━━━ ✧ // all the other kids. a warriors rp. OPEN!!!! ◜

[vertigo]

♛ -- `Ｓ Ｗ Ａ Ｎ Ｂ Ｒ Ｅ Ｅ Ｚ Ｅ ！！ ❞
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( ● sex. male ) ( ● rank, deputy ) ( ● tagged. littlepaw, open ) ( ● words. 1595 ) ● him ● thoughts ● other
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xxxxxxSwanbreeze woke with a yawn, stretching both his fore, and hind-legs until they could go no more, accidentally pawing Littlepaw right smack in the maw in the process, his foot brushing against the soft, brindled fur on the apprentice's face. No more than a mere heartbeat later, the deputy could feel heat gathering upon his own two cheeks, though he knew their was no reason to be embarrassed, for the small tom was only his apprentice after all. And quite frankly, the tom couldn't have asked for a better apprentice than the small - well, not quite - tom lying less than a tail-lengths away, which made it so he could practically feel the warmth radiating off of his creamy pelt. If he hadn't mastered the ability of having a level-head, he probably would have murmured something along the lines of- If Littlepaw hadn't been sleeping so close to me, than I probably wouldn't have risked waking him, though of course, the words never came, not even making the slightest appearance in the grey-faced tom's mind. Instead, he sighed - though it wasn't an upset or irritated sigh - it was understanding, and full of utter, pure sympathy. Sometimes, Swanbreeze wondered whether or not anyone but himself would come to understand the young tom as much as he did, and at times, it was clear that Littlepaw pondered over the same thought. His heart was very fragile, easy to break, yet way too big for his body, easy for others to steal, shatter. Sky-blue orbs searching, shown luminous against the lack of light in the den, like two, full-moons pressed against the night sky, he took a moment to peer around the den. For a second, out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn that he saw a flash of Littlepaw's eyes, staring directly at him, but when he closed his eyes for a less than half of a second, reopening them quickly, it looked as if his apprentice hadn't even moved a muscle. Leaning ever so slightly, just enough so his whiskers barely grazed his cheek, though brushing lightly against his ear, he whispered almost silently, audible to their ears only, "I think your eyes could use a some more sleep, Littlepaw." in a voice that held nothing but fatherly affection. Now, before Swanbreeze exited the den, his soft, cream-white paws making a pitter-patter noise across the earthy, den floor, he hesitated, his gaze resting on Littlepaw, however, this lasted for no more than a mere beat of the heart, his mindset quickly shifting elsewhere.

xxxxxxIt was only then, when his paw, touched the damp, dew-kissed grass of the world outside of the den, that he had recalled the events of the previous moons - why he was here, why they were all.. here - the expression plastered upon his previously, sleep-filled face rapidly shadowing once everything combined and formed into a sudden realization. It hadn't been their choice to move, it had been by force, a decision that wasn't their's to make. Pawfuls of moons spent traveling, nights never spent in the same nest, some nights spent without even the comfort of a nest. Painful, feverish, long periods of time spent moving from place to place, with hopeless, tired eyes, and heavy paws that urged to move no more, attached and fastened to the ground like ice on a thunderpath. Strangely, out of all the odds in the forest, somehow Swanbreeze, Dawnclan, had ended up here, face to face with another clan- Fogclan. A home accompanied to of some of the most mysterious, enigmatic clan-cats the deputy had ever laid his light, cerulean blue, watchful gaze upon. They walked with the scent of fog clinging to their pelts, a flame of unknown emotions and wonders growing in the depths of their unfathomable, wary eyes. A sensation, a mixture of fear and curiosity pulled, reached, and tugged at the edges of his heart. He couldn't ignore the feeling that had been resting inside of him since the moment he set foot in their camp, since the moment he had laid his aching body down to rest, since the moment he had shut his tired, overwhelmed eyes. Something, anything, definitely.. There had to be a matter that was unspecified or unknown, and it was most certainly off. Swanbreeze knew this, but, even though his profession in perception was at best, he could not pinpoint the meaning of the strange atmosphere, threatening to spill over in secrecy. However, Swanbreeze, the grey faced cat, the tom whom had left the only lands he had come to know - the lands that had been blanketed, consumed by singing hot flames, the lands that had been taken away from the very grasp of his paws, leaving him and all of the others no chance but to leave - Quiet as a fox at dawn, he would clasp his two, soft white paws around it, and open up the locked box of untold mysteries.

xxxxxxThat was his purpose after all, wasn't it? The natural ability to have a way of predicting someone's actions or words, just by reading their ever body language, and observing every single movement that they demonstrate. Starclan knows how many times Swanbreeze had focused on some-cat for just a few heartbeats, studying them closely with a for the most part, blank, though attentive expression painted upon his maw. Have they blinked one too many times? Has their expression altered in the blink of an eye? How does their stance appear to be.. The aspect in their two, emotion filled eyes. It did not take too much thought to piece together that this - his perceptiveness, the capability to see, hear, and become aware of something through using his senses - was - had to be one of the most critical reasons why Pansystar had chosen him to be her deputy. The grey-faced tom could not tug a single reasoning to why he had been chosen under the gaze of Starclan than that itself, and perhaps that was because what he thought had been truly, why Pansystar had been precise, and immediate with her selection. Without his extreme level of awareness, he would be nothing, unimportant. No more than a mere, watchful, silent cat with no words to share with anyone but himself. However, this did not matter to the tom, for the little, grey-faced deputy would have been perfectly content with any assigned position.

xxxxxxGentle like the ways of a swan, quiet as the whisper of a breeze.

xxxxxxA smooth, yet energetic, bright voice pulled Swanbreeze away from his thoughts, the tom, frozen like a statue, came back to reality in response, his expression evolving into surprise from the sudden confrontation. He immediately identified the molly to be Pansystar, as her scent, distinctly of new-leaf flowers and morning dew, an addition to her beautiful, creamed-tan fur, splashed with a charcoal-black that crept up the base of her back, and shadowed her face, could be of possession to no one other than the Dawnclan leader herself. "Hello, Swanbreeze." The she-cat mewed, a cheerful smile pressed against her maw, much like always. It was a very rare sight to see his leader upset, or better described, anything other than joyous. Without Pansystar's near constant positive vibe, Swanbreeze feared that all of his clan would be as dreadful as a long pelt soaked with rain. Swanbreeze sometimes wondered how some cat could stay so happy when everything they had loved had been stripped right from their grasp, for the leader had to cope with not only all the losses of her clan, but the responsibility and weaknesses that the disaster had to offer. Almost as if she had been unaffected by the disastrous fires, it had always been her voice that had brought light into the days - the days that they had been mindlessly traveling, hope depleting by the heartbeat - that had brought a shine into every cat's spirit. Pansystar had granted them hope, a will to keep moving their paws, and Swanbreeze would never be able to thank her enough for that. "I hope you had a decent rest." Pansystar, now pausing, Swanbreeze took this chance to dip his head in not only a response to her greeting, but in respect. The deputy held copious amounts of respect for his superior(s), and he refused to let it go unnoticed. In a hushed voice, he mewed, his voice nearly joining the ranks of a whisper, "Lovely to see you, Pansystar." If it had been a different day, a different time, the deputy would have brought up his concerns revolving around the clan. For the moment being, he kept these words to his thoughts. This sensation digging at my heart, I shall choose to ignore it, however, she must feel it as well. I am lead to believe that there is something off, something mysterious lurks in the shadows of this place. I am awestruck by it's beauty, and the generosity of these cats, but Starclan, is this occurrence, what it means for something to be too delightful to hold truth? She then continued, by acknowledging Swanbreeze's words with no more than a long, blink of an eye, before reopening them once more. And with this, a silent conclusion to her words, she then began to pad towards the direction of what Swanstar assumed to be the strange clan's leader's den, her long, cream-and-charcoal tail held high, her bright blue eyes sparkling with wonder. Dismissing his thoughts, Swanbreeze flicked his long, feather-like white tail, before shifting his eyes from Pansystar and setting his paws out ahead of him.

