sensitive topics ALL OUR TROUBLES WILL BE MILES AWAY . . .

[shellpaw]

tonight, she dreams.

not entirely uncommon, though not familiar enough to ignore ; shadows stick to her sleeping thoughts like leeches, lying in the river scum of her mind where she blots the babblewhispering of her homeland until peaceful morning. tonight, she curls in her nest tight — moss drawn near mingling with that of her mottled friend, lilac pressed close for the sunwarmth that emits from pinepaw's short pelt. her nose tucked under the plush of her tail, ears low against the curtail of wind sneaking through the gaping maw of riverclan's apprentice den. sleep finds her easily here, bones worn from the cold of late leafbare . . she eases into the blackness without a thought, awaiting morning in quiet tranquility.

tonight though, there are no shadows. tonight, there is rushing water ; ice, the crack beneath her paws groaning as she steps towards cold, misted rock. . she dreams of greedy, pearlescent mouths — oozing red like the pits of smattered cherries, fragrant darkness pooling at chomping maws. pouring like a stormcloud into the pale earth, rivuleting the alabaster of her paws with a kiss of scarlet warmth. fog ribbons the land around her, frosting rheumy eyes against a whipping front and she can't see, not really. there is fur flying in the white around her and then . . there is a glint of ice blue, snapping, threadbare bones drawn and cold and the red, the red . . ! then. there is only song. birdsong, a coo at the back of her skull like a broken mourning dove. it feels like a dying sigh.

her eyes open before the bleeding rise of dawn, the image of sunningrocks imprinted on her hazy mind.

with a gasp, a snort around the ever - drip of her ruddy nose, she jerks her head upward. her head aches and blood rushes through rabbitveined ears, stumbling to ivory paws like a wounded fawn — something. something, howled her name riverbound. something. something. the stars call to her, she knows it in the sleepdrunk haze of her mind that there would be. reverence pulls her into camp long before weariness leaves her, stepping tenderly around slumbering bodies of younger apprentices and into the buffeting breeze. she shocks awake, ducks behind the stone and lichen of her den and to the icy pathways behind . . memories of her early moons repeat in bigger pawsteps. she leaves through a tear in bramble, out into the algae - ridden night.

a lifelong plague of incorrect decisions, heart driven and whimsy - colored ; a disobedience rosetinted by a cloudy head and ears craned where she believes the spirits guide her. blessed by ancestors that whisper dreams and prophecy and belonging into her head when little else does. the stars speak through frozen waves and she can only answer them in stride. there would lie an answer where they coax her, there has to be ; in the same way she'd ventured out in search of something that could make her an apprentice, she does the same at fourteen moons . . to become a warrior. bravery and foolishness is a line she dances along with tippy toes.

it takes longer than expected for the land to open around sunningrocks. the sky has begun to tint a rosen pink, the first blush of morning oozing crimson across the plumdark clouds — smog curls her paws, pads wet with dew and melting frost building as she treads the slippery river surface. her panic is dulled by skyward eyes, nerves steeled by the need to cross, to see, to find out what called her here. the wind roars against her face and through the cattail, she sees . . nothing. only a wide, empty space and nose too clogged against the breeze to scent a thing. fur buffets around rounded face and she sniffs, feels a tightness grow in her throat and suddenly, the undergrowth shifts behind her.

through her stuffiness, she knows — turns around with a drop of her heart to her paws. tears well. uselessness etches hooked claws into her and tears, tears, tears.

