camp CONCEAL, DONT FEEL 𓇼 WARRIORS SNOWED IN

[shellpaw]

the dawn had only just broken, painting the leafbare white in shades of dappled pink and blue. the babies were sleeping still. most warriors on morning patrols, only a few elder cats milling about the camp. in and out of the warriors den, weary - eyed and exhausted from their own duties earlier that day. shellkit doesn’t understand, yet, the stress they go through. the tiredness ages them, matures an unruly apprentice until they become the same, dead - eyed adult with their sunken bellies and thinning arms. shellkit had never seen them any other way, not yet. she, of course, vows not to be the same. her brothers, neither. riverkit was sleeping, dozing with the babies but she and pebblekit conspire until they end up here — paws up on the wood, scrabbling with each hind - leg hop towards the top of the old, fallen tree.

they would get to the top, and everyone would be so impressed they would have to break out of their stupor. this would work, because everyone loved a kit. maybe they would even make them apprentices, name them early to shellclimb. pebblereach.. maybe she should leave it to smokestar.

she is so focused on her task : upright, scrabbling at the side where she will occasionally stick before sliding back down into the powder snow. it was too slippery to grip, but she only tries harder — again, again, again. she doesn’t see the wobbling of white on top of the carefully woven den. she doesn’t see the shift of snow amongst the fresh - fallen, doesn’t see until she throws her weight one more time against the old bark, leaving little scratches in the aged wood. there is a popping sound, of sticks swaying. she pauses, stumbling a confused step back, ” oh n — “ is the only thing she can utter before the wobbling turns into a sudden, crashing. old, dove - white snow falls in a noisy collapse down, down, right over the split entrance to the warriors den, sealing in cats who’s heads pop up from their nests moments before the snow condemns them. the lilac girl scrambles back rapidfire, tiny paws making clear divots in the snow underpaw. her head whirls around towards pebblekit, wide - eyed, belly fallen to her paws and spine already arched in a guilty cower as attention snaps to them.

they were going to be in so much trouble.

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𓇼 𝙎𝙊 𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙎𝙊 𝘾𝙊𝙇𝘿

• i. @pebblekit, but no need to wait! they were trying to climb the warriors den and knocked loose the snow on top.
  
  for the prompt dove white, pebblekit, and slippery.
  
  
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  SHELLKIT 𓆉 SHE / HER, KITTEN OF RIVERCLAN. KINDLING xx UNKNOWN, NIECE TO SMOKESTAR. TWO MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. PENNED BY ANTLERS.
  delicate lilac - striped molly with sugarplum eyes.
  
  she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of shell - touched cream, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore. feather breath and elderdown fur conceals a body worn fragile by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with baby fat in others. her face is short - muzzled, framed half mast by eyes coined warm, sugared amber ---------- ° ❀ ⋆
  

  currently exhibiting symptoms of whitecough. this includes a running nose, wheezing, sluggishness, and labored breathing. please keep contagion in mind.

  
  

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[Nightfish]

𓆝 . ° ✦ Leafbare’s not that uncomfortable to Nightfish — he already doesn’t go in the water, so the iciness doesn’t change much, and his fur is thick enough to keep him warm through most of it as long as he doesn’t jump straight into a snowdrift and burrow in there.

Unfortunately, the snowdrift seems to have moved on the offensive and decided to jump straight at him.

He’s trying to tiptoe through the tangle of legs and tails littering the ground of the warrior’s den towards the early morning light, his nose most of the way out, when snow doesn’t so much fall as collapse from the sky, as if someone had shaken a tree’s worth of it right on top of him. He steps on a few stray paws as he scrambles back to escape the avalanche, blinking snowflakes out of his eyes. There are ice crystals clumped in his whiskers, and a significant absence of an opening where there used to be an outside. Now it’s just a wall of snow, and the muffled sound of the camp beyond.

“Frog-dung,” he says, with great feelings but also what he thinks is admirable calm. “We’re buried.”

✧　°　.　✶　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
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  NIGHTFISH — HE/HIM ･ 38 MOONS ･ WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN ･ PENNED BY KANGOO

  a large black and lilac chimera with high white and blue-yellow heterochromia and an expressionless face.

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[PEBBLEPAW]

( ☼ ) a shiver runs up the spine of the spotted boy as he follows his sister's climb. excitement tremors through his body, causing his paws to shake, tiny claws clinging for dear life each each step he takes to ascend the fallen tree. he is not yet used to the concept of causing mischief, no matter how bright and invested his sister seems to be. still, ever the protective older brother, he will follow her anywhere. today, that just so happens to be up a tree. shellkit thinks of the best games, pebblekit has decided, and even if they are sometimes... dangerous, he'd rather be with her than watch her do them alone. through the woven branches of the warriors' den, he spots a few stragglers fast asleep, their faces framed with scowls even in their deep dreams.