[deftonesly]

--.-( `☼ -- ＬＩＴＴＬＥＰＡＷ ! )
----━-age. 11 m--rank. dawn app--located. makeshift den--tagged. rosewhisker--words. 1,301
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littlepaw hoped that his exclamation had not frightened away the sandy warrior; he looked up at the tall male with almost pleading turquoise eyes. hardly any cat put up with him and his unneeded━often seen as annoying━questions and curiosities. would rosewhisker━shy, sweet rosewhisker━be able to put up with him? even now that he had managed to get himself under control and tone down his enthusiasm? the wee brindle-patterned cat almost purred with delight when the warrior flicked his ears, as if he was debating on coming closer or not. and he almost spontaneously combusted when he smiled down at him and came to sit at his side. littlepaw could tell that rosewhisker was put off by the questions, that his head was swimming, scrambling for a response to the onslaught of words. but he appreciated the fact that he did not give up and excuse himself. he stayed dead silent as he digested littlepaw's hissed sentences, carefully contemplating them. rosewhisker blinked his tender green orbs, murmuring softly ( at last ) whilst gazing down at the apprentice, "uh, well, i am as fine as i could be after the journey here. my paws still ache even after sleep, but thank you for asking littlepaw."

indent a pause ensued, full of littlepaw's round eyes and the quiet warrior's patience and hesitation. then rosewhisker pressed on, voice laced with uncertainty and . . something akin to longing, because it was clear how much he wanted to get out and hunt. "i don’t know about the rest of those questions, but i hope that they let us hunt soon. i feel hungry enough to eat crowfood." they. funny how we are starting to refer to the mysterious fogclanners as "they" now. it is a good way to refer to them. they are so strange . . . so secretive. and we know next to nothing about them, spare for the fact that they've hidden themselves away into the mountains. i suppose the only possible way we can refer to them is as "they". seems appropriate, sad as it is. he glanced about, realizing in that moment how a lot of his clanmates had awoken . . how they were slipping from the bramble den to stand outside and eyeball fogclan, observe their daily life from a distance. either that, or they were sitting up in their nests, gazing around as if lost. tension was spiking the air; the dawnclan cats seemed edgy, like thorns had been stuffed into all of their pelts during the night. not to be hypocritical, because i sure as the stars above am as wary of fogclan as the next cat, but . . i find it sad that suspicions are already riding high. that a lack of trust is obvious. why can't every cat just get along? we've hardly been here a day! and already everyone's sizing the other up like prey that they want to gobble but are stubbornly nitpicking for maggots. for things to despise.

indent he realized that he was getting too worked up about the concept━that he was reading into this far more than he should. to take his mind off of it, he focused on rosewhisker's last comments about how hungry he was. as if on cue, littlepaw's belly burst into a loud series of screeches. he suddenly became aware of how hollow his gut felt━how his stomach was doing its very best to cave in and eat itself. he glanced down at his wide girth, shamelessly, because he loved his pot belly. then he lifted his head and grinned wildly at rosewhisker, squinting his eyes in his cheekiness. "my stomach speaks for itself. i agree!" he continued to jabber. "of course, i only agree to some level, because i'm one of the worst hunters dawnclan has ever seen!" the tiny cat purred, the noise rumbling from his chest like a boom of thunder, it was so loud.

indent "i don’t think we’re gonna join them." rosewhisker muttered after the two toms had exchanged chuckles about how starved they were. "no clan would want to split their territory with strangers. i wouldn't want to anyway. it'd be less food for everyone, and if there was an outbreak of, say, greencough, there would be less herbs to treat it as well . . ." yet another pause followed. rosewhisker swiveled his head to gaze outside with his fern-green orbs. "have you heard them say anything?" littlepaw too turned to peer through the bramble branches. he was silent for a few heartbeats as he processed the sandy cat's words. the warrior presented some good points. the cats were all in such close quarters, it would be easy for a virus to wriggle its way into the camp and infect one feline . . whom would then infect the rest of them. despite the potential lack of prey━and surplus of sickness━that the uniting of the clans offered, the brindle had to say that he . . he would be overjoyed if they joined forces. of course he wanted somewhere to sleep and food in his gut . . but to finally have a home after so long of trekking would be amazing. despite the secrets that everyone seemed to suspect that fogclan was withholding. this clan and this territory can provide all new experiences and friendships for us! we are both strong . . so just think of what could happen if we came together as one! the chub thought. his paws began to fizz with curiosity and nerves. his turquoise orbs ignited with excitement and something that had not been there for a while: hope.

indent littlepaw turned his head away from the hole in the brambles, disagreeing but with no sign of aggression in his voice. "but, rosewhisker," his eyes widened a tad, almost in urgency, "what if . . . what if they are talking about us merging into one clan? i get what you're saying about fogclan not wanting to share, but how could they not discuss such matters? after all that has happened with the fire and the. ." great starclan, it was hard for him to get the words out! "scorching of our old home, do you think that pansystar and swanbreeze want to have a nice, friendly chat with the head cats of a rival clan? i mean . . i just. ." he was finding it awfully difficult to not give in, to not make the warrior happy by agreeing. because that was what he normally did: make sure everyone got along, roll over and take things if need be. for some reason, and he had no idea why, he was compelled to share his thoughts. hopefully the male would not get in a hissy fit about that? like he knew other individuals in the clan would? "i just really want this all to be over, y'know? i'm sick and tired of traveling all the time, hopping from one place to the next. we're always in such a hurry. but this clan is a sign of hope for me. maybe our long days of wandering have finally come to an end . . ? i . . i actually want to live here, or even become a fogclanner, if that's what it takes to finally rest. to find peace."

indent the tomcat blinked in surprise with himself, and color began to blossom along his patterned cheeks. he felt the sudden urge to turn away, and he, sheepishly, did, directing his gaze to the twig-covered floor of the den. littlepaw murmured, suddenly shy, "sorry. i . . i ramble. what i said is not important. sorry." he purred the last word, having regained enough of his confidence to try to joke. "anyway, no, i haven't gathered anything. they're too far."

[Tsukỉ]

◆◇ 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐰__________________________________________

apprentice - she-cat - 12 moons - mood ☛ somber - location ☛ med. cat den - tagged ☛ nobody;open

Oh, it was a wonderful dream. The loudest reverie, the slightest chime of a bird in the distance, the greatness of Leaf-Green's yawning mouth, which welcomed her with full arms, reaching wide. It was then, when Wiltpaw could finally fly up into the thick clouds, up into the stars and all the way up to her ancestors, coddled in their everlasting love and always-burning care. If that were the case, Wiltpaw would've seen the galaxy; the sky, the moon, the millions of faces. But instead, the she-cat fell, fell, fell and fell, then a drowning sensation, clogging up her nose with the bitter taste of remorse, guilt and.. perhaps something else, but it was too treasured and locked up to carve out. It was like bark on a tree, you'd never be able to claw out the whole of it until you could clearly see the tan, smooth surface of the innards. There was reason for this, this dense layer was protection from the outside. So Wiltpaw, the brave soul, began oath on the winds and skies that whatever she'd done was for the best, and left the tree be. Still drowning, the apprentice climbed up to the tallest tree and gazed at the red-blue skies and watched as the horizon devoured the last of the glaring sun, the heartache no longer bothering her. Was it a false sense of comfort? Of lies and truth, the morale values every cat questioned, between the two, which was the true virtue? Lies for the better of everyone; or the truth that tears us apart? No cognitive function remained in the black she-cat. From the tops of the canopies, she fell until she hit rock bottom. Ah. This is how I shall end. Henceforth, closed her eyes, and gave out one last preach to farewell the kin she left behind, and once again see the stars..? Finally..

Wiltpaw woke up, the brisk breeze hitting her face. She'd fallen asleep on some moss in the Medicine Cat's den, smothering herself in her sleep. While she recovered from a small injury on her tail, she'd been staying here. The fragrance of the herbs, on all sides of her body, enamoured the young she-cat. Life was thriving in FogClan, who, now had a new neighbour; namely, DawnClan. Lead by a leader she couldn't name, a middle-aged she-cat.. something akin to that, with no exception. DawnClan was more of a nuance to the poor thing, their mere presence just a widdled down mouse to her. Often, she'd bump into one of those cats of their's, having to chase them off if they accidentally pressed foot on the unknown territories. But that decayed, just like her interest in.. everything. As the moons hurdled by, less and less of that ever happened. Her tail? It was in great pain, but after some time, the eerie, pulsating thrusts of spiky pain were quite managable. Otherwise, Wiltpaw would've been teary-eyed. The tenacious brown she-cat opened up her jaws to protest, but, no cats were in the den with her. No wasted breaths should've been made, and she tightly shut her mouth, it bittersweet with confusion, but mostly desire. She did want to go, run out back in camp with.. whatever friends she had, a few, but still enough to kindle the small campfire she'd made for herself, in the nest for one. That was rhetoric, mind you, Wiltpaw hated fire. The blazing, crisp hot of the smeltering blaze irritated her with the beastly force of a tyhoon, shaking her legs up til her very core. The blank names that were lost, and forgotten, all came crying back to her whenever she witnessed a fire.