" you, you didnt have to come out here for me, i just . . i thought — " pinepaw would understand. pinepaw was always there for her, even when she did . . this. they were nearly old enough to do it, anyway! if she could only prove herself, if she could prove that she was worthy to be a warrior in the coming moon. with this, probably not, " i thought there would be something here. something that would impress lichenstar enough to, to make me a warrior, something . . i had a dream, and i just thought — "

a dream. humiliation brims her blood hot at the childishness of it ; pinepaw had never been childish. not when they'd seen that twoleg smoke and she'd charged toward it without hesitation, and never once since. now, there would be only consequences for sneaking out if they're caught ; punishment for insolent apprentices, and another moon of restriction. her voice eases into a whine that she swallows into taut throat and finally, finally, shellpaw hangs her head with a hiccuping, " i'm so — sorry. " it had been so stupid . . and all for nothing.

behind her, there is a crunch.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ° 𓇼 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

• i.
• 
• SHELLPAW 𓆉 SHE / HER. FOURTEEN MOONS OLD, APPRENTICE OF RIVERCLAN, MENTORED BY LICHENSTAR ; SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. HAZECLOUD xx LICHENSTAR, NIECE TO SMOKESTAR. PENNED BY ANTLERS ----------------- ° ❀ ⋆
  frail alabaster molly with lilac striping and watery amber eyes.
  
  she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of dovey lilac curls, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore and plush enough to conceal the juts of malnutrition beneath. tufted elderdown fur conceals a body worn fragile by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with stubborn baby fat in others. her face is short - muzzled, framed half mast by eyes coined rheumy, rosen amber. the anemic cold pink - purple at tender paws and nose tell a lifetime of sickness, further made obvious by the feathering weakness in half - whispered tones.
  

  CHRONICALLY ILL ; prone to wheezing and coughing, nose at a constant drip from longterm illness - induced nasal polyps. not contagious.

​

 

[freckleflame]

she isn't sure what brought her out here. not really.

sunningrocks has belonged to riverclan for nearly a moons cycle now, and the frost that layers those slatedark boulders made her paws so cold the water vole never seemed worth it. yet still, ever since her clan mates, her best friend, had come home torn to ribbons from either side of their borders, they'd sung a resentful song to her — a spiteful, petulant tune she followed like a deviant apprentice. maybe she had never grown out of that hotheaded youthfulness, or maybe she'd just gotten it from her father . . sparky certainly had. another sleepless night, another memory of her sister's spattered blood and her fathers mournful wails, nothing better to do than a night hunt — something she'd not done since batwing . . since batwing. she thinks the shadowed tom would be cheering her on from the heavens, if anything.

it was ultimately harmless, she thinks as she treds the chilled undergrowth, evergreen eyes watching the world open beyond the icedry bushes. any fat riverclanner would be lazing about in their nest still ( but hey, freckleflame would too, if she could sleep at all. ), and they wouldn't notice a missing rodent or two. the water trickles a slow crash where the frozen layer had cracked through, a low simmering mist heavy over bank. the wind howls it's way through the trees ( an instinctive glance . . she looks to where she assumes her late leader must have fallen into the depths ). creepy, she thinks with a swallow that tightens in her throat.

the wind buffets tufted ears and she pins them as she crawls her body forward, squinting against the frosted murk that conceals the lower grounds of an otherwise empty sunningrocks. through the cutting gusts she can smell burrowing creatures amongst the cracks of boulder, vole burrowed deep in weeded crevices that urges her forward along the slate points and that alone carves a smug grin into her maw. sweet! she swipes the creature after only a moments wait, breaks its neck with an easy pounce against the rock wall and a quiet snap. a quick, efficient kill that has her pulling it out with a satisfied hum — trespassing she may be, but not without anything to show for it!

the breeze razors her face from the river's direction and beyond the ruddy scent of preyblood, she catches something else . . something salty. fish - like.

that's her luck.

gentle green eyes flit towards the way she'd come. a couple foxlengths onto the river there is a girl, a warriors age but gaunt in a way that made the tortoiseshell grimace — walking with eyes pointed upwards, unseeing in the thick fog. freckleflame ducks into the tall grass around the base of sunningrocks with heart beating quick, cursing a storm beneath her breath and praying the molly hadn't seen ( she could handle her if she needed to . . she looked ready to keel over, anyway. ). she holds her prize close to her chest, listening as the girls voice rises ( stars, was there another one? even worse . . is she crying? ) and praying it is enough to keep her from scenting her against the upwind. only taillengths apart, the lone thunderclanner begins to back up, eyes trained on figures half - concealed in the mist.

