CAUSE EVERYBODY KNOWS [ shc sunhigh patrol ]

[scalejaw]

—————————————————【 she/her | menacing 】————————————————

【◈】 // note: this is just a little bit before the rogues attack!

A border patrol. Which, you know, really wasn't that bad. All things considered, Scalejaw was relieved something normal was happening. Chilledstar's life lost, Halfshade, Tornadopaw... they sat in her gut in like crowfood, and she was quickly pushing the feeling down. Once they had gathered as Scalejaw instructed, she was leading them across the marshes to Windclan's border. Her vision had been split on the paths ahead- she really didn't want to play with anymore rogues- and her new apprentice.

She had some mixed feelings, of course. An apprentice now would shorten her time, but it wasn't like the apprentice could be left without a mentor. Flintpaw would be a great warrior, surely. The disappointment that she could see in his eyes briefly here or there would hopefully turn to determination. Especially if Scalejaw had anything to say about it. Her ears twitched as they reached the border, inhaling softly.

Her voice rose softly, calling to those in the patrol as a whole. "Windclan border. Mark it. Make sure that rogue smell is gone." Her voice was even and controlled, even if the message was just as dire. Her vision shifted towards Flintpaw now. "There are two foreign smells here. Rogues, and Windclan. You'll learn to separate them soon enough." She spoke, and there was no warmth to her words- not like she had been in camp. For some, it may seem stark for Scalejaw, but the warriors in the patrol would have known well that Scalejaw didn't pull punches outside of camp.

She turned, rubbing her flank against a short shrub. "You are here to leave your scent on our border. Do not cross without reason or command." She continued to instruct her apprentice, hoping to the Stars he was listening.

// @FLINTPAW @Skunktail @FERNDANCE @honeypaw @Briarpaw.
// no need to wait for the above!

"yuh"

[penned by dallas].

​

 

[FERNDANCE]

It was odd, though not entirely unwelcome, to not have to lead the WindClan patrols anymore. ThunderClan had always been the dryest group to interact with, but the moor-runners were vicious and accusatory, she recalled how uncomfortable one had made her to be a she-cat and that was a lesson not so readily forgotten by the cinnamon tabby. To be able to avoid the gaze of creatures so icky was a strangely welcoming thing when she was not given the chance to kill them; she supposed the same could be said about a few of her own clanmates, even those who joined the patrol with her. Emerald eyes remained on her apprentice for the most part, lessons seldom spoken on their journey, instead, committing the time spent to conversation about anything that interested Ferndance. Honeypaw was old enough to know what rogue, WindClan, and the like meant, at this point in her life, Ferndance's only role was to reinforce everything the red cat had been taught rather than give her new material - but, if Honeypaw had forgotten a lesson or twelve, she supposed it wouldn't hurt to listen to Scalejaw's exposition.

Then, like clockwork, her ears turned forwards and eyes slowly began to blink, she realised that Honeypaw might not have been taught everything about their neighbour. "Did you know that WindClan have hollow bones..." she breathed it as if it were fact to her apprentice, though both of them likely knew at this point that it was pure speculation. A game to rile up those around them, to gain a reaction where it otherwise would've been muted, the warrior would not change her stripes even when she'd lost the respect of her clanmates. "That is why they run so fast, and why they have lost every fight against us..." She shook her head like a disappointed parent. "Hollow bones crack so easily..."

​

 

[Bluepool]

ShadowClan. Once, in another time, Bluepool had lived among many of them. Back when it was the MarshGroup and Hare Whiskers had ruled over them. She would not ever in a million moons ever dream of going back. Why would she? ShadowClan may have beaten them the last time they had fought but they were still pathetic creatures, gaunt and starving even in the good moons, the times where other clans grew fat off of the rich prey that ran through their lands. There was never such a time of fortune in the swamp.

