camp BAIT A HOOK [ ༄ ] PATROL RETURN

[CICADASTAR]

the sun is waning low about the midday sky when they make their return, fur still dripping the riverwater, stinking of mud and something mingled. he is quiet, an abrupt switch from the poetry - song dripping silklike from his maw only just recent, all spoken promises and tender smiles. his mangled maw presses taut into a line, twitching, stony mottle of his features lit low with shadow. thought, he’d say — deep in thought, frustrated with it. he thinks of skeletal bodies and desperation, of thunderclan once more. he pads alongside cindershade, alongside iciclefang and petalnose, sablepaw, mosspaw, with hazepaw dutifully at his heel ( theyd better be ; he’d not turned to check on them in a moment ). the king splits the reed of his river kingdom, feels the brisk water breeze carry from the shimmering surface just at their backs.

receded from the shore now just a bit, rolling cascade of murky waves lapping lazily further into the corroded dip. warriors lounge where they do not work, and a quick clear of his throat calls attention to his returning patrol, " we found them. " them, he says, and he can hear a ripple of murmuring scandal rise amidst the accumulating crowd. his throat clicks, tongue burning with the tales he was to weave between cagy teeth. he lifts his head, puffs his chest — confidence. a strut of know - all, to look, feel as though his decision was firm. to pretend he doesn’t weaver, worry about the strangers killing their outskirts,” a colony of cats, staying downstream where we’d been cut off during the freeze. their home, destroyed by the very flood that had taken ours. they are many, but they are.. friendly. they have young, elders. “ sunken in and hungry warriors, dull - pelted and glassy eyed — but still meeting them with not a touch of violence. tragedy after tragedy, they’d had. and hadnt they only recently felt the same?

the youngest molly, mouse, flashes behind his minds eye and he fights the urge to close them, to squeeze against the wreckage she must have seen. his jaw clenches, ” i cannot justify running them all from this camp they’ve made, “ it’s almost hollow, the way he speaks — a faraway glint to icicle eyes. a weakness. a weakness it is, his heart aching beneath the brittle bones of his ribcage, ” and i cannot — i will not risk another battle, and we can lose no more land. but.. but.. they say the waters have receded further their way,. “ they are starving. dehydrated. bite the stick, say it, ” i have decided to enlist their help. “ to the ones that were not there. the ones that were, his pale eyes move to — awaiting their input, their words, further explanation. he gives a beat for information to set in.

˗ˏˋ 𓆩  OOC ✟ VISUAL 𓆪 ´ˎ˗

• i. @Cindershade , @ICICLEFANG , @Petalnose @Mosspaw. @Hazepaw @Sablepaw / patrol member tag, but this is open w no need to wait for those above!
  
• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  
  
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, mated to smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 50 moons, ages every 50 posts.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• 
  
  
  
• "speech"
  

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[Petalnose]

Cicadastar said to back down and now he says to help the desperate group, Petalnose only obediently obliged. She trusted his decision. Her sharp tongue came to tame into silence the rest of the journey home. Even if it wasn't what she expected, she would obey her leader and not step in front of him, she knew better. She knew her place. Although, she thought it was out of the ordinary for his character to do such. The woman was fully prepared to thrash her claws and fight in her clans name. Instead, it turned into charity work. Help.

Petalnose merely hoped they would return favor and not take selfishly. She did care to an extent, but not as much as her leader. The look of skin pulling tightly at bone did make her mind cringe but never would she ever care close to how she did for her clanmates. Their growing population had enough mouths to feed as it was despite their talent of catching plenty prey during greenleaf.

The patched lead merely hummed in agreement as Cicadstar turned his gaze upon them for opinions. She was silent for a moment, glancing to fellow patrol members to listen in if they had anything to say first. Then she decided to speak, "I'm not against it. Besides, we could use a clan friend. Less tension is always good." She mused, settling down on sore paws near behind her leader and curling her tail neatly around them with confident posture. She wasn't particularly fully for it but she wasn't against it, she just hoped they could send them away when leafbare came around. They struggled enough during the season.

Their nativity did send concern for clan code, tradition and borders, but she wouldn't voice it for the first time.

How could we trust them when we finally pulled help away from them? With the lack of knowledge, would they still even respect borders or would they steal our prey off our very lands? Could we even trust them to be respectful even when being charitable?

