camp ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS... // frost

Cottonsprig uncurls from her nest, the distant morning light filtering in to her den. It's the same as any other morning, she thinks - if not for the gentle twinkle she can see on the flora preying on the maw of her den. She blinks several times, simply trying to gauge what's real and what's not, however eventually she pushes to her paws to see for herself. Her paw nudges Celandinepaw as she meanders past, hoping to wake her friend whilst they look upon... Oh, great StarClan.

Their sandy hollow is not the best place for frost to cling; wind blows the tousled dirt around with ease. But as she looks on, she sees many warriors and apprentices stirring with the morning light. And many of them are now accented, too, with the twinkling and frozen morning dew. It's a comical appearance, she'd admit, if not for the vague sense of fear that itches her pelt.

"Am I crazy -" a pause, as if she's daring someone to say she is, "- or is leafbare still... two moon cycles out?" She'd even wager three, if the weather decided to be lazy. But no... it seems that it got overeager this time around.
  • ooc //
  • MEDICINAL KNOWLEDGE
    ♥♥♡ WOUNDS ; can confidently stop bleeding and mend lacerations. will often request that you keep your injury clean and wait it out first.
    ♥♥♡ INFECTION ; as a side effect of likely her own doing, very dutiful with technique and treatment shortly thereafter.
    ♥♡♡ ACHES & PAINS ; will defer to a dark tunnel and rest. if pain persists, maybe she will offer something.
    ♥♡♡ BROKEN BONES ; has never dealt with a broken bone. likely will ask that you never move. ever again.
    ♥♥♥ TRAVELING HERBS ; learned well from her previous mentor. will pile even too many remedies to tough the wilderness with.
    ♥♥♥ KITTING ; having kittens of her own and helped several others with their litters, she is very well versed with calming techniques and quelling pain.
    ♥♡♡ POISONS ; she knows what they are... but that isn't enough, isn't it?
    ♥♥♡ ILLNESS ; having worked through two yellowcough bouts, she is confident in her remedies. much else... she's operating on trial and error.
    ⸻ cottonsprig is a dutiful and excitable medicine cat. she enjoys company and loves conversation. she'd rather not have too many curious noses snooping around her den... but who is she to quell curiosity?
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    ⸻❥ cottonsprig is the primary medicine cat of windclan. a former princess to the moors, she harbors many guilts for her actions throughout her short life. she has no consistent partner, unwilling to commit and settle, and she is training celandinepaw in medicine.
 

She'd had trouble staying asleep last night, and now, as she finally moves to rise from what slumber she was able to get, Sparrowbreeze realizes why.

Cold, she was, as she laid down among the other warriors for the night. The brown tabby thought it to be the usual chill, thought it was just leaf-fall's arrival keeping the air cool. But as amber eyes open, she is greeted with a different scene than what she's used to at this time of year. Her clanmates' fur shimmers in the morning light, and when Sparrowbreeze raises a brown paw, she finds her own does too. Like stars, but she knows better than to assume such, when nothing else twinkles in the same manner — when the air still feels cold against her fur.

This is leaf-bare's doing, rather than the stars'. A friend's voice breaks through the air to question the frost against their pelts, and Sparrowbreeze finds herself seeking out the medicine cat's inquiry, her head turning to face the she-cat's direction. " Maybe... maybe it's a fluke...? " she reasons, though the twist in her chest makes her worry otherwise.
 

:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·: despite only experiencing it for the first time, breezepaw could confidently say there was no joy in waking up to frosted over whiskers. she had tried to groom her pelt, only for her tongue to suffer the same. it made her want to hole up into a tunnel and stay there until the flowers popped back up in the spring.

the apprentice glances over as cottonsprig points out how early it was. breezepaw couldn't be the best judge of that, this being her first experience and all, but it did seem strange that a little over a moon ago they were sweltering and now... this. the way people spoke of leafbare, she should have fear rolling down her spine at the mere mention of its early arrival. but they couldn't do anything to offset it, they'd freeze or they'd find a way to prosper. tufted ears twitch at sparrowbreeze's scramble to put reason to this nonsense. she'd like to believe it was a fluke, that shivering all night was not going to be an everyday thing.

the apprentice held her thoughts to herself, standing to go and find her mentor. maybe she'd warm up again once tucked away underground.