When Bluepool comes to the border her honeyed eyes sweep over the marsh cats who are present. Ferndance was a lead warrior last she had heard and yet here she was taking orders from another. The brown molly tries her paw at an insult but all Bluepool can do is smile back at her, a wicked grin that pulls at the corners of her mouth accompanied by a shrill barking laugh "What happened Ferndance? Chilledstar doesn't trust you to lead border patrols anymore?" her gaze dances across the others present - so many children. ShadowClan must have had a good season for kits, she thinks. "Why don't one of you come over here and I'll let you see how hollow our bones are for yourself?" the grin never leaves her face and she even finds herself swiping her tongue across her muzzle, claws dig into the earth. The idea of a fight was an exciting prospect after all.

​

OOC NOTES . ✦ . CHARACTER INFO

• ooc : — ​
• 
  

  ➵ she / her
  ➵ WindClan lead warrior & moor runner
  ➵ single
  
  

  

  - - a small, silver tabby she cat with short fur a cropped tail and yellow eyes
  ↪ toyhouse [ ✦ ]
  
  - - Reckless. Impulsive. Spontaneous. These are all the words that may come to mind if asked to describe Bluepool. She is an incredibly loyal cat who loves her family, her friends, and her clan fiercely. She is well known for her outspoken behavior, often just speaking whatever is on her mind or diving into things without really stopping to consider the consequences of her actions first. Once she has set her mind on something it is difficult to get her to change it.
  ↪ ESTP-A 'the entrepreneur'
  
  ➵ skilled fighter ; decent hunter
  ➵ SOOT CLAW X PEBBLE BREEZE; sister to sootstar and mintshade
  ​

 

[GHOSTWAIL]

Burning eyes slide from WindClanner to ShadowClanner, the ivory mongrel's gaze observing but never quite landing on any one cat for more than a moment. ShadowClanners were of the lowest echelon of cat to her - a stated enemy of WindClan. Sootstar had made it clear that Chilledstar and their marshland soldiers were no friend of any WindClan warrior, a choice that Ghostwail couldn't help but agree with whole-heartedly. Deception must run through their veins.... of course, Sootstar (and supposed by association, her sisters) were the known outliers of the marsh. There was a reason, of course, that Sootstar had establish her empire in the moorlands over some pitiful wetland slum.

Bluepool names Ferndance specifically in her taunts, but Ghostwail's gaze glides over the cinnamon tabby onto a little gray tom. A superficial likeness is present, she muses to herself, a surface level resemblance to Sootspot - what with his gray and white pelt and green eyes.... ahem... green eye. But that is where the resemblances end. This little gray thing has none of Sootspot's inherited gravitas or grandeur. All of those impressive traits Sootspot gained from his mother could not be duplicated in some scrap of ShadowClan fur - Sootstar's lineage was untarnished by such muck as ShadowClan blood.

Without a word, the gray thing is deemed as unimpressive as any other brat and Ghostwail's eyes return to Bluepool's form.

"If we were looking for entertainment, I would suggest another flock. This herd of sheep is.... droll... at best. Your claws are better dulled on trees." Comes the phantom's monotone drawl, her red eyes half-lidded so as to protect her delicate corneas from the sun. ​

 

[FLINTWISH]

It's Flintpaw's first patrol. He wishes he felt better about it– after all, he's finally catching up to his siblings now, seeing the world as they already have, learning to mark the borders and learning who was where. But in truth, heaviness sits in his belly. He likes Scalejaw enough; she's steadfast and dutiful, traits that he both respects and wishes to embody. But Granitepelt's words ring in his head; he can see his father's piercing emerald stare even when his mirror is nowhere to be found. He should have been doing this training a moon ago, like Nettlepaw and Ghostpaw. He never should have gotten yellowcough in the first place.

