camp AND YOU CAN’T EVEN FEEL YOUR NOSE // frostbite

[STORMYWING]

The blizzard shows no mercy, even within the sheltered walls of camp. Stormywing sits in her nest near the center of the warriors' den, her fur drenched and spiked with frost. Her hunt had been a disaster, leaving her both empty-pawed and bitter. The shame gnaws at her worse than the cold and she curls her tail tighter around herself. She should've caught something, anything. She can't be the cat who broke one of their most sacred laws, giving another clan formidable apprentices, while failing to feed the little ones in ThunderClan. But no amount of determination had helped her in the blinding storm. Her claws dig into the mossy nest beneath her as she scowls, more at herself than at the weather.

On top of her disappointing hunt, her paws have been aching in a way she's never felt before. At first, she'd chocked it up to exhaustion and soreness, but this is beginning to feel…different. It feels sharp, like countless icicles have lodged themselves in the pink leather of her paws. Frowning, she stretches one of her forelegs out, studying her the bottom of her foot. The sight sends a chill down her spine. The pads are pale, almost gray, and they feel stiff when she flexes her toes. She presses them against the ground, and a jolt of pain shoots through the swollen flesh, enough to make her ears flick back with a pained wince. "What the...?" The warrior mutters, drawing the paw closer for a better look.

It's not just the strange discoloration - her pads feel as though they might crack if she presses too hard. This isn't normal. Her pulse quickens, and she runs her tongue over the stiff pads, hoping to warm them, but they remain dry and cold, and the licking does little to ease the pain. Her gaze shifts outside in the direction of the medicine den, where Gentlestorm is likely buried in tending to the wounded from both battles her clan has faced. Logically, she knows she should go to him…but she hesitates. It's just cold. I can handle it, She tries to convince herself. So despite the ache in her pads, she finds herself settling into her nest further, trying to ignore the flicker of fear she feels at the thought of facing the medicine cat again after their last encounter.
​

 

[ROEFLAME .]

-ˋˏ ༻ ☀ ༺ ˎˊ-

Roeflame had missed seeing her friend slip back into camp from her hunt, the deputy's own paws busy managing the growing stockpile of problems to solve, and they seemed to be accumulating like the snowflakes that fall from the sky now; thick, rapid, and unstoppable. At the very least, there was still enough fresh-kill left to keep ThunderClan from starving while they waited out the storm.

Ducking into the warriors den with a huff, Roeflame is mindful to shake the snow from her damp fur before having to pick her way through the nests, the motion sending shivers down the tabby's spine. The den was relatively empty, spare for the odd body or two. "Brrr" The deputy chatters, spotting Stormywing stretching while drawing closer to her own nest.

Her feelings about the ashen warrior were complicated, to say the least. Their talk had done little to soothe the conflict Roeflame continued to struggle with, all the she-cat had to cling to was the solidity of their friendship, and for now, that was enough.

The flash of unnatural gray takes Roeflame off-guard, pitching her brow bones upwards in a silent gasp. What's even more surprising? Stormywing does nothing. "Are you gonna get that looked at?" The warrior prompts after watching her friend settle in deeper, picking her way over. Though Stormywing had already answered that question with her actions, Roeflame pressed further, "Let me see it," and in a slightly lighter tone; "as your friend who's concerned, show me the damn paw."

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── I GOT A POCKET ⋅✴⋅ A POCKET FULL OF SUNSHINE ──┐‎

• 

• 
  ROEFLAME ✩ she/her, Deputy of Thunderclan, twenty-seven moons.
  ⭃ petite cinnamon silver ticked tabby with murky green eyes & a small scar over her left eye.
  ⭃ mate to Burnstorm ☀ mentor to Dovepaw & Dwindlingpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted ☀ underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

The days have crawled by, oozing like the honey Gentlestorm shoves down the throats of his sickening patients. Since the storm has crept in, the bulky medicine cat's den has been something of a madhouse; warriors and apprentices alike had stumbled into a spare nest, their bodies wracked with chills, their noses dripping. Raccoonstripe has spent his days watching his brother's replacement work; it's oddly soothing, he thinks, and makes him think fondly of Berryheart. The gentle tone the oft-brisk medicine cat will take with his patients brings the crooked-jawed tortoiseshell to mind, and Raccoonstripe curls around those memories to keep him warm at night.

Today, he's staggered out of the den, managing to force his own paws to the fresh-kill pile for a change. His lungs are still weak even on the best of days, but the eye has stopped throbbing — for the most part. (He swears he can still feel it, trapped under that eyelid, rolling about and crying to be freed, but he knows that isn't the case. Gentlestorm and Hopepaw had done what they could, but they weren't able to save the eye. He knows that.) Raccoonstripe pauses on his way to the fresh-kill pile, though, single dark eye focusing on Stormywing.

She's examining the tips of one paw and frowning. He can see the way it's swollen, the stiffened flesh, and Roeflame clearly exhibits a similar concern. Raccoonstripe has seen forty-seven moons, and many of those moons had been in the mire, before medicine cats had come into existence. Some of those leafbares had seen leagues of cats wiped out from sickness... and from injuries that could not be treated, from cold-wounds that could not be warmed.

He does not know the name, nor the remedy, but he says, his tone gruff: "You should get that looked at by an actual medicine cat, unless you'd like to lose that paw."

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Raccoon . Raccoonstripe, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — 48 moons old, ages realistically on the 5th.
  — mentored by n/a ; mentoring Scarletpaw and Berrypaw ; previously mentored Wildheart, Moonwhisper
  — thunderclan lead warrior. gray wolf x howlingstar, gen 2.
  — currently mated to Nightbird.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh black tabby with white and a single dark brown eye. charismatic, charming, calculating, ambitious, shallow, manipulative.

