ghostsinthewasteland

[ghostsinthewasteland]

Frozengale

Warrior | Alive Female | Senior adult Adventurous Incredible runner Good mediator Clan founder

Everyone was talking at the same time, and nothing was getting done.

Frozengale's tail flicked as she watched, listening with half an ear to complaints, fearmongering and the rational few trying to calm the group down. From their waking in this place, the sky had remained gray -- but, to her, she could still see the muted light of the sun behind the clouds, and it was beginning to drift later and later into the day.

They may have had time to squabble during the day, but without knowing where they were or what threats may reside here, it was only going to get more and more dangerous the longer they waited. She wasn't fond of spending the night out in the open without even an idea of what the surrounding area looked like, especially with an adolescent being among their number.

Glancing around, she sees the bemused expression of the eldest cat, the concern of the younger members, the attempt at annoyance from the youngest.

The day is beginning to wane.

"Well," Frozengale finally interrupts the back and forth, getting up to stretch out her slightly stiff limbs, "We can all keep going around in circles about how we don't know what's going on, accomplishing nothing as night sets in--"

Several cats exchange glances as she speaks up -- some look appreciative, while others seem a little surprised, like they'd forgotten she was there.

"--Or we can check out the nearby area and at least secure some shelter and food for the short term," she continues, gesturing with a nod of her head to the dreary fields ahead of them. "It doesn't have to be forever, but it needs to be before the sun sets. I think we'd all feel better with a safe place to sleep and a little something in our bellies. Anyone up to joining me on a little exploration?"

There's a little grumbling, but it doesn't take long for Rimestar to settle everyone down and encourage the group to pair up to get these tasks accomplished. He may be young, but he seems to be stepping in pretty well as a leader -- with the help of Skypelt as well.

"Alright, lets get this show on the road!" Frozengale beams, excitement stirring in her chest as she's joined by a young, white coated cat. "Stick with me, I'll show you my best tricks of the trade, kid."

And then, they're off. After an indeterminate amount of time asleep or knocked out -- whatever had happened to leave them all scattered around, unconscious -- Frozengale was grateful to be able to run, to let the wind brush against her fur and to feel the earth beneath her paws.

It just felt right.

[ghostsinthewasteland]

Lilacfern

Medicine Cat | Alive Male | Adult Sneaky Deep Starclan bond Clan founder

Lilac had woken up before the others, but not knowing where he was or who these other cats were, had slunk off to hide beneath a delapidated structure. He kept low and quiet, utterly still as slowly but surely the confused voices of the others began to trickle into his hiding place.

None of them seemed to know anything about their shared dire circumstances. Disappointing, really. He didn’t like not knowing things.

Lilac listened in on the group for a while longer, just in case someone was holding out on information. But they weren’t, and as cats started to get their bearings and truly realize that they were in a bad spot, Lilac twisted around to retreat on the other side of his hiding place — intending to leave without being seen. Squeezing out the increasingly tight space, he shook dust from his coat and stretched.

“Well, best to move on to greener pastures,” he hums to himself, trotting off with a flick of his tail.

Only…there didn’t seem to be any greener pastures here. No green freshness anywhere. The sky was gray, like it wanted to rain, but the earth was dusty and barren beneath his paws. Lilac slows for a moment, glancing around himself with more focus now. There are some hardy growing things, but…nothing that he knows. Which, in and of itself is a strange thought, considering he woke with no knowledge beyond his name and…and that plants were a good resource to have. Healing, saving.

Someone whispers behind him.

Fur bristling, Lilac whirls and sees nothing. Teeth bared and back curved, he sprints away. A frantic run that kicks up pebbles and dust.

Distance. Distance is what he needs. He needs to get away from this place, he needs something green and living—

The whispering follows at his tail, and its voice multiplies into many -- too many.

Lilac reaches a dead and wispy tree line that leads into a darkening wood, fear spurring him to keep going where logic might have told him to turn back. Birds cry somewhere up above in the tangled grasping branches of this dead wood, but they are nearly drowned out by the fervent whispering that chases after him like a dog on the hunt.

Eventually, he spots a hollowed out tree and dives into it without a care for what might already have made its home there. Lilac pants, fur standing on end as he tries to press himself up against damp wood, tries to disappear into this dark place.

The whispers become demanding, growing frantic — angry, desperate, wanting.

Until a twig snaps somewhere in the deadwood, and everything falls into a terrible, sudden hush.

His breathing sounds too loud now, and Lilac clamps his jaws closed and grits his teeth in an effort to make as little noise as possible. He stays there; stalk still, eyes wide and staring at the entrance to his sanctuary.

The wood outside is silent. Unnaturally so.

And that’s when he sees them. Glittering through the air like frost, like fireflies, like stardust. They shine, yet it doesn’t feel…bright. It feels muted. Grayscale. Light in a colorless world. They drift by the opening of the hollow, and he watches them in their dance until a paw appears among them.

It makes no noise, leaves no indent in the leaf litter. Lilac can see through it, partially, as if it was only half in this world. The paw is joined by a face, peering in at him from outside the hollow of his tree. It is likewise see-through, and if it has features, he can make out little beyond its eyes that glow and glitter like those speckles in the air.

