camp π–𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 ππŽπ“ β•± π‘π„π‚πŽπ•π„π‘π˜ π“π€π’πŠπ’

A few scant days, and not enough progress has been made. He treads from the den looking more rested than he had in the moons since the fire, even with cobwebs wrapped around his throat, and he meets the clan's gaze with the same determination that had taken him after the fire. Their meals are still scarce but he knows it better to eat what they have than allow himself to wither into uselessness. If they are to go– they will do so with a fight. It will do them no good to exempt himself from this. (One day he will meet his son again. It will be with strength in his limbs and a heart with a powerful beat; he will meet him as a warrior. Not as milksop. Not as a pathetic, grieving mess.)

He picks himself up. They all must.

"WindClan! If there is to be trouble, we must face it with more preparation than this. Come, gather. There is much for us to do." His gaze scans the crowd that gathers, a quiet path woven through their pelts, brushing their sides, ensuring that he is not a lonely part standing above them any longer. "Our walls need reinforced and our borders checked. All who are well enough to leave camp and are not promised a patrol, speak up and I will direct you where your paws are needed. It will take time for us to heal. But working together, it is a burden we may easily carry."
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  • ooc: get your tasks! tasks here! get your tasks!!!!!
  • β†Ÿ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑.  ╱  AMAB  HE - HIM - HIS.  LEADER OF WINDCLAN.  β‹†β€†β‹†β€†β‹†β€†β‹†β€†β‹†β€†β‹†β€„β€„β‹†Μ΄ΜŒΝ›Ν–Μ»β€†β‹†Μ΅ΜΜΏΝƒΜΝΜΌΝˆ ⋆̢̬́̀
    ————  a rogue brought to windclan in a search for greatness, one of sootstar's most loyal warriors turned into her downfall. with a mate and kits to worry about, and now nine lives from starclan with a missing limb, windclan's leader has a lot to prove.

    82190121_9CSsSGfEk2LJ5dF.png
    a large chocolate and white rosette tom with seaglass eyes. the first thing many see when looking at sunstar now is not his proud posture or un-windclan build, but the scarred stump that remains of his front left leg. a wound that would have killed most other cats took one of his lives; not even starclan could repair it.
 
Recovery is likely not the word that leaps to the mind as readily as a dumb - struck rabbit to the claws when one looks at Coldbite. A brute's muscle ropes powerful shoulders and lines thickly set forelegs, his whole body one tense line half - concealed by bulk. Black - and - white fur is nearly tricolor with the scars that harlequin it, deeply grooved ribs of flesh exposed to the heat of the greenleaf sun by enemies long forgotten, and a hard - set bluesteel gaze finishes his image. He inhales fangs, exhales claws. Wholly, it is one that breathes of devastation, destruction, brutalityβ€”not of new life and the bloom of healing.

Still, he joins the jostling cluster of cats gathering before a pelt that speaks of licking flames and air that ripples like the sea, uncaring of the way his corded neck sticks out above the majority of his Clanmates' heads. A scar - split chest rumbles with a hum of acknowledgement . . . he has not been assigned a patrol on this particular sunrise, a rarity in itself but not one wholly uncommon. He is not foolish enough to ignore that his houndish build, one well - attributed in battle and advantageous when some muscle is needed, is not ideal for chasing fleet - footed rabbits across leagues of waving prairie grass. He makes do, but he is no fool; he is not sculpted for this place.

" I, " he calls out in a rumbling baritone, a one - syllable affirmation that he has obeyed the command to speak up. He sees no need for more than that, and waits with a dog's tail flicking softly against flame - charged air to receive his task. Sunstar's verbosity, the way he winds words like charmed snakes, is admired but not mimicked; the meat of the issue, as it were, is communicated by actions more than words for Coldbite. A heavy yoke is healing, but he can bear more than most, and he wishes more than ever to do so now.

OOC : β€”
❆
 
☾ ⋆*ο½₯゚ He slipped through the crowd that swiftly gathered at their leaders beaconing. He couldn't help but wince. It was hard to see someone you look up to so battered, and he did his best not to stare at the wound on Sunstar's neck. A wound bravely earned and one with very few survivors.

