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

[deftonesly]

--.-( `♕ -- ＤＯＧＦＡＣＥ ! )
----━-age. 41 m--rank. fog deputy--located. leader's den ; camp--tagged. storm, pansy, swan--words. 2,228
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with a flash of beautiful orbs━dark as a brackish pool of water, hard as an eagle's beak, and as bleary as a day shrouded in mist━stormstar woke up. dogface took the younger cat in as she looked wildly around her den, stuttering, "i━er, uh . . ." dogface curled her lip━a slight movement that likely went unheeded by the waking female. she was starting to grow a bit impatient with stormstar. she whisked her fluffy tail behind her and twitched her whiskers in anticipation. she was one of the slowest risers she had ever met, and for a cat like herself━composed, businesslike, and always in a hurry━that was just flat-out irksome. but she did not show how much the groggy she-cat was getting to her, just stepped back to a more respectable distance and looked on as she got out of his nest. she was a flurry of long limbs━a whirl of tortoiseshell. dogface's intense, stoical orange orbs watched her every move━watched her face contort into an angry scowl. she stayed silent, an ominous presence, as stormstar blinked rapidly and hissed. she was almost as frustrated with herself as dogface was. "mouse-dung! 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 . . ." dogface smirked up at her, uncomfortably aware of how her stocky, short body only brought her muzzle even with her neck. smaller as she may be, that did not stop her from being undeniably wiser, more mature. she grunted at her leader, flicking her tail across her ears and sending a stray piece of moss to the floor. "consider that noted." dogface began to turn away from her, thinking. i'm not going to pass up a chance to work some sense into her. i may not use my claws, like she is jokingly suggesting, but i can and i will lecture and correct her if need be. she's right about one thing, my leader━these long sleeping sessions must end.

indent as she pivoted on a heel, she heard stormstar scramble after her, only now digesting her report regarding the dawnclanners. "thank you for waking me up." she just nodded briskly at her, not having enough time to get in another word before the leader swept on. "they're what? waiting for us? who━oh! them! they . . . new cats . . . i remember. sorry. yes, let's . . . go meet them, then . . ." dogface looked at her sharply, orange eyes narrowing in what could be considered concern. she was no fool━it was clear that stormstar was pooped, that something was eating at her. she could tell by how scatterbrained she was acting, and by the way she kept trailing off like she could not finish one thought before she dove into another. she was tempted to ask what was up━almost tempted to order her back to her nest for more rest━but the molly would have none of that, she knew. dogface moved once more to the side, courteously providing room for her leader to slip by; she padded from her den with a few thrashes of her tail. dogface did not follow right away, instead taking some much-needed time to steel herself and allow her fur━which was raised a fraction of a mouse's whisker━to settle. the shrewd, stone-hearted cat curled her claws into the floor of stormstar's den, working them and wriggling them as she calmed herself. it was so difficult to do just that━calm herself━but, then again, it normally was for her. dogface may act composed and cool in front of her clan, but it was merely a façade, as most things were when it came to her. it took a lot of prepping and conscious coaxing to get her into a state of mind in which she could show no emotion . . act like her heart never drummed out a single beat in the hollow cocoon that was her chest.

indent dawnclan, though━oh, curse the foolhardy cats that had blundered into their camp last night!━had managed to get under her skin. as had their predicament and what she and stormstar would do about them. the other clan was just one more issue that she had to work on . . one more issue that was stacked on top of all the others she needed to address. they made her incredibly anxious; she wanted them gone more than anything. since multiple others in the clan had magical abilities, she hoped that they felt the same. she suspected that cloudcatcher might see reason, but the others . . the others would try to be hospitable. they would not even think about what could happen if someone burst into flames, or if someone randomly started creating a duplicate of themselves. if fogclan did not get rid of dawnclan soon, send them off on their way after a pawful of days, preferably hours, then they were bound to slip up and reveal to them their darkest, deepest secrets. reveal to them that two of the highest-ranking cats in the clan, and quite a few others, were not quite like your ordinary felines. just thinking about one of the apprentices blabbering too much . . or one of the warriors getting to comfortable with a cute molly . . made dogface sick with worry and overwhelming anxiety. fogclan had lived for many moons in the mountains, completely unchallenged and free of outsiders albeit a few loners. what would happen if dawnclan unearthed the reason why they were so secluded . . why they acted so strange? would they spread the word about them to other cats? attack out of fear of the unknown? or just . . move on and never return again, like the deputy desperately wanted? the latter was always a possibility, but dogface knew cats. they would not react calmly and move along━they would want to know more, become increasingly curious. we must send them on their way as soon as possible. her orange gaze flicked up to the entrance of the den. she had concocted the idea to mention her thoughts to her leader . . but she was too late. stormstar was gone. the longer they stay, the more uncomfortable and nervous i get. sooner or later, something is bound to happen. something disastrous . . something traitorous . . something foolish. yes, sooner or later, some cat will make a mistake that could be━will be━our downfall. if stormstar does not see that, then i will make her. we must get rid of dawnclan before i━we━are ruined forever!

indent she had not realized that she was still scraping the floor of stormstar's den until she heard her voice drift in from outside. "i . . . slept in . . . forgive me. i see you await us . . . ?" blinking ferociously out of her trance with a low growl, dogface sheathed her coral weapons. dogface bounded out of the den with her shoulders squared and her head and tail at a confident height. she popped out of it into the foggy, humid, and overall typical-fogclan morning. stormstar and the dawnclanners were situated beneath the high rock━a tall, angular boulder that stormstar spoke from during clan meetings. she took one quick glance in their direction, and once she had assessed where everyone was, she followed. unlike most cats, the fogclanners had an uncanny━rather scary━ability to see through the fog that they dwelled and hunted in, her included. she had no need to use stormstar's haunches and flagged tail for guidance; her eyes had grown so used to peering through any haze, no matter its thickness, that she guided herself. this ability also helped her to view the dawnclanners . . permitted her the chance to see what she was dealing with, even from a few tail-lengths away. but she wasn't ready to face them yet. that would come when she sat. instead, as she trotted, her orange eyes took in the camp and the cats━of both clans, she noticed━moving about. all of them were gray or black silhouettes with glowing orbs in the midst of the fog. she rolled her tension-locked shoulders and resisted the urge to purr at the sensation of the moisture-heavy air on her elegant form. this was home━muggy and damp as it was━and there were never grander times than these ones: when dogface saw just why her beloved clan of origin had gotten its prefix. just seeing the peaceful morning and actually taking it in helped her to temporarily forget her troubles. she had not gotten the opportunity to look around and contemplate the weather until now, because she had been so focused on dawnclan and arousing her leader. what a relaxing sight it was indeed to see the sun struggling to display his shining face through thick strands of fog. and how relaxing it felt to have the wind of a dying green-leaf and a new leaf-fall cool her pelt, soothe her scattered mind, and free her of her suspicious thoughts!

indent but no matter how idyllic her homeland was . . she always had to face reality. when she halted at stormstar's side, she did a quick mental check of herself to make sure that she was presentable, ready to begin the meeting. shoulders set and head back? check. tail lifted and ears pointed forward? check. no teleportation for the day? . . . check. looking as stoical and expressionless as ever? ultimate check. assured that she also had a clean and managed pelt, dogface proceeded to settle down onto her haunches. her sunset-orange orbs first went for the cat that she scented to be a molly: a short-furred siamese with wide blue eyes and an innocent, motherly look about her. she seemed too . . bubbly, too friendly, for her taste, from what she could tell. the dawnclan molly also seemed the type to always have a smile about ready to burst across her maw. the type to constantly have supportive words on the tip of her tongue. she did not interest dogface, so she turned to her companion, whom was so similar in shade to the fog around him that, at first, she saw nothing but his eyes. and, starclan, were they a lovely sight, much to dogface's mortification and inner chagrin. as tender a blue as a robin's eggshell . . as pale as a summer, cloud-spangled day. and, most interesting of all, as emotion-deprived and stoical as a cat's could possibly be. hah! they were perhaps even more emotionless than dogface's herself . . and she had become an expert at keeping all things from reaching her eyes.

indent quickly, she was filled with a slight sense of rivalry and competition. how was he better at keeping a straight face than her? had anyone ever been? at the same time, she was brimming with dangerous, unbridled curiosity. the black-and-white wanted to know more about the male, and the first question that popped into her mind was this: what are you hiding? after all, no cat could be that expressionless, impassible, and numb without having to go through some sort of tragedy. of course, there was always the fire that dawnclan was rumored to have endured. gossip hinted that the flames had sent the cats fleeing from their homeland, and was the very reason why they were in the fogclan camp. though nothing was confirmed for certain, dogface suspected that nothing could hurt a cat more than having their home━and possibly kin━burnt to crisps. then again, nothing hurts more than having your entire family taken from you by a dog. all except one. but she is not exactly family anymore, dogface thought bitterly. with a hardly noticeable flick of her ears, she cleared her mind and refocused her attention on the phlegmatic dawnclanner again. something about his blue, blue eyes allured her, and she fought the feeling of inquisitiveness and desire that rose within her, seemingly out of nowhere. she in fact had to fight it about as harshly as she had fought the brown dog before the feeling was finally vanquished. the black-and-white cat vowed to never endure such conflicted feelings ever again . . especially for a cat that she had gazed at for hardly more than a couple of heartbeats. but in spite of her vow, she and the tom held one another's gazes for what felt to be moon cycles. a hint of triumph spiked through her, made her shoulders broaden, when the brute was the first one to break the staring contest. he averted his eyes; she had won! he did not look at her again, and dogface was glad for it.

indent silence stretched between the foursome like a yawning cavern. dogface, stifling a yawn, turned to stormstar, a pointed look hidden in the depths of her eyes. her glowing stare seemed to send her a silent, expectant message━are you going to continue? should i? who talks first?━but of course, she said nothing. just stared and wrapped her tail tighter around her white paws. it was not the time nor her place to speak before her leader. she would wait to see what she would do.

