border ah, i'm giving up control .. drop-off

[hollowcreek]

( ✧ ) The retreat had been a complete mess and Hollowcreek had been nearly stubborn enough to let himself fall in battle if it meant fighting for Sootstar. He was just selfish enough to have some self-preservation still, but he did not flee to immediately follow Granitepelt's trail. Another trail had his attention and in his flight he followed that instead. No thoughts of clarity to question why he going after the very cat he had sworn to never share even a fleeting feeling of care for again.

Bloodied paws stumble across the cold earth after the scent trail, recognizing where it was leading him as he came under the cover of oak trees. Hollowcreek glanced around to catch a glimpse of mottled fur but paused when he noticed the tinge of blood. It was faint, but recent enough he could assume it had come from Harbingermoon. He steered for where they would often spend their nights alone, away from the tensions of the Clan. There he heard it, the weak and quiet mewls of kits within the stump.

"What... Where-?" Kittens, three of them, sprawled in a haphazard pile. Hollowcreek pressed his nose to their fur, cold but not like ice just yet. They squealed in hunger but there was no other cat to be found. There was no doubt in his mind these were Harbingermoon's, though. His path had led to this very stump where they grew to know each other like one's own paw. The little seedling that told him he was the father to these kits as well tried to speak but he took a step back to bury it once again.

They needed to get somewhere warm, somewhere that had food. No better option than to dump them where they had an equal chance to be found just in time or too late. It was a struggle to manage all three kittens to carry but they were so small (as leafbare kits often were) he found his fitting and started his way back for the moors. Confusion filled his thoughts regarding Harbingermoon. Had he really abandoned them to the throes of the cold where no one may find them until it was too late? He didn't think the tom capable of such neglect. His list of questions only grew when Harbingermoon's scent strengthened once again as he grew closer to WindClan's border- blood twisted like an omen once again. This time too much for him to brush off as coincidental with the fight they just left behind. Enough to make him rethink lingering any longer than he had to.

The three are dropped unceremoniously from his maw. Hollowcreek doesn't spare them another glance before he kicked up the pace to create as much distance between himself and the border, leaving to regroup with the remainder of Sootstar's followers.

// @Grasskit @MIDNIGHTKIT @whitekit
​

( I SEE YOUR COLLARBONE ; AND WANNA LOSE CONTROL )

 

[sunlitpaw]

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣

• keep scrollin
  #9b7143
  
  

  ---

  
  
• Sunlitpaw

  
  Is proving their worth​
  
  
  

  kit
  skittish
  inquisitive
  experience: untrained
  backstory: royalty
  biography: [HYPERLINK]
  credit to punk for the clangen code :3
  

  nonbinary [they / she]
  eyes: green
  pelt: chocolate torbie
  fur length: long
  parents: wolfsong and sunstride
  6 moons
  
  
  

  ---

  ​

Hunting was hardly a strong suit of Sunlitpaw's, but they were capable of making due when they could. Some days they could successfully catch two mice in an outing, and others they would come back empty-pawed. Sunlitpaw volunteered for most hunting patrols they were eligable for, no longer having a mentor to tail along but still needing some form of warrior escort outside of camp. Not that Sunlitpaw wished to venture out on their own - oh no, that would mean death with utmost clarity. She shuttered to think of being ambushed by the loyalists, of turning into yet another martyr for a war she never wished for. A war she had no right to. Stepping out of camp for hunting gave her the ability to run from such a responsibility, the fact that she had shed no blood - whether their own or another cat's - she could make up for in the blood of prey to rejuvenate their wounded... surely. Being out of camp meant being away from Sunstride. A tough bone they'd yet to chew through.

