COZY GROVE | windclan patrol

[SNAILSTRIDE]

They weren't entirely sure what Badgermoon was thinking by giving them such a responsibility. Trudging well along to their fourteenth moon, they hadn't had the chance to lead a patrol before, and, typical of WindClan, they were thrown into the responsibility by the scruff and told a hearty 'good luck' for their efforts. Their kindness came at a cost he couldn't bear anymore, so after a good several minutes of leading his clanmates in the wrong direction, Snailstride and co eventually found their way to ShadowClan's border. They'd heard exasperated tales about the other cats, their minds twisted by thoughts morbid enough that their territory had turned black with corruption. They'd rather chew on rotten bones than fresh food was another one, over and over he repeated the rumours and the more time passed, the more Periwinkle's assessment of the enemy's grim council seemed fitting. It hadn't bothered them until they'd threatened him into defending his home. Snailstride held no illusions of their battle prowess, ShadowClan would kill them if they could catch him - they just had to catch them first, was all.

Looking over the place where the light feared to tread, Snailstride felt his body will to a halt before his mind had caught up. "Well! This is it." They realised they made it sound like a swan song, perhaps it would be - their enemies hadn't been keen to respect borders before. Sapphire eyes trailed down to where the thunderpath was marked in a slew of greys and blacks, their first line of protection. A wanton smile stretched the blue tabby's maw as they looked back to their patrol, Lead Warriors and apprentices alike all looking to them to decide how the patrol would go. No pressure or anything. His expression didn't falter when the sinking feeling set in. "Let's be nice and thorough, alright? Our neighbours aren't exactly... neighbourly. I mean if you're gonna invade our land and attack our leader you could at least ask first! Hahaha.... Haha..." Rummaging from the undergrowth across from them, even now they were being watched from the darkness. Stars, they would feel so much better when they were allowed to take their sunhigh nap. "Hah." The Warrior turned back around and trod across the well-worn path of paws, marking the long grasses that tempted fate nearest to the path.

[ @WOLFSONG @sunflowerpaw @Mintshade @Azaleapaw @GRAVELSNAP ]
​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

Traveling alongside two older warriors and their apprentices, plus Snailstride functioning as the patrol’s lead, Gravelsnap can’t help but feel a bit off-kilter. They wish that another warrior had come with them, just so they’d have someone to talk to. Someone they feel comfortable around, someone who they trust not to shove them out onto the black-topped ShadowClan border without hesitation. Their distaste for Azaleapaw is clear, and they are aware that she doesn’t like them either. They don’t understand enough about either Wolfsong or Mintshade to feel safe around either of the volatile warriors. It seems, looking across the patrol, that the clanmate they trust the most is… Sunflowerpaw. Strange.

At the front of the patrol, Snailstride makes a joke about the ShadowClan deputy’s recent attack against Sootstar—not a particularly well-timed joke, or one that is in especially good taste. "Funny joke," they say, voice flat and unamused, betraying how unfunny they think the gray tabby’s joke is. They wrinkle their nose as they step closer to the other clan’s territory, giving a sharp shake of their head. "It smells horrible here," they say, a tired observation. The land is no amazing view, either; they find themself grateful to have been born away from the marshland.
​

[ DEATH OF A DREAM ]​

​

 

[SUNFLOWERMASK]

.°☀ AND IF IT EVER STARTS TO FEEL BAD, LITTLE FANG

---

Sunflowerpaw sticks close to their mentor, as they often do on patrols. They're getting better now at keeping up, limbs growing longer and limp growing softer. Wolfsong by their side gives them confidence, even if the other patrol members are not their first choice. He should be leading the patrol, they think, but it's fine. Snailstride can do it too, they guess.

Pale paws pad towards the thunderpath. It's their second visit to ShadowClan's border in recent memory, and this time not alone. A part of them hopes to see the apprentice they'd met before, the one who grasped white-flash bone between her teeth, with the face as pale as the prize she carried. She wasn't so bad, really, even if all they'd learned urged them to run. They should know better than to trust ShadowClan — liars and schemers, half-starved killers with a hunger for blood. And yet they can't help the way their eye scan the marshlands across the path — curiosity, vigilance, nothing more. Their first (shockingly non-violent) encounter with a marsh-cat was a fluke. Snailstride's unfunny joke is all they need to remind them: it would be foolish to hope for anything better than viciousness and deceit from the cats lurking across the border.