She decided she may voice it in private, but speaking of such matters to her leader infront of the entire clan was a bit much. It was likely to look as disrespect, especially with her serious and irascible reputation. She controlled herself more around her higher authority figures.

Tags​

 

[CRAPPIEPATCH]

The presence of their leader is met with a nervous tip of their head, a shrinking of their already wiry frame. The volatility of the black-patched tom does not escape them; Cicadastar may be fish-mouthed and grinning one moment, and in the next heartbeat he may flip, twist into something near unrecognizable. They have learned to tread carefully, especially following Ashpaw’s return to the clan. But the stork-legged tom does not seem to descend upon them to exile another, not today. Instead, he says that he and his patrol found them. The meaning of his words take a moment to settle in, but the calico frowns as they realize who them is referring to. Cicadastar and his patrol must have made contact with the same loners that Smokethroat had spotted.

The leader states that the loners are not loners at all, but rather a full colony of cats. Isolated by the same flooding that had ruined everything only months prior, they must be having just as terrible a time as RiverClan. Crappiepatch’s immediate reaction is fear—will this strange colony take their prey? Will this colony steal their territory, as ThunderClan had? Will there be another battle? Yet Cicadastar does not seem angry enough. And their suspicion is confirmed when the tom says that he has made the decision to ask for this colony’s help. Help with what? The low water level? What can more cats do to help raise the river’s level? Taking in more cats seems a worse option by far, and they frown. Is the leader’s choice related to the strange creature they had found while on patrol?

Crappiepatch says nothing, but their expression remains the same. Confusion and anxiety take turns clouding their gaze, but they return to their shell-sorting with a heavy sigh. Their breath rattles around their head, a sure sign that they are getting worse once again. What terrible news.​

[ my my, cold hearted child ]​

​

 

[lichenstar]

Soft though the downy plume of a bird may be, the crane - like lord contrasted his own wispy appearance with a barb - sharpened tongue. A wire wound tight in a common path, waiting for a thoughtless paw to cross the threshold and unleash the tension that so enamored him. Today that thorn - baring star did not prickle with such unease, a pair of permafrost eyes flicking through the catalog of tragedy that stuck to his coat with such persistence it could be confused to be glued to him by sap itself. He seemed to pause... a hesitation that would not evade watchful observation and though the shifting of a posture of self-assurance should've been a reassurance, Lichentail only found this show of pride to be bothersome.

Though those thin, deer - like legs walked with purpose and moved in a stride that suggested leisure, he could not escape the blood thirsty dog that was his own suspicion. It hunted him. Sometimes it consumed him entirely and so those canine teeth would find their fangs buried in his clan-mates' throats; collateral damage, a mislabeled 'enemy' purged and the hungry beast satiated. If only for a time.

With a silence, the scruffy-furred point listened to every articulated letter but made no comment to their agreement or otherwise. Cicadastar had asked for an opinion... and though she had plenty to say, she would not.

If Crappiepatch had gills, one could swear they would've shuddered at the implication that this colony would coexist with them; did they also feel it? The whirlwind of Cicadastar's politics, the way it lacked consistency... Had Boneripple not been prompted to leave in the face of confronting his unruly outburst? She who had bore kits in RiverClan... had chosen them with intent to flee and keep her family safe? But they were now expected to not only tolerate blatant trespassing of an entire colony but also to ask them for help?

Perfect, unknown strangers... yet the wingspan of their leader had opened to embrace them so swiftly...

He showed them a mercy and a love he did not share with his own brood, the ones that fought and killed and died for him. They had so sweetly invaded the nest and without question, the king turned a blind eye to the invasion and fed these fledglings too. Despite the ways it might malnourish what was already here.

It is with a sense of frustration that she listens to Petalnose accept- a clan friend? These trespassers were not a clan. They were not a friend. They were an invasive species set to ruin the borders and steal resources... nothing more. If diplomacy was the goal, why not reach out to SkyClan? Why not try to rally a compromise with ThunderClan over the Sunningrocks? When had the brown and white molly become so... soft? Satisfied with holding paws with strangers?