Oh, it was putrid. It was the distasteful moan of a dying mouse, piled on with a thousand, no, ten thousand rotting corpses of other mice before it. It was like wasting freshly caught prey during the cold leaf-bare. The zephyrs prancing around, and whatnot. But to be more precise and technical, Wiltpaw was only describing a speck of it, as tiny as a poppy-seed. Thin as a whisker. The suffering the age-old blaze caused was immense, but many survived. The survivors were the only hope to make the icy water tepid. She stood herself up from the moss bed, still trembling from her tail. It was limp, dragging across the ground. It was broken. However, to become a great warrior, one must ignore all the hardships and push forward, dragging oneself through the muck and break through to the riverbank. If that was what it took to be a good warrior; then, so be it. Wiltpaw would do it-- no, complete it-- no, master it. All her conflicted views were starting to allign. Where was the moss? she asked herself, skeptical. She crossed out, from the medicine cat's den, to the ground.

The outside air, like expected, was foggy and damp. The birds chirped from the tops of trees, peering into their conversations. She looked at a few cats talking, probably about some odd topic she couldn't care less about. She had quite the temptation to go approach them, but another, wiser part of her beckoned her to stay. Their buisness was strictly for them, not for the Clan loner, like herself. Ashen with grief, the she-cat shook her head, and rested herself right beside the fresh-kill pile, promptly waiting for anyone to start speaking to her. Neither of the medicine cats, Cloudbreeze nor the apprentice, told her to stay still or not move until it heals; that only applied to her extremities, like her paws and legs.. shoulders, everything you couldn't bare living without. If you'd never seen a bob-cat before, you'd scoff in her face and dismiss her as a fool who was too careless. Oh, she'd bust her back to be a fool. Then she'd never even have to lament about every mistake a Clanmate of her's made. She'd be a reckless, social mess with more mouthes than ears, and a stomach twice as large. But Wiltpaw was sophisticated, virtuous, and majestic. Her legacy stood high above the mountains, or at the very least, would, once her name was ameliorated to a warrior's. Actually, she was too tired of waiting to be spoken to. While proper decorum, it was amist equal ranks that it wasn't necessary. Simply, Wiltpaw padded herself back into the medicine cat's den, bored out of her mind. She approached Smokepaw and Cloudwatcher, speaking nonchalantly together.

"Salutations, Smokepaw, Cloudcatcher," Interrupting the casual conversation between the mentor and apprentice. Chiefly, Wiltpaw would've sat down next to them, regardless of their response, but for now, the she-cat was attentive. The temptation of a conversation; well, and the hunger for information, was one strong enough to curl her into the ditch of interaction. But again, it was how cats themselves were made to, right? If that were even remotely far from the truth, all Clans would've failed, eventually seperating themselves into rogues, who were solitary and rough. The tantalizing musk of friendship, scathed by the lingering piece of betrayal that could sprout into a tree at any second. So she never trusted anycat beside her kin. To everyone else, she was a foxhearted loner who acted more like an outsider than a Clanner, foraging in herself, and only herself, ignorant of her surroundings. As if she was distant and disconnected, apart of the society she called home. Nothing could be farther from the truth, though! She promised! She only wanted to behave curt and noble, proving herself a worthy cat, maybe becoming a 'Wiltstar' one day, herself. But through perseverence and experience, she'd also have to rely on. For the time being, the haphazard she-cat waited, for the few moments, waiting for a response from the pair. Even an 'Hi' would be acceptable. She just wanted someone to talk to.

[isildur]

ｒｏｏｋｐｅｌｔ，

FOGCLAN WARRIOR // TAGS: FLASHSTEP, DOGFACE(M), PANSYSTAR(M)

xoxo The air shifted as some bodies left the warriors den, in a way the air got colder as they departed. A small shiver ran through his body, making him squeeze himself into a smaller ball with his tail wrapped around his nose. He much preferred new-leaf and/or green-leaf to this cold nonsense. The slits of his eyes peaked open just enough to see if the morning sun had come up yet because that was the only way he was going to get out of his warm, cozy nest. Rookpelt wasn't really much of an early riser, never had been and probably never will be. The sun was indeed just coming into the morning sky, throwing him into an internal conflict on whether or not to get out of his comfortable position. Finally, he uncurled himself and stretched his legs out with a meekly yawn to get the morning started. The tom carefully made his way out of the warriors den and into the clearing where he caught sight of the other clans leader and deputy. I wonder what they are waiting for... Probably Grousestar. He mentally shrugged and decided he didn't give a crap about what they were going to discuss, only that Grousestar kept in mind the well-being of Fogclan.

xoxo On a lighter note, he caught of Flashstep. Even though he himself had become an apprentice before his golden friend they still remained friends all throughout training. Rookpelt padded lightly over to the tom and took a squat next to him. "Do you know whats happening? I hope there's going to be a little bit of action involved. It's starting to get a little boring around here these days." His meow was laced humor as he gave his chest a few quick licks to calm some stray hairs. With the arrival of the other clan, there were high tensions around camp. Everyone seemed to be worried about leaf-bare and the food shortages that would definitely follow the settlement of a whole bunch of new cats. Hell, who wouldn't be all caught up in a ninny about not having any food. Rookpelt let out a small huff and flexed his claws into the ground. "I hope Dogface sorts out the patrols soon, I'm itching to get out of camp." Dogface. Once a lovely she-cat, spoiled by the death of her mate and kit. Well, to be completely honest, her kits. Wiltpaw wasn't really dead but seemed dead to Dogface all the same. She never was the same after the dog attack. He understood why but didn't totally agree with her in the area her daughter was concerned. He didn't pity the she-cat like he used too, he had watched her transform into something he knew deep down she wasn't. Rookpelt felt a soft breeze of cold air rush through his patched fur, giving him chills down his spine. It drew him out of his thoughts and back into the real world.

xoxo "This wind is really getting to me. I wish we could just sleep through the winter and wake up and it could be green-leaf." He hunched over, trying to keep any warmth he had concealed inside his body. The tom turned to Flashpelt and tapped his flank with the tip of his black tail. "So, do you think any of the Dawnclan she-cats are cute?" He hadn't had a chance to talk to any of them yet but who-knows: anything could happen. "I think the leader, Pansystar or something like that, had my heart the second she walked into camp. He joked, nudging the orange cat next to him, humor dancing in his eyes. All jokes aside, Pansystar did catch his eye when he first saw her. She walked with such dignity and pride even after the long journey they had just embarked on. On the other hand, she was from a different clan who were most likely going to be hated because they were so called 'food stealers'. Rookpelt just wanted everything to calm down or maybe even heat up a little bit...

[peaceful]

....☁ ＣＬＯＵＤＣＡＴＣＨＥＲ ;;

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xxxxxxx[ ♀/32m ] ● [ fogclan medicine cat ] ● [ location: camp ] ● [ words: 2920 ] ● [ tagged: smokepaw, wiltpaw ]

xxxxxxxxThere were some things in the world that were simply beyond the furthest depths of reason. Things that, even after hours of contemplation and introspection, would never present themselves as logical, or understandable. A smattering of cats born with unprecedented abilities, for example; each came into the world with powers so uncanny that they were labeled as 'supernatural' and dismissed as nothing more, nothing feasible that made any sense of any kind. And then, in other cases, needless death and destruction that could not be justified regardless of how many attempts were made to do so. Kit, apprentice, warrior—any death always came 'too soon'. The morbid mental preparation for someone's death only started for those few cats who made it all the way to the elders' den, and even then, it seemed as though some would prefer to hold on to the fruitless hope that, somehow, there would never be any death. Any such wish for.. immortality, supposedly, was of course made in absolute vain. There would always be cruel, unnecessary death, so long as there was life to fall victim to it.

xxxxxxxxIt was a normal enough day, or at least, it seemed to be. The sun was beaming heartily from above, its bright rays penetrating through the forest canopy and casting a dappled pattern of shadows across the FogClan camp. A small white flash skittered across the cozy clearing, tail waving wildly as she leaped from shadow to shadow, leaf to leaf, nothing but a symbol of excitement and joy as she pranced and pounced from place to place. Whatever game she had created that warranted her energetic, focused tussling dissolved as a gentle call came from the nursery.