It is a struggle for trouble to be so embedded in the daily routine. There's no avoiding it. You could either face the threat head-on or laying down; it isn't surprising that Sunstar refuses to be caught off guard again. Just responding to tribulations can only work for so long; preparing for the worst and reinforcing your weaknesses is a good plan in the long run.

'Speak up, and I will direct you where your paws are needed' That perked up his droopy ears. He hadn't been assigned to go patrol; it's rarely asked of him. So he's completely free to help! Quietpaw could hardly keep himself still at the proposition of making their home even a little bit more secure. The black apprentice craved being useful, his white-tipped paws shuffling in the dirt. After Coldbite volunteered, Quietpaw couldn't help but voice a simple "I'm available."

  • ooc: β€”
  • 83936433_hz3ceer6rn25lIk.png
    Quietpaw β€” ο½₯ he/him ο½₯ 11 moons ο½₯ moor runner apprentice ο½₯Windclan ο½₯ PENNED BY @Ghostunes!
    A timid mostly black tom with white markings on his chest and back. Note: ',,,' are short pauses in his speech Tags ​
 
꙳‒❅* His confrontation with Rumblerain still lingers at the back of his mind. His sibling is in the wrong, so why hadn’t he had the heart to attack them? Why had he let them go? Stupid, stupid me. They didn’t even know my name. Days have passed, and still he can’t let it go. Can’t let… them go. He won’t make the mistake of letting them go again, though. That, he promises to not only himself, but to WindClan as well. Rumblerain is dangerous, even if they’re kin. Even if the same blood that pumps through his veins fuels each beat of their heart as well.

Sunstar calls for cats to gather if they intend to put their energy toward the clan’s well-being, and the tunneler’s icy eyes catch on the leader’s cobwebbed throat. "I’ll-" his voice cracks on the word, a horribly embarrassing moment, and he clears his throat. His tail gives a nervous flicker, whitecapped whip cracking into a tuft of dried scrub grass. "I’ll do whatever is needed."

  • ooc: β€”
  • 53394272_1siaxxi8SpjpePX.png
    FROSTWIND ❯❯ he/him, tunneler of windclan
    ❆ scruffy black and white tom with icy eyes. sly and calculating.
    ❆ son of scorchstreak and badgermoon ; brother to scorchstorm, luckypaw, rumblerain
    ❆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
    ❆ penned by foxlore
 


The chimera approached with crusties at the corners of his eyes, an unusual look of exhaustion pushing past Sootspot's filter. It was with a great effort that he found his way into the crowd beneath their leader (their elevation was the same, not that he'd considered it). The truth of his family had been laid bare a mere day or so before the attack; Nightingale's death, Vulturekit's kidnapping, hardly any of it seemed important as learning that the first WindClanner was nothing more than a bastard born of a filthy rogue and a lying mother. He had been on enough patrols since that time that his pawpads threatened to crack, yet, it is not enough. A meticulous bow of a small head, followed by a smile towards Sunstar. "My paws are yours, Sunstar."


 
Scorchstorm approaches silently. If WindClan must be in for a rough moon (and weren't they always?), then she would face it happily executing the orders she has been given. Her flame-burnished pelt brushes against Frostwind's cold black-and-white one as she finds her place in the gathering crowd. The touch is the single acknowledgment she gives her brother, eyes directed up at Sunstar with intensity, but her love for him is laced through the gesture. She knows not of his meeting with their littermate β€” knows not that he'd brushed so closely with them, only for them to escape. But knowing would make no difference. They both missed Rumblerain, and they would both do anything to have them back. Right?