[fire,]

'' ( ❀ ━ ＰＡＮＳＹＳＴＡＲ ! ) ''
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( thirty moons ) • ( molly ) • ( dawnclan leader ) • ( leader's den ) • ( swanbreeze, grousestar, dogface )


pansystar heard swanbreeze's reply as barely above a whisper, but she accepted it all the same. she could tell just by looking into those big blue eyes of his that he was momentarily getting lost in his thoughts, which the leader could accept. it's not like she was being much different. the nightmare that she couldn't remember still did not cease to bother her. maybe it was out of sheer curiosity of what had even happened in it, or maybe it was her desperation crying out. what if it was a sign from starclan, that told her something--anything--about what she should do to help her clan? but at the same time, pansystar heard a tiny voice in the back of her mind, that kept telling her that it wasn't. even so, what good would worrying do? whatever it was, the siamese molly had to remember it eventually, whether that would be one day or one moon from now, she supposed that whatever it was would reveal itself when it was ready; when the time was right.

the dawnclan leader's attention focused back on the fogclan cats as grousestar exited from the den, grogginess still clouding his pale-blue eyes. as he exited the leader's den, pansystar could overhear his mumbling directed toward his deputy. dogface, the siamese remembered. there was a certain kind of sadness that loomed on the fogclan deputy's shoulder's, something that made the molly curious. she ignored this however, deciding not to think too much about the problems the other clans' cats faced. pansystar couldn't help but feel pangs of worry clouding her mind. when they had first arrived, half-dead and nearly frost-bitten, the siamese she-cat had prepared for the worst. she didn't even expect fogclan to let them stay at first, and when they agreed, words could not have expressed how thankful she was. even if her clan had no nests to sleep on, it was better than sleeping in the damp, chilly earth, the only source of warmth being other cats' pelts, and even so that warmth was being eaten away by the hungry, slow and cold death that pansystar had dreaded while they journeyed. even if they were being given temporary shelter and hospitality, she now had to face the worries of what would come next, the most important issue being food. since the cold seasons were beginning to edge closer, every cat--both dawnclan and fogclan alike--had been at least thinking about the prey problem. pansystar supposed they would discuss that, but it still made the siamese anxious; she didn't want an all-out war over 'who deserved the vole.'

"i . . . slept in . . . forgive me. i see you await us . . . ?" grousestar asked, his sleepy mew turning into a respectable tone as he spoke. pansystar shook her head, insinuating that there was no harm done. "you're fine. after last night i don't blame you for sleeping in." the molly said. the previous night had been rough, not just on dawnclan but on fogclan as well. when they first met the other clan, pansystar was secretly afraid of attack. at the time her clan was cold and exhausted, and she feared for the worst. but in what seemed like a stroke of pure luck granted by starclan, fogclan allowed them to stay, at least until dawnclan could find a new home. while this whole situation was stressful for the siamese she-cat, she couldn't help but imagine what grousestar was dealing with. he had to keep his clan in line, while simultaneously having to worry about a bunch of strangers, and what would happen to them. pansystar was already thankful enough that he had allowed her clan to stay the night in the first place, but to do so considering the risks? that made the molly want to thank him a million times more.

as the dawnclan leader awaited grousestar's reply, she couldn't help but feel like she was being watched. why? well, that's because she was. pansystar could feel the burning eyes of fogclan cats all on her back, and while she kept calm in spite of this, she still felt like she was the odd one out. but the siamese wasn't that ignorant, she knew why they were actually staring at her. she was the leader of a strange clan, so of course other cats were bound to be curious. they were probably thinking more about what she and grousestar were saying, not her in particular. but something still nagged at pansystar, tugging at her gut like a stomach ache. pansytar shoook it away, however. she had let anxiety take her over before, but she would not let it do so now. she instead twitched her whiskers patiently, waiting for a response from grousestar--or any cat, for that matter. the siamese was determined to get a conversation going; she needed to know what would happen to dawnclan next.

'' ( ☼ ━ ＦＬＡＳＨＳＴＥＰ ! ) ''
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( twenty-seven moons ) • ( tom ) • ( fogclan warrior ) • ( warrior's den ) • ( rookpelt )


flashstep was staring intently at the leader's den, trying to see what was going on. he was so engrossed in what was happening that he did not realize rookpelt was padding towards him, and thus the ginger tom did not notice his friend until he called his name. his ears perked in slight surprise, but he spoke to the black-and-white tom in a laid-back tone. "good morning, rookpelt." flashstep mewed, always in the mood to have him for company. "you can say that again! i've been catching nothing but the occasional squirrel for the past several days, and all of them are scrawny and have barely any meat on their bones. that's been the highlight of my week so far." the tom was half-joking, but it was true that almost nothing was happening as of late. that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but dawnclan's arrival did give fogclan something to do, which flashstep did appreciate despite his wariness of the new clan. as for what's happening, all i can take from this is that they're going to discuss where dawnclan will end up, and hopefully it will be out of here. prey is growing scarcer by the day, and the last thing we need right now is more mouths to feed." flashstep had to admit that he was sounding a little selfish, but it was the truth. once prey went into hibernation, they were almost impossible to find. fogclan would need all the prey it could get if they were going to survive this leaf-bare, and sharing with a whole other clan of cats would only produce fights and death. hopefully they'd leave, and soon.

"i feel the same way, but it seems we're not going anywhere until she and grousestar chat with the other clan's leader and deputy. i just hope they hurry it up, a good patrol always makes my worries fade away." he especially needed that now, since dawnclan's arrival and spouted up a bunch of worries from not just flashstep, but from every cat. dawnclan looked to be the worst out of all of them. just by the looks on their faces, the ginger tabby could tell that they were scarred by what happened to their camp, not to mention they were probably terrified of what might happen to them. for a moment, the tom felt a twinge of pity gnaw at his gut, but he dismissed it, knowing that they would have to fend for themselves. fogclan would help, but they wouldn't hold the other clans' paws the rest of the way. they'd be able to care for their own eventually if they were real clan cats. as rookpelt spoke again, flashstep nodded in agreement. "don't we all? i bet the cats with the fluffiest pelts still can feel the chill of leaf-bare down their spines. and if that's the case, then i just hope we'll be able to manage regardless of how warm our furs are." the ginger tom had heard somewhere that twoleg dens could make it feel like green-leaf the instant you went inside, and flashstep never thought he would say this, but that was something, and probably the only thing, he envied about kittypets. fogclan of course managed, but the cold still got to them, and the tom did silently wish that their dens could do that. it's probably just lies anyway. he thought, dismissing it as he turned his attention from his thoughts back to rookpelt.

at the mention of dawnclan she-cats, flashstep couldn't suppress a chuckle. "maybe you will, but i intend to not complicate things." as he said those words, however, the ginger tabby knew he was lying, despite how much he was trying to convince himself what he said was true. when dawnclan first arrived, flashstep remembered locking eyes with a pitch-black molly. he didn't know her name or rank, but all that flashstep did know was that she was beautiful. her leaf-green eyes were brilliant, and her face was full of kindness. but even so, the ginger tom couldn't accept these thoughts. she was from dawnclan, he was from fogclan, and there was nothing he could do about it. that was all there was to it, and flashstep left it at that. at the mention of pansystar, his previous chuckle became a full-on laugh. "good luck trying to seduce the leader, of all cats." he mrrowed in amusement, nudging rookpelt back playfully in return.

