pafp ASHES, ASHES - getting colder!

[Moonbeam]

With the days not only seeming to grow shorter they were growing colder and no matter how many stories she had listened to as a kit from her mother or from the elders now that she was old enough to help with not only nest-cleaning but ticks would have prepared her for just how cold it was. She had been told about the rivers freezing over and about how fish swam deeper in the rivers when it got cold, that during leafbare cats could walk on the ice and look to be walking on top of the water and that sometimes it wasn't strong enough to walk on and cats could fall in and go under with no air to breathe, but she hadn't been told about the frost over the grass in the mornings, melting by the time the dawn broke, nor had she been told about how towards the end of leaf-fall that when she woke up or began going to bed the cold that chilled her bones would also freeze her breath in the air in front of her.

So now she sat in the dawn-light of the morning in camp, the cold causing her to stir a little bit earlier than she normally would have liked, choosing to stretch and try to warm up when she had noticed the puff of breath that left her maw when she had yawned, spiraling up into the air and disappearing into nothing. Breathe in, breathe out, over and over with a large smile on her maw before she heard a rustling coming from behind her, another apprentice waking up early. "Did you know it did that, our breath?" She'd speak quietly, as if speaking louder would break the "magic" that was the cold of the morning before she turned to see that it was Nettlepaw, one that would never actually be able to see the puffs of air - or at least not properly, not as clear as she was now. "It's turning to clouds when we breathe."

☾₊ ⊹ give me a ghost of a smile

• please wait for @Nettlepaw- to post!
• 
  ⋆ ratkit - ratpaw - moonpaw - moon???
  ⋆ female - she/her - 7 moons
  ⋆ homosexual - not looking
  ⋆ apprentice of riverclan
  ⋆ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ⋆ attack - "speech" - thought
  ⋆ penned by tikki

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[Nettlepaw-]

NETTLEPAW ♂
RIVERCLAN
APPRENTICE
THREE MOONS
BLIND IN BOTH EYES
BIOGRAPHY AND TAGS
APPRENTICED TO PIKESPLASH
PLAYED BY SHEOGORATH​

---

He stretches, a yawn straining his maw as young fangs glint in the dawn-light. Creeping from his nest and out into the crisp chill of winter's breath, Nettlepaw could feel the sting against his paws as frost melted upon warm contact. It must look like starlight, glistening across the grass and trees, their camp etched in an icy beauty that Nettlepaw could only imagine. This would be his first cold season. He would experience ice and snow in a way different than the rest of his clan-mates, but it would be an experience nonetheless. Ears twitch toward Moonpaw as she comments on the swirl of her misty breath, something the young tom could not see, nor recognize. His vision swam with shadows, and the glowing light of a distant sun as it crawled it's way atop the jagged horizon.

"Clouds?" He echoes, uncertain. "Mother used to say that StarClan cats breathed frost." Nettlepaw recalls with a twinge of grief. Perhaps he and Moonpaw had died in their sleep, taken by the cold, or something else. But no, he feels the chill too sharply. It bites at his nose. Surely StarClan would not feel like this? Yet the thought of clouds billowing from his own maw seemed so surreal. Would it blanket their entire camp, as RiverClanners awoke to chatter with one another? "Do the other clans breathe mist when they speak?" He has heard of fog, rolling across the surface of the river as night turns to day. Perhaps all along, it was RiverClan themselves that created this veil of mist. StarClan gleamed with starlight. Was it so far fetched that each clan had their own unique abilities? Perhaps WindClan was responsible for the wind itself, ThunderClan the storm. A curious image indeed...
​

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[iciclefang]

“All cats do,” a cool voice answers Nettlepaw’s query. Iciclefang watches her words plume into the pale morning air, amusement causing her lips to twitch at either side. This would be both Moonpaw and Nettlepaw’s first leafbare. She prays only that it is not like her first. RiverClan would remain strong this season, if she had anything to do with it—perhaps as lead warrior, now, she does. The tortoiseshell weaves around the younger cats, sitting beside them and exhaling steam into the dawn.