Rumblerain cannot be her primary concern, though. Sunstar rallies them for WindClan, and it is for WindClan that Scorchstorm comes duty-bound. She does not offer herself with a word. Her mentor should know her well enough that he would see her volunteering in the simple act of her being there.
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  • ooc.
  • SCORCHSTORM β€”β€” warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan

    ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
    ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 14 moons & ages every 1st
    ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
    β€”β€” will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats

    ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
    ✦ full biography β€” msg on discord for plots β€” toyhouse
 
β€βž· Of all the ways one could describe Windclan, none could doubt their resilience. Burr-tough, yet striding with the wind, the clan rallies to mend itself once more. From his place among those gathered beneath Sunstar, Foxglare notices something perhaps harrowed pushing beneath the determination of Scorchstreak’s kin, and averts his gaze as quickly as the observation brushes the back of his mind.

It’s then that he finds himself grateful that he has very little to lose. A vast, empty sky sprawls out on his horizon, clear enough that he assumes he can pick out the individual vultures long before they circle upon him. Weird thing to be grateful for.

Clanmates offer their service in varying degrees of verbosity, and Foxglareβ€”in turnβ€” calls attention upon himself in a brief, ”Same here.”

  • OOC:

  • β€” meztli . sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
    β€” he/him. 19mo moor-runner of windclan. Mentored by shalestripe. formerly mentored sunlitpaw.
    β€” a scarred, hulking white and golden tabby tom with gray eyes
    β€” taciturn, vigilant, reserved, self-righteous, restrained, independent, humanitarian, unyielding
    β€” β€œspeech”, thoughts, attack
    β€” penned by eezy
 
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Celandinepaw had quickly learned that Windclan had not been the utopic paradise that she had dreamed of, back when all she could make of it was the verdant-lined horizons from the barn's fences. As fires lapped and adversaries gnashed, the apprentice had met with danger for the very first time, taken it by the scaled hand and let it whisk her into despair. She did not want to be burden to her worry, nor subject to her cowardice. She had grown now, farther beyond what the little girl that looked upon the fields from the windowsill had been. (She was still that little girl, but an abandonment of the self had been far easier than recognition of the weakness inside her.) "Let me help. I'll do what I can." Celandinepaw mewed, and though her pride and her voice might have just been a grain in a vast silo, but it had still been pride and it had still been a voice. Morale was a scarcity upon the wilds, cobbled up with fleecen dream and fished from survivor's will. The cream spotted tabby waited for Sunstar's direction, like he were the very light recapturing what the night had seized, the daytide rising to meet the sky that cradled it. Hopefully, the task would not be too arduous...

  • OOC:
  • ( NOTE: Reference is a placeholder until a drawn reference can be supplied. Credit HERE )​
    6c5f28571f0113e3691b9873a3736696e2b571d0.png
  • β€”β€” CELANDINEPAW / She/They/He / 10 Moons
    β€”β€” Moor Runner Apprentice of Windclan / Mentored by Dimmingsun
    β€”β€” A shorthaired golden spotted tabby with yellowish-green eyes. Somewhat pudgy, though lean and able to hold her ground in the wild.
    β€”β€” Extroverted and unafraid to speak their mind, she is a friendly and affable face in Windclan. Though ditzy and somewhat cowardly, she tries her best to help her clan.
    β€”β€” Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.


 

There is a glimmer of worry in her eyes as she, too, is gathered. The cobwebs covering his throat as he summons them, vision tracing her father's figure to ensure there is no wavering. He steps through them, and with it her head turns, flank pressing against her father's own. Perhaps she stole a moment longer then he gave to others, but she leaned away a moment later, her chin lifted.

Rivewhisper, as long as she wasn't dying in a barn or the medicine den, was always willing. "Myself, as well, Sunstar." She called, a determined look hiding that of her worry.
  • "speech"
  • RIVEWHISPER she/her, moor runner of windclan, eleven moons.
    β­ƒ
    LH broken braided chocolate tabby with high white and piercing blue eyes. scars stretch over her left eye and across her stomach. graceful, sleek, average height. built for running and stamina
    β­ƒ mentored by snakehiss / sunstar / / mentoring no one
    β­ƒ small romantic interest in redheart / / sibling to featherspine ; sunlitwing ; bearflight ; singedpaw
    β­ƒ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    β­ƒ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 

tags! β‚ŠΛšβœ§ ゚. Things had been...to say they were rough would have been an understatement. But Windclan would survive- the way everyone comes to join their leader makes Honeyspring sure of that. It's what makes it so easy for Honeyspring themself to make their way from the den and immediate sit, straight and tail curled neatly against their paws, amongst the crowd.

