border ARE THEY FIGHTING \ riverclan patrol

[FERNGILL]

WindClan weren't alies, but they weren't a wasps' nest anymore... without Sootstar at the helm, anyway. Sunstar was a cat Ferngill had only ever seen from a distance, wearing his best face atop the Great Rock, but who knew what he was like back home? He could be more of a cunning type of evil, not loud and openly star-defying like Sootstar was. Still... the Journey had taught him that WindClan was not smothered in rot- there were good cats there, cats whom Ferngill would have died without the aid of.

"No one aggro them, please..." he gave a smile to his patrol. "I know they're on the other side of the gorge, but I don't want any trouble." It was an unspoken thing that, in front of some of WindClan's friendly faces, Ferngill did not want to burn the bond he had made with some of them. RiverClan had to walk on higher ground, hold up their chins... he lowered his voice, so only those close to him could hear. "It's fair game if they start anything, though."

With that, he was dressed with his smile again, a brand of fire against the pale light of oncoming newleaf.

\ @FOXTAIL @GILLSIGHT @Hazewish @Hawkcloud @Lakemoon . @Asphodelpaw @claypaw ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[claythorn]

Claypaw hadn't had much time to really get to know Windclan, but she had heard enough tales murmured from elders and whispered about from apprentices to understand they weren't friend. Or the nicest, either, given the measures that some of them had been to. Claypaw didn't give a rat's ass either way about niceness, you did what you needed to in this life to survive. Cruelty was something else.

Ferngill had lead them on patrol today to the gorge, and her eyes swept over it cautiously. She wouldn't want to be flung down that, or be lost to it's clutches. It whispered and promised of death, and Claypaw believed it. Her eyes swept towards Ferngill, ears perking gently. It's fair game if they start anything, though. A wide smile spread upon Claypaw's face as she received that information, her tail twitching. She continued her business, rubbing against slowly growing grasses by the border. "Best behavior, can do." Claypaw snorted.

✧　°　.　♦　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
  "yuh"
• 
  
  a large, lh chocolate torbie towering, nine moons old, she/her. well-build and muscled. a drypaw. former river colony cat.

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[SCORCHSTAR]

༄༄ Finding out that not only had Fernpaw received his warrior name, but that he had also been promoted to a lead warrior in her absence, came as a bit of a shock to Scorchstreak. He seems so young, but she cannot deny that both he and his sister are talented, dutiful warriors. As the calico tunneler approaches the gorge, she offers an almost-friendly flick of her dappled ear to the neighboring clan’s patrol. Though Smokestar may have spoken ill of WindClan, these cats have done nothing to provoke Scorchstreak’s ire, and so she looks across them with a gaze neither friendly nor resentful. To the orange tabby she offers, "There’s no need to worry about us starting anything." Fiery eyes dart across the other cats who may have approached at her back, a silent sweep to check for any troublemakers—a warning.

Changing the subject to more routine matters, keeping conversation light without outright ignoring the other clan, is foremost on Scorchstreak’s mind. "How does RiverClan fare, with the change of seasons?" Their river must still run cold, but surely not as icy as it would have a month ago. Is their fishing more fruitful now that the water isn’t so chilly? She shifts to look at Pinkpaw, tail flickering s she addresses her apprentice instead of the other clan’s patrol. "Do you recognize any of them, Pinkpaw?" Scorchstreak can only recognize a couple—Ferngill and Lakemoon traveled to the mountains with her, and she has seen the black and white tom before. Gill… something. Pinkpaw may only recognize Ferngill, but it would be acceptable if she did; he is the most important face in RiverClan’s patrol.

// @PINKPAW apprentice tag​

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[SOOTSPOT]

It may have been a surprise for some in RiverClan to see the son of the proverbial mad queen overlooking their borders after everything that had happened. 'I never knew the staunch supporter had it in him to swap sides,' that was at least the reception he believed he garnered from the looks he had gotten at ThunderClan's borders. Things may have been different for their nemesis and comments may have been more personal, but Sootspot made himself known as a siren to the fishbreaths, appearing from a clump of meadow grasses with soil flecked on dark paws. They'd last met on this border as enemies and threats to his then-apprentice were not forgotten by the tom; he smiled despite it, towards the cats he so heavily despised. Their patrol was large, if just one of them went back and told Smokestar that his attackers still lived among them, he'd have done his duty as a WindClanner. "A while has passed since we've met like this," he greeted the patrol, the wound upon his chest once carried around them now crusted over as a scar. "Should I ask how you are?" He didn't care, he was just trying to be polite.