---

IT'S EASY TO EXPLAIN 'CAUSE THIS WORLD'S NOT TAME .°☀

⟪ OOC ⟫ ⟪ INFO ⟫ ⟪ REF ⟫

• //
  ​
• SUNFLOWERPAW named by their half-brother vulturemask after his friend and mentor.
  — they/them, 6 moons.
  — windclan apprentice, mentored by wolfsong.
  — reserved yet loyal, distrusts most.
  — mild limp.
  
  primary character, high activity. penned by saturnid.​
• 

​

 

[Swiftclaws]

He’d trust a rabid fox more than he’d trust a Windclanner right now; felt like they were waiting for a leaf to fall before rushing at them. Before all of this; Smogmaws attack, the news of screaming matches during gatherings he’d not thought much about them other than having a desire to race one of the fleetfooted moor-menaces. Now he couldn’t exactly say he could get away with starting some not so friendly competition with them without being batted at by one of his clanmates or a Windclanner themselves. Not that the threat of such a thing scared him; the only things that made his skin crawl was the river and overly large jumpy crickets. he’d always been the daring type in the stupidest way his mentor told him but he thinks it’s a good thing. As guarded as he may want to feel there was no harm in picking a little fun to break up the monotony; plus… the less seriously he could take them the easier they’d be for him to fight if that leaf finally did fall.

They’re not intimidating; not at all really. They weren’t built like ole’ macho big strong and tall Thunderclan and Skyclan the pawful of those he’d seen ranged from being smaller than him to just barely taller. With exceptions of course, but he’s generalizing! He decides to hang back from the patrol his pace slowing so he has more time to speak to them, he shoots a toothy grin towards one of the warriors who had complained. ❝Just smells like mud and water, don’t ya think you’re being a little dramatic there?❞ he laughs loudly. He stands tall, tail held high and slightly curled at the tip. His eyes gleam with mischief. ❝Can’t say I’m surprised! like leader like clanmates just a bunch of drama filled kits!❞ he may not have born witness but man was he fond of listening to the gossip his clanmates brought back from gatherings.​

(★

 

[Needledrift]

Needledrift flicks an ear in response to Swiftclaws' needling remarks. She rolls her eyes, playfully, sweetly, before fall out of step to join him. She's not particularly experienced with WindClanners. Needledrift wouldn't ever say that they were her type of people, even if their love and loyalty towards their.... less than reputable.... leader were traits that she herself possessed - Sootstar was no Briarstar or Chilledstar, that was for sure. Yet still, sometimes she imagined what her life would be like if she had followed Soot and her sisters out into the vast expanse of the moorlands. What kind of cat would she be if she had chosen wind and speed over her family's legacy in the marsh?

Surely not a better one.

Five cats spread out along this particular stretch of the border, three sporting shades of charcoal and overcast skies, two sporting more sunny pelts. Maybe they would have more sunny dispositions as well. Needledrift peers at the younger of the two orange-y cats, her head tilting ever so slightly into a cautious hello. Her tail curls slightly over her back and she tries to ignore the uncomfortable prickle that had begun lacing her spine - not for the first time, she wishes she could speak so she is not perceived as some creepy staring stalker, just glaring at someone as they are trying to go about their day.​

she smells like lemongrass and sleep​

 

[Ternfrost.]

EYES COVERED IN INK AND BLEACH
maggotpaw | 06 months | female | she/her | physically easy | mentally hard | attack in bold mediumpurple​

---

Patrols are never fun - her clan is not on great terms with either of their neighbors after all, but at least this one won't be boring. Her long tail flicks idly as she continues on her task. She has no interest in swapping petty remarks and childish barbs with the other patrol. She only looks up from her task for a moment, but that seems to be enough. Blue eyes should not be surprised to see a familiar form across the border - that territory belongs to windclan after all - but they are. It is only a momentary pause - a slight stumble, a quick blink, a break in her composure as shock flashes across the emotionless mask she wears so well. A face with no name - but even as maggotpaw recovers her composure jaded gaze continues to seek out sunflowerpaws in curiosity.