“It means leafbare is almost here.” She blinks, remembering their makeshift camp, waking every morning to frost creeping over their toes and into the moss they’d cobbled together for nests. She remembers the sound of the river in the gorge, a haunting, crashing melody to drive them from their beds and into bleary days away from their camp. “Soon, the mornings will be even colder. Let us just pray the water does not freeze this season.”

, ”​

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[FERNGILL]

The cold buzzed on Ferngill's nose, a strange sensation- subtle and crawling. An early riser for moons now, he'd been up to see these frigid mornings before- he'd sometimes been the first to rustle the frost from the grass, leaving paw prints of green in a pale expanse. The morning sun was cold and glaring, and Ferngill squinted as he looked toward the pair of apprentices, a familiar tortoiseshell pelt meandering to their sides.

To mirror the brightness of the dawn, he offered the group a shining smile as he padded over to them.

A shudder skittered through him at the remembrance of the frozen river- the collapse of the apprentice's den that it would enable. His teeth chattered together, bringing a puff of mist into the air. "I'm right there with you," he murmured, attempting to chuckle away the nervousness. "We'll have one-up over the other Clans if it doesn't." An attempt to encourage them, to brighten the mood. Fish couldn't become scarce as long as the water was running.​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[lichenstar]

⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ​

It should be no surprise that the warriors all live with tension in their shoulders, with eyes widened and heavy from the burden they would need to carry this coming winter. WindClan had caused more than a small problem... and the apprentices, try as they might, were not meant to be on the front lines to defend their shrinking food supply from invaders, from lunatics, from starless fanatics.

They speak now in hushed tones, gazes twinkling with wonder that only childhood could serve to them. It would be short-lived... definitely. There was little chance they would survive frigid frosts and frozen freedoms unscathed.

A part of her shuddered for fear of another weight to bare...

"I wonder if the river needs rest like we do... to hibernate in the winter in preparation to feed us in the warmer months," a musing teetering on fantasy, to ascribe the fickle ripples as something with feeling. "It will be a good opportunity to see those land hunting skills put to the test," she continues, offering Ferngill and Iciclefang a small nod of acknowledgement. This would be their chance to shine... young warriors facing their first snows as fully realized adults.

---

WELL IF YOU WANT MY BLOOD I'LL MAKE SO MUCH BLOOD

THAT YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING DROWN​

​

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[Moonbeam]

Admittedly Moonpaw had never heard the story of the StarClan cats breathing frost, and she could only wonder if it was true. If so did it mean that StarClan was cold as it was now, or was it simply that because they were connected with StarClan somehow that when it was cold the cats had some of the powers of StarClan as well. She wouldn't dwell too much on it, and maw would open for just a moment to respond to Nettlepaw before Iciclefang came forward, answering the question for the younger apprentice.

She listened as the warriors spoke for a moment, usual hum leaving the apprentice's chest for just a moment before ears flicked and she looked to the river. They hoped it wouldn't freeze over this leafbare? She understood why - the stories of cats going hungry from not being able to hunt on land or from falling into the ice came to mind - but she couldn't help but hope that it freezed over once, even if it was just for a day. "It has to be pretty at least, right? The ice on the river?" Oh and the snow, the thing her mother had told her was as white as her fur and softer than feathers and fresh moss. She couldn't help but want to see it, even if it made things difficult for a little bit. They'd lived through difficult before though.