only a few steps in, a single twig crunches beneath a clumsy back paw.

all is lost in a moments breath. freckleflame darts upward from the tall grass and meets rosen eyes for only a moment before, frantically lashing out a thick forearm — scoring the first riverclanner in three long gashes across the side of her ivory throat as she whirls to face her. warmth rivulets her claws and she scrambles back a little further, choking back an instinctive apology as the silvery tabby doubles over with a pitiful bleat. her teeth clench harder around her catch ( she would get this home, so help her. ), copper filling her mouth and bleeding from pinkish corners. her eyes flit to the side, towards the way she'd come ; the fern sways invitingly and freckleflame falls to its call, clambering around to dart back into the undergrowth.

ᥫ᭡ ╱╱ 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 - ` ☀︎ ´ - 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙄 𝘼𝙈 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙏

• i.
• 
• AND I AM A WITNESS WATCHING IT​
  FRECKLEFLAME 𖦹 . LESBIAN, SINGLE. SMELLS LIKE SUN - WARMED OAK AND RICH, EARTHY MUSK. TWENTY MOONS OLD. FRIEND & SISTER TO MANY! NAMED A WARRIOR OF THUNDERCLAN ON 8 / 3 / 2023. MENTORING BRAVEPAW! PENNED BY ANTLERS -----------------------------------------
  
  she / her, eldest daughter of the late rabbitnose and sunfreckle. big, fluffy cream - ribboned tortoiseshell with seaglass eyes. she is fire - forged, smoldering ; something bright and voracious, radiant as the blazes that once raged through her homeland. shades of vibrant russet, dousing swathes of shadow and interwoven with ribbons pale cream come to drape like licks of flame over her hulking form. a heft of roundness settles comfortably upon her form in adulthood, padding muscle hardened by her life in the forest and yet still partially concealed beneath a tangled thicket of undergrowth - laden pelt. warriorhood had brought her to full height ; kittypet lineage showing itself in glimpses of rotund paws and tufted, long - furred toes set upon thick, tabby - splotched limbs. she is broad shouldered and square - jawed, wild cheek fur like the blazing edges of a red sun — a mirrors image of her father, sunfreckle, and just as warm.
  

  A LARGE, ATHLETIC MAINE COON MOGGY. somewhat brutish in the wake of her family's staggering loss, bull - headed and hardy with something to prove, freckleflame will often find herself in border disputes as an unsurprisingly formidable opponent. a slow but hard & heavy hitter.

​

 

[Pinepaw ⭒]

-ˋˏ ༻ ❆༺ ˎˊ- Pinepaw's sleep is often empty and black, and its spell is fragile. The dappled apprentice dozes with her nose tucked below an ivory forepaw, and when the faint rustling of Shellpaws departure begin to pull Pinepaw from her dreamless rest, there's a new cold nipping at her scarred flesh.

It is without a second thought that Pinepaw follows on her friends heels, the camp they are supposed to be leashed to forgotten as the younger apprentice trails her venturing companion; because, what was more important than her? What if… she needs me.

Rime-coated flora slides against coarse dappled fur as Shellpaw's scent leads her towards Sunningrocks. Truthfully, Pinepaw hadn't been since the battle- not on purpose, she doesn't think. A mere coincidence.

When there is nothing but a wall of withered undergrowth between the two, Pinepaw is quick to shoulder her way through it, lacking the same grace Shellpaw carried herself with. When the lilac tabby spins to face her, Pinepaw has barely uttered a breath, tears are welling within brown-sugared depths, and Shellpaw's beautifully delicate features are warped with something the tortoiseshell doesn't understand. You didn't have to come out here for me. "Why wouldn't I, Shells?" Words finally get a hold of the girl's tongue, and honey-speckled ears are driven backwards.

