a wispy willow | a small success

[BONERIPPLE]

Early morning has come and it is slowly becoming sunhigh. Her paws silently press against the cold wilted grass as she quickly stalks a water vole. It has been slow going so far, but she has patience. She has the means to wait it out if it means getting a meal for someone who needs it. Her own stomach grumbles and though she knows she is with kits the woman does not wish to stop what she knows how to do best. Luminous burning eyes narrow as she keeps her sight on the vole, tail still and belly barely brushing against the ground. Her plump form shifts slightly as she takes her time stepping forward, one paw at a time. Then she settles, keeping herself absolutely still as the vole comes closer and closer to her. As silent as the place she heralds from the molly waits and them like a steel trap she launches herself forward. Claws sink into flesh and teeth find purchase as she grabs onto the piece of prey. For a moment it squirms and then there is nothing.

Blood paints her teeth but she merely turns to head back to camp. At least it will do for someone. Even if it is a scrawny and meager thing. Food is food and she makes her way through the reeds. Her ears twitch as she listens to the sluggish movements of the river. Wondering how long it will be before she is a true Riverclanner, forgetting about her beginnings.​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

He missed a lot in his feverish haze hadn't he? It almost felt like the entire clan had been playing a joke on him when he'd been told he was out of it for several days rather than just the partial one he expected upon waking. Supposed this infection nonsense was more serious than he though, well, if you went by how mad Beesong was at him for scratching some leaves off himself then sure. He had no idea how poorly he'd been because he had such a high threshold for pain and a tolerance for feeling uncomfortable. Smokethroat didn't make much of a fuss over it though, some good had come from the ordeal and not just the rabbit that filled the belly of every apprentice that night; he couldn't say he was entirely bothered that he had to lose an eye to avoid what would have been a long time coming, but if it kept him out of awkward conversations then it was well worth it. Not that he'd say as much out loud, he'd be scolded for the foolishness of the belief.
The dark tom's head settled on his paws as he peered out across the camp, watching the clan move around him while he remained stationary; just a few more days Beesong had said, to make sure nothing was still soured, to make sure everything healed correctly; pah. Whatever. He listened because he had the sense to acknowledge when another cat knew better than him, unlike Willowroot's stubborn ass. Unlike...apprently this woman too.

Bonejaw. ShadowClan's medicine cat, well...not anymore. This was the cat Cicadastar had compared him too, but he hadn't understood it at the time. Was a little more clear now. Stubborn. She was a real surprise to find out about, full of kits and now in RiverClan and apparently hauling her round ass around without much a concern for her well-being. Typical she-cats, they all got pretty foolish when told to stop being productive, but it would be hypocritical of him to say he didn't understand why. He thrived in being useful, contributing, this wound had put him down for longer than he'd ever willingly sit for. "Getting comfortable?" He voice drolled out, gravel-toned and monotonous, "You might consider getting more comfortable given your...circumstances. Sit. Eat. Stop giving our medicine cat conniption fits."
Only HE was allowed to cause Beesong annoyance. It was his StarClan given duty.

​

 

[DogTeeth]

" Carrying future Riverclan warriors and still out-hunting everyone… you’re an amazing lady " he squints around a tired smile, his words threaded in a way to hopefully make the former marshlander feel more welcomed. That her children would be cherished as any River-born.

His ribs jut, and his movements are slower as he pads across camp, Ocean eyes shifting to Smokethroat with a quiet respect. The poor guy was as stubborn as he was brave and worthy of his title. His words come out ironic, earning a frail chuckle from the blonde but he’s otherwise unwilling to call out such measures. " It’s so good to see you awake… " he spoke to the intimidating warrior. " The medicine den was swarmed, you’re so very loved " he commented softly.

" He’s right though-… you should take it easy. " it’s spoken quieter, his glassy hungry stare shifting away from the two as he considers taking Minnowpaw out for a hunt. The exhaustion he feels with every breath though, makes a solid argument.

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OOC INFO REF

• —
  
  
• — Dogteeth
  — twenty-five moons
  — voice ref
  — warrior of Riverclan
  — gay | crushing on n/a
  — small curly-furred blonde and tan tom with blue eyes.
  — very gentle soul / easily upset and sensitive
  — deals a nasty bite
  BIOGRAPHY——— ✧
  
• 
  
  

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[BONERIPPLE]

Her first steps back into camp are met with the monotonous tone of one of the lead warriors. Gently she keeps up the prey she caught, making her way to the pile where she places it. A pink tongue quickly swipes along her jaws before she turns to face Smokethroat, a small look of thought on her face. She heard about the incident with Windclan and she sees the devastation of it. But she understands battle and the want to protect what belongs to them. A soft chuckle leaves her throat then as she shakes her head a little. "There is a lot to be done still. I haven't seen Beesong since I got here." Truthfully she is not sure how to approach the medicine cat and she carefully sits down where she is. Her thin body definitely makes her look like she is about to pop and she glances around to look at the other that speaks to her. Carrying future Riverclanners. He is right.

These kits will only serve Riverclan. And she hopes they will not seek out her past or that place in the marshes. Her tail twitches with worry before she smiles, a feeble thing. But she appreciates the compliment of out hunting others. It is just a scrawny piece of prey. "Well, I'll find the time to rest when I find at least a couple more pieces of prey. I want to try and alleviate some of the hunger if just for a day."​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

His ears flick to Dogteeth's comment, a rare display of bashfulness briefly flits across his maw before he is rigid and stonefaced once more; lips curling as if annoyed by the remark when really it had all been quite humbling for a cat who felt his purpose only worthwhile when he was giving to his clan.
"Please do not remind me, I tire of being coddled like a newborn kitten.." A most blatant lie his pride allowed him to make, there was something comforting in knowing he wake up now in a shared nest and with no real concerns outside the usual clan burdens. He would be working twice as hard the moment he was cleared, down an eye but no less aware of everything going about the clan like the sun above itself; fire touched and looming.

There is an odd hesitance to her comment when she says Beesong's name and he mulls it over quietly in his head, uncertain of how to place it but he recalls the incident that caused WindClan and ThunderClan both to lose their medicine cats; over some persona vendetta against the black and white she-cat apparently. He had no idea, none of it had concerned RiverClan yet Beesong had been witness to the display; the cinnamon tom kept any feelings or judgement to himself. "Sit. Give us poor bastards who can't leave camp new company." Him. Specifically. His repeat of the request for her to take a seat is the same as before but there is a slightly more stern tone to it this time around.
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