​

 

[Rainecho]

Its crazy to think of how things have changed. How quickly WindClan had gone from friends to enemies. She still remembers the feast, the day they had brought them prey and they had all shared a meal and tongues. Now those same tongues were turning on them, armed with harsh words and thinly veiled insults. It only solidifies in her mind that no one but ShadowClan is to be trusted. "You don't smell so pleasant yourself" she says with a slight sniff. She did not feel like exchanging the usual banter, not today. If her clanmates wanted to waste their time in such a way then that was their choice. Her? She turns to her apprentice, mismatched gaze landing on the curious tom. "C'mon Magpiepaw, I think I smell better prey over there you can practice your hunters crouch" stars knew he needed all the practice he could get.

She turns and pads off with a swish of her fluffy cloud-colored tail.

// @Magpiepaw
​

 

[Mintshade]

"Shut up, Snailstride." The dark molly commented with a roll of her eyes to the awkward laughter and commentary.
Why the hell was Snailstride in charge of this patrol? She'd spent the entire time thinking it, remembering the little upstart apprentice getting the chewing out of a lifetime for their indolence before and how she'd debated giving them a firm smack upside the head for the sass before the lead warriors had arrived. Mintshade wanted to lead a patrol at some point, maybe it was jealousy that this newly made warrior with a traitor's heart got more acknowledgement than she did from their deputy. Badgermoon was probably her least favorite cat of the clan, authority with no flair, no force; a wet mouse of a tom. What her sister had seen in him she had no clue, but his head was empty when it came to patrols. At least she got to bother Wolfsong some more, that was always a treat. A quick glance behind her for her apprentice before she trotted forward to roam alongside the sand-colored tom.
"ShadowClan too good for us now? Not starving anymore so no need to mooch off WindClan's good graces! Gyeh heh heh, sorry lot if you ask me. Bet it wouldn't be fun to bust up those bags of bones filled with rats."
What a shame the glorious Marsh Colony and its territory had fallen so far from grace, but where they crumpled WindClan rose like its namesake; towering higher and higher. Who needed alliances when you had power.
​

 

[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶"Mooching off Windclan's good graces kehahaha!" The laugh is easily carried across the thunderpath, sarcasm pitching up as the tom slips his way along the pine forested area. His eyes roll for a moment and look down at the black tar strip that his mother died upon. Hmm. Still he has gotten over most of his grieving, maybe. Who knows. He is always trying to better himself. His eyes then lift up to the Windclan patrol then and he is ever so curious, his grin spread wide across his muzzle before he shakes his head. "Good isn't even in your dictionary, rabbit munchers." The giggle pulls him forward slightly as he angles his ears to forward. What had Windclan done for them? Come to harrass when things were not going their way. Gave them one or two rabbits to save face. Pathetic. Their allies were starving and they didn't even bother to attempt to help them.

Truthfully he never had anything against the Windclan cats. That was till one opened their mouth and decided it was okay to bad mouth his deceased mother. His family has dwindled and he will not stand for it. Shaking his head he then looks away from them. Maybe he can find something much more interesting in the Carrionplace. ​

 

[Azaleafrost]

Azaleapaw followed after Mintshade quietly, still in the throes of grief. Wolfsongs presence on the patrol was a comfort, at least. Gravelsnap's presence didn't irk her as much as it normally would. She didn't feel the nagging urge to trip him like she normally did. She never followed through on it of course, she just liked the image of him tripping and smashing his face into the ground.

She never much cared for the Shadowclan border. It had a... A smell to it. Sometimes on the warmer days, she could barely smell the cats on the other side past the smell of the thunderpath. She does think Snailstride's joke is in poor taste but she doesn't say anything about it. Mintshade already told him to shut up, and she figured the bluntness was enough.

She looked across at the Shadowclan cats on the other side. Insults are flung as usual, and she wonders if she should even bother answering any. She sets to work rubbing her face on the tall grass and the trees that lined their border. She couldn't help but smile a little at Mintshade's words.

A lilac tom speaks and she can only snort.