Strong as it was their desire to simply leave this little announcement (their opinion would not matter here, they understood that much now), the stone colored lead knew better than to move from their roosting, lest the bird of prey catch sight of an ill - perceived threat and hunt them for sport.​

 

[BONERIPPLE]

જ➶ The shadowed huntress cranes ears forward as she sees the returning patrol. Habitually looking to see if everyone was okay before reeling herself in. That is not her place anymore and she will leave that duty to someone else more deserving. Yet she is drawn to words spoken from dangerous maw. Eyes focusing on an individual that calls forth absolute obedience. Her maw keeps shut as a tale is woven, brought forth from down the river. A tale of a rival colony settling upon their lands, having been through the same tragedy and less in her eyes than Riverclan has had to endure. She is partially thinking to ignore such a telling considering they need not be bothered with cats they don't know. No need to indulge these strangers and better yet to run them off before they get too bold. But the words of them being friendly hits her ears. And so what? The Pine Colony had been friendly till they started over hunting in the forest and destroying what belonged to the Marshes. Her muzzle twitches, ears slowly pulling back. He talks about them as if they have suddenly become friendly acquaintances. Young and elders?

Riverclan has both as well. They need not take unnecessary risks right? These are cats they don't even know. They could turn on them just as quickly. She feels a prick of anger in her. The thought that these loners are allowed such friendliness from them but not her, not some clanmates. Cats that know nothing of the stars or even the clans themselves. It bristles her spine and she finds herself slipping to sit next to Lichentail. No words leave her muzzle. She has nothing to say. To refute is to be seen as a target. She will not fall into that bloodthirsty trap. Instead she keeps silent. Another battle she thinks is what those loners need to get the message but kindness is what they will have instead. She supposes all she had was the once chance, the one shred of kindness, the rest reserved for mere strangers.​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

He is tired, he has never felt so tired in his life, but he trudges over with interest and head low to the patchwork leader's return; curious as to what became of their searching. Smokethroat is struck be immediate relief and surprise, so there was more than one of those loners after all-he's very glad he did not send his own patrol chasing after the one who knocked him over before in that case, they would've been easily outnumbered and it would have been less peaceful than what apparently occurred during Cicadastar's own venture outward.
A colony of starving cats, they must have moved in while they were at the Beech Copse otherwise how had that slipped by them for so long? The river is receeding even that far into the territory-it must mean something serious is blocking it and not merely some debris.
The deputy glances over to Lichentail, Crappiepatch and Boneripple so alarmingly silent and he wonders what the rest of the clan thought of it all. What did he even think of it all? He was wary, of course, but that was his naturally mistrusting nature at work; he didn't like strangers and the idea of risking a chance on them was unappealing, but still....
That one who attacked his patrol had only knocked him over, there were no claws. There are many, the phantom had said, If it was a colony it was surely larger than the meager patrol Cicadastar had set out with, if they truly were a threat to them then why had they not attacked and overpowered the smaller group? Fear of retaliation? No, they didn't know about RiverClan entirely, didn't know its size or force. Or maybe they were just weakened by the river receeding, the lack of food in that area now- maybe they would turn on them once able. Smokethroat did not know, but what he did know is he trusted Cicadastar's word and guidance more than his own misgivings and funnily enough the only time he didn't was the silent ex-ShadowClan medicine cat nearby. Abandoned her clan and duty on a whim, joined RiverClan pregnant and foolishly refusing to stay in the nursery. At the very least she was a testatment to how not to act when he had his own kits. If he ever disagreed with their leader on anything, it was her....and Hyacinthbreath; if only he'd listened to Cicadastar then, how foolish he'd been. Shaking his head the dark tom raised it up with a quiet tone, "I do not think we can afford a fight currently, I'm all for trying this the diplomatic way first." Normally he would be eager to sink his claws into a cat and fight against greater odds, but the clan needed more loyal warriors willing to do the same before they fell into war and the new generation of apprentices had only just started training.
And yes, a part of him was too exhausted to even think about battle.
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[hazecloud]

There was hesitancy behind her approach, and its cause is not from the stalking mottled tom. While Cicadastar is a wonderful show to behold with the ballads he addressed his kingdom with, the grandiose of his presence was no match to a certain pointed blue. Hazecloud had seen her first; a wonder she had managed to keep herself so still when every muscle urged her to leave. Torn between dutifully attending her King's report or selfishly acting by her own desires. Hazecloud wasn't ignorant of how inconsiderate she often acted when given the option to be, but this time she remained.