  • BREEZEPAW SHE/HER, WINDCLAN TUNNELER APPRENTICE, 8 ☾.
    a small, yet leggy longhaired blue point chimera with icy eyes and a long tail.
    rattleheart x venomstrike / / littermate to thistlepaw, bunnypaw, splinterpaw, and crunchypaw.
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ battle info
    penned by vayle@vayl3 on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 
Bunnypaw lays curled in the middle of her siblings, feeling most comforted when no side of her is open to attack. Of course, this inherently means that the young apprentice is never comfortable - for the stars watch her with cold intent. They make promises on the wind that she cannot decipher. Her mother, as beautiful in death as she was in life, is watching her surely. Every night she makes a promise - One day, I will find you. And every night, she wonders, Is it tonight?

When she wakes with a shiver, she anticipates that she is dead. Illness has taken her, a fox has bore its ugly teeth into her coat before she could wake - or worst, a bird of prey stole her away and feasted on her pelt. But she wakes, still, and the cold is but a nuisance to her, the thin layer of ice dust on her pelt shaking off with a jolt. Her gaze falls to her siblings, to Breezepaw who stands, and she holds to her forever downturned frown.

"It's cold..." she murmurs pitifully to her littermates, as if they cannot tell.
 
Admittedly, this was a first.

The chocolate tabby shifts in his nest, vision blurred from sleep taking a moment to adjust. Faux brows furrow in confusion as a light dusting of frost clings to his striped pelt, and before he knew it, he was getting to his paws and shaking the particles off of him. His clanmates are just as puzzled as he is at this seemingly early appearance of cold temperatures. Overnight, leafbare had announced its arrival.

A torn ear perks as another warrior suggests that this was merely a random event. Buckfire brushes his paw over the frosted ground, watching as the flecks dance around under his touch. "Could be," The moor runner murmurs in response, slightly tilting his head before flicking molten hues upward to survey the expressions of the other WindClanners. "Or maybe we're in for a long leafbare." He brings up another possibility, one that he was sure that they didn't want to hear. Buckfire has never experienced leaf-fall cut so short, but was it really impossible?

  • OaBYClu.png
    — buckfire / 33 moons / he/him pronouns
    — windclan moor runner / shadowing scorchstorm / former loner
    — sh chocolate tabby w/ orange eyes, bite marks on left foreleg, nick in left ear & scratch on right side of lip
    click for tags
 
⁀➷ Foxglare was awoken more abruptly, a half-frozen dewdrop falling onto his nose waking him with a jolt. He blinks, nose and ears twitching as the clan around him shuffled into wakefulness, sitting up and rising to his paws to observe the shimmering stillness of hollow's frosted-over sands. He glances downward, spotting a misted over dark-tabby pelt curled up in the nest beside his, and leans over to nudge @SEDGEPOUNCE awake, noticing once more that his fur was cold from the sudden chill.

He faces back up to the conversation held by the worried, still groggy Windclanners. It could be one-off, yeah. "Let's hope not..." He muses as Buckfire voices what everyone's probably dreading. He leaves his own 'But...' unspoken, but sweeping his gaze around to the crowd, he gets the sense they're starting to get to the same page. Now was probably a good time to start preparing for the worst.

  • OOC:

  • meztli . sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
    — he/him. 23mo moor-runner of windclan. Mentored by shalestripe. currently mentoring frightpaw. formerly mentored tigersting.
    — a scarred, hulking white and golden tabby tom with gray eyes
    — taciturn, vigilant, reserved, self-righteous, restrained, independent, humanitarian, unyielding
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — penned by eezy
 
Cold...

This is the second time he has experienced it. The morning light spills upon the slumbering bodies of clanmates, but being roused by the sensation of frost clinging to his whiskers made his lips curl in a grimace. With his vision hazy from sleep, he huffs and rubs a forepaw against his eyes. He lets himself roll in his nest... Now on his back with half - lidded eyes glaring up at the sky. Oh great. What was it now? He grumbles underneath his breath, before he raises onto his paws with a fullbody stretch.