xxxxxxxx"Cloudkit!"

xxxxxxxxThe white kit skidded to a halt, ears perked up. She straightened her posture, shook out her fur, and turned her baby blue eyes towards the form of her mother, Dovetail. If Cloudkit had to use a mere one word to describe her mother, she would say that the pale queen was soft. Not exclusively physically so—although her pelt was just as silky and soothing to lie against, if not more so, than what Cloudkit imagined her namesake to be. She enjoyed gazing up through the forest branches, trying to catch glimpses of the fluffy white mounds that drifted leisurely across the sky. But no, Dovetail was soft through and through, from her fur, to her voice, to her overwhelming altruism and maternal nature. Needless to say, Cloudkit loved her mother, and that was all that could be seen in the kitten's bright blue eyes as she bounded obediently towards the nursery. She weaved through Dovetail's legs, purring, and looked up at her expectantly. The queen opened her mouth to speak... and that was when the bubble of tranquility hanging over the camp burst, and reality rushed in to snatch its place.

xxxxxxxxA panicked yowl filled the camp, causing everyone present to stagger in whatever they were doing; Dovetail snapped her jaw shut and looked towards the camp entrance in alarm, and Cloudkit jolted, tail bristling at the mere sound of the cry. A dusty brown cat stumbled past the entrance, breathing so heavily that Cloudkit could see the frantic rise and fall of the warrior's shoulders even from her place behind her mother. After a moment, she recognized him as her father's former apprentice, now the youngest warrior, Shrewnose. Cloudkit barely had time to register the bright red marks scored across Shrewnose's pelt before Dovetail was bundling her back into the nursery. "Stay here for me, okay, Cloudkit? I'm going to go see what this is all about." She delivered a swift lick to Cloudkit's ear before turning and hurrying towards Shrewnose, who had been flanked by other concerned warriors and the medicine cat in the meantime. Cloudkit crouched at the nursery entrance, daring to peer carefully out at the scene. It was then that it occurred to her that her father, Whitestep, had been with Shrewnose... Where was he? What had happened? Cloudkit strained to hear, heart pounding and blood roaring in her ears. Shrewnose looked absolutely stricken with fear and pain and something else that Cloudkit couldn't quite place.

xxxxxxxxShe would later identify it as grief.

xxxxxxxxIt was so hard to hear from the nursery... Cloudkit took a tentative step forward, but stopped, respecting Dovetail's wishes for her to stay. She could just barely pick up on a few words: "...didn't...attacked...eagle...saved..." Cloudkit shifted her gaze to her mother, whose tail dropped suddenly. Her ears were so flat against her head that for a moment, Cloudkit thought they had vanished completely. Dovetail started shaking her head, and took a half-step back. Shrewnose cast her a look so full of pure, genuine sorrow that Cloudkit could feel the weight of it even though it wasn't directed at her. She could only look on, confused and afraid, as the medicine cat said something and hurried towards his den, followed by a limping Shrewnose and another warrior who had stepped up to support him as he walked. Cloudkit shrank back into the nursery as the cluster of cats began to disperse. She could tell whatever had happened wasn't over, though—now the air was heavy with gloom and shock.

xxxxxxxxCloudkit would never forget her mother's expression when she returned to the nursery. Her eyes, that had been so warm just minutes ago, were so vacant. It seemed as though she had aged thirty moons in a moment's time, and when her haunted gaze found her kit's, there was a beat of nothing, of just staring. Cloudkit searched Dovetail's face for some clue of what was going on, dread and denial building in her heart. "What's wrong? What happened to Shrewnose? Where's...?" All at once, emotion flooded back into Dovetail, and a broken sound rolled from her throat. She moved slowly, practically collapsing, curling herself around Cloudkit and closing her eyes tightly. Cloudkit's tail-tip twitched anxiously as Dovetail took a deep, shaky breath, before opening her eyes again and looking down at Cloudkit. "Shrewnose and Whitestep were out hunting," she mewed quietly, unable to disguise the tremor in her voice, "at a particular field. Prey runs well there, but you have to be—vigilant. There are... It can be dangerous." Dovetail broke off, swallowing hard. "An eagle attacked Shrewnose. Whitestep jumped in to help..." The pale molly stopped again. "He... He saved Shrewnose.. by redirecting the eagle's attention.. to himself. Whitestep.. didn't make it." Her voice broke, and Cloudkit felt her heart shatter in the same instance. Whitestep is... dead? Her throat tightened, and suddenly it seemed as though everything around her wilted.

xxxxxxxxShe wouldn't learn of the details until much later; how Whitestep barreled into the eagle's side to force it away from Shrewnose, how it flapped madly before sinking its talons into his broad shoulders and attacking his face with its hooked beak... She'd never see it the way Shrewnose could when he closed his eyes, but it didn't stop her macabre imagination from filling in the blanks, envisioning the blood running down her father's face and throat.

xxxxxxxxCloudcatcher woke up slowly, blearily blinking her den into existence. Her eyes were dazed with the aftereffects of sleep, but there was something uncomfortable and sad residing in their blue depths as well. Dreams of Whitestep were, thankfully, uncommon now that so many moons had passed, but every time they returned, they temporarily reopened the wound. Cloudcatcher sighed quietly to herself, eyes dropping to the den floor before her. Death was an inevitable tragedy; the only true promise in the world. She had had plenty of time to recover from Whitestep's death. At this point, her greatest regret was not getting to spend more time with him.

xxxxxxxxThe cream point she-cat pushed herself to her paws and stepped out of her nest, brushing her thoughts away. She arched her back in a satisfying stretch, tail curling as she did so. Cloudcatcher shook her pelt out afterwards, and slowly padded towards the medicine cat den entrance, sparing a brief glance towards the two other bodies still slumbering in the den, Wiltpaw and Smokepaw. Then, in a flash, the events of the prior night came back to her, and her gaze zeroed in on the previously vacant den as she exited her own. Now it was full of strangers. They had seemed so weary when they'd arrived; Cloudcatcher, for one, was glad that Grousestar had not turned them away. Doing so would've been wrong. She thought so, anyway. Not everyone felt the same, and that was only made more apparent as Cloudcatcher's eyes traveled towards the small cluster of cats across the clearing—Grousestar, Dogface, and (presumably) the leader and deputy of the impromptu guest clan. Cloudcatcher felt a small pang of guilt as she thought of Dogface. She supposed she should be glad that she hadn't witnessed Whitestep's death, and that she'd still had her mother after the incident. The feeling was short-lived, however, and quickly overtaken by her distaste for how Dogface had handled the situation. More specifically, how Dogface had handled Wiltpaw. Pushing her away... Cloudcatcher couldn't justify the response. Still, what was done was done. She kept her opinion on that particular matter private, and did her best to support both Dogface and Wiltpaw in whatever ways she could. (Though, after tending to the latter's wounds after the attack and feeling her own heart grow heavy for Wiltpaw as her mother turned away, Cloudcatcher would be lying if she claimed she wasn't biased towards the young molly... Not to mention she was once again caring for her, after the tail incident.) Dogface would be the leader of FogClan one day, though. Cloudcatcher would rather not have a poor relationship with her leader. She didn't at the moment, that was for sure; she trusted Grousestar greatly, and adored his company. As far as his choice of deputy went... Well, she wouldn't start doubting him now. Whatever it was that he saw in Dogface, she would try to find as well. Cloudcatcher only hoped that the rest of the clan felt similarly, despite how vocal some of them were about how they felt about their deputy.

xxxxxxxxThe more pressing issue at the moment was, of course, the new clan. Cloudcatcher sat down just to the side of the entrance to her den, curling her tail around her paws. She glanced upwards as a breeze shuffled the leaves above, and watched as a leaf was broken from its place and proceeded to twirl to the ground, landing nearby. Greenleaf is ending, she mused. It will be hard to keeps twice as many mouths fed in the coming moons... Perhaps they'll move on before then. Even so, Cloudcatcher would never support forcing them away. They had clearly lost a lot in the past few days, and deserved something other than more disappointment and struggle. I need to introduce myself to their medicine cat, she thought idly. Make sure no one is injured, help out where I can... That's my job. One she felt as though she did very well, between having a level head and, of course, her strange ability to grow plants on command. That certainly helped a lot, especially in leaf-bare. Add in Whitestep's death, and the result was the motivation behind Cloudcatcher's decision to walk the path of the medicine cat. I wonder if we're meant to be keeping those powers a secret, she wondered, glancing towards Grousestar and the others. It's not exactly normal. But then, who cares? If they have a problem with it, they can leave. Cloudcatcher shifted herself, lying down and tucking her front paws under her chest. I'll just have to speak with Grousestar about it. Among other things, probably. At the moment, however, he was busy, of course, and there was nothing else that Cloudcatcher needed to occupy herself with. A waiting game, then... Hopefully something to do would present itself to her sooner rather than later.

