iciclefang
family. duty. honor.
- Aug 10, 2022
- 679
- 153
- 43
Iciclefang wounds her lean tortoiseshell body away from the kits curled in her nest, her shoulders tightening at the panic heightening the voices outside the nursery. Lichentail stands, a cluster of Clanmates wreathing around them—the deputy’s eyes are wide with blue panic. “Smokestar,” the gray warrior chokes on her words as if they are bones lodged in her throat. “The gorge.”
Her breath stutters. “No,” she protests, to no one, to everyone who might be near her still. Some of the kits have roused—little Shellkit, Smokestar’s kin, and Robinheart is at the mouth of the nursery with tears slipping down her mottled cheeks. Hazecloud departs, goes to her mate on cloudlike paws, presses storm-gray fur to Lichentail’s side. The warriors, in their confusion, vow to search the waters.
Iciclefang longs to join them. She wants to be on the riverbanks, paws churning through rapids, searching for the cat who’d mentored her and taught her all she knows. An image comes to her of one glaring amber eye, of teeth flashing through WindClan fur, of battering claws and a battle-hardened body slipping through dark waters. Smokethroat—Smokestar—is gone?
She can only watch in stunted silence as the patrols arrange and begin to depart. “No,” she murmurs again, and this time the word stretches, tries to break before it can conclude. He has to be clinging to life somewhere—he has to be washed ashore, lungs full of the river, resurrected time and time again by StarClan. They will find him.
Her breath stutters. “No,” she protests, to no one, to everyone who might be near her still. Some of the kits have roused—little Shellkit, Smokestar’s kin, and Robinheart is at the mouth of the nursery with tears slipping down her mottled cheeks. Hazecloud departs, goes to her mate on cloudlike paws, presses storm-gray fur to Lichentail’s side. The warriors, in their confusion, vow to search the waters.
Iciclefang longs to join them. She wants to be on the riverbanks, paws churning through rapids, searching for the cat who’d mentored her and taught her all she knows. An image comes to her of one glaring amber eye, of teeth flashing through WindClan fur, of battering claws and a battle-hardened body slipping through dark waters. Smokethroat—Smokestar—is gone?
She can only watch in stunted silence as the patrols arrange and begin to depart. “No,” she murmurs again, and this time the word stretches, tries to break before it can conclude. He has to be clinging to life somewhere—he has to be washed ashore, lungs full of the river, resurrected time and time again by StarClan. They will find him.
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Iciclekit.Iciclepaw. Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
— “speech”, thoughts, attack
— 23 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
— mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring Cicadapaw ; previously mentored n/a
— riverclan lead warrior & queen.mudpeltx icesparkle, gen 2.
— former mate to Stormywing ; current mate to no one.
— penned by Marquette.
sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.