Then, the words begin to spill from the others maw while rose-reflected tears threaten to do the same. Pinepaw's features pinch as Shellpaw explains what brought her here, and the tortoiseshell can practically feel the shame that scorched her friends expression, words…

And what could Pinepaw do? What could she say? Shellpaw was not strong like her, her lungs did not allow for sustainable stamina- everything a younger Pinepaw had feared was unfolding right before her eyes; Shellpaw had long outgrown the apprentices den, and her fragility was something that could not be ignored. Pinepaw's face steels after a moment, she had made an unspoken promise moons ago, one the apprentice did not intend to break now. "Shell… Shellpaw-" we're in this together, Pinepaw wants to say; wants to sweep the other towards her and promise to make everything better.

Crunch.

What exactly happens next is lost on Pinepaw, as the enemy warrior springs up on her blindside- the only thing her singular honeyed hue catches clearly is the sight of a brindled limb slashing across Shellpaw's throat, ripping silken flesh. Something erupts from the scarred tortoiseshells chest, a contorted yowl. The ThunderClanner is fully captured in her fiery gaze now, and there is little time to tend to Shellpaw, because before Pinepaw would let the trespasser slip from her claws, she lunges. Red etching at the corners of her half-gaze.

Extended forepaws would collide against the larger she-cat's body as she tries to clamber away, intercepting her attempt at an escape. Iciclefang had drilled Pinepaw's raw strength into their training from the beginning, and- despite its oak-laden origin- today it serves her well as the stone surface vibrates under the RiverClanners claws when the ThunderClanner would come crashing down, the smack of their skull hitting the ground sending chills up Pinepaw's spine. You're mine.

And then, quicker than a blink of an eye, the brawny she-cat is upon the enemy like a hound. For a heartbeat Pinepaw feels like she is towering over the other- until the heat of the moment is shattered by the flicker of recognition in the other's eye. You know who I am.

The trespasser's fate had been sealed the moment her claws touched Shellpaw, but now Pinepaw's lips curved upwards in sick satisfaction as she goes for the throat. By the time Pinepaw's fangs find purchase against the enemy's windpipe, the only thing she regrets is not time to say something- about Shellpaw, Stormywing, Flamestar… no; she bleeds the life from her friends attacker as swift and silent as she was ruthless.

When the apprentice lifts her head, it is now her muzzle that is streaked with crimson. And Shellpaw… Shellpaw- turning away from the body, the bloodlust that had consumed her being only moments ago was gone; when she went to kneel at Shellpaw's side now, it is only worry that her marred features wear. "Are you okay?" Please be okay.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── AND I BEG TO BE TESTED ⋅ ࿏ ⋅ BY GODDESSES RESTING ──┐‎

• 

• 
  PINEPAW ✩ she/her, apprentice of riverclan, 11 moons.
  ⭃ brawny coarse-furred tortoiseshell she-cat with large, white dipped forepaws, a white tail tip and muzzle. Her left eye is scarred over and blinded, while her right eye is honey-hued and almond-shaped.
  ⭃ apprenticed to Iciclefang.
  ⭃ daughter of Iciclefang && Stormywing ࿏ sister to Cragpaw && Crabpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[freckleflame]

she is only tail-lengths from the grass when a solid weight catches her from the side and, with as much grace as she'd ever had, freckleflame hits the ground.

there is another crunch. this one is louder — she thinks, can't be sure. pain flashes across her temple.

her skull erupts with terrible ringing. her paws and ears and eyes feel fuzzy in a way she's never felt, lids slipping back open to a sky that dances in slow, swirling waves — agony throbs down her spine and the first thing she notices, aside from the stinging bite where the tortoiseshell still holds her to the spattered ground, is that her head feels wet. too warm for the leafbare chill, too warm for the oozing cold in her veins. the molly looms, fills her nose with the reek of fish and brackish water and something dribbles from the side of her mouth that isn't sickness. copper coats her tongue.

freckleflame's drooling head flops to the side with great, heaving effort.