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[FOXTAIL]

He lets a sigh escape his jaws as he pads after Ferngill, a breeze from the moors brushing up against his fur. He can smell WindClan in the air, and every bone in his body tells him to be on guard as they approach the border. Remember, Sootstar is gone now, He tries to tell himself, as his olive green eyes land upon the moors. She can't hurt us anymore. These moors no longer belong to her, he wasn't sure how exactly she died; but it's a relief to know she no longer is in control. He can only hope that Sunstar will repair the wounds Sootstar has raked upon the other clans, and that WindClan itself is healing too. He couldn't imagine living under a tyrant like Sootstar... she didn't only hurt her enemies, but her clan as well.

He gives a nod as Fernill addresses the patrol. "Understood," He mews, though the young warrior had no intention to aggravate any WindClanners they'll come across. The last thing Foxtail wanted to do was get into a skirmish with a clan they haven't had the best relationship with. He's tired of fighting, and he feels certain that the WindClanners are too. They had to fight their own leader to get their clan back, he couldn't imagine having to fight his own clanmates in a civil war.

His olive green eyes land on three WindClanners; two warriors and an apprentice. He doesn't particularly recognize the three cats, but he does feel some relief that none of them approach the patrol with hostility. Even going further as the calico affirms that they don't have to be worried about them starting anything. For a brief moment, he wonders if any of these WindClanners used to be loyal to Sootstar. He has an understanding that WindClan seemingly was split; a majority of the clan supported Sootstar and the other Sunstride— now Sunstar. Some might've been blind to her atrocities, brainwashed even. He can only hope that most of those cats came to see the true horrors of their moor queen leader.

"RiverClan is faring well with start of Newleaf," He says to the calico she-cat, his tail swishing behind him. It's nice to finally see the ground again, and watch the ice on the rivers melt. "...H-how is WindClan doing?" He takes a brief glance over at the tom, Sootspot, giving him a quick nod of greeting. "We're doing fine, a-and WindClan?" There's no need for WindClan to know about how RiverClan handled the rogue situation, frankly it isn't his place to tell anyway.
​

𝐨𝐨𝐜 —— 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭

• 
  
• 
  
  

  ---

  credit to skaicraft (via insta) for the artwork <3
  
• Foxtail

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  warrior
  warmhearted
  timid
  experience: trained
  backstory: tbd
  biography: [HYPERLINK]
  credit to rai for the mini & tropics for the icon <3
  

  cisgender male [he / him]
  eyes: green
  pelt: cinnamon/chocolate
  fur length: long
  parents: dawnflower and redfur (riverclan npcs)
  17 moons
  

  ---

  ​

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[GILLSIGHT]

Gillsight doesn’t think he’ll ever like WindClan. No matter how much he tries to convince himself, its their claws that marred his pelt first, their claws that slain his mentor — his father, his real one, not the… not the rogue that claimed him his son in near-dying breaths — and could’ve taken his life too.

It’s Sootstar’s WindClan that created such a blight on the forest, he knows, not Sunstar’s, but could a change in leaders really shift a whole clan’s outlook, just like that?

The tom is silent as he walks behind Ferngill, chest tightening as the gorge nears in his line of vision. “ O-Of course, “ Gillsight answers the flaming tabby’s words — he hardly wants any trouble himself, after all. He turns to get to work, to get out of here as quickly as possible, but WindClan finds them before he can make further distance.

Greetings held, Gillsight looks at those across the border with a straightened form, his shoulders pushed back, though uncertainty causes him to falter. No need to worry, one says across the way. He doesn’t know if he should believe their words, if he should greet them in same, forgetful tones — like nothing ever happened.