Some of Honeyspring's clanmates seem more nervous in the face of requesting tasks, but they suppose that's to be expected. It waits until things mostly settle, not wanting to accidentally interrupt someone, and then adds their own voice to the list of cats asking for a way to help.

"I can do whatever you need me to."

 
Slateheart had been designated to work with Bluefrost alongside Dimmingsun towards recovery. Recovery - the word is said so much, it almost starts to lose its meaning. Ever since Sootstar died, WindClan had been in a near constant state of recovery. Grimly, Slateheart fears that they may never see the end of it. It is just hairs out of reach, taunting them - whenever they get close, it is brutally yanked away.

His pessimisms won't really stop him from contributing, though; even if he knows it'll all be for naught, should this cycle continue. It's his job now, more than ever, to oversee the safety of WindClan, to help his Clanmates flourish. The black-pelted warrior approaches strongly, keeping his chin level with Sunstar and his muscles warmed for work until his head must dip in respect. "I can leave camp. I will go wherever you would have me."
  • slate-page-doll-low-res.png
    slate slatepaw slatetooth SLATEHEART
    ━━ MOOR-RUNNER WARRIOR of WINDCLAN
    ━━ 24 MOONS,, ages every 6th
    ━━ LYNXTOOTH xx ADELAIDE xx SILVERFOOT
    ━━ SIBLING to GRAVELSNAP and ASHPAW
    ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
    ━━ MENTOR to BEEPAW | MENTORED by LYNXTOOTH
    ━━ HEALTH β™₯︎β™₯︎β™₯︎β™₯οΈŽβ™‘ | generally healthy, but experiencing shortness of breath.
  • 78016217_relDzXG2vj7CiMr.png

  • speech is #bbbb88

 
She feel slike Sunstar looks... happier today. And it's not like he walks out here with a big smile on his face, waving his tail and jumping up and down... ( Now that she thinks about it, he's never seen him do that... or like, anyone besides herself, really. WindClan has a serious problem ) But anyways, if anyone can tell these things, it's definitely her. She just knows. Can just feel it. When he's happy, she's happy, so she beams a bright, happy smile up at him when he stands before the clan.

Everyone's so serious... So serious! She and Sunstar are happy, everyone else should be too. They'd be okay as long as they all keep smiling. " Me! Me, me! " she shouts. She'll do whatever she has to.
 
Cottonpaw does not think twice to join the growing crowd surrounding Sunstar. She's sure that she shares their plentiful thoughts - that the world can beat them down again and again, and it is their duty to stand tall despite it. Many voice their wants to help, and though she cannot speak for their leader she hopes that he has warmth blooming in his heart for his eager and hopeful Clanmates.

"I've got some time, Sunstar," the she-cat rumbles, sitting in beside Foxglare. She still has many patients - both she and Wolfsong always seem to have their paws full - but she can manage something in the meanwhile.

[ pre naming, task to be done... post naming ]​
 
Honeysucklekit is tired of waiting to be big enough to contribute to her clan. Scorchstreak has tiredly explained to her too many times now that she's not allowed to leave camp, cannot hunt, and cannot train but the black she-kit is persistent, if nothing else. Cottonpaw, in all her wispy smoky beauty, pipes up to accept a task and she decides in that moment if Cottonpaw gets to do something, she should get to too! After all, she was being given special attention by StarClan just like her cousin!

"Sunstar!" Her voice squeaks above the din of warriors and apprentices answering his call to action, tail waving to grab his attention, "I want to help too!" She is sure that most of these duties will involve leaving camp but there has to be something she can do from home, right? Plus... plus! She and Brokenkit were about to be apprentice aged anyways... what did a couple weeks matter when WindClan sorely needed all the help it could get to rebuild?!

