Recent content by FOXGLARE

⁀➷ Foxglare laments his status as one of Windclan's slower sprinters more days than not, today being a notable one. He tears off after his apprentice once he finds out the youth had run off to go help without waiting another second. Honorable, sure. But reckless, too. He bursts into the...

⁀➷ He couldn't sleep again. Camp was darkened under the cover of midnight, the moon and only a few stars peeking through the inky clouds. Foxglare pulled himself out of his nest gingerly, and found a familiar path just outside of camp. He didn't want to go far tonight. He was irritated that he...

⁀➷ [CW: SOME MENTIONS OF TOXIC PARENTING AND RHETORIC SURROUNDING IT BEFORE THE BREAK] (SOME MOONS PREVIOUS…) Leafbare had arrived early, and with it an elongated shadow of ice and cloudcover that seeped into his pelt and left him feeling… odd. Snow crunches beneath his feet, but the air is...

⁀➷ He thinks it's nice seeing Sedge and Cotton together again. They'd spent so long avoiding each other for one reason or another, admittedly he was relieved to not have to split his time so much. Foxglare greeted the two with a relaxed wave of his tail, and then straightening when he saw the...

⁀➷ Mick holds the door open for the ticked off bar staff as he walks in, a bemused expression on his face when he glances at the clock. "Eight o'clock... color me impressed," he said, walking up to the bar where Buck and Maive are already chatting. He stands, glancing between them as she teases...

⁀➷ Gray eyes peer narrowly at Sedgepounce’s face—quiet, but characteristically so. The day it happened, he’d told him he was lucky Cottonsprig hadn’t grounded him to bedrest out of pure spite for wasting her herbs on his sliced up face. Indeed, Sedge was out and running around all over the...

⁀➷ Foxglare could count this as his third time feeling the bite of frost beneath his paws, and there was something oddly comforting about the dependabilThe wind bites at Foxglare’s nose something fierce today, exhalations fogging the frigid air before him, inhalations tickling pitilessly at his...

⁀➷ Foxglare could count this as his third time feeling the bite of frost beneath his paws, and there was something oddly comforting about the dependability of Leafbare’s freezing bite. Their patrol padded around the outskirts of the horseplace, the barn looming sturdily over the moor. Had it...

⁀➷ She embraces him, and he stills in it, bringing a paw to rest on her back in return. She might be crying, he thinks, when she tells him she's glad he's awake, and he confirms it. He'd almost died. Easily, quietly, in the darkness of the old badger sett. And she knew it too. The breath he...

⁀➷ "Have a little faith in Scorchstorm's trainin'," Foxglare comes over to join the audience on Cottonsprig's other side. A glimmer of excitement shines in his eyes as he watches, focused, on Buckfire's brash challenge of their leader, "I'll give him five wing-flaps, at least." The guy sure had...

⁀➷ Foxglare was awoken more abruptly, a half-frozen dewdrop falling onto his nose waking him with a jolt. He blinks, nose and ears twitching as the clan around him shuffled into wakefulness, sitting up and rising to his paws to observe the shimmering stillness of hollow's frosted-over sands. He...

⁀➷ If the lead warrior were to voice his views on his own scars—visible reminders of his failures—Foxglare would have to disagree. Scars were proof that you were alive. Even if he hadn’t been in a position to attest to knowing it was true, he could see Periwinklebreeze’s resilience worn...

⁀➷ Foxglare isn’t really surprised that it’s come to this. Duskclan couldn’t seem to stop finding reasons to snuffle around their borders, and somehow he doubted that Thriftfeather had been all that stealthy in his little clan-hopping stunt. His sneaking back into Windclan’s care beneath the...

⁀➷ [ CW: CONTEMPLATING MORTALITY/DEATH FROM ILLNESS, MENTION OF UNREALITY UNTIL ⁀➷☾⁺₊ ] At some point, Foxglare had considered the real possibility that he would die here, in the darkness of the badger sett. Death had ridden close to him a few times more than the average cat, and perhaps at...

⁀➷ The "sorry"s of his not-quite daily ritual are as much of an offering to Sedgepounce as his catches are, words that seem minuscule cast out from his vast internal lake of Something-Like-Sorriness-But-More. Too little, the words are—hopefully the rabbits were substantial enough to make up for...