border CLIFFS OF DOVER ↷ [ShC Patrol]

[smogstar]

A welcome change awaits the ShadowClan patrol: a departure from the monotonous drivel exchanged across the border, typically falling on unenthusiastic ears and eliciting yawns. For it is the first time in many, many moons in which they're equipped with good news worth sharing. Actual good news. Provided both parties succeed in upholding a mature conversation, of course, a feat that the deputy harboured some well-founded doubts about.

Laurelkit and Halfkit walk among their rightful clanmates once again, liberated from the moor cats' eel-slippery grasp. The culprits behind their calculated displacement have met their retribution in kind, and besides Siltcloud's little forays into the lands she'd gotten banished from, all is as it should be, finally righted and settled. These victories grant Smogmaw a trickle of ease to contend with his preoccupations, worn in his demeanour like a mantle. There's a fresh vitality about him, almost unnaturally so, denoting he has at last indulged in a peaceful night's sleep.

"Don't enjoy the snow 'tween your pads, do you?" Ashenpaw, his son and apprentice, serves as the pinpointed subject for his mild chiding. Smogmaw regards him through a head held askew as they plod along, flinging white clumps from his paws at the end of every footfall. "S'alright," he mews, huffing somewhat, "we've only three more moons 'til it melts. Just don't step in nothin' funny and you'll be fine."

Noxious fumes soon take up arms against the crisp Leaf-bare breeze, and, sure enough, the thunderpath comes within a paw's reach. A sigh hot on his lips, the ashen tabby begins marking his scent against anything and everything. He despises how zealous snow is about clinging to the ends of his silver strands, despises how damp his pelt grows upon trekking through the stuff, and most of all despises how numb his ear-tips become afterwards.

When the deed is done, he trudges up the sloped terrain hugging the thunderpath and comes to a standstill in idle contemplation. Paws gather small snowy mounds between them while waiting for the opposing patrol. Hmmm, he thinks. Baby snow-monsters.

// @ASHENPAW, @DOGFUR, @COYOTETOOTH, @scalejaw, @FLINTPAW, @lilacfur ​

 

[freckleflame]

slush clings to the bulk of her paws, icy drip sliding unnervingly between her toes and sending her skin into an uncomfortable crawl. the ice had been unrelenting since leafbare had moved in, the mantle of frost and snow cradling them in blankets of white. she stands out like a a swollen eye ; dappled black and ginger against the colorless expanse, a stark contrast to the way her back had blended in with the past seasons leaf fall. she hadn’t been out this way much since sunfreckle’s capture, though he’d been graciously returned by whatever twoleg had thought it funny to taunt them, the sight of the thunderpath coming into view means they would soon have the trees scented, and soon be heading back to the warmth of their camp hollow.

the last freckleflame heard of shadowclan, they’d been clambering for kits. two, vanished without a trace — it was a shame, just awful. last she heard, they were still missing. missing. it was worse than dead, she thinks — it brings a pain worse than mourning, worry stronger than grief. dead meant a body, usually, it meant a stone and somewhere for kin to cry to familiar fur. dead meant at rest, laid aside sweetkit and softkit and dovekit, together as a family forever in the stars and in the soil, forever connected to home. she hopes they were safe, wherever they were ; that uneasy pang in her chest rousing as she steps from the undergrowth to a patrol already milling about their side of the black stone.

she strides forward anyway, rubbing her flank absently against a frosted tree trunk. ’least they don’t look upset.. a thick tail lifts in a friendlily, fighting to keep the lilt of pity from her voice when she sings a loud, ” hii, shadowclan. you keepin’ warm over there? “ if they were, hey — maybe they could share their secrets.

𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝙴 𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙴 -`☀︎´- 𝘗𝘓𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘌 𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘠 𝘍𝘖𝘙 𝘈 𝘞𝘏𝘐𝘓𝘌 𝘕𝘖𝘞

• i.
  
