BLACK RABBIT | ghost stories

[cottonsprig]

"Hey, Bluepaw?" Cottonpaw makes herself smaller as she sits in beside her fellow tunnellers. She tries to ignore the trees overhead and the sand underfoot, tries to ignore that they're far from home and sequestered into a portion of unknown land, tries to ignore everything - just for a spot of sunshine. It's hard, incredibly so, but someone has to do it. Hopefully her sister will entertain her, even if only for a moment.

"Do you remember that story Kestrelsnap used to tell us as kittens?" she pitches. Her weight shifts as she leans partially into Whitepaw, affording her long time friend a look to see if the other knows a similar tale. "The one of the rabbit - y'know, red eyes, black fur? I feel like she used to tell us about it to keep us in line -" well, their brothers and Moorpaw, more likely, "- but now I wonder. D'you think it's staring down those rogues now, letting them know of their soon-to-be demise?" Because surely, surely, WindClan will be allowed home again. In time.

Cottonpaw shifts her weight again, tilting back, "Or... do you think it was just a silly kitten's tale?"

[ @BLUEPAW @whitepaw feel free to post before!! ]​

 

[BLUEFROST]

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XXXXXBluepaw’s distaste in their predicament shows in the subtle curl of her lip, the spite burning in half-lidded green eyes. Her paws are wet from attempting, clumsily, to hunt in undergrowth rather than tunnels, her pelt slick, too, from grass and brambles wet with dew from an overcast night with little shelter. Cottonpaw puts a brave face on in spite of it all, but her less-smoked twin detests the forest and all who dwell within the safety and warmth of ThunderClan’s camp. She does not stop to consider, as some of her Clanmates had urged her to do, that WindClan would not have offered ThunderClan their camp either—it’s irrelevant, it’s a hypothetical that never would happen, now.

XXXXXWindClan is weak, and ThunderClan gets to exploit them because of it.

XXXXX“Kestrelsnap told us many tales.” Her tone is quiet and bitter. She flicks her eyes to Cottonpaw, suddenly missing the days they’d spent together in the nursery, missing the wet nurse who’d reared them while their mother ran their Clan. Things had been simple. Things had been right. Their father had been alive, their mother had been feared and respected by every cat in the Clan, the forest. After a heartbeat, she murmurs, “Yes, the red-eyed rabbit with black fur. I do remember that story.”

XXXXXShe lets herself fall back in time, if only briefly. “I thought I would hunt that rabbit myself one day, but in all my time in the tunnels, I have not seen a rabbit with a pelt that color. There are white rabbits, every now and then—and sometimes their eyes are almost red. But…” She blinks, her tail sweeping elegantly over her paws. “I do believe it must be a tale for kits, now.”

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[SNAKEHISS]

Snakehiss does not typically associate with tunnelers — they have different duties from him as a moor runner and work in other ( less desirable ) parts of the territory. Therefore, there is not much for him to discuss with them. They often smell of soil, anyway. Heatherpaw is the one exception, as he is his "friend" and he is keen on maintaining their little agreement.

Regardless, the young warrior is nearby, grooming himself and trying his best to keep the stink of ThunderClan's territory from making a home on his pelt. He twitches his ears, ever the eavesdropper, always listening for information that may be of interest to him. Not that the discussion of mere nursery tales was particularly interesting, but there really wasn't much more to do in the Sandy Hollow but sit around. "That's kit stuff. I've hunted the moors every day and have never seen a rabbit that looks even remotely close to black." Snakehiss commented from his position with a snort. He had never believed that tale, not even for a moment. His parents had never keen on telling him lies; instead, they'd illustrate true stories from their days as moor loners, about how they'd fend off their dens from killer rogues and stray mongrels.

A faint sorrow tugs at his heart; what he would give to hear Rosepool tell one of her stories one last time. He quickly disregards it, as now is not the time to mourn.

The ebony feline swiped his tongue over his paw before casting a glance in the direction of the apprentices. "Besides, even a creepy-looking rabbit wouldn't be enough to stop those bone-headed rogues. Those greedy dunces would probably try to catch it for themselves."

✰ INFO

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  ✰ SNAKEHISS
  —— he/him; warrior ( moor runner ) of windclan
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— long-limbed black tom with green eyes, a small white chest patch, and a notable bite mark on his right foreleg
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

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