Recent content by BEESONG

“You’ve a talent for getting into trouble with WindClan, Smokethroat. I’m almost glad I’m dead, and don’t have to deal with it anymore.” The sarcasm is dry, spoken by a familiar scarred cinnamon tabby whose weary face doesn’t match the joke he’s tried to make. (He’s never been good at the whole...

he cannot disguise the flinch, the twist of a grimace on his scarred face, as cicadastar snaps back with a vicious hiss. lips marred by the memory of frostbite curl, deadly sharp teeth bared for the medicine cat to see. it takes every last ounce of willpower beesong possesses not to skitter away...

it starts with a night more restless than others. troubles rise like the flooding river, encroaching on what little’s left of beesong’s rickety ‘peace of mind.’ beesong knows he wouldn’t be able to sleep on a night like tonight; with everything bad that’s happened in such a short span of time...

beesong follows ravenpaw as swiftly as he could after gathering herbs, coming to his uncertain apprentice's side with a brief glance towards the other that says, you're doing fine. the cinnamon tabby doesn't feel he has time for anything more; his own gaze rakes over the wounded, examining...

fortunately for wolfglade, beesong wouldn't be another witness to their embarrassing slip into the river. unfortunately for wolfglare, that wouldn't spare them from the scrutiny of the healer as he happens across the scene. sea-green eyes narrow, overhearing crappiepaw and crawlingroach both...

beesong stumbles across the lesson by accident while retreating from the bustle of the temporary camp; clayfur's trying to teach mosspaw how to catch birds, by the sound of it... with emphasis on trying. the warrior is correct that one can usually hear birds before one can see or smell them. the...

beesong snorts at clayfur's quip, feigning exasperation with a shake of his head and roll of his eyes. "i see. well, good thing i don't share a den with you, seeing as how you'll be cleaning mud from your fur for the next moon." his sarcastic words are punctuated by a wry smile, making a point...

the yowl sets off alarm bells in beesong's mind; too much tragedy in the past couple of moons has left him on edge, worrying over what's beyond the horizon every sunrise. at any possibility of misfortune, his damn brain begins to conjure every worst-case scenario it could. and again, it happens...

his single curled ear flicks, watching the exchange between tallwave and fernpaw with a small huff of laughter. the younger's eyes gleam, as if the simple gift presented to him is as grand as the moonstone. beesong almost envies him for his childlike glee; the nest is beautiful, weaved with an...

beesong listens, still as a marbled statue. muscles wound tight to subdue the shaking of his limbs. a twoleg. the strange creatures that beesong had once loved like a family had ensnared little ashpaw in one of their abhorrent traps and taken her away from riverclan. they'd injured iciclefang...

the stillness of night is broken. a commotion stirs beesong from the robotic motions of sorting the herbs he'd gathered and dried, and willowroot meets him at the entrance of his den as he stumbles to his paws— iciclefang is hurt. the healer hisses to himself, biting down on the inside of his...

death follows riverclan like a hawk's shadow over its prey. clearsight and wolverinefang, both lost to barbaric jaws. ripped away from their family, their friends, and their clan. today, another joins them in the stars. the silence is eerie. there is no wailing, no begging with celestial forces...

whiskers twitch as the scent of another fills the den, muted by the aromatic herbs he sorts, but the minute change is noted by the healer anyhow. beesong turns away from his storage, his good eye flickering from the NPC who scurries out of the makeshift den to the flustered expression of...

beesong's grateful that there is no bitterness conveyed in the tilt of murkblossom's chin. pragmatism seems hard to come by in this clan, where emotions flow too freely like the raging river. he hums, a thank you hidden in the reverberating sound, as he flicks his gaze away from murkblossom. to...

movement from the makeshift elders' den catches beesong's eye, drawing his attention away from drying herbs. it's murkblossom, a familiar face in the healer's den, offering another clanmate a partially eaten mouse. a frown threatens his maw, the cinnamon tabby having to carefully reel in his...