in a burning glade, i learnt to survive. [p]

[redshiftreign]

BURNINGNIGHT
THE AFTERMATH
he/they/it | shadowclan warrior | 19 moons
lyrebird's lullaby, the collector, shadow fiend
@lethean [gladepaw]

the sun was too bright, burningnight decided as he ducked his angular head through the warriors den and out into the clearing, long tail swaying rhythmically behind him. the warmer days had lead to brighter sunlight, glaring down longer and harsher on his dark coat, microwaving him from the outside in. smoldering, suffocating, turning him into a convection oven.

like coals and embers, like his pelt. burning. scorching. smoldering. the incandescent hum of the heat singing soft vigils

he was just the ashes and the aftermath.

the wind rolled past, so unlike the howling whiplash of tempests once raging through the ravine just a few short moons ago that shadowclan had called its home. now they were here, in unfamiliar soil, beyond the mourning ruins and deeper in and further up. icy heartlands all but forgotten, the quiet tom found himself moving with melancholy meter through the clearing to collect his new ward.

burningnight had never fallen to the desire to mentor. he had had his fill of apprentices during his own training, and the smaller not-yet-warriors were scarcely anything but naissances in his amber eyes. another unpredictable mess for his nerves to singe and fray over, the pain almost physically repugnant. if he were two hairs less of a pious servant of the shadows and Her Mean Majesty, he might have curled back into his nest and willed the world to dissolve him into dust, small flecks and embers and ashes until there was no burningnight or existence, merely the remnant traces of what once was and what could have been.

all he wanted was the flames to be extinguished slowly, starved of fuel, and left in silent reverie as a quiet heat hummed from them. the flames of the mind, soul and body. snuffed, quiet and innocuous. was wishing to fade into the background such a sick desire for him to have? to hide away from prying eyes, his secrets (however scarce) held tight to his chest and kept under lock and key, blanketed by silence and oblivion.

stopping alertly in front of the apprentice's den, burningnight stared with a blank expression as his gaze flickered about, hunting down the vaugely familiar pelt.

"gladepaw," came the monotonous tone of the young warrior as he waited at the entrance to the apprentice den, peering into the massive hollow stump with keen eyes.. with the strict restrictions and the cannibal on the loose, training was going to be difficult, confined to camp unless in large groups. he wasn't keen on hunting down an enforcer and some warriors and turning their scrutinizing, suffocating gaze on himself, so he had decided to do provide the apprentice with a simpler and more manageable lesson to start. one that could be effectively preformed within the comforts of camp, following Dawnstar's rules unerring.