She thought it was leaf-fall's arrivel to the hollow. She hasn't really seen leaf-fall much yet. The black smoke lifts her head up to glance over at Cottonsprig when the medicine cat points out it's too early. She wasn't the best judge about the weather. Charcoal - dusted ears swivel forward, letting her gaze observe the shimmering stillness of the frozen - over sands in the once sandy hollow. With the frost decorating across the pelts of her clanmates, she shakes the particles off of hers. The molly felt a shiver run down her spine at the mention of leafbare's early arrivel. It makes him want to burrow underground to get away from the cold. "Did leaf-fall skipped over straight to leafbare?" He grumbles out narrowing his eyes, speaking to no one in particular.
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  •  
  • no ref yet.
  • ( WHAT? THE FACE? ) ꕤ ‧₊˚. SHEEPPAW. ╱ windclan apprentice.
    CLOSETED GENDERFLUID ; HE / SHE
    CURRENTLY 12 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
 
THE CORVIDS ARE CALLING
WARNING THE FOREST A PREDATORS APPROACHING

daisywatcher & 22 moons & feminine & she/they/it & windclan tunneler

Mystic%20Crows%20-%20Deep%20Cyan%20(Large).jpg
" Stars thats cold, " comes mild-voice, along with the sound of chattering teeth, pelt fluffed up near twice its size as she emerges from the tunnels. It's not uncommon for Daisywatcher to stay out all night - the comfort of the tunnels, she claims, far surperior then lazing about the open-air camp. Far warmer too mind supplies, whiskers quivering, and a longing glance sent back towards the way she'd came. Still, she can't avoid the weather forever - and eventually golden-furred molly strolls right on over to join the rest, blinking two-toned eyes doubtfully at cottonsprig.

" Are you sure you didn't count wrong? 'cause it's awfully old for just being leaf-fall, " Maybe the fire had dulled their senses? Or made the signs of leaf-bare seem clearer then they rally were? Anther huff leaves pale lips as tail flicks irritably - she just hopes it doesn't start snowing any time soon. She's not looking forwards to having half-frozen paws after tunneling paths through the powder.

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

A M - I - I N - D A N G E R -- O R - A M - I - T H E - T H R E A T - ?

 

At Foxglare's nudge, Sedgepounce wakes up with a start. "Wugh—huh?" he grumbles. He blinks unseeingly, awareness creeping through him at a snail's pace. Something tickles at his nose—he swipes at it clumsily with a paw and discovers it's his own tail.

Slowly, Sedgepounce unfurls from the tight, uncomfortable ball he'd bunched into overnight, and nearly regrets it when the frosty morning air immediately plagues him with shivers. His rising clanmates mutter similar complaints. They all hover around their mist-blanketed nests with faces akin to lost kittens. Did Leafbare come early? It certainly seems so. The frost, the cold—another rung on WindClan's descending ladder of bad luck. Another cat might see this and scream omen, but Sedgepounce sighs and shakes his pelt, leaving his thoughts behind before they fall too deep into conspiracy.

He cuts toward Bunnypaw near the apprentice nests. "Welp, nothing a good jog around the moor can't fix!" Sedgepounce meows jovially. Already he's started marching in place, staving off the cold with movement. "Let's take a lap toward Rabbit's Run and see if we can't catch some breakfast."

 

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ She awoke to an insufferable aching sensation that weighed down every inch of her brittle bones like a stone dropping with a soulless splash into the depths of abyssal waters that would swallow it whole in its murky shadows. For a moment, she felt as though she was unable to move- the most she could stand to do for herself was twitch and flex slender paws, the effort of such a small feat already enough to make her grimace- the ache would sharpen into a pressurized tug against fragile tendons, and her immediate instinct was to cease all attempt to right herself. She was not so panicked as much as she was frustrated, for this sensation was all too familiar to her, a memory tucked within the back of her hazy mind endlessly throughout the changing of seasons, dormant until the barren chill of Leafbear reared its ugly head. But there was something...different, this time. Oh...But it cannot be... It was too soon, and yet her fragility could never deceive her the way mother nature has now.

