Recent content by wolfpaw!

Spicepurr takes it all in. Wolfpaw has to trust she takes it all in — has to trust that her tether to SkyClan is still enough to rope this stranger into freeing her. She scrutinizes each minute movement of the other's face muscles, as if she could scrape truth off of them with her eye alone and...

Her heart thumps as Spicepurr rustles awake; as Spicepurr looks up at her; as Spicepurr leaps atop the glass-topped stand to not-quite meet her. Wolfpaw presses pink-padded paws to the mesh that traps her, as if she could break through it through sheer will alone — as if this time would be...

It is a strange thing, to be removed from one's own life with so little effort. Wolfpaw had been a SkyClanner, and then she hadn't been anymore. She'd had a family, and then she hadn't. She'd had two eyes, and then she hadn't. There's a lot of giving and a lot of taking away in life, she thinks...

Cats whirled in and out of the medicine den like wind in leafbare. With so many patients, it was understandable — Wolfpaw and her siblings were only three of the many, with Bobbie joining them now, only bad news in tow. Her scars have nearly healed now, but it feels like her wounds get fresher...

/ sorry for how late this is! She feels... strange. It is strange, she thinks, to not hurt anymore, but to still not be normal. She has grown used to the tension of her scars, can move without pain, can smile and laugh, even — but still cannot see. Or, at least, not in the way that she used to...

She's getting close to the end of her recovery. She can feel it, the way her forelimb no longer screams in protest at the slightest movement (though it feels strangely sore and tight beneath the cobwebbed bandage); the way her head no longer pounds at the slightest light; the way her side is...

Though she never would have asked for all of this — this pain, this suffering, this legacy — Wolfpaw is at the very least glad to not suffer it alone. Hawkpaw had been the first to go down. In all the blur of flesh and claws and sprays of red she remembers watching Hawkpaw fall first at the...

Wolfpaw finds the premis of Bobbie's story distasteful for reasons different to Slate. He'd surely say the same thing about her if she were the one singing her own woes; she knew little more about rogues than the feeling of their claws in her flesh, but never would she think to parade it as some...

Wolfpaw, though not free of her medicine den shackles, has been bolder about wandering camp lately. Today she clings to her mother, joining her in watching the kit games that Blazestar initiates. Cobwebs wrap up her forearm, exposing the slimness of her frame beneath all of her fluff, though her...

Defense training. Irony nips at her heels; if only she'd had this a moon earlier, maybe she could have saved herself some grief (or more than that, even). The rogues were a threat to SkyClan, and Wolfpaw knew it all too well. Seeing Dogbite organize defense training for everyone was...

Coffeekit's intrusion to the hazel-bush den turns Wolfpaw's head quickly - too quickly, in fact, and she winces as her wounds stretch with the action. They're finally scabbed over and healing, but stars it didn't make them hurt any less. Her good eye squints at the mocha-striped kitten as she...

Outside the roots of the hazel bush, Wolfpaw can see the peony sky. Before it would have brought her comfort. She's always loved the forest, the great majesty of the beautiful sky, the pines chewing the color out it as the fir teeth erupted into its domain. Now she looks at the sky through the...

/ cw: descriptions of injury! Wolfpaw's head screams. There is a cleaving down her face, some wall of hot white, right over her right eye — and it hurts, and it hurts and it hurts. The warm red ribbons out into the snow like pastry batter, thick and sweet, leaving a trail behind the patrol as...

Blazingpaw volleys back his excitement to fiercely defend SkyClan's territory. Wolfpaw can't help but mirror the instinct; at the mere thought of rogues encroaching on their territory, their hackles raise and their adrenaline drips steadily into their veins. What's theirs is theirs alone —...

Wolfpaw is not a toddler anymore, but her path at Figfeather's side is one of kittenish toddling. There is just so much to see, so much to explore; she cannot help the zigzags she draws through the scant snow, trying to catalogue each new sensation. Frost rips through her dark nose and her...