Birdsong was the easiest to follow, crouched low in the grass and following the sound more than the scent of prey. Sunlitpaw detached from the patrol to follow nearby chattering between songbirds trying their best to unearth seeds between frost-kissed grass and through snow-covered soil. The apprentice crept forward carefully, one silent pawstep at a time. The chirping grew louder, closer, until Sunlitpaw could scent them heavily through the grass with a parted maw. Glimpses of brown feathers through the grass tell them they're close enough to strike, settling their weight back and wiggling their haunches to launch forward. The cries of kits catch Sunlitpaw's attention instead, head whipping up and scaring the birds off with a clatter of wingbeats and little screeches of alert. As easy as it was to be disappointed by such an easy fumble of a catch, Sunlitpaw's ears were acutely attuned to something that certainly didn't belong in the fields.

Standing up above the grass they can see the ears of their fellow hunting party, searching for their own prey. Against their immediate better judgement, curiosity led their paws closer to the sniveling and crying. Upset kit sounds, not the sound of newborns content at their parent's belly. Sunlitpaw steps through the grass to find three squirming bodies in the snow, eyes blowing wide in horrified shock. There was no blood to be seen, no indent of a body in the snow - they hadn't been delivered here, they hadn't lost their parent at the paws of StarClan, they'd been left here. Hollowcreek's scent lingers in the air, a single set of pawprints visible in the snow before disappearing as the wind sweeps the disturbed snow away. Was this - was this a trap of some kind? Oh, stars - "HEY, UM, THERE'S - THERE'S KITS OVER HERE!" Sunlitpaw yells over their shoulder, gaze sweeping nervously around them. It was hard to hear much over the gentle complaining of the kittens and the blood rushing in their ears. They're joined swiftly, and the tension drains slightly from their anxious frame. What were they supposed to do..? "Do we... bring them back?" They didn't deserve this. They were more than the sins of their parents, whether they were left here to find a better home or to slowly succumb to the elements. Sunlitpaw was confident they'd be given a better chance without the shadow of Sootstar and her followers over them, even if a piece of such a time ran in their blood. Should they warm them up..? Should they hurry up and take them back? Sunlitpaw had not a clue.

​

 

[cottonsprig]

"Useless..." Cottonfang murmurs, her paw stamping out a stubborn weed that she had foolishly mistaken for something newleaf born. A piece of her wishes for the new season to come to pass sooner, to leave behind this blood soaked leafbare and find new hope and love. Unfortunately, the snow would not end so soon, and neither would the tragedy.

Her tail twitches, head angling towards Sunlitpaw as the apprentice shouts through the frigid air. What? She counts on her toes all of the pregnant queens they've had recently, worried that one decided to have their litter out of the safety of the hollow. She would imagine the territory a more dangerous spot, unless an anxious queen feared that Sootstar would break free. Regardless, white paws rushed towards the apprentice, ears pressed to her cranium.

They're so... little. And she notes the same things Sunlitpaw does - the lack of a prominent milkscent, the angry, hungry cries of the kittens. Hollowcreek's scent lingers but is long gone by now. "Yes," the medicine cat apprentice decides. "Yes, of course we do. We will not leave kittens in the snow," her tone is desperate, as if she's enforcing new rules on them all. This is no longer her mother's Clan - and these kittens are innocent of their parents' supposed crimes. She'll argue with Sunstride if she must - but she finds that she doubts that she will have to.

"Can you carry one, Sunlitpaw?" she asks, pressing her nose to the pelt of a kitten before attempting to scruff and lift it.​

 

[whitepaw]

Curled between his two siblings, the unnamed kitten is shivering, wrapped up in the cold embrace of the leafbare snow. Even the shivers are weak, though, having grown less and less prevalent the longer he has sat out in the cold, freezing, leeching what warmth he can from the two soft bodies beside him. Even being carried has brought little warmth, as the body that had grabbed them hadn't lain with them, hadn't shared its heat with the three little ones. He doesn't even bother to let out an indignant mew at the poke of a nose, something he might have done had he been less weak, kept in warmth and heat with access to milk. Instead he just gives a weak little wriggle, before going limp when lifted by the scruff, fight gone out of him by the action.​

 

[FOXGLARE]

⁀➷ The most recent tally to Foxglare's list of regrets was not killing Granitepelt when he was presented the opportunity to. He rehashes the feeling of fur and flesh slipping out between his jaws as the slime-ridden excuse for a cat ducked out of his hold and bolted for the hills with a lashing tail. Wasn't nothing he could do about it at this point, but the irritation still sparked beneath his skin as he sniffed around for prey that morning.

