Recent content by cottonsprig

"They can." Despite her own follies cutting her off from the stars, and her issues with them in general, Cottonsprig errs on a similar side to Brackenscar - unable to dismantle the view of their ancestors from the youth. They're allowed to hope and dream, after all. Perhaps as StarClan learns...

Her gaze floats around to the cats that rise to their paws - even down to the youngest, who's sense of duty thrills her rather than bears fear in her chest. Cottonsprig holds her tongue, knowing that Scorchstar has said enough to the youth to keep her safe. Her paw remains graced upon Silkpaw's...

Cottonsprig can, unfortunately, say that she knows the woes of battle. Perhaps not too well like some of her Clanmates, but she had been there when her mother was taken down; she had been there prior, too, when bodies collided with the ground, and then the gorge shortly thereafter. The...

It is blur after blur; the scenery is nothing but a shifting mass of colors as she is heaved and toted across the territory. Cottonsprig can blink but it brings no reprieve to the stinging in her eyes, nose, mouth - the numbing yet ripping pain of her abdomen. All she can fathom is holding...

"I get it," the molly chirps, noting the nervousness that sparks off of Pinkshine's pelt. It's nearly infectious, as if the other's excitement and anxiousness could both arc to her and indulge her in the swirling emotions. Cottonsprig holds her tongue, however, having known the discomfort and...

Cottonsprig has fond memories of downpours such as this - one specifically where Sunstar and Wolfsong looked no different than soaked-through rats during a patrol. She must've looked similar, she understands, but there was far more enjoyment in watching her then-idols be so sopping wet and...

The snappiness of the other's hoarse voice leaves no lashings on her pelt. Cottonsprig cannot tell him how to grieve. She will not. His tail acts no different than the snake that bit Scorchstar all those days ago, and for a moment the comparison makes her ache. You were there. She saved you. Yet...

She arrives to mothermouth just like she had several nights ago - except this time, she isn't alone. Celandinepaw would sooner tear her ears from her skull than allow her freedom again so soon. Still Cottonsprig wishes she had to witness the dried blood and misery alone. It seems that medicine...

The apology (or, in the least, the ghost of one) brushes past Cottonsprig's ears. Her expression softens as it does and she holds no ill will towards the calico's slip up - everyone has the capacity to say things they don't mean. Brackenscar is simply... upset. Frustrated, even, and Cottonsprig...

( Why is she here? ) Days from healing. She is days from being amenable to patrolling once more - the mending of her belly wound is superficial at best, still cloyed with sour herbs and cobwebs. Celandinepaw authorizes her to wander camp and test her limits, but to go this far is asking for...

Cottonsprig isn't given a morsel of time in return for her kindness. The tom that stood measures before her hitched his legs into the dirt and sprung forth instead - in moments, his claws snared themselves in the curls of her fur. In moments, Cottonsprig falls beneath a murderer, and feels that...

Cottonsprig lashes her tail. The breeze that buffets across the moorlands does well to ruffle her fur, a once painful chill now lessened to an amiable front. The medicine cat cannot help the moment of freedom she affords herself, the brief thoughts and wonders of if she had never been shackled...

Cottonsprig finds herself in the nursery again. She tries to not mind her sister and niblings as she approaches the foster mother for their youngest Clanmate - she's offered to be a reprieve for the molly, for however long the other needs to stretch her legs and take a breather. She coils around...

This is a predicament Cottonsprig had not been prepared for. She does not notice Rimepaw fixing her own nest until well into the evening, when the sun threatens its last few rays upon the world. Perhaps not even until Halfkit says something, knowing full well the younger tortoiseshell should be...

Cottonsprig feels odd this time. Every time she hosts a vigil, there's a confounded discomfort resting in her belly. Sometimes it is for cats too young, where their experience only totals to a portion of her life. Sometimes it is for cats where it is simply too early, for they have children to...