• 
  
  
• 𖦹 . LESBIAN, SINGLE. SMELLS LIKE SUN - WARMED OAK. SIXTEEN MOONS. FRIEND & SISTER TO MANY. NAMED WARRIOR OF THUNDERCLAN ON 8 / 3 / 2023. PENNED BY ANTLERS .. !!!
  f. she / her, daughter of sunfreckle and rabbitnose. large cream - ribboned tortoiseshell with seaglass eyes. larger than life! shades of vibrant russet, dousing swathes of shadow and interwoven with ribbons pale cream come to drape like licks of flame over a thick, broad - shouldered figure.
  
  unspecified maine coon heritage born of sunfreckle's kittypet background shows itself in large, round paws and tufted, long - furred toes set upon thick, tabby - splotched limbs. a characteristic lack of personal space leads her to a slouching, touchy posture, often inclined to lean or bump against her peers, all while bearing a wide, bright - eyed grin. she seems to sing confidence from every laugh, every word.. that can't all be for show, can it?
  
  ——— ˙⋆ — prone to bouts of explosive emotion. all opinions are solely in - character and during these times, often untrue or said only in anger.
  
  

​

 

[WOLFWIND]

Wolfwind would raise her tail in a greeting in the same moment Freckleflame does. At the head of ShadowClan's patrol is a familiar face— Smogmaw himself. Though she wouldn't necessarily call their disposition friendly, it was more than ShadowClan usuall gave them— which is, annoyed sneers and no - fun grumbles of, " you talk to much. " Typical, for ThunderClan to be all on their own when it comes to startin' idle chatter, but at least it didn't look like they'd get clawed for tryin', for once. (Metaphorically, anyways. Under new leadership, ShadowClan weren't fool enough to step across the border)

To add onto her friends chatter, she'd tell 'em, " Hope so! " with as much sincerity as she could muster. Wolfwind is a bit more for gossip than she lets on. She knows ShadowClan has passed this way before, for more - than - patrolling reasons. Wolfwind racks her brain while shakin' some'f the frost off her grey coat.

Then, she recalls, with a twitch of her whiskers. " Any sign of your kits? " spoken with some sympathy. She ought not too expectant, in case the answer was a sad no.

( i'll do the same as you ) ✨ ( i'll try to hold it up )

• 

• 

• [ SOON I HOPE, OR SOON AS I'M OLD ENOUGH ] WOLFWIND THUNDERCLAN LEAD WARRIOR! LITTERMATE 2 LAKEMOON; KIN TO MANY.
  
  

  SHE / HER, CONFUSED BY BUT NOT OPPOSED TO THE USE OF OTHERS
  CURRENTLY 25 MOONS OLD AS OF 12.3.2023. AGES EVERY 1ST.

  
  FRIEND TO MANY! UPBEAT AND UPFRONT. MOVES THROUGH LIFE WITH AN UPBEAT EXTERIOR AND BRIGHT EYES. MAKE NO MISTAKE! TAKES HER JOB VERY SERIOUSLY. THERE'S IMPORTANCE IN SAFETY, RECKLESSNESS ONLY GETS YOU SO FAR. ONCE A FOOL, BUT NO LONGER.

​

 

[ASHENFALL]

˚⊹₊‧ 𖦹 "No, I love not being able to feel my toes, actually... It's like they could fall off and I wouldn't even notice, how fun..." Ashenpaw drawls monotonously as they tramp through mud and slush. A little bit of Smogmaw's good mood seemed to rub off on him, he wasn't totally dreading the border patrol today, but even still the freezing, slippery ground beneath his paws gave him enough reason to pout.

His siblings were returned seemingly unharmed—or at least returned not dead, just in time for them to join him in the apprentice den, much to his chagrin. It was good that they were safe, yeah of course, but Granitepelt and Siltcloud's chasing out did not mean that the vultures were done circling his family. Ashenpaw thought about Siltcloud leaving prey strewn about in a disgusting pile and shuddered, it was an explicit enough reminder that they were still being watched... stalked and waiting to be slaughtered like a bunch of tadpoles in a puddle.

It was completely plausible that Thunderclan had some vultures among their ranks as well, he thought as he warily regarded the two chipper-sounding warriors across the ice-slicked path of death. One of them looks at them with a face that prickles at his ribs, like she pitied them. Why would a Thunderclanner give a shit about kits that weren't even theirs? So fake. Blegh.

