camp ❆ BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE | cold night [apprentice's den]

[ROWANPAW]

It was one of the chilliest nights since the blizzard passed... if not the chilliest. Temperatures had only climbed down further and further since sunset, casting a blanket of thin and brittle air over the moors. Nests were dried and crackling with frost, particles of snow clinging to the pelts of the WindClanners who were trying to catch a blink of sleep under the frosty skies. While the seasoned warriors had braved through leafbare before and the kits had their parents to keep them warm, perhaps it was the apprentices who had it the toughest this time around. Many of them being young and born past newleaf, this was their first experience with such frigid conditions.

Even Rowanpaw, ever the stoic and headstrong trainee, was nearly shivering their pelt right off. "S-S-Stars," The calico chattered under their breath, multi-colored pelt trembling as their muscles attempted to produce heat. They shifted closer toward their brother in a rather rare instance, seeking the comfort of his warmth as the night brought a relentless chill. "It's freezing..." Should they seek shelter in the old burrows?

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐃 ✹ . + ˚ · 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍

• interacting with @VIPERPAW but no need to wait!

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  — rowanpaw / twelve moons / they/she pronouns
  — windclan tunneler apprentice / mentored by swiftshade
  — snakehiss† x berrysnap / littermate to viperpaw and privetfrost
  — sh black/tortie chimera w/ blue and amber heterochromia, scratches across right eye
  — click for tags

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[Wasppaw]

I love you, and if you want, I'll call you King

Grunting, the coal-covered molly shifts, trying to find some semblance of warmth. Other cats were blessed with normal parents and full coats - her and her siblings lacked both. Probably another punishment from Star Clan. Green eyes snap open, a hiss of annoyance leaking out. Rowanpaw's complaints had chased away whatever dreams were starting to forum in the peripherals of her mind. Grunting, the molly half-heartedly kicks out in an attempt to shut her brother up. An action that could easily be misconstrued as aggression by someone without siblings, but for Snakebite's whelps it was more of an invite. A rough, tough kind of love spoken through action and not words.
'Stop complaining and cuddle up,' her kick said. 'Get warm over here bozo.'

But why do I lie awake each night thinking
"Instead of you, it should be me"? — penned by Keee, tags
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[Puddlepaw.]

I WANT TO BELONG
LIKE THE BIRDS IN THE TREES ​

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puddlepaw & 10 moons & demi-girl & she/they & windclan apprentice ​

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Freshly freed from the medicine den, Puddlepaw nearly wishes she was back within the strong scented den. That, she thinks, might be the worst part of being an apprentice - or a windclanner at all. The moors and the camp they call home have a lack of shelter, against wind and rain and snow and, above all, the cold - and even thick coat only helps so much. Shuffling and shifting about her nest, already she i considering the same thing - perhaps it'd be better to be up and about on patrol, if only to seek shelter in the tunnels and get some warmth from her pumping blood. Or maybe she could convince Brackenpaw to cuddle up with her for warmth?

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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B L U E B I R D S ━ F O R E V E R ━ C O L O U R ━ T H E ━ S K Y

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[SHEEPPAW]

He was finally freed from the medicine den, and a new scar settled upon his neck. His bicolored coat puffs up like a shield against the harsh chilliness of the night. Since the blizzard passed, temperatures had only dulled down further until the blanket of thin and brittle air roamed the moors. He wishes he was a tunneler at this point... so he could hide in the tunnels instead of dealing with this.

With snow sprinkling upon the pelts of clanmates trying to sleep in their dried nests. The frosty skies above bore down on Windclan's camp like a veil. An ear twitches as he squeezes his legs closer to his body. What he envies about the other clans is that they at least have shelter... Windclan on the other hand? Doesn't really have any.

For the apprentices that is. Sheeppaw lets a grimace show upon her face, as her eyes were open to slits. She lets her teeth chatter, and click clack away as she speaks up. "T-This is s-s-so not fair..." Sure, she was born in Leafbare like this, but ugh this is the worst. Maybe she could convince Wraithpaw or Lakepaw to cuddle up with her for warmth? The black smoke trembles as her muscles tensed at the cold brushing against her curled up form.

⊹ ⏜ ۫ . 𝙎𝙉𝙊𝙊𝙕𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙇𝙊𝙐𝘿𝙎 ᶻ 𝘾𝘼𝙉 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙁𝙀𝙀𝙇 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙇𝘼𝙐𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝘽𝙐𝙄𝙇𝘿

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• no ref yet </3​

• ( WHAT? THE FACE? ) ꕤ ‧₊˚. SHEEPPAW. ╱ windclan apprentice.
  ⤷ CLOSETED GENDERFLUID ; HE / SHE
  ✶ CURRENTLY 13 MOONS OLD. AGES EVERY 29TH.
  ✶ undecided / not actively looking — mentoring none.
  ✶ a lanky, longhaired black smoke with high white and blue eyes
  ✶ thoughts ; "Speech, B9D6F2" ; attacks only
  ✶ may powerplay minor harm ╱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ✶ smells like night air & windblown heather
  — all opinions are ic
  
  → biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by calzone

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[laurelpaw]

Each day that passed, Laurelpaw wondered if this, finally, was the coldest that it would get — and every next day, the night would come creeping over the moors once more, and so too would the winds return even colder than before. By the time she had been old enough to remember things, the grip of leaf-bare had loosened some; now, she must live to bear its brunt, raking down her back as sharp as the claws of a cat that was finally making good on a vengeance. The others couldn't be inside her head to know it, but she was seriously considering diving down into the nearest tunnel and curling up with the rocks and the dirt, as much as it might make her feel like a shivering little prey animal.

One sibling kicks at another in their makeshift huddle, and the tortoiseshell grumbles, "Be nice," in a voice that very much isn't; she presses her most definitely ice-cold nose into the pelt of whichever one of them is nearest, shielding her face only a bit from the frost-flecked torrent.

"Leaf-bare is fair to no cat," she mutters; then, quieter, "…maybe we should go to the tunnels." Surely, nobody would say anything if they found them down there come morning light, would they? Or, maybe they would chide them for their moment of weakness, reminding them that things would not be any easier once they became warriors. Actually, Laurelpaw wasn't sure if that possibility was worth it, after all…

we are made ✦ from the sharpest things

• ooc: —
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  LAURELPAW ✦ she/they, 12 moons
  — windclan tunneler apprentice
  — speaking, thinking, attacking or interaction
  — snakehiss x berrysnap

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