CHESTNUTS ROASTING — snowstorm

[SLATE]

What a "lucky" coincidence, that as soon as the dawn patrol began their turnaround from their border with RiverClan, snow began to descend from gray skies. Slate had done a decent job thus far of avoiding long treks during an active snowfall and, while it seemed that the patrol that morning would not have issues with the weather, they had thought wrong. The snowfall began to grow denser as the group departed from the slushy river and entered the pines again. "Now, of all times?" The lead warrior huffs aloud, clearly not pleased with their predicament. The pines thankfully offered a good bit of coverage from the brunt of the storm, though falling snow filtered through the cracks and flitted down onto their backs.

Slate trudged across the powdery ground, hot air billowing from his nostrils with each breath. The Maine Coon let out a surprised mrrow as a clump of snow directly caught onto his face, covering his eye and nose. He stopped in his tracks, quickly batting the stuff off though the cold ice still stung. "This snow had better let up soon." He grumbled before rapidly shaking his head and then his entire thick coat. Particles expelled from his dark pelt, only for more to cling onto him moments later as the storm seemed to only intensify.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠, 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚

• no need to wait for @orangeblossom + apprentice tag @Cherrypaw

• 

• 

  ✰ SLATE
  —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[Orangestar]

𝐵𝑈𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐴 𝑊𝑂𝑀𝐴𝑁, 𝐵𝑌 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝑁𝐷 ✧ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀

• 
  
  — orangeblossom | tags
  — she/her ; deputy of skyclan.
  — scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes.
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — chibi by waluigipinball
  — penned by mercibun. @ me in any official tabbytales discord for plots.
  
  

​

"We may need to find a hollow to shelter in." Orangeblossom muses, squinting against the whirling flakes that rain down upon their heads. The tops of her ears are dusted white, and while the deputy doesn't notice this she is reminded of a ThunderClanner she'd met on patrol recently: that odd, pale cat who'd commented that their pale pelts might be snow-white by the end of the season. Orangeblossom seems to be making early progress on that mark, fur crusted in places with frost.

Rather than think on the state of her pelt - or Slate's, for that matter - Orangeblossom is reminded of last leafbare, when she'd been snowed in not once but thrice. First, sheltering in the empty dog den near Ashenclaw's twolegs. Second, snowed into a hollow log with Silversmoke at her side and forced to wait out the blustery storm. Third, when SkyClan had been forced to stay in their camp for two days, digging trenches in the white each sunrise to get from den to den. It's the best preserved she's ever seen the freshkill pile, but she'd never been able to get over the crunch of half-frozen prey. Even in the mountains of the Journey there had been a small blizzard such as this, forcing her into a small mountainside cave nearby Stormywing and Mosspaw.

Perhaps wisely, she doesn't comment on the clump of snow that's fallen directly across her denmate's muzzle, but amusement bubbles up in her throat nonetheless as she tries to tamp it back down again. Instead she cranes her neck, searching for a patch of ground frosted but not snow-laden; even if SkyClan's pines shelter them from the majority of the snowstorm, enough gets through that they'd be hard pressed to find a place to hide soon enough.
​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

For once, Twitchbolt was the least worked up. The star-bits of snow clinging to his pelt seemed not to bother him, and there lay a moonlight glimmer in his eye- one of excitement. Though the tribulations of Leafbare ate away at him in quieter moments, when he was drifting off to sleep or leading a patrol, now the sky offered him reprieve. It was dark-grey with snow swell, the sun pushing through with cold glow. The snow danced, an impenetrable veil- as a flake flickered to meet a twitching pink nose, the brown and white tom laughed.

Orangeblossom spoke of shelter, and Slate summoned the end of the storm- but Twitchbolt would not be pleased with simply standing under a tree and waiting for it to finish. Fixing the two with a wavering but sincere grin, he exclaimed, "I'm going to get a better look." Thrill brimming from him, he leapt up the nearest tree, scaling with fleet ease.

Iciness didn't bother him, and he walked tightrope across a sturdy branch, shaking clumps of snow down from the pine-needles to the ground. Childish glee surged from his smile as he tilted his head, admiring the scale of the clouds and the sight of the snow misting the horizon with its relentless tumble.​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[Cherryblossom]

The morose, monotone dawn combined had done no wonders for Cherrypaw's mood, already soured from the prospect of an early hike and last night's hunger. Her irritation had only deepened at the flurries that greeted their trek home, at first few and almost trepidatious in nature, but soon swollen white with number. Mismatched ears press flat against her skull as she traipses across the paling earth. Her thoughts align with her mentor's, as reluctant as she is to acknowledge it. Snow was a wonder—the first time she'd seen it, anyway. Now, it's just another cuff to the ears from Leaf-bare.

Her mother makes a pragmatic remark, but her black-patched daughter huffs and kicks apart a small pile of snow. "What's the point?" She glances around, tail tip twitching. "We're all thick-furred, aren't we? We could make it back if we pick up the pace."

