[[Tink isn't here [She shouldn't be back for another two days or so.], so I'll answer that for her: yes, it would be great to find a mentor for Bluepaw. *Skitters to front page to see who's available* It states that Bluepaw already has a mentor; FairyoftheFlames's Brokenclaw. Did you forget? Fairy has been rather inactive lately, though. . . If you would like a different mentor for Bluepaw, the following WaterClan warriors are available: Fernpool [FairyoftheFlames], Cloudfur [FairyoftheFlames], Dawnsinger [Me, [Roseness], but she's still recovering from her drowning incident the other day, so Bluepaw would have to have a substitue until she's fully recovered if you do choose her. . .], and Honeydew [Believing's, as I'm sure you're aware.].
CookieWolf, I can roleplay Ashfeather just as well, so I'm ready when you are. :3
I'll edit this OOC to include a post; I just needed to get these answers out there. . .
EDIT: Okay, I finished typing this in more or less than an hour; sorry if that was too long. Also, happy birthday, PowerClans -- not to mention the awesome members of it. Or should I say MemberClan? :3 Sorry I couldn't get on yesterday; I was over at a friend's house, baking sugar cookies for the second time in my life. X'3 Anyway. I was going to post for Ashwhisker today, but I s'pose I will have to attempt to find the time later. . .]]
AirClan
Ashfeather watched as the DarkClan cats raced away into the night, grim satisfaction smoldering in her bright blue eyes. She had to dig her already unsheathed claws into the weed-choked earth in order to restrain herself from the rash impulse of following the mind-controlled felines. They had passed well over the horizon when the pale-furred she-cat allowed herself to catalogue her injuries and wounds. Minor nicks and scratches scored her pelt, but those would heal in a day or two. The only somewhat serious wound she had was the one on her shoulder, and Ashwhisker would surely see to that soon enough. Ashfeather gave the exposed flesh a lick, then two, and ignored the stinging sensations that pierced it with each rasp of her tongue. Once the metallic taste of blood had faded, she left the wound alone and raised her head to rake her gaze about the camp. The attack from DarkClan had been short and overall a failure, but they had also had the upper paw due to the element of surprise. Some cats were still lurching out of their nests and hurtling from their dens; the rest of AirClan hustled about the camp if they could still walk, like a hive of disturbed bees. There was only one cat that Ashfeather searched for, however; a critically harmed tom whose pelt was darker than the night sky itself with eyes that could challenge the deepest lake in WaterClan for its perfect, dark shade of blue. Nightfeather was nowhere to be found, and his mate silently berated herself for wasting her time when she had watched Pebblestar dragging a dark bundle that was probably Nightfeather. Probably.
Ashfeather’s eyes traced a pale, lithe body as it gradually, swiftly made its way through the crowd on its way to the High-hill near the front entrance of the camp. It was only a matter of heartbeats until Pebblestar was perched atop the raised landform where the leader of AirClan often addressed their Clan. After a quick analysis of the familiar faces still milling anxiously about in the clearing, the slender silver she-cat spoke. “AirClan.” The word was solitarily uttered, yet loudly enough to hush all of the frantic voices in the camp. “This has been an unexpected battle. I need to make sure every one is here.” Once again Pebblestar scanned the plethora of faces titled upwards at her from the depression below. Her brow creased ever so slightly, yet it was visible to Ashfeather close to the hind tunnel where the initial attack had commenced. After a long pause, she asked in a tone that was neither fazed nor calm, “Where are Cloudmoth and Whitefern?”
A brief hesitation, then a short cry pierced the silence, “Over here!” It echoed from the warriors’ den – a female voice, but Ashfeather didn’t care to look to see who it was when the she-cat continued, “Cloudmoth is here, but Whitefern is not.” A small intake of breath was heard from a few of the younger cats of AirClan. “Search the camp for him first.” Ordered Pebblestar, appeared undaunted for the most part. Ashfeather’s eyes weren’t quite sharp enough to pick out the traces of fear and worry in the leader’s expression, but she knew they were there. Pebblestar lifted her head upwards to watch something before she went on, “We have a dead cat in our camp and I don't want it here much longer.” Ashfeather’s eyes flashed coldly at the memory of murdering the cat who had hurt her beloved. She didn’t feel guilty. “This cat deserves no proper clan burial. Stripetail and Orangewisker, please take the body and dispose of it at the no-Clan's land border.” Ashfeather found herself nodding nearly imperceptibly in agreement. That cat – no, that thing had not deserved to live. Even if he was a mere will-less puppet at the claws of Icestar, it didn’t matter that his actions were not his own. She had done the original Clans a favor by ridding the planet of his – its – tormented soul. Ashfeather did not question her previous blood-thirsty motives, nor did she regret them.
“Shinelight. Any sign of Whitefern?” Pebblestar’s voice intervened Ashfeather’s thoughts; the leader looked up again at the anonymous source for what seemed to be the third time, tilting her head back further. She received a quick answer from one of the dens as Shinelight, the cat that Ashfeather had helped only moments ago, reported that he was not in camp. “He must have been taken.” Thanks for dropping that band of minions on the entire camp, the blood-stained warrior thought bitterly while a collective symphony of gasps travelled through the remaining cats. “Now, we won't know that until Cloudmoth wakes up. For now, Cottonpaw will need a mentor. Ashfeather, do you think you could do that?” Ashfeather flinched slightly when her name was called, but the grim-faced warrior recovered quickly. She considered what was being asked of her for a moment. Cottonpaw was a lively young cat on which most things negative were lost. She would be a bit of a pawful, but her attitude seemed to be cooperative enough. Besides, the fluffy white apprentice would need a mentor while Whitefern was gone, and the chances of him miraculously returning anytime soon were nearly nonexistent. It took only a heartbeat for Ashfeather to make her decision. “Of course,” she mewed. “I will.” Her eyes searched the crowd once more, but this time, she had a different cat in mind.
[[. . . I just hope that I did Ashfeather's personality justice. I'm not entirely lucid at the moment. . . *Yawns*]]