'' ( ❁ ━ ＤＡＩＳＹＰＡＷ ! ) ''
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( twelve moons ) • ( molly ) • ( dawnclan app. ) • ( fogclan camp clearing ) • ( nettlepaw )


after involuntarily listening to the other cats chatter for a while longer, daisypaw supposed it was time to get up. a lot of cats still hadn't exited the den yet, making the cream-colored molly a bit nervous, but she felt awkward listening to a conversation she wasn't even part of. her hind-legs sprung up, supporting her front ones as she slowly but surely got to her paws. the ground still felt chilling beneath her paw-pads, but daisypaw ignored it, as she would have to get used to the icy cold if she was to survive this leaf-bare. careful not to step on any tails, she stalked out of the makeshift den fogclan had provided them and, hesitantly, went outside. the air was as as crisp as ever, but it seemed to grow colder as the young she-cat separated from her clan. while she was thankful for the hospitality, daisypaw felt very out of place. then again, maybe she was supposed to. after all, this wasn't her clan; it was a strange group of cats that she knew nothing about, and the thought of the unknown terrified her. daisypaw couldn't help but think of the worst possible scenarios: what if they kill us in our sleep, while we're vulnerable? or what if they chase us away and we die of hunger? daisypaw knew she was being silly, but the thoughts still nagged at her, and she couldn't help but consider them.

the molly then shook her head as she exited, trying to clear her mind. though that was hard, since so many things were already swirling around in it. but onto another subject: what could she do now? if this were a normal day--which it certainly wasn't--daisypaw would be out hunting or training with stoneheart, or maybe even a patrol, if she was lucky enough (though patrols weren't really mandatory during dawnclan's time traveling, for obvious reasons). stoneheart, the young molly suddenly thought, her blue gaze drifting back to the makeshift den she had just exited from. her mentor's name had always made her silently chuckle, even if she never outwardly expressed it. the irony was that he was one of the nicest cats daisypaw had ever met, and she was thankful to have him as a mentor. the cream-colored tabby wondered if she should wake him up, so she'd have something to do besides waiting around in a strange new clan camp, desperately hoping something would happen. however, she immediately decided against it. he needs to rest, this is the first time in a while we've had shelter over our heads. i should let him enjoy that for as long as possible. she thought. besides, what good would it do? we're probably not allowed to leave camp anyway, not until pansystar and swanbreeze converse with the fogclan leader and deputy. speaking of which, her big blue eyes slowly moved from the makeshift den to where the leaders and deputies were talking.

besides her own leader and deputy, daisypaw could spot two cats, who were obviously fogclans'. she wondered what they could've been talking about, but she supposed that would be revealed sooner or later. the brown-and-white cat, fogclan's leader, seemed to be tired out of his wits by the looks of it. he was mumbling and his eyes still were heavy with sleep. pansystar didn't seem to mind, though, as she replied to the fellow leader with a smile. it amazed daisypaw, how she could be so optimistic despite their situation. and the young she-cat herself knew that must've been hard for the siamese to do, considering she lost a littermate in the fire, her brother: swiftstep. the cream-colored tabby didn't know that much about the young tom, only that he was siblings with pansystar and they were extremely close. daisypaw remembered seeing her grieving heavily over his grave when she thought no one was around, and that was the last time she had seen the dawnclan leader look sad. shaking the thoughts of the fire away, the young molly decided to see if she could do something else.


as daisypaw slowly padded around the camp clearing, she could see a couple of fogclan warriors exiting their dens as well as an apprentice protruding from their den. the molly's heart skipped a beat, wondering what she could do. the more fogclan cats that woke up, the more anxious daisypaw got. but she couldn't help noticing one apprentice in particular. he had a white pelt with smoky grey spots and blotches all over his body, including his ears, muzzle, near his eyes, back, tail, and paws. his eyes were a pale green, and they looked nervous yet curious. now, daisypaw was anything but a social butterfly, however she felt like she was drawing attention to herself if she wasn't either in the dawnclan den or talking to somebody. she likely wasn't drawing that much attention in all honesty, but the anxiety that prickled her pelt wouldn't cease until she did one of those two objectives, and she did not feel like going back into the makeshift den if she wasn't going to sleep. hesitantly, daisypaw made her way over to the fogclan apprentice, her heart beating faster with every paw-step. "u-um, hello there..." the young she-cat mewed, trying not to sound completely inaudible.

[Birchii]

🌩 ＲＯＢＩＮＰＡＷ ;

{eight moons}▸{molly}▸{dawnclan app}▸{makeshift den, camp}▸{nettle, daisy (m)}
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xXxXxGolden and amber hues lit the sky above Robinkit’s head, peeking through the thick blanket of grey arising from the fire all around. The tongues of the vicious flames licked at everything in its path, claiming the once luscious scenery as its own, leaving trees bare and broken, charred carcasses of their former selves. Beneath the smothering barrier of smoke was a scene of panic and confusion for the little kit. Cats darted to and fro frantically, their fur raised in fear, almost as high as the flames themselves, though they were only distant blurs of colour. The thickness of the smoke was enough to almost blind that of an adult cat, and so the ginger-and-white kitten buried herself lower into the dip she had found, hoping to avoid the overwhelming, blinding smoke that was also creeping lower and lower. A pitiful, broken mew was all she could muster, as not only were her eyes watering, the smoke filled her throat and lungs, burning her from the inside. Frozen in terror, the kitten found herself stuck in a corner, desperately trying to locate her mother, or her siblings, but to no avail. It was only the loud creaking of a large tree that startled the kitten into motion, and she darted away from the deafening sound as a tree began its descent into the nook she had been pressed in just moments before. Even now, as a young kit in the chaos of the fire, she was grateful for her small and nimble body.

xXxXxA yowl rang in her ears, and she focused her attention on trying to locate the cry that sounded like that of her mother. ‘There!’ she notified herself, as her mind caught up with the sweeping motion of her head in search. ‘Momma!’ The trembling kitten, with fur almost appearing on fire itself, began to cross the clearing again, to reach the safety of her mother’s soft fur, knowing that she would lead her to safety, but was halted in the process, being swooped up by an older cat by the sooty scruff of her neck. “Momma!” Robinkit cried, her voice quivering, desperate to grab the attention of the white feline. The cat carrying was unknown to the little kitten; all she could see was their large black paws, and for all the ginger-and-white kitten knew, they could have been covered in soot. This stranger began to dart their way through the blaze sweeping over the camp, and away from her mother. “No, Momma!” This time her pleading rang clear, and the white cat looked up to see Robinkit, warm brown eyes meeting her own amber ones. Even with the smoke and chaos, the little kitten saw the relief flash over her mother’s eyes, and it was the last notion she saw of her mother, as the tree Robinkit had originally took refuge beneath collapsed on her mother. Disbelief washed over the now-orphaned kitten, and she remained paralysed with shock as her saviour bounded away from the flames that had now devoured the camp.

xXxXx---

xXxXxRobinpaw awoke with a start, her amber eyes wide as she adjusted to the contrasting and comforting darkness that the real, present world presented her with. She nestled down further as her breath slowed, and her fur slowly lowered itself to its normal, even state on her neck. She was safe, even if she could still see the orange blaze in the back of her mind. ‘It’s never been so vivid before,’ she thought to herself, confused at how clearly the destruction of her family and home had appeared to her in her dreams. She shook herself slightly, her fur still somewhat dampened from sweat that had accumulated in her slumber. Robinpaw burrowed her petite face between her paws, taking a generous breath of the refreshingly cold air, and prepared herself to return to a more peaceful world of sleep, when it occurred to her that they were somewhere… new. Her head rose once more, and she peered around in the dimly lit den, rather, the sad little nook that DawnClan had unquestioningly squished into and let sleep take them. ‘That’s right, FogClan. We’re in another clan’s camp,’ she reminded herself, allowing the memory to flood to her and take over the now-distant memory of the fire.

xXxXxLooking around the makeshift den, she identified the sleeping bundles of fur that were her clanmates, chests rising and falling slowly, their exhales slightly visible in the chilling morning. Green-Leaf was preparing to finish for the year, and Leaf-Fall was just around the corner, a time the young apprentice wasn’t particularly looking forward to. She noticed that the numbers in the den had thinned out somewhat, and a glance outside notified Robinpaw that the sun was rising once more. ‘Guess I’ll go take a peek at what’s happening…’ she mused, wistfully reaching her short legs and dainty paws forwards to stretch out her still-sleepy body. Her ears perked up at the sharp noise of someone’s sudden snore, before settling down again, allowing a small smile to pass over her face. Her tail-tip twitched left and right as she stretched out the toes of her hind-legs, taking a few moments longer due the luxury of not being up on her feet and traversing with the clan again. After a brief yawn, a few slow blinks and a gentle shake of her fur, she delicately picked her way around the still sleeping cats towards the entrance.

xXxXxTo her slight surprise, there were several cats already awake in the camp. Her attention was immediately on the cats she knew; Pansystar and Swanbreeze sitting together, their mouths moving in hushed speech, with two other cats she assumed were the leader and deputy of FogClan. The larger of the two cats, a tom with spotted fur, appeared friendly enough, albeit a bit groggy from the night prior. The black-and-white molly, however, seemed uninviting, or at least not pleased about the entire situation. Robinpaw shook her head and let her gaze fall upon the rest of the camp. Most cats were in pairs or alone still, and her amber eyes rested on two FogClan toms conversing for a few moments, before she scanned for a place to sit, hopefully in a bit of sun. The small molly took note of a smaller grey-and-white tom, who was inching slowly towards the leaders of the clans. ‘I don’t blame him for being curious. I know I’d love to listen in on the leaders discussing the future of my clan,’ Robinpaw silently thought to herself, letting a small smile cross her face again. She took steps in his direction, not intending to sit with him or speak to him, just purely entertain herself with the curious nature of an apprentice. Or at least, that was her intention, until Daisypaw approached the FogClan apprentice, with a boldness that was very unlike her. The pale ginger-and-white molly was incredibly shy, moreso than Robinpaw herself, and she commended the bravery Daisypaw must have mustered up to approach the stranger. Robinpaw decided to sit down nearby and watch the interaction, still uncertain of approaching anybody, even her own clan members, whilst commencing her thorough morning groom.