I WISH PLANT LIFE ꕥ WOULD GROW ALL AROUND ME

• 

• MOONPAW formerly Ratpaw || NPC x NPC || brother to Rowanpaw || apprentice to Salmonshade.
  -- She/Her || 7 moons old, ages every 17th
  -- smaller than average, small rounded ears. SH white masking cinnamon torbie with orange eyes.
  -- soft-spoken, often found humming, tries to comfort others by smiling

​

 

[Nettlepaw-]

NETTLEPAW ♂
RIVERCLAN
APPRENTICE
THREE MOONS
BLIND IN BOTH EYES
BIOGRAPHY AND TAGS
APPRENTICED TO PIKESPLASH
PLAYED BY SHEOGORATH​

---

"Freeze?" He echoes with a twitch of one ear. Iciclefang and Ferngill were... complicated, in his mind. They were part of the journey, and the thought is sour upon his tongue. His voice sounds flat, but with a flick of his feathery tail, Nettlepaw pushes the grim thoughts back down again, burying them towards the back of his mind.

A part of him still blames the journey cats for the chaos he had been forced to endure these past few moons, but now was not the time to pick a fight, especially with the deputy present.

"So the whole river will freeze over?" He adds with uncertainty. How was he supposed to actually learn how to fish, if he couldn't even access the water? He couldn't collect crowfood either, if he couldn't get through the ice, or find any carcasses washed ashore. The boy frowns. He'd be land hunting like a dry-paw if he had no way to reach the water, not that it would really change much. Nettlepaw has yet to catch anything, and his lack of patience certainly didn't help.

Moonpaw mentions that the ice must be a pretty sight, but Nettlepaw's tail twitches again with a newfound flood of frustration. What did she even mean by that? He'd never be able to understand, given his near total blindness.

"Do you think the ice will sound pretty?" He inquires. It's a serious question, and perfectly reasonable to the sightless tom. The only thing pretty about the river to him was the sound of the water moving past. If the ice blocked everything up, then what was there to listen to?
​

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[BEEFANG]

FIGHT SO DIRTY BUT YOU LOVE SO SWEET — Beepaw had been comfortably curled in her nest with her feathery tail resting across her face but the sound of voices outside of the den is enough to stir her from her slumber, she opens her eyes and stretches out her front limbs with claws unsheathing for a heartbeat, she rolls onto her stomach slowly rising to her paws. She gives herself a quick shake to rid herself of any moss or nest material that clung to her bicolored coat, Beepaw trembling as she silently curses that she didn't have a plush coat considering that leafbare was just around the corner. Maybe she'd try to get her littermates to all pile together to keep one another warm considering they were all born with short coats, she'd tell Moonpaw to join them too, of course, and that way they could all stay warm until one of them had to be taken out for any patrols or usual duties. A milky paw lifts to pluck the mallard feather gifted to her by Chicorypaw and places it back into her nest carefully before finally slipping out of the apprentice's den, her eyes surveying camp until they locked onto a familiar pelt (or rather a lot of familiar pelts).

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Beepaw brushes into Moonpaw's side and offers her friend a small smile before nodding in greeting to the rest of those there. The conversation of the river icing over immediately deflates her good mood and the smile is replaced by a frown, she had never dealt with leafbare but she can't imagine it being blissful in the least especially with the stories that her late father and papa had told her about the cold season. "Yeah... Pretty dangerous I imagine." She responds to her friend and sits down with her head tilting slightly when Nettlepaw speaks up once more and asks if the ice would sound pretty, Beepaw cannot answer that due to not knowing so she glances to Lichentail, Iciclefang, and Ferngill for an answer. They had lived through leafbare several moons surely they were familiar with it regardless of sour memories.

TALK SO PRETTY ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳˚❥ BUT YOUR HEART GOT TEETH

• 

• 
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ shorthaired black smoke molly w/low white and mismatched eyes
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ 5 moons old; ages the 10th every month
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ sexuality unknown/too young
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ currently being mentored by smokestar
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ daughter of cicadastar and smokestar
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ sister of cicadapaw & starlightpaw
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[FERNGILL]

"It won't all freeze over," Fengill said reassuringly- and wasn't it nice to actually know things? This time last year he wouldn't have been able to give anything close to an answer. "But we'd be better off if none of it did." Within his voice resided a slight edge of nervousness, but it was drowned with the shell-curve of his smile, lilting his words with the happy encouragement he wanted to offer the apprentices unequivocally.

