer, its breath smelling of rotting flesh.

“Hisscackcackcack…” A high-pitched clicking sound echoes in its cat sized chest, its ears flicking up and down on its head while its armored pelt rattles.

Please…StarClan…I’m not ready to die yet!

The beast scuffs the ground in obvious frustration and then turns to prowl away, its enormous body vanishing into the darkness.

“Uhhhhhuuhhh!” The tom lets out a gasp, falling forwards onto the ground, his paws stretched out in front of him.

Paws that he can’t see.

He looks upwards just as a scorched branch crashes to the ground, letting rain pour onto his outstretched legs.

He watches silently, his chest aching, as the rain patters onto his paws, legs, and shoulders, the drops wiping away what cannot be seen, until it is seen.

He flexes his black claws into the ground, seeing his white paws curve with the movement, the muscles in his cream and brown fore-legs stiffening then releasing to do the job.

I’m just a medicine cat from GaleClan…why am I the only one that is still here? Why has StarClan spared me, but not the rest?

Falconmask stands and steps back out into the downpour, the rain revealing his form to any witnesses who watch this strange phenomenon; a cat who is hunted by golden-eyed monsters, and who vanishes in shelter from the never-ending rain.

His head downcast, he runs in the opposite direction of the beast, wanting to be as far away from death as possible.