Recent content by Sunflowermask

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊　They have not lived in a single place for quite some time. Their pelt prickles in ShadowClan's camp in a way that is all too familiar: an acute awareness of all the judgemental eyes upon them. They do not miss the way they linger on their limping paw, their unkempt pelt. The starving...

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊　A shadow blots their vision, and Sunflowermask's inspection is cut short. Their nose wrinkles, ears pressing back. In a swift movement, the tawny wanderer retreats by only a few steps. Wide, wild eyes still dart across Maggotfur's form, flickering occassionally to the lanky creature...

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊　They have made a habit, and habits are a dangerous thing. They have grown comfortable. For the first time in too many moons to remember, Sunflowermask's life has become almost routine. They do not wander the lands where clans are no more than a distant memory. They do not gather and...

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊　All of Sunflowermask's old treasures have been discarded. It was a part of the metamorphosis, the severing of all that they once were. They could not stay in WindClan, and neither could they carry it with them (or else they might be roo tempted to return). It was folly to leave...

saw a snail today

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊　Sunflowermask has been lingering a little too close to ShadowClan's border, lately. They've broken the habit of staying in one place, but something about the thrill keeps them coming back. It's exciting, in the same way it once was. They have made a life out of chasing the horizon...

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊　Reminiscing about the past is a dangerous thing. If Sunflowermask thinks of their old life, the one they've long since shed, they risk reopening old wounds. Memories of spars with claws unsheathed, of judging eyes prying from every angle. Memories of distrust and fear, of a tyrant...

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊　Closer, Maggotfur comes just slightly closer, and something in Sunflowermask's heart sings. For a moment they have that most dangerous thought of crossing the threshold, that wild and traitorous idea they might have considered in their youth. Their loyalty is to none, now. Would...

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊　Their own name is unfamiliar. They haven't needed it in a longer time, scarcely offered it to those they encountered in their travels. A curt Sunflower was the most that pestering vagabonds would get, and even that was a rarity. They have become nothing but the sun upon their back...

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊　Maybe it is the cold that draws them back. Sunflowermask's first leafbare alone finds them hiding from early snowfalls in any shelter they can find; fox-burrows and twoleg-trash alike become respite from the cold. They grow thinner, grow weary. It is lonely out in the wilderness. It...

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊　Wandering suits them. The once-warrior has become a vagabond, a creature of no home. Restless paws trail across hills and mountains, pawpads growing calloused. Each day, they drink in a new sight with all the hunger of a starved, wild thing. It soothes the clawing thing that has...

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊　WindClan burns. It's nothing too terrible in the grand scheme of things. (Is that wrong to think?) Only one dead, and a leader with a missing leg. The carnage is minimal. They have faced far worse; fire is no match for war, Sunflowermask decides. They have seen bloodshed since they...

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊　Sunflowermask remembers Newleaf as a hazy thing of youth, the thawing of the snow as more maguc than reality. It is strange to see it again now. Now, when they are so different. Yet the wonder is the same, the color and the vibrancy. The gifts it brings, new each day. A burst of...

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊　It's strange, this peace. Not something Sunflowermask has ever known in all their moons, the constant undertone of war and worry worming its way into the marrow of their bones. Peace was something snatched up in little moments. Found in the rush of wind through their fur, the scent of...