[Seasonal]

Ｓｐａｒｒｏｗｆｕｒ
{ FogClan Elder | Female | 82 moons }

Stay still for a moment more...

Sparrowfur stood at the top of a rocky hillside, her emerald orbs fixed on a plump mouse that scouted for food below. She held her breath as the mouse came towards her, and couldn't help but tighten her muscles in anticipation. Finally, she wriggled her haunches and leaped at the mouse, her sharp bite landing square on the mouse's neck. She praised StarClan for her delicious meal and, satisfied, sat down to eat. But when Sparrowfur looked down at the mouse, something was terribly wrong; it was not a mouse, but a cat. Horrified, Sparrowfur let out a gasp.

--

"Great StarClan!" Sparrowfur yowled, her body jolting from her nest as fast as an aged body like hers could. She looked down at her paws but found no cat; instead, she found the soft moss that had been placed there before she slept. She panted and her eyes scanned the elders' den in a panic. As the realization came to her that the dead cat had been part of a dream, Sparrowfur felt a rush of embarrassment. Her gaze wandered over to Fawnstep; she stared at her only denmate for a few moments to ensure that she hadn't woken her in the sudden rush of her awakening. She let out a small sigh of relief as she studied the steady breathing of the orange and white she-cat.

The old elder took her time shaking out each of her limbs, and she let out a mrrow of relief as the bones in her back shifted from the force of her heavy stretch. She gave her dull brown-gray pelt a swift shake and groomed a few of the furs on her chest. She had accepted the fate of old age moons ago and decided that appearance wasn't everything. Her coat never seemed to shine like it once did, so she felt no reason to overdo her grooming sessions. Sparrowfur was starving, so she decided that breakfast should be her first course of action for the day. As she neared the entrance of the elders' den, she felt the chilled air of the camp; it was a sure sign that leaf-fall would be here soon.

Sparrowfur nuzzled her way through the den entrance, but before her eyes could look for a tasty meal, she couldn't help but notice the large gathering of unfamiliar cats near her leader's den. Tasting the air, she decided that they had a scent not too far from their own Clan's - mountainous and crisp. To be frank, the elder had slept through most of yesterday and was blissfully unaware of the traumatic events that had struck the DawnClan cats. She remained cautious and decided to make her way towards the unfamiliar cats, where she saw some of her own Clanmates as well.

[x] Word count: 468
[x] Muse: Decent
[x] Tagged:

w н ι т e ғ r o ѕ т
22 moons | DawnClan warrior | makeshift den | no tags | 273 words

The blazing fire was the only image that burned at the back of Whitefrost's mind. His thoughts had been absent for the past few moons of travel, constantly aware of the fact that he no longer had a home. Even the cheery, bright-eyed warrior began to lose hope that DawnClan would ever find a new home. He was hopeful at first, doing everything possible to keep his Clan optimistic and satisfied, but many moons later he found himself drained of his young spirit and careless energy. Aware that he would sleep through each night without a den, Whitefrost simply did what he could; he continued to search for a new home with his Clan, providing food and kind words along the way.

It was to his surprise that the broken Clan had stumbled across another Clan much like their own; Whitefrost had never thought about the possibility of other cats living near his own Clan. He'd heard great tales of noble cats from historic Clans of countless moons ago, but assumed that DawnClan was the only Clan with enough angst to live in such a rocky climate. After all, it wasn't the typical home for a Clan cat; most warriors dreamed of grassy fields and dirt-covered pathways. Somehow, this congregation of felines managed to survive in such a rocky place.

The tomcat shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts, and blinked his eyes.He now stood in the unfamiliar territory of FogClan, awaiting their response to the new Clan's arrival. He shifted his paws nervously as cats from all over seemed to stare at his Clan like a pack of wild badgers.

[adcatfish]

❝....ＯＴＴＥＲＦＵＲ....❞
( rank. fogclan warrior) ➞ ( gender. she-cat) ➞ ( age. thirty moons)➞ ( location. camp) ➞ ( tagged. open )
─────────────────────────────────────────────────

-----Almost there. Just a few more steps. That was it. Closer, closer.... Otterfur's whiskers twitched with delight as she neared upon her quarry: a mouse that was busy nibbling on some seeds, blissfully unaware of the brown-and-white tabby's presence. Catching this mouse would be so easy that it almost felt like a crime. Careful not to make a sound, Otterfur slipped into a hunter's crouch and cautiously took another step. It was a bright and sunny day; from where she was standing, she could hear some songbirds trilling a melodious tune and hear the ruffling sound leaves made as they settled upon the forest floor. A soft wind embraced her, and the sunlight warmed her back. If Otterfur could describe the day in one word, it would be 'tranquil.'

-----One more step, then I can leap. After making her last move, the warrior's gaze flicked back to the mouse. It still hasn't noticed me. Silly thing. Otterfur slinked down into a deeper crouch as she prepared to jump, her ears perked forward and her tail-tip twitching in anticipation. I'll have caught four pieces of prey after I catch this mouse. Oh, the Clan will be so proud of me! Perhaps she had some hidden talent when it came to hunting. Until this moment, she had never considered herself an exceptional hunter. Without warning, however, the mouse's eyes darted forward, its stare fixed on Otterfur. The she-cat let out a hiss of annoyance, expecting that the mouse would soon dash off.

-----You're not going to get away that easily. With a growl, Otterfur sprang forward with outstretched paws. She landed nimbly on the mouse, which, to her great surprise, hadn't attempted to move a muscle. Perhaps it was frozen with fear. No matter. Otterfur bent down to give the killing bite when the scenery changed before her eyes. The green of the forest was replaced by an eerie wood, where the trees were bare and clouds blocked the sun. The chill seeped through her pelt, and her fur stood on edge. What was happening? She scrambled back, her green eyes wide with both fear and shock.

-----The underbrush rustled in front of her, causing her to quickly glance forward. The mouse she had caught just moments ago was gone. In its place was a fox. It was a scruffy-looking thing whose eyes gleamed with malice. Numerous scars lined its pelt; it had no doubt been in several fights, and by the looks of things, it seemed as if it had won the majority of them. Its yellow eyes locked with hers, and its lips pulled back in the beginnings of a snarl. A shriek escaped from Otterfur's parted jaws and she scrambled backwards. Her pelt fluffed out with terror. Where had the fox come from? She hadn't had time to think long before the fox lunged towards her. Otterfur let out a yowl as everything turned dark.


-----When Otterfur finally opened her eyes she was greeted by the familiar sight of the warriors' den. She sat up in her nest, glancing over her pelt for any signs of scratches, but saw none. Oh, what a nightmare. She took a few minutes to calm down, assuring herself that the fox wasn't real—well, this particular fox, anyways—and that she was perfectly safe here in the camp. Otterfur's dreams were often plagued by nightmares; the she-cat worried often and worried about many things, so she guessed it was only natural that her worries would somehow manifest themselves in her sleep. She was just thankful that she usually woke up whenever her nightmares took a turn for the worse. Everything is fine, she told herself.

-----Once her nightmare was no more than scattered remnants that lurked somewhere in the back of her mind, Otterfur gave her pelt a quick grooming and stepped outside of the warriors' den. It appeared to be dawn; there was a chill to the air and it was rather foggy out currently. Her pelt bristled as parts of her nightmare, namely of the spooky forest, came rushing back towards her; she attempted to push the thoughts back and continued on her way. Her gaze swept about the camp; several other cats were already awake and milling about, including some of the DawnClan cats. She was still rather wary of them, even though she knew that she really had no reason to be.

-----The brown-and-white tabby took a seat near the edges of the clearing. Her jaws parted in a wide yawn; she still felt rather tired, not having gotten that much sleep. She returned her gaze to the camp, her gaze finally settling upon Grousestar and Dogface, who appeared to be conversing with two other cats. Probably the other Clan's leader and deputy, she decided. What were they speaking about? Probably what they should do next, she supposed. Otterfur wished that she could get closer to hear what exactly was being said, but she knew better than to intrude. Her tail-tip twitched with frustration and she shifted her gaze elsewhere, this time onto the sky. She let her thoughts drift off, not onto anything in particular. Her stomach rumbled with hunger but she didn't want to eat until after she had hunted.