Foxtail is more talkative among them, sharing how RiverClan is and asking how WindClan fares. A golden gaze searches the faces across the way, wonders if they’re truly to be trusted — if they preferred Sootstar’s reign to that of Sunstar’s.

“ B-Better, I w-would hope? “ he fills in an answer for the WindClanners, hoping they agree and turn tail soon, so the River patrol can head home quicker. ​

✦ ABOUT

• 

  GILL ‣ GILLPAW ‣ GILLSIGHT
  ── Warrior of RiverClan
  
  ── ??? x Urchin
  ── AMAB; He/Him
  ── A scarred, black and white tom with yellow eyes.
  ── Mentored by Clearsight
  ── "Speech"; Attack​

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[RATTLEHEART]

AS HE RAISED HIS FIST BEFORE HE SPOKE — Out of all the leaders present at the last gathering - new and old alike - Smokestar had been the only one to offer up venomous words in Windclan's direction. Even Orangestar had offered them more grace, in spite of the atrocious actions of Harrierstripe that had cast even more doubt on their hopeful future. Thank the stars had had actually been identified as a rogue Windclanner, considering the last thing they needed was more cats calling for their blood without all of the information available. Yet still, it seemed like Smokestar was more than happy to not put his best paw forward when it came to them, a realization that had caused Rattleheart's jaw to clench with fury during the gathering itself. He had spoken as if the stars already laced themselves with his pelt, like Windclan had every reason to beg for his forgiveness.

As if Riverclan's last leader hadn't been frothing mad by the end, and long before then as well.

Regardless, the lead warrior refused to perpetuate the very same thing that caused his inner turmoil. He wouldn't judge the whole of Riverclan based off of their leader, even if it would have been exceedingly easy to do so. Certainly easier than accepting that there was nuance to be found. Scorchstreak's presence helped, considering his sister had once worked alongside Riverclan and every other clan alike to deliver a miracle cure to their paws. She seemed almost amicable when it came to Ferngill, which was enough to curl a smile on his face as he came up alongside her. At least it didn't feel like he was faking friendliness, the lack of hostility on their side soothing his hackles from where they had been raised by Smokestar. They even almost seemed genuinely interested in how Windclan was doing, but he was sure a significant portion of that was due to Sootstar's death and the curiosity that it had generated.

Rattleheart settled on their side of the gorge, striped tail curling tightly around his paws as he peeked down into the impressive abyss below them all. "We've been doing very well, lately. The warmth has brought prey back to the moors, and also brought us plenty of flowers at the same time." The thought of the blooming wildflowers actually managed to send a purr rumbling through his chest, half-wishing he had had the chance to decorate his pelt with them before being faced with another clan. Though, it wasn't as if he wouldn't have the chance to do so before the next upcoming gathering - provided he ended up going along. Satisfaction could come in the form of decorating themselves even more beautifully than the Riverclanners could ever imagine.

THE RIGHTEOUS HAND OF GOD 𓆩♡𓆪 THE DEVIL THAT YOU FORGOT

• 

• 
  ❥ longhaired black and white tom with pale green eyes
  ❥ 49 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ❥ afab; uses he/she/they pronouns
  ❥ homosexual homoromantic; mated to venomstrike
  ❥ sibling to scorchstreak, lizardbounce, and rabbitclaw
  ❥ currently mentoring downypaw
  ❥ somewhat difficult to befriend; wary but kind
  ❥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ❥ all opinions are ic

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[Hazewish]

TRAVELER, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED (AND NOW YOU MUST GO) ⋆⁺₊⋆

It’s true that Windclan seems more… mellow is the wrong word, but less all-teeth-barred since Sootstar’s demise. Hazewish doesn’t trust it entirely — the old leader’s influence ran deep as willow trees’ roots in the moors, and it will take many moons for it to wither away entirely. Still, in the meantime, it’s nice to approach their border without having to anticipate animosity thrown at them from the other side. Occasional iciness is much nicer to bear.

And it leaves more space for imagination. She hums wistfully at the mention of wildflowers; the moors must be a beautiful sight in newleaf, with that wide expanse of grass and no river to swallow fragile blossoms… ”Beautiful! Lucky.” She wonders if she could convince one of them to bring her some at the next Gathering…

[⋆]​

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