As her trembling frame struggled to pull herself onto her two front paws, the effort of it rapidly seeping any remaining energy from her that she could have retained in the hardening weather outside- it would seep out of her like sap from a wounded tree. Her bleary gaze fixed towards the entrance of the den, the buzz of disgruntled and surprised chatter telling her everything she needed to know, reinforcing what she had suspected to be true. "Leafbare has come early!" The revelation made her muscles grow taut beneath paper thin skin. How she lamented the cold, the way it trapped her inside the prison of her own body and made her feel as if she were entirely immobile. It robbed her of her ability to run efficiently on the moors, and the enjoyment that came with it was snuffed out of existence with one swift motion- breath to flame.

But she must face it, she knew. She must look at her tormentor, become one with it, feel it. Starclan knew she felt its clutches already, though this was only the most gentle of its extended claws, a taunting graze to warn her of the violent maiming that was to come. It took her an eternity- or so it would seem- to emerge from her den, the warmth that had encased her only moments before her tender paws touched burning white flame torn from her without remorse or fragility. She moved slowly, her doe-like limbs all but paralyzed as the marrow encased beneath seemed to have frozen solid. She sat herself down with a heavy sigh, ghostly breath billowing outwards like the heaviest fog from inside hollowed chest.

Wraithwail was content to listen to her clanmates discuss their newfound plans to winterize the camp and prepare for the harshest of the weather that had come much too soon. Like a predator to its prey, it had sprung itself upon them with gnashing teeth and unsheathed claws when they had least expected it- when they became just a little bit too secure in a sense of safety that was never promised. She wanted to help, truly she did- but she felt glued to her post, shackled to the ground by none other than herself and the insufferable ache that overtook every inch of her. "Dios mío..." She mumbled with a defeated dip of her silken-furred head.



  • WRAITHWAIL 🥀 she/her, warrior of windclan, 18 moons.
    tall, longhaired white cat with hollow verdant eyes.
    important relationships on this line / / family, mate, apprentice, kids, whateva! [tbd]
    peaceful, healing and minor combative powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    see battle info here
    penned by sloane@encarcerated on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 
WindClan wakes this morning to a layer of glittering white ice coating the ground, the dens and the left over prey. Rushpaw remembers snow from when he was a kit, he does not really remember frost, though he does know what it is. Sparrowbreeze's question of it being a fluke is politely shot down by Buckfire's thought that they might simply be in for a long leaf-bare. Great, just what Rushpaw wanted, a long leaf-bare in the freezing cold tunnels where the frozen solid dirt breaks your claws every time you try and dig spots out. Cool (sarcasm, obviously... not that he needs to clarify his thoughts that no one else can hear but... anyway!).

"Tell that to the weather," he mutters in response to the assertions that this was too early for such cold to come on... the frost covered ground clearly disagreed. "...I'm going back to bed unless anyone wants me for hunting," The offer is there in his words, they would need more prey, and he's more than willing to do some overworld rabbiting if needed... unless shoed into the tunnels for moles, mice or others. He'd still do that, of course, but he wouldn't be as happy about it.



  • ooc -

  • #eb9757

  • (img) rushpaw * he/him * 10 moons
    mentored by npc
    lh cream point; blue eyes
    Peaceful & healing powerplay allowed || underline for attack
    penned by Neptune. || Neptune on disc, dm me for plots
 

It would seem as though Comfreykit is at odds with the frost and chill that the morning brings, as he wiggles his way out from between his siblings only to wish he'd stayed put. Mother and aunt had said that it would be getting colder now, but Comfreykit hadn't expected it all to happen so suddenly - so overnight, as it were. Leafbare they called it, a time for snow, a concept brand new to the little tom, but far from exciting if it meant being cold all the time.

"Rah," he grumbles as he trots away from his nest, sticking out his nose to inspect the frost creeping into the corners of the nursery from the entrance. It felt colder the closer he got to the entrance, and he pulled back, frowning. "Too cold!" He declares, fur ruffled from the experience. He returns to mother and his siblings, but doesn't immediately cozy back up to them. He sits, staring out at world beyond the nursery.