[seavey]

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

he was slowly creeping closer to the four cats. they were slightly distracted now, having begun their discussion, so maybe, just maybe, he could hear. he'd almost grasped a few thoughts as they were walking - his position much less oblivious - but somehow, they had chosen a more difficult spot. Most would argue that the center of camp made it easier to spy, but that was simply not the case. no hiding places around them; no unwanted ears. the small apprentice snorted. It was as if they didn't trust him! nonetheless nettlepaw had an advantage that most did not. if he could get close enough to hear just a whisper of thought from any of them, his ears would be unneeded. but then there was the issue of actually getting close enough. His only real cover was the fog, and he knew that fogclan's leaders could see through it much better than he could. ooh this would certainly be tricky.

the white and grey apprentice was doing his best to creep softly. each of his steps were careful and precise, and he was just praying to starclan that his usual clumsiness would pay him no mind. he thought he was doing rather well though. none of the gathered four had yet glanced in his direction, giving him confidence. dogface's - the closest of them - thoughts were beginning to creep into his skull. are you ..... continue? should ...? who talks first? alas! He was close enough! The apprentice lifted a paw, ready to take a few steps more to make out the rest of her thoughts, as well as those of the cats around her when- "u-um, hello there..." nettlepaw's head jerked around in surprise at the sudden noise. It seemed in his focus on the gathered leaders his ears had failed to alert him that some-cat was actually approaching him. he smiled, eyes registering that it was a pretty she-cat. they never talked to me! but before nettlepaw could say any more he realized his body was tipping. apparently the jerky head swiveled mixed with his raised paw had not been a good combination. nettlepaw's flank hit the ground, knocking his breath away - but that wasn't the worst of it. his momentum kept the small cat rolling until a tail length or so away he landed with a loud umph. a grunt of pain escaped from his jaws, and he inhaled a large breath of air. his lungs sighed with relief, but something had tickled his nose. he open his eyes to see that it was a strand of long black fur. an audible gulp sounded from the growing lump in is throat. you've really done it this time nettlepaw. of course you had to role right over to... dogface... his pale green eyes slowly rose to meet those of dogface. "s-sorry?" he whispered. he didn't wait for her response.

nettlepaw was on his paws and running in a matter of seconds.he reached the molly that had approached him before, looping his tail around hers. he made brief eye contact "run!" he used his tail to pull her along, dashing underneath one of the fallen trees along the edges of camp.he made sure the she-cat appretice had followed before peeking out to see if dogface was chasing. he backed underneath the tree again, his shoulders hunched to catch his breath. he glanced up at the molly, wanting to read her mind, but not wanting to be impolite. "sorry about that." he managed after a moment. "I was scared dogface might use me to line her nest. maybe even you two just for being so close." he shook his pelt, trying to look composed. "Its - It's not like I was scared. she doesn't scare me." He glanced up, thankful that he was the one with mind-reading powers and not her. "My name is nettelpaw in case you were wondering." his whiskers twitched slightly. This might not be the best first impression...

[Tsukỉ]

◆◇ 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐰__________________________________________

apprentice - she-cat - 12 moons - mood ☛ somber - location ☛ med. cat den - tagged ☛ smoke, cloud

And so then, she had an idea. Wiltpaw looked square at the apprentice and mentor, looking positively peachy. Smokepaw's tiny jaws opened up, and she meowed to the black molly about her tail. "It's getting there," she asserted, a crisp cringe appearing of her countenance, but she fought back to it, ignoring the splitting, crackling wave of electricity; or so it felt like it, but in honest clairvoyance of what was truly happening, Wiltpaw was just being a wuss. Cloudwatcher was talking about the DawnClanners, their home being wrecked in a fire, not being able to trust them as of yet, whatnot. Wiltpaw was one to listen, not talk, so she tuned in onto the medicine cat's words. Personally, Wiltpaw was adamant that they get rid of the DawnClan pesks, who were obviously martyrs who didn't deserve the comfort of FogClan's precious territory, leeching off of the generosity of Grousestar, her leader and both concurring mentor. Wiltpaw was glad to have such a cat backing up for her the great Grousestar; despite the melancholic decisions to 'keep' DawnClan. Or perhaps she was hallucinating, which made even more sense as Dogface probably dropped her as a kit. No hard feelings on her own mother, but Dogface.. as much as Wiltpaw loved her mother, but she had completely left her to the dogs, insisting that she no longer existed. Wiltpaw's tears were dry now, her eyes matted with the lack thereof.. of, the tears. When she was younger, Wiltpaw questioned these things, aptly trying to reach out to Dogface as much as she could, and when her eyes teared up she would feel her fur on flames; metaphorically? Of course? Sincerely, her mother.. she couldn't love her. Dogface was nothing but a soulless shell for Wiltpaw, who gave birth to her but threw her in the dirt the moment she saw her. Wiltpaw was definitely confused about what to think or what to say. Did she blame her for her loner demeanor? Yes, she did. Did she blame her for the trouble she faced in her short, boring life? Yes. Did she blame her for abandoning her? ..why yes, of course, she did, with all of her demented soul. Her betrayal of the very thing she created was brusque and harsh, and Wiltpaw was treated by her own mother as Wiltpaw would treat a DawnClanner. It was an allegory for how she felt, projected upon the mother she never had.

It's not like Wiltpaw didn't understand, Dogface's ambitions. Leaving her behind was step one in becoming completely unphased, unmoved by the brewing tycoon around you. When you have no-one, you only stand for your own behalf, completely unaware of the others that might cherish you, or care, at the very least. You didn't care, for them, anymore, and your kin was as pallid as the dead that watched from above. Wiltpaw yearned to be loved, by anybody, anyone; Lightkit was gone, Stagheart was gone-- Dogface was gone.. no, Blacktuft. Dogface was here, but Blacktuft perished in the battle alongside her sister and father. The only thing that survived was the monster, the dog in cat's clothing, Dogface. Yet she loved the monster. No matter how hard she tried to deny the fact that Blacktuft was dead, she couldn't help but feel attatched to Dogface. She looked like her, no matter how batted and scarred one could be. Her mother always seemed to disappear, from time to time, appearing and then suddenly disappearing, (as if she had teleported) but always remaining placid on the throne of deputy, her presence was always known but it was surely.. dampening. She remembered it well herself, the time when her gaze was warm and her deep, brown eyes sent out like the amber-and-maroon horizon upon when dawn met dusk, blending into the mozaic of the stars, the tepid fur that intermingled with her own; the coddling tounge that wrapped around her forehead, the large paws that curled around her. She felt enamoured, by the tinge of deep care that she rippled throughout the nursery... although this was true, it wasn't diction. She simply quit caring a long time ago, Dogface. And so did Wiltpaw.

The molly once cried, but that was the only time tears ever flowed out of the corner of Wiltpaw's own orbs, trickling dryly across the she-cat's black tufts of fur, dressing the decicated pieces of shriveled flora from being shoved over onto the clearing, landing on her muzzle.. when the clasps of the heavens seemed so far away, as if they ignored her from afar, as she had been formally had been spurned by the only person she could ever keep close to her. Her eyes, so delicate, doleful and piercing, had been leaking for the entire moon, when she had just tried to get closer to Dogface. She tried, everything. She tried to act as best as she could, giving proper, sanctioned decorum and being licit in her linguistics, an ear for all mouthings that the deputy had said, chiming in only when the time was right. Moons of attempting had sculpted the apprentice the way she was now, and that was what she was probably going to do for the rest of her life. Get her own warrior name, step up into the deputy's position with all the ambition and greed she had ever felt; and become leader, abandon some kits and treat them like Dogface had treated her. Now, on the contrary, she could be an advocate of all loners alike, and be the posturized leader that spoke only of good-intentioned dialect, her affections stranding out to the whole of FogClan. It was a nice thought to have, but Dogface was probably going to become the leader she always hoped to be, and surely enough, the cold she-cat would never appoint someone like Wiltpaw to become deputy (but that's assuming Grousestar died, and that in itself was too morbid to ever wish for). Their 'relationship' was not even a whisker's gruth, spanning barely the area of.. an emaciated bug's leg. Not just any emaciated bug; the cream of the crop, beyond a shadow of a doubt- starving.

