border CARRION CALL ✩ riverclan patrol


⋆ 。° ✩  Cricketchirp keeps their head high, leading the patrol in a march. This is what they have always been meant for. This leadership, this power. It is his birthright, written in the words of the stars themselves. It is what the humming melody of stardust in his veins draws him towards, always. He had been so starved by apprenticeship.

Instructions are handed out rotely, rehearsed and flat - but interrupted quickly as star-dappled eyes narrow and pale teeth click together. "Look, there - on the other side of the gorge..." She has to squint to see it, hazy and distant. "Some type of fox, I believe? Or, no, a dog - maybe a coyote... I cannot quite tell from here." Her voice tinges harsh, at the end. Some kind of predator, tracking after a fuzzy white shape that she can only assume to be a rabbit. It frustrates her, the uncertainty - the imperfection of her own senses.

She lets out a soft breath, flicking her tail dismissively. " Nothing good, regardless... Perhaps we ought to let it surprise them. I imagine it would be - hah - amusing," she mutters with a laugh - a choked and chittering sound - and turns away to continue her marking of the border.

  • @SANDPELT @Tigersplash @Ospreypaw
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  • CRICKETCHIRP he / she / they, warrior of riverclan, thirteen moons.
    a wiry, curly-furred black smoke with clouded blue eyes.
    intelligent, egotistical, and strange, with an eye always turned to the stars.
    smokestar xx cicadastar, littermate to beepaw & cicadapaw
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
 
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ꕀꕀ He can’t deny that it’s demeaning, being led around by Cricketchirp like this. The younger cat has more accomplishments under their name, of course, but Tigersplash is much older than the both of them. Besides, Cricketchirp shows the same cruelty that both their siblings do—they hold their head high and suggest that they let an unknown predator on the other side of the gorge surprise their neighboring clan. Not that Sandpelt really cares about WindClan or their safety, but allowing any clan to be attacked by a predator seems harsh, when they could easily warn them instead.

The tom squints at the shape across the border, watching as it follows after a hare. A coyote, definitely. It’ll catch its prey eventually, but Sandpelt can only hope that the chase will lead it far from RiverClan’s border—and far from WindClan’s camp, as well. "It’s a coyote. If you don’t warn them, then I will," he says, his voice low as he approaches the edge of the gorge. His eye remains locked on the canine and its path across the moorland, grimace set on his maw. It’s WindClan’s problem, but I can at least… warn them.

  • ooc:
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    SANDPELT ❯❯ he/him, warrior of riverclan
    pretty, silky-furred tan tortoiseshell with one yellow eye. calm and hardworking, but can become snappy if angered.
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
    penned by foxlore
 
The borders have long since been both the most dangerous places to be as well as the safest places to be. While she cannot account for that of ThunderClan specifically, both ShadowClan and RiverClan have housed the moorland cats once - and she and her Clanmates have sufficiently squandered that friendship, she knows. Nonetheless, cats tend to be neutral whilst marking them as of late, which is perfect for the blue smoke who only wants to sniff about for herbs.

Blue eyes glance across the way, floating on the cats beyond the gorge for a second. She can make them out, of course, but knows too little of RiverClan's warriors to give them names. The wind blows away from her, the coyote beyond her line of sight as she trails opposite of it. Her tail twitches as she nods a slight greeting to the river-cats before carrying on on her own.​
 
Slateheart trails after the patrols' lead as they trudge along the gorge. Fearfully, remembering the tragic death of Bluepool, the lead warrior keeps his distance, making a point to stand between his apprentice and the gorge. Across its roaring depths is a RiverClan patrol, whose words he cannot hear over the rushing water. Probably for the better, he thinks.

"You remember RiverClan from the gathering," he comments, leaning his head towards Beepaw. Both gatherings, notably. She was lucky to have participated in a gathering twice since their apprenticeship. "What do you remember about them?"

Of course, as he speaks, he as blissfully unawares of the predator that lurks beyond his field of vision. The only danger here, to his knowledge, is that of the gorge and the spirits it had swallowed.

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SLATEHEART ( he/him )​





( ooc ) app tag @Beepaw
 
MY BODY'S COVERED IN TEETH MARKS
YOUR BITES WORSE THAN YOUR BARK
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marmotbite & 20 moons & demigirl & she/they/it & windclan tunneler
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Its a rare sight, to see the tunneler above ground - but even she needs to stretch her legs sometimes, feel the sun on her fur. Of course, marmotbite is unenthused to find her wanderings interrupted by the presence of another patrol, mismatched eyes narrowing upo the riverclan cats across the border. Frown flickers, tugging at her scars as it does, and she moves just a bit closer to her apprentice. Not that she doesn't trust Ferretpaw to keep her own - no, it's rivercan she doesn't trust,

actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes'
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T H E R E S A D O G I N Y O U R H E A R T
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TAGS — Ospreypaw trails after her mentor with boredom bright in her silver-knit features. Tigersplash is... fine. She's no Cindersong, but Cindersong is good and properly injured beyond returning to her warrior duties, so Ospreypaw is just going to have to make do. Tigersplash is at least more capable than her dry-pawed, knocking-kneed brother. For what reason Lichenstar has added Foxtail to her council must be the same minnow-brained spur that has allowed Splashpaw into their apprentice's den.

But Splashpaw and Foxtail aren't here. Beyond her mentor, she's accompanied by Sandpelt and Cricketchirp, both fine enough warriors, though they tend to get on her nerves. This is not a trait unique to them. Cricketchirp does condescend more often than his denmates, which always whips Ospreypaw into an indignant storm, but... they're fine. All of them, fine. WindClan, fine. Whatever. Who cared if the moor rats were about to get torn apart by some dog or coyote or fox? They deserved it, skirmishing at their border like they had.

Her lemongrass gaze slides across the gorge to land on the dangerous canine, though not before counting three moorland heads. "Sound the alarm," she hums to Sandpelt without amusement. She'd rather let the WindClanners get caught off guard, but if he insisted on being honorable as always, so be it.