"Please! I'll do a good job, promise!"


  • 'bereft of purpose i beg for direction'
  • HONEYSUCKLEKIT
    - child of wind-swept moors
    - she/her
    - daughter to mintshade and gracklestep

    - a solid pitch she-cat with fern-green eyes
 

Λ–βΊβ€§β‚Š β˜½β—―β˜Ύ β‚Šβ€§βΊΛ– γ€€Vulturekit feels wrong-footed as he approaches the leader. Too many cats surround him, and he is terribly aware of how little his tiny paws can do in comparison to a warrior. He swallows down his nervousness, however. There is a guilt lingering in him, for abandoning his clan in the invasion. There was nothing he could have done - but he worried everyone, and what a cruel thing that was to do.

He wants to be useful. He wants to make things better, and hope that maybe it will sate the lingering ghost of bloodshed. His ears swivel to hear Honeysucklekit's plaintive plea, and he steels himself. "C-c... Can I...?" Their voice is hesitant and wavering, with none of the assertiveness the other kit holds. "I wanna - I want to help." There's a note of resolution creeping into the words by the end of them. Amber eyes look up to Sunstar with something like defiance - perhaps to his own cowardly heart.


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    "SPEECH"
  • VULTUREKIT ⛧ he / they, kit of windclan, five moons.
    β­ƒ a spiky-furred dark tabby with amber eyes.
    β­ƒ skittish and dour, with little time for typical kit games.
    β­ƒ micheal x npc, adopted by periwinklebreeze. sibling to dustkit and bilberrykit.
    β­ƒ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    β­ƒ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
 
[ β˜… starred tasks β˜… have an optional ooc prompt attached! ]

The figures that surround him are enough to overwhelm. The trickle becomes a stream, and his heart breaks open beneath the force of their gathering β€” relief glimmers like a geode's guts beneath the cool glass of his gaze. Many are young. Not kits, certainly not, but young enough that he knows their paws are not too sore to do hard work. And their hearts not too wearied to think it useless. Vulturekit is the last that he sees, a timid figure with a timid voice so quickly after Honeysucklekit's louder pleading, and he answers him first, his voice soft, "All cats in WindClan may help, in their way. You will have your tasks with the rest." A promise, with a small warmth at the thought of the child's sternness. He had not thought their litter a fitting piece of WindClan at the time. They were young, and certainly in need of someone to guide them, but their presence had cost him a lead warrior upon his council. With time he has learned that this may not be so terrible a thing.

But to the others, he turns instead, his mind working as it comes to him: "@PINKSHINE β€” should any other cat dare step foot into our camp, I will not bear a repeat of this. Work with a queen; drill the kits on a place that they may retreat to. A tunnel, or a burrow. Somewhere that may house all of them with a guard, but not so deep that they will stray." The tunnels are dangerous places. Putting them in there. . . he knows that some may outgrow it as they near apprenticeship. But for the young cats they have now, it would suffice. If only as a temporary shelter for those not yet large enough to be held out.

"@SCORCHSTORM, @COLDBITE. You are both among my most skilled of warriors. Hold a training session with our mentors and apprentices. Particularly those that struggle with combat– teach them what you can. We cannot allow any to lag behind." It is something he had considered doing for himself. Now, he feels vulnerable before the both of them. Were his clan not so loyal, would they think him an easy target? Should they decide that his time among them has gone on long enough, would they think him enough to be wary of? Both of his ears pull back briefly before they flick forward once more.

Whatever his worries, they have not thought him weak just yet. He would prove every day that he would not be.

β˜… "Dull work as it may be, the nursery will need reinforced. @slateheart, you say that you can leave camp. Take @honeyspring with you– there are still dead foliage within the moors that will make plentiful reinforcements. Should you find anything more that may be of use, do what you can to repair what was torn through." He had little opportunity to contemplate what precisely might be used, but his warriors' ingenuity knew no bounds.