The birds who chirped their nightly hymns, in a quaint chorus meddled with Wiltkit. The sweet, honey-like sugary smell of her sibling, the motherly amiability radiating from Blacktuft, her mother. The she-cat's black paws stretched out, her small little pentadactyl(s) scraping up the dewy moss, feeling a breeze muster up on her face. Wiltkit awoke, her mouth opening wide as a yawn escaped the kit's lungs. It was but a few days for Wiltkit and Lightkit's apprentice ceremony. The she-cat highly anticipated the event; she had wanted nothing but to excel and feel the eyes of her clanmates peering at her at envy and exalted her with every breath. The sheer force of the emotion just made it better for the fae. Squiggling from under the weight (namely Blacktuft), the small kitten freed herself from the suffocating fluff. From the nursery's entrance, Stagheart emerged, the endearing smiling mien, with a curt declaration promising some sort of random expedition for his two kits. Wiltkit looked back at her mother, who now awoke; so, Blacktuft smiled and waved, agreeing for their slight leave. The snickering duo, Lightkit and Wiltkit, both lead by Stagheart, exited the nursery, leaving their mother behind. Lightkit was probably more excited than Wiltkit; Lightkit was the bright sunshine of the two, and while Wiltkit was still jumpy and bright, she was probably as grouchy as an elder with ticks.

The moonlight milked away the concern Wiltkit had had, as she trailed off nonchalantly, right behind Lightkit and Stagheart. A boulevard of stories expelled from Stagheart, and Lightkit was the only one to take them seriously. Wiltkit, however, take a liking to the scenery and tried to enjoy it for once; it was nice to be out of camp, be settled in with nature and remain a part of the community, right? Wiltkit's nostrils opened up, and she could scent a faint smell, of wet dirt and blood. She'd definitely smelt blood before, and it was of a metallic, meaty smell, but it was always dulled by the overpowering haze of lavender or daisy. The medicine cat's den, of all things, flashed into her head. She tried to push it to the corner of her mind, just thinking the blood could've been dead prey or her accidentally stomping on a broken twig, but that 'twig' was so small that the pain was masked by the boredom of walking around for a few hours. The ambient noises of birds still chirped along, and Wiltkit pranced around, eventually as the group came to a stop. Stagheart turned around for a moment, then there was a cacophonic rustling from beyond. Wiltkit gave her short-furred chest a few licks before she looked in the direction of the noise..

The abnegation struck her like a monster. The ghastly, brown eyes of the hideous, vicious beast, dove straight to her right, and screams of terror rippled throughout the dell. Wiltkit froze up. The sweet, honey-like sugary smell of her sibling, Lightkit, made amends with the ample stretch of the liquid that flowed within all veins. The fatuous cretin, the ebony lines of mangled hair and demanding stature, utterly tore the small kitten apart. The black she-cat tried to stay in denial. It all happened so fast, so quick, her eyes couldn't possibly catch up with the movement, the ecstatic, bloodthirsty move of the dog. The vile thing snapped up, not wasting a bit of precious life to kill its victim. Wiltkit's stomach dropped to the core of the earth below her, as if a hole had opened up in the globe, and she fell through for miles beyond the soundless abyss while fetters shackled her tightly. "Please no ," she pleaded to no-one in particular. "I really, really.." terror disabled her, and the strengths that cultivated within her limbs broke loose, and the kitten fell over, probably in anaphylactic shock (not a true one, but was that even important?). The musk of the violent dog, overwhelming and upright, just soared through her nostrils, which flared. She yelled out to herself, as Stagheart turned around in even shock, the moments trailing as slow as a snail. Garrulous screams, for days upon days. Wiltkit didn't even dare turning around to see the bloodlust seeping from the starving eyes of the devil. The treacherous crime was complete, and Lightkit.. no, please.. Lightkit, was probably now a lifeless lump of mangled, assorted flesh that lay spreaded out onto the ground. She'd never seen a dog before. But now, that she saw one.. she felt a melancholic sigh trail out. The happiness from a new experience, the overbearing sadness from the obvious.. death.

Stagheart, in pure anger and (bloodlust) for the creature that slay his daughter, sprang up in the hectic amiss, carpetitng the floor with tufts of obsidian fur. He tried his best to kill the creature, and for a moment; Wiltkit had hope in her eyes. But all that joy faded away as calamity downpoured on the small she-cat. Stagheart was cut off by the dog, cornered between a few trees. He couldn't climb them, or Wiltkit would become its meal instead. He fought back valiantly, and Wiltkit did nothing but shiver; the air was thick and hot, but Wiltkit couldn't feel it anymore. Then the deed was done. And he died. Blood splattered, invisible on Wiltpaw's black fur. Then she showed up.. Blacktuft. A surge of relief and apathy washed over the small kit. If she had arrived earlier, sooner! Lightkit and Stagheart might've still been alive? No, why did she have to be the sole survivor of the tedious disaster? Evanescence came up, and Wiltkit burst into unadulterated tears, flowing as sticky mucus spittled out of her nose, her eyes turning rheumy and then turning into a waterfall; a continuous burst of heartbroken liquid, callous to even look at; the pity resonated from Blacktuft's gaze, which Wiltkit could feel from her back. Then it all stopped.. her pity. Wiltkit screamed even louder, coughing like sand had gotten into her lungs; her sleek face decorated with lucid tears, shining blankly in the moonlight that shone brightly. The clouds didn't cover the moon.. StarClan approved..

Now, Dogface had her fair shares of losses. She lost her own two kits (but it wasn't like the deputy missed out on the amazing cat called 'Wiltpaw') her own mate, and whatever else that came with the package of 'someone who actually wants you to have a safe journey every time you get called on for patrol and sit by you when you're stuck in the medicine cat's den because you broke your tail accidentally'. Wiltpaw wasn't a philantrophist. Oho, and there was that one time. Wiltpaw, freshly mentored by Grousestar; the molly's tail wishing and washing all over the camp, being a jaunting fool, just for that one day; she'd been born mellow, but she did have a side of 'hope' and 'salvation' and something like that. "Grousestar, Grousestar! Can we do battle-training?" she yowled, excited for once; feeling the heat on her pelt. It was kind of peculiar, how her fur sparked up and felt as if it was on fire every time she ever felt anything strongly. Excitement flickered in the eyes of the new apprentice, who's eyes dwindled on the faint treescapes, the paranoma rich with lush leaves. She'd dirged enough for.. past events, and the lament she held soley on her back was now gone. Wiltpaw shone up, honored to be selected to become the leader's own apprentice. She was important, of sorts, being the deputy's daughter and the leader's apprentice. The importance came with her some burden, but surely, even if her mother seemed a tad cross, she'd warm up to her eventually. Dogface, uh, Blacktuft, as she'd known her for the majority of her life, wasn't in the best of conditions after... past events, but with definite certainty, Wiltpaw's adknowledgable prowess (that she would show her mentor) and pride, Blacktuf-- Dogface would praise her and realise that she was worth the attention. Grousestar's genial smirk came with a reply, telling her to go around with him in the territory with the other newly-apprenticed cats (and mentors). The young leader and she-cat went off into the territory, sharing tounges about the borders of FogClan and what to expect.

Wiltpaw returned from her journey, pushing forth the vegetation and tall oak, dressed with the taupe straps of lost bark, the sky now roughly painted with hues of red, fading into blue. Between the triumph that the apprentice had and her training for the day, there was simply one thing to do, just one thing that was left, and it was to reconcile with the cat she loved most. She ran as fast as her nimble paws would carry her, drifting as quickly as she could; eyes aimed at the black fur of the deputy. "B, Dogface!" Wiltpaw meowed, heaving her pouncing chest as she decellerated into still inanimation, gathering dust on the barren area that Dogface was sitting on. The deputy's head churned towards her in an instant, giving Wiltpaw a whiff of a breeze that came hurdling towards her when the older molly's fur draped around from behind. The apprentice cocked her head and leaped backwards in surprise, on the ever-green plantation, away from the simple, sullen dirt that seemed to be frolicking in dangerous waters..? Instead of the warmth she'd felt a few days prior.. Dogface's glare was like chilly hoarfrost lumping onto the ground, scraping the bottom of her paws as she stepped forth. "I became an apprentice, you did s, see, right?" Wiltpaw excitedly meowled, fumbling with her words. Dogface's muzzle drew near the apprentice, her cold, raspy breath right in her face. "And?" And? Was that all her mom could ever retort back to her? In her very own.. big day? Her apprenticeship? Did she completely forget that Wiltpaw was her daughter? The dread crept behind her. It couldn't be. "But, but, you know, Grousestar's my mentor!" she weakly smiled. Lass, I don't believe you have any reason to talk to me," Baffled, Wiltpaw halted for a second. Her haunches let loose, as she gave an expression only known as confusion towards the deputy. "What do you mean, I'm your daughter!" Wiltpaw protested. "You're [i]supposed to care..?" The unapologetic frown on Dogface's.. face, grew even darker. "So what if you're my daughter. Please leave me alone," And she turned her head around, completely ignorant of the small she-cat. "Mom, Blacktuft, please," only then did Dogface turn around, eyes furious and a snarl plastered on her face. "'Child, I don't know what brute raised you, but my name is Dogface, and I am not your mother," she yowled, dauntingly. "And if you so as to contemplate having a relationship with me," she whiffed, "-- Your high hopes are for naught," Wiltpaw stood there, flabbergasted.