Lichentail had sat alone. The setting sun shone over the reeds onto the pretty blue's fur. A warmth she would have loved to share with them again. Though cast into the shadows behind narrowed beryl eyes, the smoky cat would have notably been gazing at the Lead now. Each emotion of longing contrition bore across a pretty face. The muscles in her jaw snapped tight when another, dark-furred and eyes of glowing coal, rest in the spot she had been pining for. Oh. Smoky heat burned in her throat.

Hazecloud forced herself to look away from the pair. Lichentail would be right to move on, but she couldn't stop the clouds of jealousy that pounding at her heart. Spirals of thick fog joined in tandem with tendrils of poisonous envy. Coiling around her throat while heat raised to her ears. Foolish- stupid. Why couldn't she be content with the situation she had made? Having no one but herself to blame her for own broken heart, for theirs, too. Thoughts barbed with despair loving wrapped around her mind, embracing her in cold familiarity.

The mottled toms words echoed distantly, Hazecloud hardly understood a word beyond her own internal whirlwind. "... and I cannot- I will not risk another battle, and we can lose no more land. Head heavy, she forced her gaze up to see her King. A hopeful attempt that his words would clear the rapid descent of her dejection.

"I have decided to enlist their help.

Emerald sights picked between the face of each cat that had gathered, a majority having faced teeth and claws from cat and beast alike at least within the last moon. Smokethroat's agreement was surely a surprise as well. The battle-born deputy sided with diplomacy? This must be, then. The decision was clearly in their best interest.

"The stars have given you nine blessings for a reason, Cicadastar," She spoke through the twinge in her voice as she further addressed the leader. "you have been guided by starlight to do what is best for us, for RiverClan to prevail. If that is your command, trust it will be followed."​

 

[Cindershade]

Silent as the dead of night, where the winds billow nothing but the soft rustle of leaves and the cicada's song is placed to rest, she is a ghostly shadow of an apparition in step with the mottled chimera that leads them. It had been a long ways back, toes riddled with mud and wet soil, the smell of wet moss clinging to their skin. Her muscles strain, bulking mass of shadow with exhaustion, it's evident in the creases of her pinched brows. She's deep in thought, the whirling of her mind was sporadic like a Green-Leaf storm, hardly silencing even as she treks through the cool water that protected their home—a safe haven from threats.
Water droplets fall, splashing against sleek fur and it quells her mind a bit from it's raucous storm. These—these trespassers, no matter what they called themselves, they were still trespassers in her eyes. A perceived threat to their home and her distrust does not wane, even in the face of friendliness. Cicadastar extended an olive branch that she was not certain of, his generosity never ceasing. It was both admirable and foolish to her. He had been stung more than once, yet he still chooses to remain open-minded. Cindershade can not help but look to him in a mixture of reverence and curiosity; how could a man remain so compassionate despite the odds? Was it because he knew they'd fight a losing battle? He knows he can not afford to lose more warriors, he knows that they are exhausted and yet they still stand before him with scornful howls, a pack of wolves relishing in the hunt and thrill. He knows they will die in for his namesake if given the order.

The gathering of cats ensue now, naturally curious of their return and eager for news. She follows him to the center, surrounded by sedge and willow branches where the birds sang above before the setting sun. Again, she listens to his words in silence. Her silhouetted features are unrecognizable as usual, carved like marble with a narrowing gaze. German accented voice lifting above all, speaking of this colony and the river's waning levels. He doesn't want another battle, he wants an ally. Perhaps—perhaps it was a more intelligent idea than jumping straight to clashing bodies. These cats were driven from their very home, a situation so similar to their own. Knuckled toes knead against the moss below her, ripping strands in their wake and a thick tail twitches. Enlist their help, he announces. But then, after that—then what? Will they just keep to themselves down stream? Will they move on, become a nomadic group with no permanent home? It's not your problem, a voice interjects in her psyche, they're not your clan mates. But they're not hostile, even met with hostility they did not retaliate. It was—not something that Cindershade was used to.
Silence befalls them now, glacial eyes raking over each one present for their thoughts and opinions. Petalnose is the first to speak, earning an undivided glance in her direction as she agrees with their leader. So, as battle-crazed as she was, the newly promoted lead would agree? Cindershade's ears flick in acknowledgement, followed by a subtle nod of her head but the woman's graze was something of a mixture that she couldn't recognize. Did she truly feel that way? There was no way to tell. Crappiepatch stood silent, their expression a cacophony of emotions thst they dared not to share.