xxxxxxxx...

xxxxxxxxGradually, the camp seemed to come to life, as stillness and silence gave way to movement and murmuring conversations. Cats, some familiar and some not, began to venture out of their various dens and form small clusters that dotted the clearing. Cloudcatcher gazed out at them passively, a blanket of drowsiness draping over her once more as she continued to lie, undisturbed, outside of her den.

xxxxxxxxUndisturbed, that is, until a warm voice penetrated through her musings: "Good morning, Cloudcatcher!" The voice belonged to her apprentice, Smokepaw—someone who made good (though perhaps more energetic than Cloudcatcher was currently feeling) company. The creamy she-cat sat up and turned her head to face the young molly. "Good morning, Smokepaw," she greeted in return. "I hope you slept well."

xxxxxxxxHer whiskers twitched in amusement as Smokepaw began to rattle off question after question, mostly having to do with DawnClan. Cloudcatcher glanced back out at the small groups of cats scattered throughout camp as their guests were brought back to the forefront of her mind. "I don't know anything you don't," she assured Smokepaw, pointing with her tail towards Grousestar and Dogface, who were sitting with—presumably—the high-ranking cats of DawnClan, just noticeable in the shade of Tall Stone. "They're meeting now. I'll find out what was learned and decided afterwards." There was no question about that; Cloudcatcher loathed being out of the loop, regardless of what the matter was. It was even worse when it had to do with the entirety of the clan. With another amused glance at Smokepaw, Cloudcatcher added, "And don't worry, if I find anything worth sharing, you'll be the first to know."

xxxxxxxxThere was still, however, another question to answer: What did she think about DawnClan? To cast judgement now, knowing what she currently knew, would be unfair and uneducated. She'd never spoken to any of them, for one thing, other than briefly ensuring that nobody had arrived last night in desperate need of medical assistance. But, thankfully, none of the foreign cats seemed to be on their deathbeds, or anything like that. Any of the injuries she had spotted had either been present for a while, and therefore did not require her immediate attention, or were psychological. And as much as she wished otherwise, there wasn't a single herb Cloudcatcher could cultivate that would wash away the pain behind someone's eyes. She could, perhaps, mute it to some extent, or ease consequent sleeplessness, but even then, it wasn't as though sleep was always much of an escape. Her dream the night prior was an excellent example; her father died moons upon moons ago. The cats of DawnClan were, literally, fresh from the fire, exhausted and wracked with grief. Cloudcatcher would be absolutely shocked if none of them were experiencing nightmares of some kind.

xxxxxxxxBut before she was able to reply, Wiltpaw made a sudden appearance, sitting down next to them. Cloudcatcher immediately fixed her with a look that was edged with warmth and concern. "Good morning, Wiltpaw. Smokepaw and I were just discussing DawnClan. How are you feeling this morning? I can get you something if you're in pain."

xxxxxxxxGlancing back to Smokepaw, Cloudcatcher mulled over the question for a moment longer. "It's hard to say," she settled on, finally, not wanting to lie and say she had good or bad feelings about their guests. "I'm glad Grousestar allowed them to stay here, because I'd never support turning away anyone in need of help. As far as liking or disliking them goes? Honestly, I haven't got a clue. Right now, they're just strangers." She flicked an ear, noting the way some of her clanmates were exchanging distrustful glances, and how some of the DawnClan cats cast wary looks at one another. "I just hope everyone keeps an open mind."

xxxxxxxxFeeling unsatisfied, Cloudcatcher pushed onward. "Yes, they're outsiders, and I'm not saying we should trust them all inexplicably right now. But if their story holds, then they've been uprooted from their home—quite violently, by the sound of it—and they were clearly exhausted when they got here last night." She paused, tail-tip twitching thoughtfully. She moved her gaze from the cats around camp back to Smokepaw and Wiltpaw. "I want everyone to imagine if our roles were reversed, if it was FogClan seeking refuge in someone else's territory. If we'd experienced heavy losses, from our home to our loved ones. If we'd been traveling for StarClan knows how far, just hoping to find some tolerance and relief. How would it feel, then, to finally have someone offer us a place to sleep, only for them to judge us ruthlessly and make horrible assumptions, and see our trials and our baggage before they see us?"

xxxxxxxxShe stopped herself at that, trying not to ramble endlessly. Cloudcatcher believed that everyone deserved compassion, and that was that. If DawnClan turned out to be merciless murderers? Well... They'd be fairly unintelligent if they thought challenging a strong, healthy clan—with cats that had powers, no less—in their own territory would end well for them. Cloudcatcher's point was that they shouldn't treat DawnClan as if they were, without a doubt, some band of killers. Like she'd just told the two apprentices, she certainly wouldn't want to be treated that way. Skepticism? Fine. Blatant rudeness? Hopefully the cats of FogClan would be able to act more maturely than that. (Although, catching a glimpse of a FogClan cat or two with bristling fur around camp, she doubted that her wishes would be fully recognized...)

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[tytrack]

（ ✥ ／ ＧＲＯＵＳＥＳＴＡＲ！ ）

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( gender. tom ( age. 45 m. ( rank. leader ( clan. fogclan ( mood. intrigued, confused, tired ( tags. dogface, pansystar, swanbreeze

grousestar's slumber had been a rough one. his troubled thoughts had taken a toll on the old tom, especially when he was tired to begin with. the pale brown
-and-white tom's blue eyes would close each night, but never truly were closed. his dreams would trail on throughout the night, and specifically this night, was
the worst it had been. he sat in a field embellished in a dim, but somewhat comforting red-pink haze that sifted around him, giving him a weird aura. his heart
pitter-pattered inside of his chest, his paws prickling. something was coming. oh dear, something! but alas, what was this 'something' his mind told
him of? the haze was thinning now, branching out so that he could see around him for a few fox-lengths. in front of him, a large cliff-like boulder, clawma
rks traced along it. his eyes narrowed so that he could depict the trees above his head, the dark, starless night that seemed to trail into a prodigious abyss. he'd
seen this place only one other time in his life. and that time was as a kit, in his dreams. the place where he had first met the cat he'd known as burrtuft, a
strange, wry little black tom with brown feet and a sly grin always on his face. as a kit he'd been so curious to fall for the tom's trap! he'd been so convin
cing with his "oh, young one! you like battle, yes? if ye' shall come with me, i shall teach ye!" he had chanted in a glee, british accent and tone. of
course young grousekit had trailed after him, but it got bad. they had trained, sure enough, but burrtuft was a harsh cat with deathly intentions. burr
tuft had attacked grousekit after teaching him a move, and grousekit, so fear-struck he couldn't move, let out a cry. burrtuft had lifted his claws to go for
the death blow, but grousekit's dreams had been interrupted by his mother. it was a lovely thing, to see his pale tan mother, sandbreeze, crouching
over him and covering him with comforting licks, worried about his nightmare. she had always reassured him with a kind "it's alright dear, mother's here. are
you okay?" and sure enough, that had calmed young grousekit down. he would always reply with a smile and a dip of his tiny head, and an "of course, mama!"
and then returned to sleep, where he then no longer dreamed of this place.