Flintpaw keeps up with the group well enough, though discomfort in his lungs eludes a cough every now and again. When Scalejaw speaks, he listens. Don't cross the border. It was easy enough. As for discerning between the two scents, a small huff leaves his black nose: "is it WindClan's scent that stinks worse than the rogues'?" His dual-tone gaze slides back to the other apprentices in his patrol, wondering briefly what they thought of his joke, before fixing back on the disgraced Ferndance. Hollow bones? There's no way. Skeptically, he flicks his gaze to the WindClanners that trickle by.

They are not a cat prone to banter like the kind Bluepool and Ferndance engage in. His snide remarks come much more slowly; though calculated would be the wrong word to describe them. His tongue simply lacks the fleeted quality of his older clanmates'. So, he turns to his duty, pressing his paws and his cheeks against whatever bushes dot the border (and being mindful not to cross it). Hopefully it was to Scalejaw's satisfaction. As for the other apprentices on patrol, they flick their attention back to @Briarpaw. , who had seen them when they'd just exited the medicine den. "Those ones are so tiny, they look like apprentices," he murmurs, ears flicking. "I bet their apprentices look like kits."

𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 ✧ 𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

• 

• 
  
  — flintkit . flintpaw
  — he / they / she ; apprentice of shadowclan
  — short-haired solid blue tom with low white and blue/green heterochromatic eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — headshot by me, avatar by lovettebunny
  — penned by meghan

​

 

[SNAKEHISS]

Whenever Snakehiss spots a ShadowClanner, he is instantaneously reminded of why he is a proud moor cat. His pelt is windblown at worst, but clean. Those marsh cats, on the other paw... he can smell them from where he stands. It is as if they carry the stench of grime and swamp with them at all times, no matter their futile attempts at keeping themselves bathed. "Ugh. It reeks of rotting toads and dried-up mud. How does a cat go around knowing that they smell like that?" Snakehiss snorts aloud as he marks the WindClan border, lifting judgmental eyes toward the patrol opposite of the Thunderpath.

His attention latches onto a softer voice now, this time originating from an unfamiliar ShadowClan apprentice. The nerve! If they wanted to make a jab at WindClan, then Snakehiss could play along as well. "Even our smallest apprentices could turn your eldest apprentices into crowfood, frog-breath." The young moor runner emits a hiss from parted jaws. WindClan has gone through enough this past moon, with Badgermoon's betrayal and the trouble with rogues and all. They did not need to take crap from the filthy marsh-dwellers as well.

✰ INFO

• 
  
• 

  ✰ 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

​

 

[scalejaw]

—————————————————【 she/her | menacing 】————————————————

【◈】 And here they were. Orange eyes, akin to glowing coals of fire, shifted and turned towards the Windclanners. Ferndance was off uttering some nonsense again, even if deep down it did inspire some humor from the warrior leading the patrol. Her ears twitched, standing back straight from where she had rubbed upon the border. Bluepool was speaking some nonsense about trying to start a fight, and simply, Scalejaw's head cocked.

As Ghostwail spoke to their clanmate, vision turned back towards Flintpaw. "You can tell for yourself now, yes?" Her tail flicked, indicating the band of Windclanners that squawked at their border. She watched- attention split between the offending clan and her own apprentice. A tiny nod was given in approval to his method, before her vision finally lifted to address the filth of a clan that bothered to try and harrass them. At least the ghastly pale one had some kind of brain on their shoulders.

"Bold of you to think you'd make it very far, moor-dirt." She spoke directly to Snakehiss first, voice held incredibly level. Moons of experience lended to her easy and calm nerves, despite the words the others had flung at them. She then adressed the whole of the other clan's cats, ears twitching. "Listen to your pale clanmate. We're surely too boring for a fight, anyways." Scalejaw could've rolled her eyes at her own comment, but she refrained.

With that, her tail flicked to her patrol, signaling the group to move along. There was nothing else to be had here, and if all Windclan had was dull threats as normal, well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Scalejaw did not leave yet, waiting until her patrol turned away first.

"yuh"

[penned by dallas].

​