She's about to jet off back to camp herself when Slate emits a curious noise, almost like a squawk or a kitten-squeak. His white-stained face draws out a peal of laughter from the girl. "HAH!" Winter-pink curl into a petty smile, bolstered by the fact that no one else had really acknowledged the mishap. But his apprentice had seen, and that was all that mattered. "You might wanna, like, watch where you're going," she crows.

Twitchbolt's gleeful departure is met with annoyed confusion. "A better look at what?" But the lead's already off, scrambling up the powder-dusted bark like a bristling squirrel. Yellow eyes, narrowed against the onslaught, track him as he picks his way through the green, the only color in a world reduced to gray, brown, and white.

It's whatever. The calico's thoughts had already wandered away from "he's gonna slow us down, and for what?" to "I wonder what Lupinepaw and Edenpaw are doing?" Edenpaw's no doubt tucked away in their twoleg nest. Lupinepaw...she's somewhere. Wherever she is, Cherrypaw is going to bury her face in her fur as soon as they're both back in camp and moan to her about whatever Slate's retaliation is.​

 

[SLATE]

Slate angles a torn ear at Orangeblossom's suggestion, taking a moment to assess their situation and weigh their options. Their travel would be delayed if they chose to wait out the storm, but then again, Slate didn't know how much more of this he could take. He hated fighting against frosty winds and the snow pelting his face only served as a distraction. "Fine with me." The lead warrior decides, an act perhaps unexpected of him. It is not typical for Slate to outright agree, as argumentative as he was. Would it be so bad to take shelter for a while and see if the storm eased? A part of him, one he tried not to acknowledge, also did not mind the prospect of spending more time with Orangeblossom. Maybe they could talk— them, and the other patrol members as well, he supposed.

It is no surprise that Cherrypaw finds amusement in his own embarrassment, so he sends the young tortoiseshell she-cat a sour look, "And you might wanna watch your tongue." Need he elaborate? Slate would be more than willing to assign Cherrypaw to elder duty if she kept pressing his buttons. He cannot help but twitch his whiskers as his apprentice then tries to persuade them all to keep going, more than likely because she'd rather be chatting with her friends in camp than be stuck out in the cold with her mentor. "Yes, Cherrypaw, but I'd like t' be able to walk a few moments without snow hittin' my eyes." Call him prissy for hating the weather, but his pelt being cold and slick was one of his worst peeves. Similarly, he disliked rainy days, especially back in the twolegplace when the alleys would flood and his underbelly would become sopping wet.

The only one who didn't complain about the storm, or at least expressed a need to take cover, was Twitchbolt. As, well, twitchy and worrisome as he normally was, today he oddly seemed... elated. For what reason? Was snow that interesting to look at? Slate only watches as the other lead warrior decides to momentarily depart from the patrol, hopping onto a nearby tree trunk and scaling upward as if he were on some sort of mission. "... Suit yourself." Mousebrain. Twitchbolt would be lucky if he didn't slip on some ice and fall.

Slate glanced around, his gaze eventually landing on a bundle of large tree roots at the base of a tree across the way. Gnarled and thick they sat, offering some relief from the elements. "Over here." The Maine Coon beckons to the others and makes his way over, taking his place against the side of a root and slightly ducking down so that the wind could not clip his ears. He shuffles, perhaps a bit awkwardly, as he tries to make room. "This might sound crazy, but I've been thinkin' about sleepin' in the warriors den again. At least until leafbare is over." The rogues had made a mess of SkyClan's camp during the journey, his old nest included, which prompted the decision to sleep just outside of camp instead of attempting to rebuild inside the warriors den. It was much more spacious that way, without having to push against other cats for wiggle room or having to worry about rolling over onto them in his sleep. However, without any cover, he woke up with a mound of powder built up on his pelt after a snowy night. Needless to say, it was inconvenient.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠, 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚

• 

• 

  ✰ SLATE
  —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[Cherryblossom]

Cherrypaw, unhindered in the least by Slate's rebuke, quickly settles down near one of the smaller roots. Wrinkling her nose at the thought of having to break chunks of snow off her belly fur later, she nonetheless cozies up with the lot of them, nearer Orangeblossom than the rest. Simultaneously cursing and thanking her father for his Maine coon-thick pelt, she tucks her tail tightly around her crouched limbs and steels the mind for hours of boredom.

Slate is the first to break the silence, surprisingly. Cherrypaw stares at him like a fly just landed on his nose as he brings up something predictably boring. The apprentice plays along though, because why not. "Did you not?" Maybe it was her shortcoming as his apprentice, but she'd never paid much attention to where Slate retreated to at the end of the day. The thought of him fitting all of his bulky black fur beneath the brambles makes her shiver with second-hand annoyance; maybe it was better if he slept outside all the time, so that his denmates (her in the future!) wouldn't suffocate in their sleep. She doesn't voice it aloud though, having been warned by Slate once today.

Sunlit eyes peer back into wall of snow, now falling faster and faster. Begrudgingly, she admits it might've been a good idea to shelter. "Does anyone snore in there? Falconpaw snores sometimes." She actually isn't sure whether he does, but someone has been snoring loud enough to wake her up, and she's more than happy to pin the blame on him.​