but alas, here he sat in this field, the same field he had been in when he had met burrtuft. an overwhelming, fearful feeling swept over him, but he merely shook
his head, with a 'nobody's going to hurt you' to himself. he opened his pale blue eyes to see that the red-pink aura had completely faded, so that it only clung to
the dewy grass and his paws beneath him. his fur bristled at the cold feeling, but when was it not cold, with his short fur? he glanced up as a yowl echoed throughout
the small area he now stood in. a cat toppled forward onto the rock, his fur bushed up in fear and his eyes wide. two cats stood behind him, their scarred pelts
smooth and their red eyes narrowed, a smirk on their faces. a third cat shoved between the two behind the skittish tan tom, and let out a shriek, an anger-full yowl,
almost. he bowled the cat in the front over, pinning him to the rock. "he has revealed us! may death overcome him!" he yowled, his teeth bared as he prepared for
a killing bite. the tom let out a shriek of fear as chants arose from behind and beside grousestar. grousestar's fur bristled and he turned to see cats all around
him, of every shape and size and look. beside him, the closest was a silver tom with a black tail, his eyes narrowed and the same wild smirk on his face. his red
eyes blazed, like every others' eyes did. "may death overcome him, may death overcome him!" the cats chanted, their meows giving grousestar an uneasy feeling.
as soon as another shriek echoed throughout the area, grousestar realized that he couldn't be seen by the others. otherwise, they would have said something to
him or looked at him. he glanced up at the cat that had pinned the tom, and blinked. the tom was glaring down at the cats who now were silenced with the wave of
his white tail. his narrow, red gaze blazed as he let out another triumphant yowl, and sank his teeth into the tom's neck. grousestar closed his eyes, fearful to see
anything. cheers erupted around him. they were silent again, and grousestar could hear the thud as the deceased tom hit the ground beneath the boulder,
cracks echoing after. the white and gray tom stood at the top of the boulder, blood trickling from his mouth and claws, where they sank against the rock beneath
them. he laughed a cruel laugh, his eyes widening to an insane manner.

and then he heard it. "grousestar," a bleak voice that rang throughout the nightmare he was having. he could barely hear its' ring over the cheers of the
cats around him, as their paws thrummed against the ground.

"grousestar," the voice repeated, and this time, grousestar felt a prod in his side. his eyes blinked open, their blue depths narrow as he sighed. every
time his deputy or anyone else would have to wake him up because he slept in, he felt shame. he glanced up, and sure enough, there stood dogface. "time to
wake up. the leader and deputy of the . . . other clan are waiting outside, like they want to meet with us. did you tell them that we were going to?" her voice caught
him by surprise. thank starclan he'd chosen her as his deputy, or else he wouldn't wake up until the evening patrols! "i- er, uh . . . ," grousestar had first stuttered,
his eyes widening against the sunlight as it pooled into his den. he flicked his ears and scrambled quickly to his paws, not even bothering to stretch out his back
or his limbs. "mouse-dung!" he hissed, his ears flattening with an angry scowl. "next time i sleep in, claw my ears . . . i must
get better at this . . . you would think i'd have enough practice by now . . . i'm always so tired, and i can never seem to get enough sleep . . . oh . . . " he began to
trail, scowling at his last words. maybe he did have enough sleep for his physical body, but his mental state . . . oh dear, now that was another story!
nightmares - especially those where his own physical body felt like it was there - had taunted him in his sleep almost every other night. he huffed at this, and
glanced at his deputy. "thank you for waking me up," he had said, and then continued. "they're what? waiting for us? who- oh! them! they. . . new
cats . . . i remember. sorry. yes, let's . . . go meet them, then . . ." he stumbled out of the den ahead of his deputy, his tail lashing behind him. he hadn't
bothered to groom himself out, so his fur stuck out in clumps around his back and chest. he stopped to smooth the fur on his chest with what looked like embar
rassed licks, and then he glanced up. sure enough, they were there, waiting, of course. he couldn't help but feel anxious for what this meeting was. were they
leaving? were they . . . going to try to work something out with the fogclan? grousestar padded leisurely over to them, a grandiose look on his mighty face. his
pale blue eyes blinked in a soft, kind manner, his paw-steps ever so light, like he was a starclanner walking on the ground of fogclan. with a dip of his head,
he nodded. "i . . . slept in . . . forgive me. i see you await us . . . ?" he asked quietly, but slowly heightened his voice.

[Osmund]

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✧ ｅ ｌ ｋ ｐ ａ ｗ
tom ✧ eleven moons ✧ dawnclan apprentice ✧ emerging from apprentices' den ✧ whitefrost/open
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elkpaw could still feel the suffocating air of dawnclan's fire-engulfed camp in his lungs, burning his throat and nostrils as coals and flames nipped at his exposed face. even though the fire was moons old, the raw fear and paralyzing horror remained fresh and etched in his young, fragile mind. his dreams were plagued with pyre and destruction, a testament to the pyrophobia he never knew he would have to carry for the rest of his days, a burden so heavy it made his body quake beneath it. his left ear, nicked by a falling branch alit with the glow of dying coals, had healed but the phantom pain whenever the memory crept into his conscious mind made it sting. the slap across the face reality gave him was much more painful, it stole his smile and replaced it with a weary frown. the once bombastic apprentice had been silenced and was forced to lug around memories that weighed down on him like shackles. his thieved smile would not return for many moons after the great fire, it would reappear in small glimpses before being swept away by fear.

then there were memories of family, especially his father, rowanflame. in elkpaw's eyes, rowanflame was a deity, someone who could do no wrong. elkpaw's mother, larksong, perished from leaf-bare's harsh winds that spread sickness over the camp and the heavy loss of blood as she brought elkkit, now elkpaw, into the world. larksong was a distant memory for elkpaw, long forgotten except for the faint smell of aromatic flowers that seemed to be pressed into her belly fur. as much as he wanted, elkpaw couldn't conjure up sadness for the loss of a mother he had never gotten to know, but he felt a twinge of sympathy for his father that grieved long after her death. elkpaw was raised in the belly fur of another molly who had plenty milk left over after her own offspring perished from the sickness that plagued the camp. rowanflame was very much present in elkpaw's life during his kithood and even into the first three months of his apprenticeship that he oversaw along with elkpaw's mentor. never in a million moons did it occur to elkpaw that his father's flame would be snuffed out by the raging fire that destroyed much more than dawnclan's camp.

his father's life ended so quick, it took elkpaw several moments to register what happened. before lapping flames licked at the camp and burned it down to all but charred earth and a memory too painful to recall, it had been a peaceful morning. the dawn's early morning fog and the sun's faint reaches cast shadows against the wall of the apprentices' den where elkpaw was softly snoring away, unbeknownst of the fire that raged in the far reaches of the forest. it had been three moons since elkpaw was named as an apprentice, and yet the young tom cat still beamed with pride, especially when he recalled rowanflame's broad face held high in the same prideful manner as his son sat for his naming ceremony and then later in the day, his midnight vigil. there was nothing more that elkpaw strived for than to make his father proud. even when the apprentice's legs ached and protested to keep him inside the inviting warmth of the den, elkpaw would start the day with his head held high, even if his spirit was low enough to be buried in the earth of the camp he walked upon. that day, elkpaw was invited on an early dawn patrol with his father and several other senior warriors. elkpaw was going to use this opportunity to show his father all that he had learned in the three moons since his naming ceremony. his former mentor sunheart, rowanflame, and another warrior left through the bramble entrance of the camp and into the forest that surrounded dawnclan's camp, nestled in the very heart of it. the apprentice talked a mile a minute to his father, his paws prickling from the excitement he felt as he bounded along with the patrol, thankful for his tall stature that enabled him to keep up with the much larger and powerful warriors. the patrol reached the far eastern end of dawnclan's territory where the forest thinned out and became a meadow, a perfect hunting ground for rabbits that were fat from new-leaf's plentiful harvest of nuts and seeds. elkpaw heard his father's baritone voice behind him, talking in hushed whispered with the other two warriors as they each scented the warm breeze that passed by, catching faint traces of smoke. elkpaw, being too inexperienced to recognize the staunch smell of smoke, passed it off as a particularly strong scent of blanketing fog that hung low among the undergrowth of the forest. the apprentice was too caught up in finding an elusive rabbit he caught the scent of to notice the disappearance of his father and the other warriors or their call to beckon him to follow. he was well into the tall grass of the meadow that tickled his monochrome pelt before he perked his head up to see where the rest of the patrol had gone. elkpaw recalled his fellow apprentice's words about how experienced apprentices were often evaluated during patrols and how the supervising warriors would let the apprentice think they were alone as they hunted to assess an apprentice's abilities without the influence of others. immediately, elkpaw felt his chest swell with confidence. . .to think his father and the senior warriors saw him as reliable and experienced apprentice! the lanky apprentice continued his hunt, struggling to keep himself from bounding and leaping with the giddy joy of a kit. before long, elkpaw tracked down the rabbit from the scent he followed earlier. the rabbit's mottled white and brown fur tickled his pink nose as he proudly displayed it in his jaws for his absent father and the others, his voice muffled as he spoke, assuming the assessment was done and the warriors would reveal themselves. "father! look at the size of this rabbit! it could feed all three elders and their endless pits for bellies." elkpaw's molten gold oculars searched the horizon for the patrol. . .nothing. then the scent of smoke filled his nostrils and a billowing amber cloud rose over the forest.