today is a quiet day in camp, and it's one of the things he appreciates about kithood. being left alone is one of the great joys of being too young to work, even if he hates to see the crabby looks on everyone else's faces. shellkit has often whined about the tired warriors who never play with them, but if pebblekit is being honest, he doesn't mind. he has riverkit and shellkit to look after, and hazecloud to bother if he really cares. he spends most of his time training to defend the nursery or looking after his siblings. all this said, he doesn't mind the solemn air to camp.

one thing he does care about, besides his sister's safety, is proving his worth. he sees the looks they get, mostly pity from older warriors, curiosity from younger, for being rejects. kin of smokestar though they are, the trio have a long way to go before pebble believes they'll truly be accepted. taking this challenge with shellkit could perhaps help with that. his stubby tail shakes with anticipation as they go at the tree again, this time so close to the top that he can almost taste it. shellkit is ahead of him, her boldness clearing a path as he guards from behind, so when she slips, his fall is inevitable. powdery snow crumbles atop them as the two kittens land, and devastation descends onto the kit's face as he watches more snow thunk down to lock the warriors in their den.

"uh," he squeaks, shellkit's plum eyes meeting his own honey ones. pale blue fur fluffs up, a small frown forming on his face and he'll scramble to his paws, rushing to duck in front of his sister. "are you okay?" he'll whisper to her, placing a soothing lick across her ear. as all eyes turn to the two guilty parties, pebblekit takes a stance slightly in front of his lilac companion, ears flat, daring someone to approach.

I DO NOT HAVE WINGS, LOVE ☼ I NEVER WILL

• // " speak "
  
  
  
  
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  PEBBLEKIT ☼ HE / HIM, KITTEN OF RIVERCLAN. KINDLING x UNKNOWN, NEPHEW TO SMOKESTAR. 2 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a large blue tabby with low white. pale blue fur covers the length of pebblekit's stocky body, sliced through with darker tabby stripes and spots. baleful orange eyes peer out of heavy set sockets, and his muzzle, paws, and tail tip are dashed with white.
  
  
  
  

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[valesight ➶]

⸙͎｡˚⋆ ⍋ ѧѦ ѧ⍋ ⸙͎｡˚⋆

He doesn't mind them... the little ones that run around the camp during the day to play games, the ones that take nipping bites at his plumy tail as if it were a fish they should be catching. In fact, Valepaw envies them and desperately wishes to return to the nursery where it is warm and safe and he is not forced to learn such things as violence and combat. If Hazecloud weren't in there, it'd be nothing short of a dream come true... but she is in there, with babies no less. Poor things were sure to have their souls snapped up in witchy commandments of names- did they even have names yet, he stopped to wonder.

But the scrabbling noises of someone trying to scrape their claws against something unforgiving is enough to draw his focus and ire- it is a grating noise to hear, especially so early in the morning when he is certain it's going to wake someone up. Asphodelpaw loved to complain about others being noisy, no matter how justified said racket was. His maw opens as if to warn those fool-hardy kittens they're going to get themselves hurt when an avalanche of dense snow crumbles in front of Nightfish's face. It is a narrowly avoided disaster that it did not crush the warrior completely... and the chimera is left gawking at the result.

The den is normally easy enough to enter and exit but now...

"Uh oh," he says in a breathless whisper. Hurrying towards the two frazzled kittens, a cloud-fluffy pelt hunkers down to check them over. "Safe?" He lifts a paw, twisting it back and forth as if to demonstrate his question- are you okay? in far fewer words. That was the priority, wasn't it? The warriors would figure out a way to dig themselves out... probably.

He had half a mind to tuck the both of them behind him and confess to the whole ordeal as his own idiotic crime- they were just trying to have some fun, how were they supposed to know the snow could do that? (Valepaw hadn't known either until just now.)​

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[DAWNSTORM]

die with memories , not dreams .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Dawnstorm was fortunate enough to have been outside when it happened, helm tipped back to stare at the mound of snow over the den’s entrance with a slow lick of his lips, a sliver of pink tongue slipping out to soothe the cracked blemishes. Oh. That’s not good. He mused, helm slipping downward at the pile of snow splayed outward. “Accidental.” He offered to Shellkit and Pebblekit, blinking languidly, seemingly unconcerned about what transpired, ears angled forward to catch any shuffling, but it remained non-existent, perhaps muffled against the mound of powdered white.

With enormous paws, the bi-colored warrior padded forward, plumed tail sweeping in a large arc to collect snow toward the side, helm pivoting to stare at Valepaw. “Take them.” He gestured, willing to take the blame for something unintentional.

Bi-colored hues swept forward, staring at the large mound before the den’s entrance, brows creasing in concentration. “Start sweeping snow, the top will fall.” He muttered to himself, ears angled sideways with a quiet sneeze, paw reaching to rub the cold appendage. If they move the snow from the bottom, the mound will decrease in size, but perhaps he could get Nightfish to dig from the other side, pulling snow that can be carried out later. “Nightfish?” He called, voice raised in hopes of the warrior ( or any other ) hearing. “Can you dig?” He supplied in the same raised voice, paws moving to dive into the sharp bitterness that bites at cracked paw pads, drawing an uncomfortable sound from the warrior. ​

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thought speech​