Lichentail and Boneripple, too, remain silent but there is a tension there that she does recognize. More than wariness and it causes her brow to raise quizzically. Boneripple she could easily read, due to the known ill-willl towards her. Lichentail, though, she was surprised that no opinion hsd come from them—usually the point was so eager to share their thoughts. But there was nothing—not until a reaping shadow spoke and his words still surprise her. Smokethroat as well? And Hazecloud? Cindershade shifts uncomfortably, ivory needle-like claws continuing to rip the moss beneath her until more silence falls. She comes to realize that she needed to speak now, a request for her thoughts that have been reeling since that early morning. She was tired now, wanting to forget this until the morning of. But that wouldn't come, she was a lead—a member of the river king's concil whether her opinion mattered or not. "I believe," she starts, her voice void of sny emotion. "That these cats are not to be so easily trusted. We do not know of them, just as they don't know of us. I do not particularly like it—but there are bigger problems than them just being so close to our territory. The river. It poses a threat to us all if we do not figure out the why." Her verdant gaze darts to Cicadastar, keen eyes tracing the sharp lines of his face before continuing. "Perhaps these cats can be of help, then we can all move on with our lives. I will stand with you, Cicadastar. I will set aside my mistrust of these strangers and investigate them further. I pray that this will not come to bite us in the end. Maybe an—agreement of some sort can be made of this, and perhaps having a friend on our side could do us some good for once." Ivory whiskers would twitch, showing that was all from her. She could only hope that nothing negative would come of this. Even if it did, she would still bore her claws if need be.
​

[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​

 

[dovethroat.]

The suggestion lights a flame in Dovepaw's heart. One that seems now to always be lit, but is easily swayed with the fans of anger. Being so kind to intruders after both Raven's father and then his own mentor had been attacked for posing even less of a threat (in his clouded mind, at least) to the clan makes his chest very nearly tremble. Is that what we are, then? Cowards? Dovepaw practically wants to spit it out. His eye twitches. We'll cast out anyone we can, as long as we have the might to make it work? Is that all RiverClan stands for?

And yet Dovepaw agrees with the ultimate goal. These are merely the people who are living, not making a real fuss for anyone here. What right did the warriors of RiverClan have to go over with vitriol and rage, and drive them out under threat of death? The mix of both agreeing and disagreeing with Cicadastar makes his head spin until it hurts and he feels as if he cannot properly see straight anymore. It makes him angrier at everything. At the world, at himself, at RiverClan—at StarClan, if they're even watching.

Though his mouth very nearly falls open, he clenches it shut before anything can be said, any noise can be heard. He remains silent as he typically does around the leader, staring half at his clanmates but mostly at the ground. He is intelligent enough to know that he would do best to not say anything.

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

It was known that Ravensong was softer than most cats to outsiders—and his status of a healer had only emphasized that feeling as he recalled his vows. He would match any outsider's hostility as an equal force in response, but understood that most Clan cats would jump immediately to claws at a stranger. He had accepted it and scolded Dovepaw for not accepting it. Thus, in the young medicine cat's perspective, this hypocrisy was slapping him in the face like a wet, fat trout. That was perhaps the more offensive thing to him than running off seemingly friendly invaders. Had he finally lived to see the day where the paranoid, teeth-baring leader of RiverClan would call a group of invading (unintentionally, of course but that fact had rarely failed in igniting RiverClan agitation in Ravensong's experience) cats friendly and admitting to being unable to justify running them out. His pelt ruffled as he remembered his perceived slight. There was no justification needed when his father was run out.

What had the mottled cat seen that prompted such a radical change, Ravensong wondered, looking toward the other patrol members for answers. Were their uninvited guests too pitiful and weak or too powerful? He knew at the moment Cicadastar let the announcement linger for feedback that there would be no iota of pushback expressed to him for this decision. He was not surprised when the majority of words spoken were in support of the decision—whether they were truthful or not—regardless of honesty, they all knew what would happen if said otherwise. He hoped so.

Ravensong joined those who remained quiet, lifting his head up cooly in the leader's direction with a distant look on his face. He would not speak until he got more information on what sort of help or diplomatic trade-offs this help entailed.