Sunlitpaw's shouting shocked him upright and it was at first imagery of a gang of exiles— spitting venom and hungry for retribution—that had him running over. They were met instead with cold, tiny bodies and the lingering smell of a traitor. Sunlitpaw raises a question, and Cottonpaw is quick to make her judgement. Thankfully, she voices what Foxglare thinks is the only real option they have. What would've been the point, he thought, of all this—of the war—if they would just be cats that left newborns to freeze?

"Course," he affirms, "They'd die otherwise." Foxglare would back up Cottonfang, if push came to shove, but there had to be nothing that could be argued against the lives of brand new kits... He casts a glance at the apprentice and finds himself thanking whatever it was that led them to be close enough at the right time, "Don't know how long they'd've lasted out here."

He focused once more on the kittens below and attempts to scruff another of the three, hoping to get them out of the snow sooner than later.

HOW COULD YOU THINK, DARLIN', ⁀➷☾⁺₊ I'D SCARE SO EASILY?

• OOC: quick mobile post!!
• 
• 
  — sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
  — he/him. 14mo moor-runner of windclan
  — a large, scarred white and golden tabby tom with grey eyes
  — smells like wet oak and dewy sedge
  — sounds like leon kennedy, with a vague texan drawl.
  — the straight-faced and taciturn adopted son of houndthistle, lived as a twolegplace loner until 7 moons old, now a moor-runner of windclan. resilient, but not invincible. the continued stresses of war and a significant loss have led him to hold fast to his strict internal moral compass for fear of faltering.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — hs by ava, fullbody by antiigone
  — penned by eezy

​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

Was it a curse that Hollowcreek and Harbingermoon's children had been separated from them, or a blessing in disguise?

It was a question that Rattleheart didn't really have an answer to, nor did he see any value in dwelling on it. The facts were that Harbingermoon's blood had been spilled upon the moors, and Hollowcreek's scent was already fading by the time he followed after Sunlitpaw's frantic cry. Neither of the trio's parents was still around to take care of them, and the tunneler refused to let them be more casualties of a war they hadn't even existed for. They wouldn't suffer just because of the blood that ran through their veins, and he was prepared to fight tooth and claw to advocate for them - not that he was particularly worried about it. Harbingermoon and his children had already been offered safety and shelter from the harsh realities of the world outside of Windclan once by Sunstride. Just because he hadn't taken up their offer didn't mean that his kits couldn't.

The thought of him so frantic and uncontrolled still lingered in Rattleheart's mind, a suffocating vision that had only ended when the former "lead warrior" had signed his own death warrant.

There was a certain heaviness to his step and to his gaze as he moved over to one of the little mewling bodies, relieved that they had even survived this long in the unforgiving leafbare cold. "Let me. Sunlitpaw, can you go and grab Sunstride if he's not already nearby? I know he won't let these kits suffer, but he'll want to know they're here." At least they already had queens in the nursery that could take care of them, a relief that hadn't been available when Blizzardkit had shown up at the barn - even if they had ended up being already weaned. These three didn't have that luxury, clearly only vaguely even aware of the entirely new world that they were at the mercy of.

His heart clenched as he finally picked the last of them up by the scruff, his voice muffled by kitten fluff when he turned back towards camp. "Their father certainly won't be coming back for them, so it's best we get them to camp before long." His voice was practically forced into a calm neutrality, rather than the pained anxiety that was actually filling up his entire form. He prayed silently to Starclan that they would all feel alright, even with the ghastly circumstances that had surrounded their birth and early life so far.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[Grasspaw]

𓆝 . ° ✦ The fawn tom kit let out an indignant whine at being picked up. His fur bristled as the cold air pierced through, the slight warmth of his siblings taken away. He scrunched into as tight of a ball as his little body could manage, shivering. The scent of this cat he didn't recognize, but felt somehow comforting. Shortly after, finding himself and his siblings again plopped down, colder even still. His stomach growled loudly, and with it, he mustered up a cry that he hoped was loud enough. This just had to be uncalled for. Pressing against his siblings and trying again, maybe if he's loud enough his parents would come back, right?
Soon he smelled even more unfamiliar cats, heard unfamiliar voices. And there he was, getting picked up again. He wasn't fond of this, and let out plenty of whimpers of distain and hunger in the process.

