EagleClan StreamClan MistClan StormClan ShadowClan*~ a warriors RP

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Suddenly, Stormstar's screech rung out: "Retreat!"

Yowls of triumphance came from the EagleClan cats as the rogues trudged away miserably. The EagleClan cats had many moderate injuries, only a few were severe.
 
Ashstorm held back a sharp reply, his exhaustion making him impatient. Instead, he only gave a slight nod again and began trudging in the direction Hawkfeather had gone. Hopefully he could make it back before dark.
 
Hawkfeather felt light-headed from loss of blood as she slackened to a slow limp. I can't stop. Not now. A slice had been taken out of her ear, still bleeding slightly, while the fur and skin on her belly bled where it had been ripped away, revealing scars from battles when she was a young apprentice in BearClan. One of her paws felt wrenched; probably when she landed on it wrong because of a rogue's attack. Was Stormstar's reign and falling the bloodshed my sister told me when I joined StreamClan? Hawkfeather pondered for a moment.
Wait, was that a stream uphead?
Oh no...
If she could make this leap, she would be able to get to EagleClan. Summoning the the last bit of her energy, Hawkfeather lept forward and huffed as she slammed against the bank, scrabbling at a tuft of grass that hung over the edge. Her claws dug into the earth as she tried to grip. Small pieces of dirt stuck to her open wounds, causing them to sting while mud stuck to her back paws, beginning to make her slip towards the water.
"No!" she howled and tried to heave herself upwards.
 
Ashstorm trudged towards the forest at a painstakingly slow pace, lurching from side to side as he tried to follow Hawkfeathers scent trail. As fresh as it was he was having trouble concentrating on anything, his vision narrowing to a tunnel in front of him and limiting his line of sight. In front of him, the ground dipped suddenly and he stumbled, losing his balance. He fell onto his chest, then rolled onto his side. His paws were trembling and his breathing was fast and shallow, he felt like he was suffocating even though there was plenty of air. The ground swirled around him, was he rolling or was the earth just spinning on his mind? He wasn't even sure.
 
Hawkfeather's heave upwards caused one of her back paws to slip, sending her into the shallow, but cold water. Her whole belly was now covered in mud. Hawkfeather growled weakly in frustration and scanned for a lower spot she could climb up. She wondered dreadfully if Ashstorm was dead, but pushed the thought away and crawled to a lower place on the bank. A rotted branch hung over the bank (conveniently), giving Hawkfeather a paw-hold as she pulled herself up and over the muddy edge. She flopped half way onto the dry dirt with a "splat" from her wet, muddy fur and sighed heavily.
 
The next morning Ashstorm woke up where he had fallen the night before, his muscles sore and stiff with dried blood. He felt like crap. Knowing that if he didn't move, he would be easy prey for a stray dog or fox, he flexed his limbs one at a time to test what he had to work with... and judging by the shots of pain he felt, it certainly wasn't much. With a determined grunt he inched himself slowly up to a standing position and leaned heavily on a nearby rock to rest.
 

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