damnatio memoriae [p]

**iliri** · #1 Yesterday, 05:02 PM

The last thing the medicine cat remembered was pain. Agonizing, relentless pain that followed her without any pursuit. She didn't know how long she ran, nor did she want to care. All she did was run until the very last drop of adrenaline gave out on her. With the adrenaline gone, came the agony. A raw, searing pain that radiated from the talon wounds was a constant, unyielding presence, as if the owl’s claws were still embedded in her flesh, their malicious grip a permanent reminder of her suffering. Each breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, each inhalation a laborious effort that tore through her chest like a jagged knife. The sharpness of each breath exacerbated the throbbing pain that pulsed through her entire being, digging into her ribs and clawing at her lungs. Springlight knew she looked downright horrible, or, worse even, not that she could pull much thought towards it. Her paws felt heavy and unbalanced, each step dragging through the forest floor with a sluggish, painful effort. They had carried her for as long as she could have ran, giving out completely under her as she reached her destination. A dense layer of bushes, a labyrinth of intertwined branches and thick, waxy leaves that created an almost impenetrable wall of green illuminated by the dim glow of the moon.

It was the last thing Springlight had wanted, but it was better than being out in the open and lingering away for the owl to finish its job. A painful wheeze escaping her bloodied lips, the injured feline pushed herself onward, ignorant to the pulsating pain rushing through her backend. Every part of her screamed to stop. To stop running and collapse right there. A part of her brain screamed at her desires, courting her to keep going forward until she finally reached safety. Approaching the canopy of leaves, the calico hauled herself under the entanglements of thorns and roots, biting back the urge to cry out in agony as they dug into her already pierced flesh. The branches twisted and turned at her struggle, some thick and gnarled with age, others slender and sharp, like nature’s own barbed wire, eager to catch and hold onto anything that ventured too close. With desperation clinging to her like an intriguing dangling piece of prey, the oriental longhair mix pulled herself completely under the safety of the bushes, the roaring of blood pulsing in her ears a stark contrast to the quiet rustling of a passing creature or the distant chirp of an insect. Everything in Springlight’s system began to die down, the world around her a nightmarish blur of shadow and agony, the once-familiar rays of foliage transformed into a disorienting maze of twisted trees and tangled undergrowth.

The darkness seemed to press in from all sides, the oppressive gloom amplifying her sense of helplessness and despair. The scent of her own blood was a thick, metallic tang that filled her nostrils, mingling with the earthy odor of the forest floor to create a nauseating stench that seemed to cling to her fur like a taunting shroud. Was this how she was going to die? Alone, crippling with guilt, regret, fear, and agony? It wasn't how she thought she was going to go, but then again, everyone’s end is unexpected. All that she had hoped for was to properly serve her clan until she felt that her time was over. Her eyes drifted shut, clouding them away entirely from the shifting world of colors dancing in her remaining vision. The weight of her failure was a constant, oppressive force, pressing down on her with an almost physical weight, a relentless reminder of her perceived inadequacies and shortcomings. Her thoughts spiraled into a dark abyss of self-blame and regret, each fear and doubt magnified by the agony that consumed her. Her mind was a chaotic whirlwind of fear, regret, and agony, each thought crashing into the next with a jarring intensity. Memories of the owl’s attack replayed in vivid, harrowing fragments, each one a cruel reminder of the terror she had endured.

The phantom-like sensation of the owl’s talons raked through her flesh, the bone-deep pain of its relentless assault haunting her, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness that had consumed her were all etched into her memory with brutal clarity. The longer she laid there within the bushes, the more she realized her strength was rapidly waning, any testament of movement growing more labored and painful as the numbness began to overtake her limbs. The cold that seeped into her bones was a stark contrast to the warmth of her blood, a chilling reminder of the impending darkness that threatened to claim her. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a painful reminder of her frailty and the looming specter of death that hovered just out of sight. Blood pooled beneath her, a grim testament to the severity of her injuries and the ever-present threat of death. Darkness began to overtake her, her thoughts becoming increasingly disjointed, slipping through her consciousness like grains of sand through her paws. The pain that had been a constant companion was fading, replaced by a numbing, chilling cold that seemed to seep into her very soul. It was as if she were drifting away, the world around her growing distant and hazy as she approached the brink of unconsciousness.

The forest above the foliage of bushes seemed to recede into a murky, formless blur, leaving her suspended in a disorienting limbo between life and death. Her consciousness wavered, slipping in and out of focus as she floated toward the edge of the abyss, the finality of her situation pressing down on her with an almost unbearable weight. Was she dead? Was she still alive? Was this how it felt like if she was dying? It was almost familiar with how she felt during her time stuck in the medicine den after the horrible incidents at Sunkissed Creek. She didn’t feel lifeless—or had that been how a spirit felt once it was dead. She felt… alive, still. Breathing oxygen into her bloodstream, her body still poured out gushes of blood as it quietly dripped onto the inky darkness she stood upon. A void of nothing, she noted. In the midst of this dark, liminal space, she felt a profound sense of resignation, a quiet acceptance of the inevitability of her fate. The possible idea of death loomed large, an imposing presence that seemed to stretch out before her with an almost palpable weight. The cold that enveloped her was both a comfort and a terror, a sign of her imminent departure from the world she had known for only a small piece of time. Her mind struggled to hold on to fragments of consciousness, each thought growing fainter as the cold darkness pressed in. She knew she wasn't dead; she knew that much.

She could almost feel a presence within the void, a presentation of familiarity pressing onto her shoulders as she idly sat into the darkness. Explosion after explosion of emotions thrusted through her; anger, guilt, frustration, sadness. It was all there, all there right in front of her. It was all coming onto her. She knew someone was there, but she hadn't wanted to make it known. A small part of her hadn't wanted to face the inevitable of who was there, only staring down at the inky stretches of darkness beneath her paws as crimson puddles of her own blood continued to drip onto the cold floor. “So… are you here to tell me I’m dead or not?” She spoke, staring directly in front of herself as she didn't bother to turn to see who was there to greet her at this moment of time. She may have just been talking to herself, but she didn't care at the moment. Her body was bleeding out—both physically and internally—and she was in a cage stuck between life and death, and she was doing everything in her power to stay alive at that moment.

@val (wow this was horrible but enjoy the continuous spitting of word vomit)