​

 

[TWILIGHTPAW]

With the blizzard, many of the nursery residents have been sequestered inside their den. No two paws to stand just out of it and watch the snowflakes fall, no four to prance in the fluffy chill of it all. No child nor pregnant queen could risk the threats of the cold, not whilst warriors did much worse to provide security to their friends and family.

Many, however not all. Stubborn is the little silver she-cat, eager to check on her father and marvel at how he lived despite the gouges taken from him. How long had fear lived in her white-painted chest, that another corpse must lay beneath the snow-swept ground - that another face may be doomed to memory? (What of him would she recall? Would she remember him with both eyes, or the cobweb-and-fur he is now?)

She slithers through camp when she sees him break from the medicine den. Large, now, becoming close to rival her mother's stature (though not quite Raccoonstripe's,) the coal-striked Twilightkit slips in beside him. Golden eyes find Stormywing and remain vague in their intent. Her situation... means little to her. Confusing, given their laws, but Stormywing is still risking her life like the rest of them. Kits are not worked to wonder and demean; they are meant to wallow and wait instead.

"You're hungry," she reminds him of his original course. Roeflame can care for her friend. Her father hardly has four legs to stand on.​

 

[GENTLESTORM]

༄.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — The giant rests in his den for a good amount of time though it goes interrupted when he sees one of his more severe patients begin to stumble out from the medicine den, a soft sigh brushing out from his lips and he pushes himself onto his large paws with a huff. He knows that the medicine cat meeting had likely not happened or if it had been, it's missing a lot of the medicine cats and their apprentices including himself and Hopepaw.

He wouldn't dare his kin getting sick or worse and he will come to learn that it had been a smart decision on his part later that day though he slips out from his den and some of the snow that falls from the curtain-like plants that cover his den is easily shaken off from his broad shoulders. Gentlestorm's quietly thinking over the omen sent to him from Starclan wondering if its the blizzard that he's been warned about but he isn't sure and he keeps checking on those that were present in the vision.

The gruff voice of Raccoonstripe is enough for the silver toned tom to blink his earthy toned eyes and wonder who he's speaking to, he glances in the direction of Stormywing and Roeflame. There's a wave of uneasiness that grips at him immediately wondering if the deputy had caught something from the cold outing but the sight of Stormywing licking her own paws is what causes one of his scruffy eyebrows to arch. Without a word, the healer approaches slowly with his eyes narrowing and hears as the ticked tabby tells the gray warrior to show her damn paw and his large helm tilts to the side still uncertain of what the issue is.

"Show me." It's said without the harshness that he had delivered to the young warrior who had broken the code and it's softer as he addresses the blue tabby hoping that she would be keen enough to show him so that she wouldn't lose that paw like Raccoonstripe claims she might. He doesn't dare get closer and instead, he waits for Stormywing to show him what condition had befallen her paws... Admittedly, it had never been anything that he had dealt with before but that's why he's here so that he may learn and see what he could do for her.

MORNING & EVENING, I FELT LIKE I WAS GRIEVING ᨒᨒᨒ UNTIL I SAID FUCK YOU

• ooc —

• 

  MEDICINE CAT KNOWLEDGE;
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ FLESH WOUNDS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ INFECTIONS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧ ACHES & PAINS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ ILLNESS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧ BREATHING ISSUES
  — ✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ TRAVELING HERBS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ BROKEN BONES
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ KITTING
  — ✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧ POISONS
• 
  ✦ a longhaired blue sepia tom w/low white and copper eyes, several scars cover his body from previous fights that he somehow survived
  ✦ gentlestorm is rarely ever a warm individual and friendly to those who he meets, he proceeds with more caution and he's less likely to trust any strangers that come from outside of thunderclan. he tends to be jumpy if suddenly approached or flinches away from swift movement with his claws unsheathed when it occurs, he apologizes for it. his kindness reserved only for those closest to him otherwise anyone else can expect the cold shoulder from the old tom
  ✦ 61 moons old; ages the 27th every month
  ✦ widowed mate of little wolf ; currently interested in no one
  ✦ semi-difficult to befriend/interact with ; quick to strike/attack first if he feels threatened ; peaceful powerplay allowed but proceed with caution
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, attacking

​

 

[STORMYWING]

Stormywing's ears flatten, and a growl bubbles in her throat. Everyone suddenly descending on her at once with questions and concern is too much. Her tail lashes, and she pulls her paw tighter against her chest, as if shielding it from their gazes could erase the problem altogether. "I'm fine," She snaps, though her voice wavers, betraying the doubt gnawing at her. Her golden eyes dart from Roeflame's furrowed brow that threatens to disarm her defenses entirely, to Raccoonstripe's weathered, skeptical face, and then to Gentlestorm, whose calm yet firm demand to see the paw doesn't make her forget the discomfort she feels around him. Even Twilightkit's quiet presence on the sidelines prickles at her pride. She doesn't want them all staring at her like she's helpless or stupid or weak.

"It's just a little cold," She mutters dismissively, though even saying it out loud sends a flicker of fear through her. It's not just that. She knows it. But saying it out loud makes her feel like she's admitting to some kind of weakness. Her claws flex instinctively into the nest beneath her, but the sharp pain shooting through her paw makes her wince. The warrior sighs sharply, her frustration beginning to thaw under the weight of the concern around her. If even Gentlestorm isn't treating her with cruelty, maybe she should be worried. Her tail flicks once more before she relents, lifting the swollen paw for them to see. "Fine. There. Happy now?" She grumbles, unable to meet anyone's gaze. The pads are pale and stiff, tinged faintly with a worrying shade of blue at the edges. "It's not a big deal," She adds weakly, but her voice lacks conviction. "Right?"
​