"They're f-" They're fine, now mind your business, He'd nearly blurted, sputtering, "There's-uhhhh frost on my whiskers... ugh." Ashenpaw coughed awkwardly and shook out his fur. He would leave the news-sharing to Smogmaw or another adult with more political awareness than him, not knowing how much of the whole kit-return debacle they were supposed to be willing to share with their neighbors, what with all of Windclan's stink all over it and with the side revelations of murder and treason or whatever. Ashenpaw promptly twitched his eyes toward the ground, becoming very invested in looking at the various little piles of snow and ice that lined the border.

YOU'LL ASK, 'WHAT CAN I DO?' ˚⊹₊‧ 𖦹 AND THERE WILL BE NO ANSWER

• OOC:
• 
• 
  — ashenkit . ashenpaw
  — ftm transmasc. he/him. 8mo apprentice of shadowclan. mentored by smogmaw
  — muted blue torbie w/ pale blue and amber eyes
  — smells of rainsoaked fern and swamp milkweed
  — currently in an era of guilt. all ic opinions!
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — icon by nya, fullbody by tropics, sticker by saturnid
  — penned by eezy
  

​

 

[COYOTEBITE]

Did all the clans pick the same time frame to conduct their border patrols? Coyotebite found it amusing to say the least, although grateful that this time around the clan doing the patrols was on more peaceful terms. "I assume all is going well in ShadowClan?" Keeping her tone polite, she would nod in greeting once she stopped beside her clanmates. After her initial comment, she would fall silent, allowing her clanmates to continue the forced conversation. They were here for a border patrol, and nothing more. Knowing ShadowClan, they wouldn't expect much in the way of conversation either, likely just as eager to return home and escape the colder weather.
​

 

[smogstar]

ThunderClan cats by the pawful verge upon the ice-sheened thunderpath, and the stiffness in Smogmaw's stature slackens. Snow kisses his tail-tip. The good tidings he brings acts as a buffer of sorts, shielding his guarded mind against the burden that usually accompanies these cross-clan interactions. His breath stirs an opaque cloud, mingling with the clumsy response his apprentice had put forth—it speaks to Ashenpaw's fledgling wisdom for him to concede his answer without further thought. "Get used to it," he huffs, before a paw rises to greet the apprentice's cheek in tempered reprimand. "There, that ought'a shake some out."

Warm breath lingering on his mouth, the deputy centres his focus towards his neighbours once again. The delicate nature of recent happenings should not limit awareness to his clan alone, and this truth is punctuated by ThunderClan's shared borders with the moor menace. Besides, the sooner WindClan is accepted as a common, volatile threat, the sharper the tactical edge.

When his head circles back to Chilledstar's isolationist dogma, a momentary scowl crosses Smogmaw's features. They would will his tongue between his teeth, deny an occasion so openly bestowed. For too many times now have they erred themselves into an oppressive silence, that the deputy is emboldened by a small push of defiance. He will hold his tongue, but stars forgive him if a fraction of the truth slithers past his lips.

"We're as warm as our pelts allow, thank you." His tail thwumps into his son, who has yet to find much joy in Leaf-bare's newness. Amber eyes shift to Wolfwind, recognised thanks to her routine attendance on these patrols. Her query brings his maw to an upward tilt. "The kits, thank the stars, have been recovered and returned. It's made for a very dramatic moon, and I suspect you'll learn everything in the coming gathering."

Within him, a longing to unveil the conspiracy entwined with his kits' abductions, and the fragile state WindClan may find itself enveloped him sits restless. But a muzzle holds his jaws firmly in check, embittered by the truth yet to come. It's all reflected in his expression, as his mouth wrestles with the words he wishes to share. "Just... look to the moors through a cautious lens only. Place no faith in your neighbours from there."

A creature so driven by impulse shatters when it is restrained, though Smogmaw recovers his wits quickly enough. "How's about you, though? How does ThunderClan fare these days?" Chin tucked, the deputy inclines closer to the opposing patrol in genuine interest, tail stilling to the cold earth.​