Dogface was the object of abjection. Contemptible at all infamous ways, a hundred-and-two; unforgivable. Inexpiable.[/i]

[catastrophe,]

（ - `ＨＯＬＬＹＬＥＡＦ！
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[ she-cat ] ● [ dawnclan med. cat ] ● [ tagged: swan (thought) ] ● [ located: outside her den ]
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xxxxxxF leeting heartbeat, dilated pupils, tail thrashing. she was cornered, and the molly knew it. hollyleaf's back was pressed to the ferns behind her, her emerald orbs flicking from one portion of the entrance of her den to the next, her breath coming in short, distressed gasps. oh, dear star clan, the medicine cat prayed silently, though her eyes remained open, this can't be it for us. her unusually long tail thrashing behind her, the stubborn she-cat made a running dash towards the front of her medicine den, just deciding she had to make her way through the flames blocking her path. flames. of all things, how on earth had a fire spread through camp? well, she didn't know. but as the pads of her solid black paws pressed to the burning grass at her feet she immediately knew she couldn't in any way charge her way out of this. it was too hot and the flames that were wrapped like red and yellow snakes around the entrance to her den would almost certainly catch her pelt. so she was stuck. at least her apprentice had been with a friend in one of the other dens and wasn't cooped up in here, only waiting for a death that was impending and bound to reach them soon enough. the flames were licking over the branches that were bent around the entrance to her den, embers flicking from the burnt wood to land oh-so-near her paws. "please," the she-cat exhaled, shaking her head. smoke was filling her lungs, her airway so tight that breathing was beginning to come difficult, and a part of her wished that the smoke inhalation would send her unconscious so she wouldn't have to feel her flesh burn beneath the flames running rampant through her camp. her throat was howling in disagreement to the think air she was sucking in through her maw, and the temperature inside the den alone must've raised far above what was healthy for any living thing. her herb storage had already been demolished, a pile of nothing more than ash. letting out a shaky breath, a cough leaving her parted jaws, the she-cat who had always been such a rough-and-tough type, never to quit, one who many had recommended being a warrior for the clan instead of a medicine cat, gave up. the she-cat moved back on her haunches, her eyes closing as prayers flooded her mind. prayers of peaceful transport to starclan, prayers for the other cats who might've made it out of camp alive, prayers that they would find a new home and that the prey would be plentiful for them there. she had accepted the fact that she wouldn't make it out.

xxxxxx "i'm not leaving without checking." these were the first words hollyleaf heard after moments of doomed silence other than the spreading crackle of flames over the brush at the entrance to her den, which had nearly reached her paws now. her eyes were a bit glazed over, her mind foggy from taking in nothing but wave after wave of smoke drifting through the air, her pelt most likely reeking of the substance. her ear twitched, however, at a familiar voice at the entrance to her den. there were other muffled voices, a bit further away, probably other members of the clan warning swanbreeze to get out before the fire got too bad, but the tom wasn't budging. "get out of the way," the deputy rushed, though the medicine cat didn't move, knowing the words weren't meant for her own ears. she stayed where she was, pressed to the back corner of her den, her body weakly slumped. in a few moments, there was a loud cracking as a long log, or some other piece of wood thudded down over the flames in front of her den, smashing them to the ground though they still managed to spring up along the edges. the log, too, would burn before long. the green gaze of the medicine cat lifted to meet the gentle expression of her deputy, who immediately rushed over to her, his teeth gripping her scruff as he pulled her along with him, over the log and out of the den. it was there that hollyleaf actually thought she was going to die. the black cat's fur was nearly the shade of soot by now, her eyes half-lidded as she coughed up nothing but smoke. she tried to speak once, but her lungs were too bitter and dry, her body weak. swanbreeze, with his smaller frame, didn't carry her, but someone else did. hollyleaf liked to believe it was her leader, though she wasn't too sure. in her mind's eye, it was pansystar, the medicine cat's frail body draped over her own as they escaped the flames. it was also here where hollyleaf fell unconscious, when she had guessed her heart was finally ready to give out.

xxxxxx the ebony she-cat sat bolt upright, her green eyes wide, sweat sticking to the underside of her pelt, probably from the thrashing about she had been doing in her sleep. her body ached instead of feeling well-rested, as she had endured the worst few moments of her life, once again. hollyleaf, of course, hadn't died draped over the back of one of her clan members, though just barely so. she had survived, and had woken up in a few hours sputtering smoke, and it had only taken her the amount of two days to regain her strength. she had done so, and had immediately went back to tending to the other cats, some with scarred minds, others with actual burns in their fur and flesh which needed tending to. hollyleaf didn't take any real recuperation time for herself, knowing it was her duty to help others in need. maybe this was the reason behind her recurring dreams of that evening; the fact that she hadn't taken the time to allow her mind to get over the incident. who knew. but here she was, lying in a den that was strange to her, stretching her sore limbs and climbing from her makeshift bed for the night. while many other cats had interacted with one another once arriving here, the ebony medicine cat had not, mostly sticking to herself or the members of her own clan if she could. they were the only ones she truly trusted. the she-cat also hadn't really taken any time to explore this clan, fogclan's camp, which she wanted to do.

xxxxxx the gal felt a bit useless and out of place if she was feeling honest. all of her life, the stubborn molly had wanted to be a medicine cat. she was an excellent apprentice, one of the best fighters in her group of young felines, only she couldn't hunt. the cat could smell things, of course, but one of the scent glands in her nose was ruptured at birth, and she was unable to track prey very well. she could if she tried, it was just more difficult for her to focus on them. so, she had turned to herbs, and despite the disagreement of her previous mentor, she had fallen in step behind a tom-cat named tigerleaf, a snarky and elderly tabby cat. he had shaped her into the cat she was today. deciding that the she-cat wanted to actually make something of herself, and gather some herbs in this unknown portion of the forest, hollyleaf sat herself outside of the den where she had slept, her eyes darting about. she needed an escort, preferably someone of the opposite clan. whom could she pick out?

[lisica,]

ＲＯＷＡＮＳＴＲＥＡＭ !!

molly || tagged/mentioned; whitefrost/--- || mood; worn out; tired, hopeful || located; makeshift den. ahh i really hope this is okay

"hey, rowanstream!" russet ears pricked up, detecting the hoarse meow of ryefeather. copper eyes followed the sound, revealing the familiar skinny build of her brother. "rowanstream, you have to help me beat this vicious beast! we need your help!" rowanstream snapped her head around instinctively- a worrier - before a sarcastic smirk made its way over her maw. there, mildly confused as to why his grown kits where play fighting with him now, lay the warriors' father, russetstorm, whom seemed to be the horrific vicious "beast" ryefeather was talking about. "oh, dear ryefeather!" the she-cat gasped. "don't fret, brother!! victory is nigh!" the lithe cat ran towards her father, gently pawed him in the eyes - which supposedly 'blinded' him - where ryefeather finished him off by placing russetstorm's back left leg in his jaw. "we make quite the team." rowanstream giggled as she watched her father comically fall to the ground. her pride was short lived though, as almost as soon as the molly uttered those words, her tabby brown brother retaliated with, "i didn't need your help. i could beat dad any day - one day i'll be the leader of dawnclan! and you'll watch me!" that was so 'ryefeather'. humble. "could you, yeah?" that was russetstorm. rowanstream batted the smaller warrior playfully, when a new voice spoke - graywing, rowanstream's former mentor - "calm down before you hurt yourselves, kits." although his words and tone were sharp, affection danced in his wide, green eyes, watching the pair as if his own. good old graywing. it was at that moment when mouseclaw, rowanstream and ryefeather's mother, came bursting in with a patrol of warriors. fire. fire. forest fire.

it was obvious rowanstream was going to dream about the night that murdered her mother and both friends and acquaintances. it was almost ironic to think fire had taken out mouseclaw (and graywing), and water killed ryefeather and russetstorm on the journey to their new home. it was only a few moons ago when she was playing with her little brother, quite literally having the time of their lives, and now suddenly she was alone. well, alone isn't the word- that's rowanstream for you. optimist. positive. hopeful. maybe that's all you need - faith. she repeated these phrases in her mind over and over, but she couldn't get the image of her mother, dead, out of her mind as she sat up that morning. not to mention wise old graywing, who died trying to protect elders. rowanstream didn't want to think about whether or not his mission was successful, so to distract herself, the young warrior began grooming her back, revealing wounds on her belly that hadn't yet healed. she thought about where they were now - a beautiful forest, taken in by fogclan, no flames. although the fire was now dead and gone physically, it remained in her heart and it was a question if it would ever go away. likewise the scent of smoke that seemed to haunt the rusty warrior. no matter where she is, out of the blue she could feel like the fire is happening all over again. smoke fills her lungs, fire scorches through her thick fur and onto her skin, cats around her are dying. but none of that is really happening. she's really just surrounded by a thick green forest as she should. it's just that sometimes it doesn't feel like that. would this new land ever be rowanstream's proper home? the old forest, and multiple lives, had been completely eradicated in the space of four moons, so surely nothing else could go wrong?

