- Jun 1, 2023
- 135
- 28
- 28
┌─────────────────── ☽【❖】☾ ───────────────────┐
As high up in the mountains as they are now, it's like a totally different world, snowdrifts piled around and not-so-distant peaks looming about them as they traveled onwards - always onwards, pushing through setback after setback steadily forward. It's a wonder that they've even made it this far, what with everything that's happened, and by this point, he's picked up enough to know that hoping they've already crossed the toughest hurdle is nothing but a recipe for disaster; if nothing else, they still have to go back the way they came, and even if that might not include any sudden rockslides, they've still crossed more than enough other hazards to make the thought unappealing. Not that he wants to stay up here, though, in these snow-laden plains - no, Luckypaw would much rather be back at home, snuggled in his warm, dry nest in WindClan camp. Despite all the dangers they've braved thus far, at times only just escaping certain ruin, and all the dangers they've surely yet to face, the idea of them all returning home with lungwort in tow is starting to seem more and more possible, where before it had only seemed like a distant hope. Maybe, just maybe, he would make it back - even as his paws feel as though they're liable to freeze off soon, his chest is warmed at the thought. Of course, it wouldn't be easy - not just the return trip, but the actual returning, too. As eager as he was to see Rumblepaw and Frostpaw and everybody else again, the weight that they would be returning to a home never to see Badgermoon again still weighs acutely on him, spearing its claws through his insides.
It's easy to fall into a rut with all this walking, especially with the bleakness of all this snow that his sparse fur can hardly defend against, and so he turns his gaze out to the view, idly watching the same snowy landscape, punctuated by jutting rocks and strange, scraggly-looking trees, hoping for something that would break the monotony without reminding him of just how far they might still have to travel. Quickly enough, he notices something a little different - poking out of the snow there, definitely not rocks or even grass. Distantly, he wonders if he's starting to hallucinate the bright burst of color, as though the blinding light of the sun reflected off the tundra had finally fried his vision, but as Luckypaw edges a little closer - no, it's definitely there. Splashes of color, purple being what he had honed in on, sticking straight out of the snow, and with the reassurance that there's actually something there, it doesn't take long before the colors start to reassemble into a slightly more familiar form. Flowers, though just what they're doing up here at this time of year, he can't say. "I've never seen flowers like those before - how do you think they grow so well with all this snow and stuff?" he muses aloud to nobody in particular, regarding the blooms with a tilted head. Granted, he's not generally a purveyor of the plants; any flowers that grow in WindClan territory are more so in the domain of the moor runners, not the tunnelers. Still, he has a feeling these flowers must be strange to somebody else, too, since from what he's heard, vegetation generally dies out with the snow. It's a little inspiring, almost, seeing the steady blooms amidst the piles of snow, and it certainly gives him hope that there must be lungwort up here somewhere, too, if these regular blossoms are hardy enough to thrive in these conditions.
It's easy to fall into a rut with all this walking, especially with the bleakness of all this snow that his sparse fur can hardly defend against, and so he turns his gaze out to the view, idly watching the same snowy landscape, punctuated by jutting rocks and strange, scraggly-looking trees, hoping for something that would break the monotony without reminding him of just how far they might still have to travel. Quickly enough, he notices something a little different - poking out of the snow there, definitely not rocks or even grass. Distantly, he wonders if he's starting to hallucinate the bright burst of color, as though the blinding light of the sun reflected off the tundra had finally fried his vision, but as Luckypaw edges a little closer - no, it's definitely there. Splashes of color, purple being what he had honed in on, sticking straight out of the snow, and with the reassurance that there's actually something there, it doesn't take long before the colors start to reassemble into a slightly more familiar form. Flowers, though just what they're doing up here at this time of year, he can't say. "I've never seen flowers like those before - how do you think they grow so well with all this snow and stuff?" he muses aloud to nobody in particular, regarding the blooms with a tilted head. Granted, he's not generally a purveyor of the plants; any flowers that grow in WindClan territory are more so in the domain of the moor runners, not the tunnelers. Still, he has a feeling these flowers must be strange to somebody else, too, since from what he's heard, vegetation generally dies out with the snow. It's a little inspiring, almost, seeing the steady blooms amidst the piles of snow, and it certainly gives him hope that there must be lungwort up here somewhere, too, if these regular blossoms are hardy enough to thrive in these conditions.
i'm falling into place, but still the timing's not right
(☘)
yeah that's a fire i just can't seem to light
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OOC: Looking primarily at crocuses :^3
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-LuckykitLuckypaw
- He/him (AFAB)
- 6 moons (Ages on the 1st)
-KitApprentice of WindClan
- Small blue tortoiseshell with white spotting & green eyes
- Art by myself & meghan respectively! <33
- Minor powerplay allowed!
- Penned by Hijinks