A thought comes to him. Worry writes itself across his brow in a lowered expression and a cautious tilt of his head. "@rivewhisper. Listen carefully to what I say– the DuskClan warrior that we now hold. Junco." Juncopaw or Juncoclaw, neither mattered in the least. Not with all that they now suffer. "She says that she spent time since leaving DuskClan within the barn. I know. . . she does not speak false, in saying so. Yet we must know more. Speak to the loners in the area. See what they know of her. If she spoke to any of them." Whatever he's searching for, he does not know. Anything to clear his mind, he thinks. To make this path forward. . . reasonable, and sane. Whatever it may be.

β˜… "@CELANDINEPAW, while Dimmingsun is healing I ask that you follow @FOXGLARE. The both of you will assist @cottonsprig in gathering cobwebs." Each word tugs upon the silky strands that press into his throat. The starkness of his demand does not escape him, and though he cannot quite smile over it, a tired amusement does seem to lighten his chest. She has been in training for many moons now. She has seen the cavern carved from his throat and she has cared for him alongside his mate. No matter how terrible things got. He knew she would not fail this task, however boring it may be.

He looks to the last few of their warriors remaining. Quickly, his mind pulls them apart. A grimness weighs on him. The two tunnelers that linger here would make for quite an odd pair. The son of the leader, and the son of the former deputy β€” children of power, and disgrace, and all that stood in between. Yet he could not see them in more different a light than he does now, as he pairs them together. β˜… "@FROSTWIND and @SOOTSPOT, you are both needed in the tunnels. You will take the night watch together, near ShadowClan's border. Should Chilledstar seek to do more than shame their clan at the gathering, we must know ahead of time."

"And @honeysucklekit, @Vulturekit. With all that has happened, our queens need you more than ever." His expression is solemn, without play. They asked to help him, and he will not make light of their work. "Take @Quietcrow with you, and do what you can for those who care for you. Decorate their nests, or bring them prey. Tell them a story. Whatever you do, ensure that their minds are off of what happened." As an afterthought, halfway through his shifting away from them, Sunstar's attention snaps back. He thinks of Brokenkit, and Vulturekit's own disappearance. "And do not leave camp." He looks to Quietpaw to ensure that it gets across.
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  • ooc: I'M SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY! life got chaotic and then mental health got chaotic but mwah mwah thank you all for posting i hope these tasks still spark some fun ideas. if i missed any of you, please lmk in the discord! i think i got everyone but this post got a little chaotic

    β˜… @slateheart's patrol: what you find is definitely not just dead foliage. in a place still struggling after the fire, you stumble across a pile of bones, picked clean, including a skull. it's. . . strange, but you think you recognize it. what kind of creature do you see? could it still be helpful, or do you leave it behind?
    β˜… @cottonsprig's patrol: as dull as the task may be, and as dreary as life has been as of late, cottonsprig decides to make this patrol a little more remarkable. would she host a game or competition of some sort to keep the two engaged?
    β˜… @FROSTWIND + sootspot: though the night is unexpectedly peaceful to begin, nearly lulling the two to sleep, something suddenly rustles in the undergrowth. it doesn't smell of shadowclan, or really any clan at all. what do you see?
  • β†Ÿ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑.  ╱  AMAB  HE - HIM - HIS.  LEADER OF WINDCLAN.  β‹†β€†β‹†β€†β‹†β€†β‹†β€†β‹†β€†β‹†β€„β€„β‹†Μ΄ΜŒΝ›Ν–Μ»β€†β‹†Μ΅ΜΜΏΝƒΜΝΜΌΝˆ ⋆̢̬́̀
    ————  a rogue brought to windclan in a search for greatness, one of sootstar's most loyal warriors turned into her downfall. with a mate and kits to worry about, and now nine lives from starclan with a missing limb, windclan's leader has a lot to prove.

    82190121_9CSsSGfEk2LJ5dF.png
    a large chocolate and white rosette tom with seaglass eyes. the first thing many see when looking at sunstar now is not his proud posture or un-windclan build, but the scarred stump that remains of his front left leg. a wound that would have killed most other cats took one of his lives; not even starclan could repair it.