Recent content by SCORCHSTORM

cw: emetophobia, graphic violence in starred * paragraphs Winter shudders as the thin fingers of spring poke up, up, up through its ice-white flesh; fresh grass follicles struggle towards the sun, bright little breezes sigh against the still cold, birdsong returns to the moorlands. It’s a...

She is lucky to have attended so many gatherings in her lifetime, really. A deputy's apprentice maintained special privileges — the only time she had missed the gatherings were when WindClan's rebels had been ousted to Horseplace, or the journey before that. It is an excitement that has only...

cw: suicidal ideation (2nd & 4th paragraphs) Yipping. Barking. The happy house of cards crumbles. Scorchstorm vitrifies on the spot; her body sheds its zephyr graces and leaves behind a lump of black stone and amber fissures. Her muscles strain against the stubborn carapace and produce no...

It's not really pain. Scorchstorm lies curled in her nest under the stars, fur sticky in the warm embrace of a sickly winter. It's humid, and the sky is so gray that it is nearly green or purple or some other color; she has not known enough seasons to see its strangeness. Nor does she care — the...

Cottonsprig is correct; Scorchstorm is not far from their parent. Whether she is Scorchstar's daughter or her deputy, she cannot bear to be far from them. Not when they are the sole kin that she has left — although this fact is truer now than it has ever been. When the smoky molly approaches...

Scorchstorm departs with no inkling of Sootspot's plan. She knows he does not agree with her promotion — the sense that no cat agrees with it often spills across her fur in thick, oily waves — but she does not know this. He knows too much, she knows too little; it is in this ignorance that she...

Scorchstorm hates days like these. She hates when the bone-chill days worm their way back into the warm ones; little grubs of ice in the false spring's carcass. Today sheds its gossamer warmth like a chrysalis. Snow curtseys down from the heavens. Scorchstorm ignores it with a stubbornness bred...

Scorchstorm's kithood had been afforded more of the fuzzy duckling-yellow joy that most associate with such things. Playtime had always been at the forefront of her mind; even as ShadowClan tore life away from Sootstar, even as RiverClan put her clanmates in the dirt, she had played. It's how...

"I'm not on your border!" It's a decent attempt at an excuse, Scorchstorm supposes. They aren't on her border — they are a foxlength or two away, pawing the line between intruder and innocent. But her expression does not change; against the white horizon she cuts a harbinger's silhouette...

WindClan is, of course, no stranger to its namesake. Breezes, gales, and eddies are frequent visitors to the moorlands; sometimes they even possess the cats that inhabit the expansive plains, offering them bursts of speed that the other Clans could never dream of. But in the inky purple dusk...

It seems foolish that Scorchstorm, the new deputy of WindClan, should walk into the gathering with such mundane matters on her mind. But she can't help but rake the sea of bobbing heads for a familiar dappled crown, bisected black and rouge. Seeing Cherryblossom at the previous gathering had...

Scorchstorm is lucky to never have had a real run-in with twolegs. They have often heckled WindClan's border with their garbage and tame beasts; they have kidnapped Clanmates of hers; they have gifted WindClan more barn cats than she can count. They razed her territory to the ground when they...

Cherryblossom is better now at hiding her grief. She’d been decent at it back then, on the journey, placing one paw in front of the other even after Little Wolf’s body had been splayed out in all its bloodied horror. Scorchstorm isn’t sure how much of the blame for that death the calico took on...

It’s time for her first action as WindClan’s deputy. Scorchstorm approaches Tallrock’s base with a mouse in her heart. She’s consulted Scorchstar for advice on her first round of patrols; has pored over her decisions with as much mindfulness her fog-addled brain can muster. Still, she is...

The moon is but a hair in the sky this night — which means it is time for a Clan meeting. Scorchstorm gathers beneath Tallrock with her chin to her chest. She finds comfort in the council. She keeps Sedgepounce to her flank; she hopes he doesn't mind the way she clings to him like scales to a...