fire! elkpaw abandoned the limp rabbit in his mouth and bounded towards the camp as fast as his paws could carry him, raggedly breathing as more smoke invaded his lungs and replaced life-giving oxygen, making his eyesight blur and cloud over, sending him barreling blindly into the mouth of the camp. he heard the coarse, rasping yowls of cats both young and old as they fled the dens that were swiftly lapped up by flames. the young apprentice desperately tried to find his father amid the chaos. his paws suddenly felt like they were stuck in one of the bogs around dawnclan's territory. elkpaw had been too distracted and distraught to notice the sharp cracking of a tree that had been slowly eaten away at by the flames and had now lost the roots that held it upright and began to fall. the apprentice screeched in terror the collapsing bramble to a den, aglow with living coals, fell towards him. all within a second or two, he felt a heavy force knock him out of the way and a glimpse of his father's broad monochrome face before it disappeared beneath a sea of coals and charred splinters of the fallen brambles. elkpaw's cry caught in his throat as a warrior grabbed him by his scruff and had to forcibly drag him away from his fallen father. wide-eyed and jaw agape, elkpaw was carried from the burning camp to a river safe far from the reaches of the fire. cats were reunited with their loved ones while elkpaw had to deal with the realization that his father had perished in flames. later, he would receive the news that sunheart, his mentor, also succumbed to the fire as he boldly saved several kits from the collapsing nursery. from then on, elkpaw would walk thousands of miles with the remaining members of his clan to safety that wasn't promised.

elkpaw recalled the long trek to fogclan's territory and how some of the cats that had escaped the fire, died as exhaustion, wounds, and sickness fell on the small group. death was so common that they would mourn the fallen clanmember and continue on their way, knowing that if they wallowed in sorrow, they would end up like their clanmate. elkpaw's heart became as hardened as his paw-pads the further they trekked on, leaving the familiar forest of their home and to the mountains above. elkpaw blamed himself for his father's death and found himself wishing the brambles would trapped him instead. even after a moon of traveling, elkpaw flinched at every little crackle, the sound bringing back memories of the dreadful fire and how he was robbed of his father and mentor. the apprentice grew somber and cold like the blistering northern winds that swept the sides of the mountains and nipped at exposed noses. where the clan if you could call them that stood now, a safe and secure future seemed worlds away. it was a miracle that the group stumbled into fogclan territory and managed to come upon a patrol that led them to their camp after some very heaving explaining on dawnclan's part as to why there was suddenly a dozen cats or so 'invading' their boundaries. the dawnclan cats nearly kissed the ground their saviors walked on, after so much pain and loss, there was finally a small glimmer of hope that shone through the dark and dreaded alternative to their rescue.

that was yesterday and now elkpaw was able to get more sleep than he had in moons in fogclans' apprentices' den. the soft moss beneath him soothed his aching muscles and lulled him into a sleep without dreams, a welcomed one for he wasn't plagued by nightmares that night. fogclan had been kind enough to allow the group to stay in their camp for now until dawnclan could get back on their feet and travel to find their home. . .but to some extent, this did feel like home to elkpaw. he was once again back in a clan setting, one where everyone had a part in keeping the clan from falling apart. it was soothing to elkpaw to know that there was some organization amongst the chaos. . .still there were some fogclan cats who didn't trust the poor battered and weathered members of dawnclan. when they first arrived, elkpaw could feel their intense and distrustful gazes burning into his pelt as if he was a threatening badger, not a poor, shaken up apprentice who looked as though he hadn't touched a morsal of food in several moons. he could feel these same prickling gazes on him as they were sent to their dens. . .or rather fogclan's.

when elkpaw awoke the next morning, the light was filtering in through the strands of moss that covered the entrance of the apprentices' den, casting its gentle glow on the once sleeping tom's face, causing him to rouse from his peaceful sleep with a yawn and a stretch of his limbs that groaned in protest. it seemed most cats were still tucked in their beds of moss, unknowing the morning had come. it was a perfect time for elkpaw to slip out of his nest without questions from the nosy fogclan apprentices. as the apprentice left the den, he squinted in the light of the sun, adjusting from the void of darkness midnight brought to the sun that called every creature from their sleep with a bright greeting. from across the camp, he spotted several of his clanmates, including his leader and deputy that were just rousing from their own sleep. the smell of warm freshkill caught his attention and reeled it over to the pile that was stacked high with various meals, all fresh from the evening before. his maw began to water at the prospect of a warm, juicy mouse to fill his thin belly. then reality hit; he was in a foreign clan and would have to wait until he could hunt on his own or given direct permission. the mouse would have to wait and elkpaw would have to push away his hunger pains that gnawed his belly like a canine with a bone. elkpaw reluctantly tore his pale gaze from the fresh kill pile to observe what looked to be a meeting between both clans' superiors. perhaps if he sat close enough, yet at a respectful distance, he could catch some of the words that were being spoken in a hushed tone.

the young tom cat found a pleasant patch of early morning sunlight by the den he emerged from and proceeded to stretch out in the warm glow. heat rose from his cheeks as he realized how terribly battered he looked with bits of moss and dew stuck to his monochrome pelt. a few ferverant licks to his torso and a thorough washing to his pelt returned it to its naturally glossy appearance, a major difference from when he looked as through he had been smothered by a giant mass of moss and leaves. a quick inspection of the camp and he found that both fogclan and dawnclan cats had gathered in small groups, whispering urgently to each other about the other, most definitely. the young tom spotted his mentor whitefrost, who had been assigned to him after the tragedy with sunheart, emerge from the warrior's den. he bowed his head in greeting and respect to the wiser warrior, relieved to find someone who he was amiable with, "whitefrost, have you heard anything new about our situation? did pansystar mention anything about how long we are going to stay in fogclan's camp?" elkpaw had more questions being conjured up in his mind but he didn't want to bombard the poor tom with a sea of questions he couldn't answer, especially since he had just woken up from his slumber. the young apprentice couldn't help it though, he was eager for things to settle between the clans so there would be a temporary truce. . .and maybe even a chance to snag the mouse from the top of the fresh kill pile.

[V.Vulpes]

[Medicine Cat Apprentice of Fogclan] [She-Cat] [8 Moons] [Tagged: Cloudcatcher, Wiltpaw]xx

xx[Smokepaw]

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xxx“Oh, I slept perfectly fine,” Smokepaw meowed as she curled her tail over her front paws neatly. Her head tilted as she followed Cloudcatcher’s tail flick towards the Tall Stone where the officials of both clans were sitting and talking. Her brown eyes twinkled in curiosity as always as she looked over the leaders of Dawnclan. A greyish white cat and a tan colored cat, she never caught their names last night. “Why didn’t the medicine cats get to talk...?” she mused softly and looked to her paws. Her whiskers twitched gladly at her mentors last words before she looked up at Cloudcatcher with a wide grin, “I can’t wait to hear anything!”
xxxThere was a pause as Cloudcatcher thought over Smokepaw’s last question. This gave the apprentice time to think over her own thoughts about this clan. Curious, of course, was the first thought that came to mind. It wasn’t just a slight curiosity that usually plagued her. She was as curious as a bright-eyed kit that was first let out of the nursery! It was hard for her to not just run over and introduce herself to any cat. Oh, the possibilities of these cats! What if they’re like some of us and have powers?
xxxSmokepaw's front paws were fidgeting when Wiltpaw wandered over. After Cloudcatcher said her own greetings to the apprentice, Smokepaw added her own, "Mornin', Wiltpaw, is your tail feeling better?" Smokepaw gave a sweet smile at Wiltpaw after asking her question. Wiltpaw was only 3 moons older than Smokepaw, and Nettlepaw, but she didn't quite know the other apprentice that well. It may have been because Wiltpaw's loner nature or because Smokepaw had chose the path of a medicine cat and never trained side by side with her. Whatever the reason, she still wished that they could at least be friends.
xxxSmokepaw hadn’t realized her front paws were still fidgeting until she heard Cloudcatcher's final reply “It’s hard to say,” this made her look away from Wiltpaw and quickly looked back at her mentor, her ears pricked in curiousity. Her paws stopped moving as she listened. “I just hope everyone keeps an open mind.” It was then that Smokepaw noticed some of her clanmate’s distrustful glances. Dawnclan didn’t seem much of a threat to her, they were weakened by the journey. It didn’t seem practical for them to attack Fogclan when their forces were so worn, scared, and hungry. Plus, if they were going to attack, it should have already happened last night when they got here. She hadn’t seen guards posted at the makeshift den so Fogclan would not have expected an attack from Dawnclan. Then they would have felt like prisoners and our relationship with them would be ruined before it even started.
xxx"Yes, they're outsiders, and I'm not saying we should trust them all inexplicably right now. But if their story holds, then they've been uprooted from their home—quite violently, by the sound of it—and they were clearly exhausted when they got here last night." Right, their home was destroyed. A fire? Was that why their home was destroyed? Well, they must have lost many members, friends, family, loves, it must have been awful. It must have scared even the most battle-scarred warrior of Dawnclan to have their home ripped out from under their paws. It scared Smokepaw to just think about it.
xxx“It would be a nightmare,” she whispered, her ears flicking back just thinking about it, “I don’t think I could journey as far as they did and for everyone to stare like we’re doing? It’d be awful.” Smokepaw found herself looking away, not wanting to stare at the Dawnclan cats anymore, then settled her brown eyes on Cloudcatcher once more. “Why don’t we make them feel more at home?” Smokepaw asked, her head tilted slightly, “we could go talk to the other medicine cat? Welcome them to the camp and ask if anyone is injured and needs help,” She stood up back to looking around the camp at the Dawnclanners, excitement going through her, “I don’t know which is their medicine cat, but we could ask them.” Smokepaw took the few pawsteps she needed towards Wiltpaw and asked, “You wanna come with us? We could meet some of the other apprentices too!”