They stare at one another for a long moment. Lilac goes deathly still, not even daring to breathe. The Ghost, likewise does not move.

Until it opens its mouth in an unnaturally large gap; jaw unhinged like there was no bone, no muscle.

Lilac expects noise — the whispers, maybe — but there is deafening nothingness that emanates from that mouth with a weight he can feel in his chest.

“What do you want from me?!” he eventually yowls, pressing down into the damp earth as if he could hide further into it. His claws leave gouges in the dirt.

The Ghost’s mouth remains gaping, glittering eyes blank. But it moves now. One step. Another. Stiff, like it hadn’t moved in a body for many moons. Lilac didn’t wait for it to get closer before he made an irrational choice: he bolted through the Ghost.

It feels warm when he passes through it.

Lilac doesn’t stop running. He trips over tree roots until he’s made it back beyond the clinging grasp of the deadwood.

“Hey!”

Someone calls out to him, and they sound so alive and there that he gasps in relief as he comes to a heart-pounding stop. He tries to catch his breath, head hanging as he pulls in desperate breaths.

“There’s a group of us over here, if you feel comfortable joining. We’re, uh…well, all sort of strangers, but we’re all we’ve got out here for the moment.” The cat that speaks to him has blue eyes, dark fur. He can’t see the landscape through them. They’re real, they’re here. “You okay?”

“What…?” Lilac asks, blinking away the tears he hadn’t realized were gathering in his eyes. He dips his head, brushing a paw over his face. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

If asked, he would say that it was fear for his life that had spurred on such a reaction. But, deep in his heart, what Lilac fears to admit is that it was that brief brush of warmth from passing through the Ghost that brought tears to his eyes as he ran.

[ghostsinthewasteland]

Skypelt

Deputy | Alive Female | Adult Responsible Good teacher Good speaker Clan founder

"You may want to take this slow, but are you alright? You don't smell dead, at least."

Skypelt's eyes flutter open at the sound of a soft, faintly concerned voice above her. Her dizzy gaze eventually focuses on dark fur, blue eyes and a young face. She should probably be concerned as well, but instinct tells her to remain calm and move slowly.

She feels...fine. Foggy, but nothing hurts.

Sighing, she shakes some of the drowsiness from her mind, tail curling around her front paws as she pulls herself up into a sitting position. "I'm fine--"

Something glittered around this cat in front of her for the briefest of moments.

"I'm fine," she repeats, more firmly this time. She looks this cat over, up and down, and can't help but smile knowingly. He could hardly be many moons passed being a kitten, really. "You're surprisingly steady for a youngster. What are you doing all the way out...here..."

The younger cat watches her as her head swivels, taking in the dead landscape around them.

What were they doing out here?

There were no sounds -- no wind, no animal calls, nothing. Just the stillness that came with a dead place. Skypelt isn't sure why, but it makes her chest ache. She thought...that there should be green, trees, birds.

The young cat before her moves, brushes her side with light reassurance. Wise for his few years. "Yeah, I...I know. Well, I don't. I don't know why we're here, or where here is. But I do know that we're here together, and we're not the only ones," he says, mouth crinkling at one corner. "It's going to get dark soon, and there are others to check on."

There were more? More cats?

Turning around and taking a few steps forward, Skypelt did indeed see others -- most were motionless in the dry grass, but others were beginning to stir in confusion.

"I don't know what's going on, but I know we'll have a better shot of figuring it out and surviving together. I'm Rime...Rimestar." He sounded unsure about that, but as soon as she thinks it odd, she realizes that she doesn't recall where her own name came from beyond herself. "Think you could help me out...?"

"Skypelt," she supplies, already sprinting off to one of the other cats, "And I've got you covered, Rimestar!"

[ghostsinthewasteland]

Rimestar

Leader | 9 Lives left Male | Young adult Wise Very clever Great teacher Clan founder

He wakes with a start, pupils blown wide and limbs shaky as Rime scrambles to his paws.

Where...Where is he?

Heart thumping wildly in his chest, blue eyes quickly take in his surroundings. Gray, damp. Lifeless. That...This cannot possibly be correct, cannot be right. He feels as if...something is missing. Something is wrong.

But he doesn't know what, does not even know how he came to be in this place he does not recognize the smell or feel of.

What he does know is that he needs a better lay of the land. He may not know how he came to be here, but that didn't mean his confusion was an excuse to not be as prepared as he could be. Dead grass crunches beneath his pads as he trots over to the lone tree within sight, bare branches clawing at the gray sky above; a leap and some scrabbling is all it took to get a better view, and what's laid out before him leaves an unnerved pit in his gut.

The hillsides here were dry and ghostly, pockmarked by heaps of broken and worn out...things. They stank of age and decay. But, more worrisome than that, were the bodies of other cats littered across the landscape.

Rime's ear flicked as an indecipherable whisper brushed by it, the glittering over his shoulder missed as he leaps back down to check on the closest cat.

[ghostsinthewasteland]

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