deciding to put these thoughts at the very back of her mind, rowanstream continued to groom her matted, bronze fur, which was difficult, considering the burns in her flesh. at certain angles, the early greenleaf sun gave her the idea that she had slept in maybe more than a little. but these days that wasn't unusual, more or less everyone was still exhausted from traveling and the grief they've went through the last couple of moons. rowanstream doubted anyone would even notice. yawning soundlessly, the molly rose to her dainty paws -- ow. ahh, what better a reminder that a painful one? she lifted her front right paw to just in front of her face, revealing a hard, scratched grey pad. that's what walking for moons does to you. but again, rowanstream decided it would be best to just forget about it -- i'll have grass beneath my paws in no time. it was then the molly remembered where she was - an unfamiliar territory surrounded by unfamiliar cats who seemed to be judging the whole of dawnclan as they woke. it made her feel a little self conscious and uncomfortable, but all rowanstream could do was get used to it. they'd have soft pads and privacy soon. so, shrugging it off as usual, her copper orbs wandered over to her clanmates. oh, her dear clanmates. dawnclan wouldn't be the same without any one of them. and although rowanstream is one of the youngest warriors, she knew that she treasured every single cat before her. they had been through a hell of a lot since newleaf and they all deserved a long rest. it hurt rowanstream to see everyone like this, and so she took it upon herself to cheer them up.

her golden gaze finally rested on whitefrost, whom seemed to be as uneasy as she was with fogclan watching. rowanstream liked whitefrost. he was a young warrior as well; he had been an apprentice for most of the time she had. the tom was quite the charmer as well, and they had got along well on the journey. she would rather approach him than make awkward conversation with a fogclan cat. for the sake of both herself and whitefrost, rowanstream made sure that she rose to her paws gingerly this time. didn't hurt so bad. "g'morning, whitefrost," the molly chirped before she'd got to the tom. she studied him closely; his bright eyes seemed dull, and he looked more worried and hopeless than rowanstream had ever seen him, which was upsetting. he had been a help on the journey - one of the few cats that kept both her sanity and optimism. "you okay?" she mewed quieter. with a little sympathetic sigh, she added, "we'll find a home eventually. pansystar wouldn't let anything happen to us now. we're getting closer, i can feel it." she wanted to say more, but couldn't think of anything else to offer, so instead she simply nosed his cheek in a friendly manner.

[vertigo]

♛ -- `Ｓ Ｗ Ａ Ｎ Ｂ Ｒ Ｅ Ｅ Ｚ Ｅ ！！ ❞
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( ● sex. male ) ( ● rank, deputy ) ( ● tagged. littlepaw, open ) ( ● words. 1595 )
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xxxxxxSwanbreeze noted, near immediately, of his leader's response- A gesture of some sorts, one of just mere acknowledgement - a look straight dead in his two, pale blue eyes, with little to no emotion except for the light, faint anxiety that flickered within her indigo darts. Pansystar was high-strung, and she did not do too well at hiding it- Whether is be shown in the nervous twitch in her long, black-dipped tail, the hitch in her slightly, rattling voice, or the uncertainty in her widened orbs. Unlike the deputy, she was not an expert at keeping her emotions concealed, kept away, locked and safe from every-cat's wanting grasp. Throughout his moons of being under her strict command, he had come to not only know of this, but to know truly of her and her way of doing things. He respected her, yes- deeply. But he did not understand why she acted with such a lack of self-esteem, constantly worrying about whether or not her decision was correct to ensure the safety of her clan, and it's well-being. The smokey-faced she-cat was a grand leader, after-all, it was her whom had led them through their journey, kept their bellies fed, and their minds bright, even if he did help. Though their paws had been cracked and worn, bloody and raw, she was the one whom had handed them over motivation, even when it was so, that she lacked.

xxxxxxThat being so, the grey-masked tom was brought back to reality by the pitter-patter of approaching paw steps. However . . . His eyes, set out ahead of him, they did not expect to meet with a pair made of the finest glass - a shocking, yet stunning, deep shade. The color of a sunset in mid Greenleaf, aglow with the last orange rays before twilight. After fighting the urge to glance in an opposite direction, as it seemed that the beauty of the strange she-cat - despite the long, thin scar that stretched across the length of her lower jaw - was too strong to maintain a steady gaze within, Swanbreeze finally broke after a few heartbeats, quickly removing his eyes. It was then that they met with another cat - A snowshoe tom with tired, pale blue and nearly grey orbs, approaching with the she-cat not too far off from his side. Identical to the symbolic act of respect he had shown to Pansystar, Swanbreeze dipped his head once the cats from the opposing clan had stopped, no more than a foxlength ahead of him. Ah, this must be Fogclan's leader.. And that she-cat, whom smells strongly of the needles of a pine, I assume she must be the deputy. It is a relief to some extent that I am now familiar with their faces.. However, this feeling.. Perhaps, just perhaps, this sensation is no more but an effect of taking rest in unfamiliar surroundings. As the brown-sploshed tom, whom he had predicted to be the leader, then settled himself down to the ground, Swanbreeze matched his attentive gaze, the two cats equally studying one another. After a few beats, it was the same brown and white whom had spoken first, "I . . . slept in . . . forgive me. I see you await us . . . " He mewed, quickly, yet quietly, before shifting not only his position but his manners, attempting to make himself to what Swanbreeze assumed, more presentable. The grey-faced tom waited now, as silence continued to stretch through the air. He had been expecting some form of formality, perhaps an introduction? A name of some sort? However, he did not let the spark of surprise flash through his expecting eyes, or rather, impatience. He wanted to attempt to read the Fogclan leader's emotions - what was going on behind his brown and grey spotted head, inside of his mind - but, he found his eyes being forcefully dragged back to the black and white ahead of him.

xxxxxxAnd there she was, still sat delicately- yet oddly, overly alert - upon her haunches. Within a mixture of straightened shoulders, perfectly level to each other with no means of a slouch, widened and ironically - pointed - regardless of their rounded shape, her eyes were still what stood out to him the most. It was strange, very strange, how the color was so vibrant and reaching, but somewhat dull, emotionless . . . Much like . . . His own. Her expression was well hidden, and Swanbreeze found it difficult to read the molly, frustration slowly setting in, in result. Normally, he could pick up on what another had been thinking just by a quick glace, a quick evaluation of their body language, facial expression, the emotions in their very eyes- And yes, he could tell that she was making herself seem.. Well-hidden? With her confident posture, tail held high. But, the black and white feline seemed to have herself internal self buried away, and for a beat, he almost felt relieved for at least knowing one thing- Ah, well guarded I see, with walls of defense surely standing tall. Though, Starclan, why is it that I cannot pick out a single emotion from her? I suppose she must hold power over the same ability as me. Well protected, well done. Interesting.. Very.

xxxxxxBut, what the perceptive tom hated most, was not holding knowledge of certain things. That being said, Swanbreeze snapped his attention back to his surroundings, and doing just so, it seemed as if he had been right on cue, as his leader parted her jaws and began to form the words of a sentence upon her tongue. Once clouded with thoughts, his eyes now shifted their focus to the she-cat, "You're fine, after last night I don't blame you for sleeping in." Sympathy was painted onto her voice, shown very openly, apparent. Swanbreeze reckoned that the molly must have been aware to the other clan's hardships, as well as their own, because of this. Though, there was more to be said, and it needed to be done quickly. Therefor, after dipping his head to the snowshoe tom, a symbol of respect, Swanbreeze mentally apologized to Pansystar, as he prepared himself to speak without the approval of his superior. Lifting his left front foot off the ground - a habitual motion, one that he picked up from his father, Littlesky ( deceased ) - he held his cloud-colored paw close to his chest, and then, the grey-faced feline parted his jaws to speak, in more of an introduction than a response, "We are truly appreciative of the hospitality you, and your cats have granted us with." It was true, for the Fogclan cats did not have to welcome their clan into their home. They chose to let them in, even though they had never faced such a situation beforehand. Now, realizing he had yet to introduce himself, he paused. How could I be so careless, so forgetful? "However, I suppose it is time that we formally introduce ourselves." Struggling to find any sort of emotion, the deputy blinked, before he practically forced a slight smile onto his face, hoping that it would show through as convincing. "I am Swanbreeze, deputy to Pansystar." He shifted his gaze to Pansystar, automatically, after finishing his sentence. He prayed that the molly would not mind that he had taken it upon his paws to make such an introduction, as normally, he would consider it himself, as an act of disrespect. Supposing he would leave the more important, information to the responsibility of his leader to respond with, Swanbreeze finished off, closing his jaws, his tail twitching in wonder of what his leader would have to say. He turned his head to the smokey molly, his sky-blue eyes, like always, still flat, yet wondrous to what would happen in the next moments.