"Yeah....At least we aren't on our third leader..." She commented, though she wondered if it was a bit out of line. Oh well. She was right. Shadowclan seemed so cursed with their leadership. what goes ON over there????
​

 

[SUNFLOWERMASK]

————— ☀ —————
AND IF IT EVER STARTS TO FEEL BAD, LITTLE FANG

Plenty of barbs exchanged between both sides. Spat vitriol, jeering laughs. Sunflowerpaw wouldn't expect anything else. But one cat catches their eye. A grey-furred warrior, who seems to be... staring at them? She hasn't said anything the whole time, jaw clamped shut. Perhaps the staring should be unnerving, but Sunflowerpaw finds it a welcome respite from the hostile words exchanged around them. There's no anger in her stare, merely a simple tilt of her head. They tilt their head too, a careful mirroring of her body language, and hold her gaze.

Sunflowerpaw is so focused on maintaining this strange silent communication that they nearly do not notice the cat they'd been searching for on the other side of the border. White and brightest teal; their eyes flicker over, widening in surprise as their jaw parts. Unlike Maggotpaw, they do not try to mask their surprise, eyes remaining fixed on her as they process that yes, she's here, she's back, that meeting at the border wasn't some strange dream (though the bone that's quickly become one of their most treasured possessions should be proof enough).

They lift their tail in a silent hello, paws nearly moving towards her — before they catch themself. Sunflowerpaw glances at the rest of the patrol with uncertainty; it would not look good to be friendly with a ShadowClanner. Besides, they met her once, they can't expect her to be anything close to trustworthy. She is still their enemy, in the end. Their eyes flicker once more across the border, before they duck their head and return to their clanmates.

IT'S EASY TO EXPLAIN 'CAUSE THIS WORLD'S NOT TAME
————— ☀ —————

.°☀ info ; visual

• //
  ​
• SUNFLOWERPAW named by their half-brother vulturemask after his friend and mentor.
  — they/them, 6 moons.
  — windclan apprentice, mentored by wolfsong.
  — reserved yet loyal, distrusts most.
  
  primary character, high activity. penned by saturnid.​
• "SPEECH"
  ​
• 

​

 

[smogstar]

Symbolically, the moor-dwellers are best characterised as a splinter in a paw pad.

A nuisance, though skin-deep and insignificant in the broader picture, their maddening presence undermines the natural order of all things. The veneer of faith and honour they skulk behind is fake and see-through, a sham invented to justify their inclination towards violence and bloodshed—and like a contaminated wound, for every second they aren't addressed, the worse their infection becomes. To simply pluck and fling them into the wind, like you would to any old thorn in the paw, might be too kind a gesture for their breed. One might posit that a more forceful kind of removal may be necessary, to which the ShadowClan deputy passionately agrees.

This is presuming WindClan does not consume itself from within before any action is taken, of course.

The sight of a moor cat never stirred warmth in Smogmaw's heart. Very few things do, in all fairness, but even in the age where their alliance had been intact, the presence of one only intensified the discontent within. So, naturally, the tom forgoes his common attempts at forcing a favourable expression when he advances on the thunderpath. Sluggish pawsteps approach on the heels of Chittertongue, claws jabbing the moist marsh-earth that lined the outer reaches of his territory.

Diplomatic affairs have already commenced by the sounds of it.

He gives a wayward glance to his own apprentice, @SHARPPAW., a tail-flick to her flank serving as a tangible demand for her attention. It's never a bore to lead by example.

"Pray that your tongue isn't cursed, vermin," the deputy expels, words of an intensity which hardly paralleled that of his gaze. His gravelly tone was earmarked for the molly who'd scoffed at ShadowClan's leaders, past and present. If the stirring winds of change hold any significance, the end of her reign draws ever closer. "Need I remind you that the stars themselves loathe your vile leader?" he asks, coldly, harking back to a gathering not so long ago. "Already, her grip slips on her clan. She cannot protect your strongest warriors from RiverClan cats, for the moon's sake!"

He relies on secondhand information attained from gatherings past, but his conviction carries the weight of absolute truth. Smogmaw's heart pulsates heavily as he continues to address the WindClan cat. "If Pitchstar's death has taught us anything," he snarls, "it is that no amount of lives can save StarClan's blessed from raw ferocity. Know that the same decisive action awaits the leader you devote yourself to. No one will protect you, then."​