private ARE YOU SATISFIED ( BLUEFROST ) ༊

[APPLEJAW]

Croaking, croaking, croaking. It rings in her ears and tenses her muscles. Recently, some would say, one of the marsh's delicacies has exploded in population, but it isn't recent enough not to drive her mad. The same frogsong Applepaw had heard, Applejaw now slogged through every sunrise. It was the same mud she dredged through, the same pine trees she passed by, the same face she held and the same square shoulders. To be rid of it all, she wonders even tough she knows she isn't supposed to. She wanders even though, easily— some might say— she could be the next victim of any fox or monster or bear.

She is a warrior, damn it. Too many of ShadowClan's dead had a paw by their name. Applejaw lived to tell the tale. She would keep on. The chirping did not wear down her senses; her ears, her nose, her claws. Applejaw stands in the midst of it all, and tries not to go mad.

And then there's something new, a mongrel's jaws round what mightve been her umpteenth frog, her umpteenth reminder of stagnation. How despite what they all said, what they all thought, it was all staying the same. It would've kept being the same, if she hadn't shown, and if Applejaw hadn't been here to witness it. Did it make her a traitor, to see half a paw across the border and think, thank you, StarClan?

It should come too quickly for them to notice, the galloping of heavy, pale paws, and the subsequent slamming of them into a grey flank, unsheathed, unhindered; all ShadowClan bulk meant to send them sprawling, if she succeeds. With the conviction of a warrior, she hisses, " WindClan! "

// OOC: @BLUEFROST :)​

 

[BLUEFROST]

She had searched for hours beneath the earth, where the rabbits had all run, and she still had come up empty after half a day of hunting. Though the scent of hare is strong on her tongue and in her nostrils, there’s no trace, hide nor hair, of her prey in the tunnels where she lurks. Bluefrost emerges into a soot-scattered field, black debris clinging to long gray fur, and she realizes she’s neared the Thunderpath. Night has soaked the sky in darkness by this point, and ShadowClan is no doubt on the prowl—but there’s a chorus of promising song from the marshes, and she finds herself drawn, mouth salivating.

Her mother’s favorite had been frog, once upon a time. She remembers being grossed out by the image of slime pooling on a gray-green body; she remembers her dismay at finding out her mother had been infallible, had had paws made from crumbling clay. They are in tandem; they walk paw-in-paw.

Bluefrost nears the border, her tail low to the ground and her green eyes narrow in the darkness. She can see rustling in the reed-like grass on the other side of the Thunderpath; the air is thick with frog-scent, frog-song. She waits at the edge of the Thunderpath and then darts across; the frog is numb to her approach, too-fat and too-full from ShadowClan’s plants and minnows. Teeth sink into the fat meat of its throat, and it’s all she can do to scamper away.

The thump of pawsteps alerts her too late; a warrior’s bulk slams into her flank, shoving her to the ground. The frog slips from her jaws and stutters to a stop a foxlength away, limp and gray in the light of the rising moon. Bluefrost turns, her teeth bared to their root. “You have got more than enough to spare, have you not? Typical greedy ShadowClanners,” she bites back, and with a lunge, she snaps for the pale tortoiseshell’s chest and throat with lunging teeth.

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

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 16 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan warrior. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue and white she-cat with emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

​

 

[APPLEJAW]

It's satisfying, exhiliterating, something she hasn't felt in some time now. Success, without the thought of what might come after. In battle, there is only ebb and flow, life and death. It wa snot like the onset of warriorhood, impeded by the thought of what would come next, of what she would do next. Even if she saw no respect for it, she would know that she is doing what is right. she is keeping moorland rats out of her territory.

ShadowClan's sad prey is relinquished to the dirt. It is just the two of them, eye - to - eye. Her thinness was WindClan scrawniness, not true hunger. She would be easy to kill. They go for the throat at once. Applejaw has no reason to expect anything else. Speed is not her strongsuit, as it would certainly be this WindClanner's. She hadn't the time to dodge completely, but a parry, or a distraction... Perhaps the one she really wanted had once been in this warrior's midst, and Applejaw would use his very tactics against her. With the grey warrior's rush forward, a large paw would veer to scoop earth into her eyes. Moon - lit fangs bear. " When has ShadowClan asked for anything but to live? "

With whatever leeway the obstruction would give her— warrior's fangs still snap dangerously close— she would twist to put fangs out of lethal range at least, and aim heavy blows at the she - cats legs, instead, hoping to unsteady her. A WindClanner's speed was their greatest asset, after all.​

 

[BLUEFROST]

She’s quicker than the mottled ShadowClan she-cat; her paws move swiftly, dancing forward and setting teeth dangerously close to a speckled face. But Bluefrost recoils as grit sinks into her eyes, behind her eyelids, and she hisses, backing away and rubbing at her face. “Dishonorable,” she hisses, and while she scrubs at her vision, a few well-placed blows knock her from her feet and onto her flank. She blearily stares up at her attacker, green eyes stinging and streaming from their assault, and bares her teeth in response to the tortoiseshell’s curled lip.

“Everyone knows ShadowClan are cowards,” she hisses, pushing herself back onto her paws and stepping forward. “You trespass over borders and then cry when other Clans do the same!” Her fur ripples along her spine, near-sapphire in the moonlight.

With a snap of her jaws, Bluefrost lunges again, this time aiming a blow toward Applejaw’s face with unsheathed claws. She aims for the muzzle and cheek area.

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

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 16 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan warrior. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue and white she-cat with emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

​