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Location: ThunderClan
Born: No Information
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Rank: ThunderClan
Gender: She-cat
Played By: Warped
Custom Title: come count them ways to forever
Joined: 27-June 17
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: May 25 2018, 07:28 PM
Local Time: May 28 2018, 11:29 AM
122 posts (0.4 per day)
( 0.34% of total forum posts )
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My Content
May 16 2018, 05:59 PM
It had been several days since Darklingpaw's return. New scars left furrows in her fur, and moons in the city had roughened her tabby coat. She was still skinny, her ribs visible if she twisted or moved a certain way, but the young adult's eyes were brighter now.

It had been a long journey, one that left her with many physical reminders. She'd been trapped by twolegs, her ear clipped and her stomach shaved of its fur, leaving her marked with a small, straight scar. While the pain in her belly was gone now, sometimes it twinged, as if in remembrance of something lost, though Darklingpaw wasn't quite sure what yet. After that, the days had been a blur. She'd been taken from one twoleg nest to another. Escape came soon after, through an open window. Except it wasn't much of an escape, as she found herself in a part of the city she'd never been before; where the twoleg dens sat in neat rows, so far removed from the forest it was hard to imagine it even existed.

So she'd walked, until her paws were calloused from the hard concrete, following the vague and often wrong directions of alley-cats and kittypets. And then she'd nearly drowned in the river. It was thanks to Eastcreek that she was here now, instead at the bottom of the water.

And that was more or less the story she'd told her Clanmates.

So much had changed since she'd been taken. Seedpaw was now Seedshine, and her niece and nephew were apprentices. Arcticstorm was gone, but Emberblade was still here, and Silverstar's leadership was as solid as ever. Two new litters filled the nursery, and camp was noisy with the bustle of warriors, new and old.

Of course, her joy was undercut by Coalstep's absence. Sitting in camp with a mouse forgotten at her paws, Darklingpaw felt her gaze drawn into empty space. Her brows were knitted over her eyes, shadowing an expression that was rather lost in thought.

The grey molly gave a short sigh, puffing through her nose.
May 16 2018, 04:42 AM
Darklingpaw didn't know quite why she'd come to the river. It did not exactly harbor pleasant memories, even if she could barely remember falling into it -- the result of hitting her head. Still, she needed to be alone, and it was quiet here.

So soon after returning home, she found camp almost suffocating to be in. And not because of her Clanmates, but rather because of the lack of one. She still expected to see him -- at the bottom of the highrock organizing the next patrol, or coming through the gorse tunnel after a day of hunting. Or talking to Silverstar, or Seedshine. Grey fur like hers and green eyes like hers.

But not anymore. Coalstep was dead. He was buried beneath ThunderClan soil, killed by the sire of her sister's litter. All while Darklingpaw been miles away, locked in a twoleg cage.

She didn't realize she was crying until she felt a silent heave shake her body. She'd never really made peace with her father after he'd lost his memories, and while she'd tried, it didn't feel like she'd done enough now. She bowed her head, her back rounded. Her muzzle was tucked tightly against her chest as the sobs continued to wrack her.

As good (and horrible) as it felt to let it all out, she felt achingly alone. Being by herself out on the city streets had been easier than this. But she couldn't tear herself away from that spot, the river her silent witness.

@Egotistical Lilypad @Eastcreek and Westriver
May 1 2018, 10:14 PM
Darklingpaw's smoky blue coat had dried fluffy, thanks to the ministrations of Eastcreek and his brother. Of course, even as she lay safe in Supernatural's den, the nearly drowned molly had no actual awareness of what had happened to her, or who had saved her. She bobbed in and out of sleep, wearing off the effects of a concussion.

Her nostrils flared, taking in the smell of the small space she was in. Lavender, catmint, marigold -- among other scents. It reminded her of Seedpaw, and for a time, she was lulled back to sleep.