It'd be a bad idea to scare them, wouldn't it? Pretty dangerous, I imagine. And Ferngill couldn't really say anything, because it wouldn't do to lie to them either. Leafbare was the most dangerous season, doubtlessly. He smiled a little at Lichentail's playful theory, but... well, make-believe didn't come very easy to him anymore.

Nettlepaw asked a question that Ferngill had never really considered; usually he was rather occupied with how everything looked But there was beauty in sounds too, now that he thought about it. Morning birdsong, the soft trickle of a stream... "I can't say I like the sound of ice," he stated, reminiscent. "But I do like the sound it makes when you walk on untrodden snow." Closer to the riverside, the slush wasn't as nice a sound- but encroaching new snowfall for the first time was another such beautiful sound. ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[Moonbeam]

Would the ice sound pretty? Moonpaw is lost in thought for a moment as she thinks about whether it could be, if the sound of the water that she was promised was still there underneath would make noises that could be heard from above before a small bit of pressure is pressed against her side and the girl is broken from her thoughts. Head turned to give a smile to the other in turn, head flicking back to Nettlepaw for a moment before Beepaw states that it must be dangerous. "Dangerous..." It's hummed in thought as she recalls stories she's heard about the last leafbare, about the clan having to move out of camp, something about the ice causing them to have to move. It was never a proper story she'd enjoyed listening to and her mother and the elders had soon found that out - though she found herself wishing now that she'd listened a little more to understand the dangers that were being spoken of.

Still, she'd like to imagine things could be pretty and there could be a day or two of fun with the ice before danger began, not everything had to be dangerous all the time, right? Even a pike could have it's moments. Soft chill ran over her spine for a second before Ferngill spoke once more, the dangers of the frozen river and the dislike of the sound of ice - which meant it did make a sound - but yet the appeal of the sound of the snow. "Does it snow a lot?" Enough for everyone to hear the sound that Ferngill enjoyed so much.

I WISH PLANT LIFE ꕥ WOULD GROW ALL AROUND ME

• 

• MOONPAW formerly Ratpaw || NPC x NPC || brother to Rowanpaw || apprentice to Salmonshade.
  -- She/Her || 7 moons old, ages every 17th
  -- smaller than average, small rounded ears. SH white masking cinnamon torbie with orange eyes.
  -- soft-spoken, often found humming, tries to comfort others by smiling

​

 

[iciclefang]

Lichentail pads close to the small group, offering a note of whimsy to the conversation. Iciclefang’s ear twitches with mild amusement. “If anything would need to rest, it would be our river, but let us hope that isn’t the case.” She acknowledges the deputy’s challenging words with a slight dip of her head, though she thinks to herself that she can hardly be included in Ferngill’s group of young warriors needing to prove themselves. Iciclefang has been a warrior for a full season, and she trains an apprentice besides. Her brother had only just earned his name.

Moonpaw muses that the ice on the river must be pretty, at least, and her friend Beepaw chimes in with, “Pretty dangerous.” Iciclefang snorts, having none of the tact her brother displays. “Pretty dangerous, yes. I suppose you could say it’s pretty, when it isn’t causing parts of the river to swell and flood over. You all are too young to remember.”

She lets Ferngill answer Nettlepaw’s question, about the satisfying crunch of snow underpaw. To the green-eyed tabby-masked apprentice, she says, “There is something pretty about the way ice shatters. It’s a sound unlike anything else. And when it melts, you can hear it dripping, like unsteady rainfall.” She turns back to Moonpaw. A faint smile twitches against her muzzle. “And yes, it does snow a lot. It can get taller than you, sometimes.” She remembers the blizzard, the way the snow had banked them into their dens.

, ”​

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