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[PIKESPLASH]

( tags ) Certainly this was a strange turn of events. Never would Pikesplash think he would ever hear Cicadastar utter the word friendly towards a group of strangers on their territory, much less ask those strangers to help. He is pleased at the news, despite some agreement from his clanmates. Pikesplash had once been an outsider himself and there were times within the clan he would be reminded of it. Being an outsider was difficult and to hear that he wouldn't have the duty of chasing and driving away these strangers was relieving. Then again, we have bigger fish to worry about. The river receding is a problem and if this continues we might as well be dead. In all, what's important... The most important is figuring out this river situation. First it was the trash, now what?

In a sense he agrees with Cindershade. He shares the sentiment of the river posing a threat if they do not do something about it. He doesn't hold the same apprehension as her towards the colony cats because it was shared that they were friendly. The cats Cicadastar came across didn't bear their fangs or claws at Riverclan. If that had been the case then Cicadastar and all the others that went with him would have returned bloody. The only thing they returned with was confusion. Although there is something on his mind. Well not a particular thing, but those other thoughts weren't important to the conversation at hand. When Cindershade finishes, he waits for a moment and nods in agreement to some points she made.

Terrifying it is to share what is on his mind, yet he has to be brave. Brave like his friend Petalnose and be as willful as Lichentail. "I agree with Cindershade that what's most important is the river. I was not there to see the colony cats, so all I can go off of is what has been said about them. They are friendly... Enough that none of you returned without any wounds, so I think there's a little trust we can have in them. Although..." He turns to face Cicadastar, "How did you enlist their help? Are they going to be meeting us somewhere?"​

 

[iciclefang]

Iciclefang had followed Cicadastar’s patrol him with a pensive expression. The colony had been driven from their home by the terrain, and then every place they’d settled they had met claws. Had Cicadastar not ordered Petalnose to stand down, the tortoiseshell warrior would have aided her in driving the outsiders away from the riverlands. She looks with mild concern as Cicadastar announces his plans, but it’s not for her to say. She tries to meet Smokethroat’s single burning eye, wondering if he feels as she does—that Cicadastar’s kind heart is going to screw them over again.

Bitterly, her pale eyes sweep over those who dared to scold her when Ashpaw had returned to the Clan. Boneripple in particular holds her filthy tongue, and Iciclefang is glad for it. She flexes her claws in anticipation of some fool speaking out of turn again, but no one does. Cicadastar had, out of the mercy of his weeping heart, allowed the former ShadowClan medicine cat sanctuary when no other leader would have, even in the face of his angry, spitting Clanmates—and she acts ungratefully, skulking about and glaring at the cats who belonged to the river.

She thinks, too, of Hyacinthbreath, chased away by loyal warriors. The WindClanner should never have been permitted to stay, and that is a folly of Smokethroat’s… but her mentor knows her opinion on that, as she’d never been afraid to voice it. Caring for outsiders gets one’s feelings hurt or brings danger to the Clan—she does truly believe that.

Still, Iciclefang does not defy Cicadastar. She is one of the lowest ranking warriors still, only just reaching her fourteenth moon. Instead, she says in a cool, quiet voice, “Having help finding out about the river will be nice, at least.” She hopes that’s the extent of their leader’s generosity, but she says nothing more.

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white markings and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​

 

[lichenstar]

There it was.

Looking towards Cindershade as she shuffled nervously as words were delicately chosen and laced together in a way that might not earn any spurn or wrath, she was able to articulate every worry Lichentail had... and it finally gave her the permission she felt she needed to speak up. Being one of the first to offer any suggestion felt misplaced- she was not Smokethroat and had not earned the right to be heard the first, nor the loudest.

It seemed the majority had come to the same, if not similar, conclusion. These cats were strangers, not really deserving of their trust.. but the help was necessary. The clan of cats that were so named after it, could not survive without the river. Taking in a small breath to calm her nerves again, they glanced at the gathered faces to make sure they weren't about to interrupt anyone. Iciclefang makes a comment but it holds little context other than to agree the river is the priority.

"Do you already have a plan for after the river is... fixed? Should we prepare to share territory in exchange for their help?"

It would be difficult to manage the lack of space... though they were the fattiest, heartiest clan the lack of extra security would be bothersome. It could be afforded now, but what about later, in leaf-bare?​

edit; hit send too early aaaa