A little while later, wakefulness finally dragged her back. Groggily, she raised her head, green-gold eyes cracking open. It took her moment to orient herself. Staggering to her paws, the thin grey tabby quietly assessed RiverClan's medicine den, her pupils blowing wide.

Well. This wasn't where she was supposed to be.

A headache sat deep in her skull, but Darklingpaw ignored it. Wincing, she stepped out of the nest, limping toward the den's entrance in search of someone -- anyone. In her dazed state, she was as wobbly as a newborn kitten. Her brows were furrowed, green eyes narrowed against the ache in her temples.

How in the hell had she gotten here?

She'd hit her head hard enough that she'd forgotten her "swim" in the river, and a few of the events leading up to it. The smell of RiverClan was certainly foreign, but her fuddled mind had yet to actually recognize it.

@Egotistical Lilypad @supernatural

[ ooc: heads up, this is a retro to a day after this thread -- ]
Apr 8 2018, 10:40 PM
She'd skirted wide around RiverClan's border, careful not to meet a patrol. Darklingpaw was scrawny, her grey fur ruffled and full of dust, and the scent of the twoleg still clung thickly to the lost ThunderClanner's coat. She looked like a loner and a city cat, especially with her clipped ear. She had no intention of being turned away, no matter how odd she looked. Better to avoid the RiverClanners all together.

She was so close.

Exhaustion made her legs tremble ever so slightly as she stood at the river. She stared across it at ThunderClan's territory, longing threatening to overwhelm her. Over a month had been and gone since she'd seen it. Her body felt heavy as lead, but her mind buzzed. Home. It was right there.

Stepping into the water's edge, she searched for the best way across. Even here the river was a smooth, cool rush. Darkling watched it apprehensively, picking out which areas were the shallowest. She was no swimmer. Not necessarily much of a risk taker either, but she couldn't wait another a moment to get home. Crossing the river was fastest.

If RiverClanners could do it, why not her?

After a few steps, the current started to drag her. She kicked out her legs, and then lost her balance. She was swept over, bright green eyes going round as she went under.

Water filled her ears, her nose, her mouth. She barely spluttered to the surface before it overtook her again. The river flung her like a rag. Her head struck something hard, and then stars burst all around her.

Her small, dark shape went limp in the water, and she didn't surface again.

@Egotistical Lilypad
Feb 27 2018, 06:20 PM
Lately, life had settled into simple patterns for Darklingpaw, and there was a finality to it all that was calming. Her mother was happy. With the return of his daughter and the birth of his grandchildren, Coalstep seemed more like himself than he ever had. Though she stayed at a distance, Darklingpaw was secretly enamored with the kits Arcticstorm had brought into the world. Her sibling she was more wary of. Despite returning home, Arcticstorm didn't seem to want to know her family, and Darklingpaw had long ago pulled the wool from her eyes about what being sisters meant.

That morning she'd gone out patrolling into the grey dawn, the snowmelt dampening her paws as she walked; a welcome reminder that winter didn't last forever. She was only days away from her warrior naming ceremony. Truthfully, she was in no great hurry to get her full name. She was still angry at Emberblade, even if she did anger like she did most things (quietly), and didn't mind staying by herself in the apprentice den. Becoming a warrior also meant shrugging off the last remnants of her childhood. Though already an adult in most rights, she was still afraid of growing older.

It was early morning. Early enough that most of her Clanmates were still asleep in their dens. She was supposed to be back shortly to train with Spiderfur, but the minutes ticked by, stretching into hours. Soon the sun was high in the sky, and there was still no sign of Darklingpaw back at camp.

Out on the distant edge of the territory, where ThunderClan's forest stretched alongside the thunderpath, she'd disappeared. Her scent was intermingled with that of twoleg, the leaf litter kicked up and trampled. Against the backdrop of the thunderpath, there were no other traces of her. No indication of where she'd gone.

The last of Silverstar and Coalstep's litter to disappear, it seemed fate had a sense of humor.
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