a spatter of blood stains the grey sand aside her, an oblong stone dripping thick crimson from where it had struck her skull upon awful impact. though she does not twist, her haunches kick out in a desperate, seizing urge to protect herself — to find she cannot move. not easily, at least ; with bones suddenly heavy, heavier than lead, she only succeeds a pitiful twitch. nausea rolls in her belly ( not, for once, from nerves alone. ) and slowly, slowly, drags bleary gaze back into the lone, smoldering sun.

a single eye bares down at her. ribbons of freshly healed scar tissue tangles around familiarly white - smattered muzzle, a ghost of riverclan's disgraced lead warrior with an eye she'd seen since childhood. the same, bright gold as stormywing. recognition settles sluggishly in unfocused meadow - green gaze and, miraculously, a bud of hope blooms in her toiling belly ; this cat had thunderclan blood.

the sting of claws in thick shoulder fur is a secondary bite to her dizzy pain and, with a tacky smack, she opens her mouth — stop. her claws catch on the ground, scrabbling up dust as if it would help her fat tongue find the words that only come out as a garbled, frantic grunting. i need help, she wants to say, despite the blaring hatred in the girls eye. her head spins and aches and screams for gentlestorm's healing paw and . . she doesn't want to die. she doesn't want to die. not for something so stupid, impulsive, unimportant — not for a vole, cast away a foxlength by her fall. her sibling had passed standing their impossible ground, her father biding time for his loved ones . .

i know your mother, ricochets in her mind even as pearly fangs dip to her throat because thunderclan blood ran thick. loyal. we grew up together.

but jaws close around her throat and her lids are already fluttering low, colors bleeding, sound warping. images of roeflame, wolfwind, howlingstar, burnstorm, batwing, tansyshine tumble behind slipping eyes. she feels light, too cold between the ears where blood began to cool in the late leafbare frost ; through it all, disappointed. frightened. tears streak clean through the matted cheek fluff, shadows biting at the edges of her vision and sending panic jackrabbiting her heart. the riverclanner shows her no humanity, and freckleflame loses her own with each rivulet of blood that soaks into the ruff of her neck. there was more she wanted to do. her nieces, her nephews were still in the nursery and . . shed promised her father a sunkit.

teeth finally snap closed around her windpipe. she rattles a final, harsh uptick of breath . . before falling blessedly still, forever unsatisfied.

ᥫ᭡ ╱╱ 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 - ` ☀︎ ´ - 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙄 𝘼𝙈 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙏

• i. 12/27/2024 < / 3
• 
• AND I AM A WITNESS WATCHING IT​
  FRECKLEFLAME 𖦹 . LESBIAN, SINGLE. SMELLS LIKE SUN - WARMED OAK AND RICH, EARTHY MUSK. TWENTY MOONS OLD. FRIEND & SISTER TO MANY! NAMED A WARRIOR OF THUNDERCLAN ON 8 / 3 / 2023. MENTORING BRAVEPAW! PENNED BY ANTLERS -----------------------------------------
  
  she / her, eldest daughter of the late rabbitnose and sunfreckle. big, fluffy cream - ribboned tortoiseshell with seaglass eyes. she is fire - forged, smoldering ; something bright and voracious, radiant as the blazes that once raged through her homeland. shades of vibrant russet, dousing swathes of shadow and interwoven with ribbons pale cream come to drape like licks of flame over her hulking form. a heft of roundness settles comfortably upon her form in adulthood, padding muscle hardened by her life in the forest and yet still partially concealed beneath a tangled thicket of undergrowth - laden pelt. warriorhood had brought her to full height ; kittypet lineage showing itself in glimpses of rotund paws and tufted, long - furred toes set upon thick, tabby - splotched limbs. she is broad shouldered and square - jawed, wild cheek fur like the blazing edges of a red sun — a mirrors image of her father, sunfreckle, and just as warm.
  

  A LARGE, ATHLETIC MAINE COON MOGGY. somewhat brutish in the wake of her family's staggering loss, bull - headed and hardy with something to prove, freckleflame will often find herself in border disputes as an unsurprisingly formidable opponent. a slow but hard & heavy hitter.

​