✧　°　.　✶　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
• 

  NAME — HE/HIM ･ 1 MOONS ･ KIT & WINDCLAN ･ PENNED BY TWITCHTAIL

  Small fawn tabby with pale green eyes.
  "speak" thoughts action
  — peaceful, healing, and minor injury powerplay allowed

​

 

[rivewhisper]

—————————————————————⊰⋅ ☽ ⋅⊱—————————————————————​

Rivepaw hadn't been reassigned a mentor, but that was fine- she could still participate in learning off of other mentors for now. Her paws stretched, silently appreciative to be outside of a barn smelling of horses, outside a camp she could still imagine snowed over with blood. Her ears flattened quietly, owl eyes searching the undergrowth for any minute movements, quivers of dead grasses above snowfall. Cottonfang wasn't far off, and Sunlitpaw had trailed into another direction.

The shout of her sister caused Rivepaw's head to pick up, swinging towards the source of the noise. Quick paws followed, slightly exerted by the lack of exercise in the last moon. She blew out a hot breath as warriors and Cottonfang alike swarmed Sunlitpaw and- and three kits? Rivepaw's nose wrinkled gently. A noise left her as she stepped up, flank pressing against Sunlitpaw's briefly. "I can go ahead with Sunlitpaw." Rivepaw volunteered, quick words given to Rattleheart.

A knowing look was given to her sibling before she was moving ahead- Sunlitpaw may have made it ahead of her, but as soon as Rivepaw was in camp, her voice lifted, searching for her fathers. Both would perhaps want to know, right? "Father! ðir! We found three young kits on the border!" Vision swept the camp, looking for either sun-touched pelt to reveal themselves. "Rattleheart, Foxglare, and Cottonfang should be on their way back with them now." Rivepaw winced gently, realizing her father may have words for her being out of camp, but she didn't mind. This was more important, anyways.

// @SUNSTRIDE @WOLFSONG rivepaw is calling for youuu

"text"
thoughts​

 

[MIDNIGHTPAW]

The tiny scrap of ebony fur trembled as she lay in the snow next to her brothers, her movements growing still as her already-weak body began to give up. It had been hours since her birth, and every second of that time had been spent in the cold. The sickly kitten barely moved, barely noticed when unfamiliar figures suddenly surrounded them, prodding and grabbing and carrying them away. Everything was numb, and her hours-old mind couldn't focus on anything more than the desperate desire to get warm, to be comforted by the embrace of a father who would never come back for them. The unnamed molly hung limply from the mouth that carried her, the miniscule fluttering of her heart and the ragged rise and fall of her chest the only indication that she had not perished like two poor souls before her.

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── When Wolfsong explained Harbingermoon's condition to him, the feline's reaction had not reassured him of the kits' upbringing. It is perfectly normal to be frightened, of course, and overwhelmed— but to be such a devout supporter of Sootstar...Well. After their flight to the Horseplace, Wolfsong had scarcely the time to think of Harbingermoon's situation, but as the days passed, he thought that the time must be approaching for the kittens' arrival.

And now here they most certainly are, smelling of Hollowcreek and blood where they are held aloft in his clanmates' maws. His stomach twists and he closes his eye a moment. "We will take them to the nursery, of course," he confirms in his mate's momentary absence, though his authority is not truly Wolfsong's. He does, however, have a measure of authority over his children, but it isn't Sunlitpaw who draws his gaze. "We will discuss this later," Wolfsong says lowly, before adding in a normal volume, "I would like to ensure the kits are healthy before putting them at a queen's belly."
​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 41 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  — ★★★☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart and his own pregnancy, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​