[seavey]

⚜ // N E T T L E P A W
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( nine moons ) • ( tom ) • ( fogclan apprentice ) • ( apprentice den - camp ) • ( open )

shadows of light were dancing on his eyelids. cats were silently weaving around nests and ducking through the entrance, disrupting the light source and, in turn, nettlepaw's sleep. dawn had arrived, and the small apprentice was doing his best to ignore it. if he shunned the presence of daylight, perhaps he could shun the fact that everything had changed. the arrival of an entire clan - or what was left of one - mean't that he now had a secret. nettlepaw was not good at secrets. especially if it was keeping a part of himself a secret. once the newcomers had arrived, it was quickly decided between the cats of fogclan that their abilities were not to be shared. bittersweet perhaps. That of course meant that nettlepaw was free to read any minds he liked, as long as they didn't know about it. apparently cats with powers were not common where the dawnclan cats had come from.

voices were now audible from the clearing, and nettlepaw knew that he was expected to be awake while arrangements for new cats were made. his leader could need his 'skill' to ensure that the leader of dawnclan was being completely truthful with their claims. even knowing that, the warm embrace of his nest seemed to be much more appealing. he desperately tried to relax his mind into the void of deep comfortable sleep, but no relief came. perhaps it was time. with an audible sigh, nettlepaw stood, his muscles tingling in tired protest. with a small shake of his short fur, he took a step out of his nest. two of his paws follwed as they were expected, but the third caught on the side of his nest, tripping him so that he was left with a face full of dirt. a small grunt of pain came from the splayed out form, and a train of curses were flashing through his mind. with another sigh, nettlepaw pushed himself to his paws.typical.

the clearing was filling up quickly. or maybe it wasn't. nettlepaw wasn't really sure what was consider full in this now larger group of cats. his stomach was rumbling, but he didnt want to be impolite in grabbing one of the very few pieces of prey, so instead he chose chose a warm seat where he could enjoy the rising sun. the fog that had settled the previous night was already beginning to clear, and warm sunlight was flickering into the clearing from behind the tips of tall trees. a small breeze was parting his thin coat. even with it's beauty, nettlepaw couldn't help but long for his nest. gravity was doing a number on him. his lower lids tugged downwards, as did his pelt - a reminder of the lack of last night's share of sleep.

nettlepaw scanned the clearing yet again, his eyes lingering on the dawnclan leader standing just outside of goursestar's den. curiosity twitched in his whiskers. she was obviously waiting to talk to fogclan's leader, but what thoughts could be going through her head? nettlepaw focused on pansystar. his sense immediately picked up a sense of nervousness, but nothing specific whispered in his mind. the white and black apprentice let out a small growl of frustration. even with training, he still struggled with the distance aspects of his power. If he wanted anything more detailed, he'd have to get closer. with that thought, the small apprentice began to creep closer to the dawnclan leader, doing his best to be inconspicuous.

[Lady Masquerade]

❀ l i l a c ❀
___________________________________
rank ; cragclan loner
gender ; she-cat
location ; near the gathering place
crush ; no one
with ; alone

The pale white she-cat crept along the woods, enjoying the crunchy sound that was created each time she stepped on the dead leaves that graced the forest floor. She had given up on life with twolegs many moons ago, and wandered along the dangerous mountains until coming to discover the huge, picture perfect stretch of trees. A flutter of excitement washed over her every time she went back to that moment, standing on a high mountain point and looking over everything. Lilac couldn't help but feel like something divine that night, fueling her desire to enjoy each and every bit of magic the land had to offer. As time went on, she had grown to love the endless flowers, trees, and nights under a shower of stars. Each new day felt like a new adventure, with something to do and discover that would lead her along a new path. These experiences had shaped her character faster then all the moons she had spent with her twolegs, despite the love and affection they had given her. She had always felt as though something was lacking while she was with them, and the fulfillment of emotions she had gained through being on her own was well worth the temporary pain of leaving them for good. Yet, with every bit of light there had to be a bit of darkness accompanying it.

Loneliness. It was a constant shadow that never left her side. She was always used to being alone, rarely having anyone to talk to. Faint memories from the youngest moments of her life revealed an older sibling, one that looked much like herself. Lilac was always fond of her sister, but the love and comfort she gave the she-cat was short lived. As soon as Lilac had developed past the age of a kit, her sister had left, wanting to build a more exciting life deep beyond the mountains, where rumors of other cats lived. Lilac had never known whether or not these rumors were true, but at such a young age, she doubted that she'd be able to effectively protect herself. The lavish life of being a kittypet seemed much more desirable, resulting in the absence of her sister ever since. The thought of it left a bitter taste in her mouth, causing her fur to prickle with anger and unease. At the time, she harbored sadness over her sister's leaving, but as she grew older it developed into a steady fire of anger. Family sticks together, her sister knew that. The fact that her sister never returned to visit, or even say if she was alive, hurt Lilac most. For all she knew, there could've been nothing in the forest but dangerous creatures that could've ended hers life, not silly families of cats. Yet, it wasn't till all that long ago she had realized that the rumors were true, and something she wanted to experience for herself. A few loners had spoken about the clans that lived in the forest, and how they shared everything with one another and had their own set of rules and ranks. A community that acted as a family, that's how it appeared in her mind. The idea had seemed barbaric at first, considering she thought of the raw meat and bloodshed that must occur. However, at the end of the night she pictured warm bodies against one another, friends to talk too, and companions to watch your back. She craved this form of attention from others, constant cats to be around and talk to and depend on. Her twolegs couldn't give her that, Lilac now knew. If the clan were to accept her though, things would be different.

There were moments when she could smell the scents of others nearby, and hear faint noises in the distance, but her unwillingness to see anyone else left her choosing to hide or run off when presented with the opportunity. She knew that if she could muster up enough bravery, she could confront the cats whenever she detected them. However, a part of her was afraid that the larger and older cats would view her as a young weakling not worthy of being apart of their life. The idea of rejection scared her even more then the idea of the bloodthirsty rumors being true. She had been warned that she might end up a meal for the wrong cannibalistic cat, but this didn't seem to affect her as much as the idea of being turned away by the clans. Lilac had gone deep in the mountains, and there was no turning around and accepting defeat by going back to be with her twolegs. She would have to be a loner in the mountains, being alone for the rest of her days. Living alone wasn't the dream her sister always made it out to be, and even though it was better then being trapped up in a house for multiple hours, it wasn't Lilac's preferred permanent lifestyle. She was able to catch prey enough to keep her going, though her once plump belly was rather scrawny now, and her snow-kissed fur looked slightly dusted over. She cleaned it whenever she was bored, and sometimes went into the water when it wasn't too cold, but the dirt couldn't be held off for long. Letting out a sigh, she shook the thoughts away to clear her mind, and continued her leisurely stroll through the woods.