camp crab rave | pinch

The startled scream that erupted from the warrior's den was not a sound heard often, the ownered a tom most well known for his silence had a set of lungs that would surprise his clanmates when the noises were forced out of him and forced they were by the presence of something. He had been sleeping, having a rare and peaceful night without his insomnia plaguing him and dragging him up from the comfort of his nest, he had been deeply invested in a silent dream where he drifted aimlessly along a great pool of water on what he imagined a boat might be from Willowroot and her siblings' descriptions of it; it was a listless and lulling dream and he was almost fully soothed into sleep before there was a faint movement by his haunches. At first he dismissed it, a clanmate's stray tail flicking into his nest or a beetle that had crawled into the bracken during the day but the sudden touch became even more apparenty and most decidedly not feline after a few moments.
And then it bit him.
The dark tom burst upward in a leap of surprise, the yowl that escaped him echoing with a reveberant boom through the camp itself as he sprang over warrior's he assumed were no longer slumbering peacefully and raced out of the den at full speed; the sharp pain a reminder that he had just been attacked and it kept him moving across the camp before the pressure allivated with a firm flick of his tail that sent his attacker clattering across the ground where it remained still for only a moment. In the dark of the night he hunched his shoulders and narrowed his eyes, watching the flat pebble-shaped creature extend its spindly legs and flip itself back upright to stand and click its claws at him menacingly.

A crab.

"...StarClan help me." Oh, he was not living this one down.


Redpath was also nice and comfy and asleep until Smokethroat was assaulted by the crab. When he yowled, it shocked her awake and yowled as well, a more shrill tone than Smokethroats.

"WHATSWRONGWHATSHAPPENINGWHOSTHERE-" She looked around frantically until she came to her senses, gaze resting on Smokethroat, then finding the crab.



"You've angered the crabs, Smokey."

She couldn't judge. She had experienced crustacean frustration before.

It’s not often that Clay is awoken at night—he’s quite the heavy sleeper normally, and with the firm weight of another at his side he tends to sleep even more deeply these days. But the shriek that comes from very close by is enough to startle him awake, hazel eyes wide with a sudden panic as he scrambles to get his paws beneath him. A push, a half-asleep stumble, and he’s on all four paws, blinking blearily, trying to clear the remnants of sleep from his head. He spots Smokethroat leaving the den, and with tensed shoulders he follows the lead warrior. He’s expecting… well, he’s not certain what he’s expecting, really. Maybe some kind of imminent danger that the speckled tom’s sixth sense has picked up on in the dead of night?

It’s certainly not a crab that he’s expecting. But when the offending creature is thrown from the lead warrior’s pelt, Clayfur nearly falls on his face, relaxing immediately.

It starts as a scoff, a low noise deep in his throat. He doesn’t mean for Smokethroat to hear it at all. But before he can compose himself, too tired to make much of an effort, the tabby-striped warrior is crumpling to the ground. His legs just—give out, and he has to roll onto his back to fight for each breath. "Smoke…" he manages between loud, long breaths and interspersed hacking laughs. "It was a… oh my stars, it was a… I can’t breathe," he wheezes out, tears flowing freely from his eyes now. And Redpath’s comment doesn’t help, either—it only draws even more giggles, breathy and half-choked, out of his mouth.

− ♱ ABOUT : it's well known that cicadastar does not sleep. he is a phantom − ghostly and tired, with drooping, too - blue eyes tinged red with restlessness. there is no sleep to jerk out of when the scream sounds. he merely whips to the side, paws finding the bark - lined ground of his willow den, claws lodging in to hoist himself to full height. it takes him a moment to process ; the silence, the loneliness of night had a way of numbing his mind to the point of a slow, droning hum. what snaps him from his reverie is the voice. deep, crackling like flame and ember, like bark shattering under the wrath of an angry sky. the man steps out into the crisp night air, eyes wide and wild and -- he sees it, flying through the air, just dislodged from smokethroat's tail and landing roughly a tail - length from his paws. the thing had clattered. stands upon too - sharp limbs, clicks again at the white - mottled warrior who now stood off against it.

cicadastar blinks.

redpath speaks, and the tortoiseshell is fine. his lip twitches, but he remains still. or, he tries, " oh, smoke, are . . are you oka . . " he's choking, looking away, pursing his lips to keep from laughing and it's little use -- clayfur is cracking up and the mottled tom follows closely behind, giving in to the fit of giggles that wracks his body before cascading into full laughter, from deep within his belly. loud and boisterous, enough for him to settle back on uneven, too - long limbs, head finally tipping back to cackle towards the starlit sky. after a second paws come up to cover his sloped muzzle, stifling his now wheezing breaths through thin ivory paws. his face already aches and he cant remember the last time he's laughed like this, tears welling along bright eyes. cicadastar gulps a breath, dips his head, grin still plastered wide upon his rubberblack maw.

" you're making . . hah . . very dangerous enemies here. "

  • CICADASTAR ; he / him. roughly thirty nine months old, riverclan leader
    − handsome, lanky black smoke tortie chimera with curly fur and icy blue eyes
    − gay. speaks with a thick german accent, former marsh cat, penned by antlers

  • none.

*:・゚✧☁ ⋯ Gloomkit's on her paws when the first yowl comes. She's used to knowing her clanmates don't sleep, having learned after multiple paws sleep-kick her in the middle of the night. Rolling over had meant she expected to see a lot more slumbering forms, but no, there'd been glowing eyes in the dark and milling about camp. But none of them had screamed before.

Multiple heads lift up instantly. She jumps up quickly, unable to bear waiting for someone to give her news of what happened. Laughter sounds outside, and many of the heads drop back down, searching for sleep again.

Tiptoeing to the den's entrance (though it was no use, as cats stir around her), she spots a few silhouettes in the darkness. With the crab skittering away, it's easy to put two and two together. Smokethroat was the obvious victim, hunched in the middle of camp. That's so perfect. She doesn't think she'll see a funnier thing. Gloomkit fails to stop her cackle ascending as the water-spider-thing flees, pointing a paw at the tom and snorting.
Peachkit ran over at the sound of the warrior's yowl. "What happened?!?" she squeaked. "Are you hurt? Did you--" Her green eyes grew round as she caught sight of the crab. "What is that?" she blurted. She had never seen one of those before. She mostly kept her distance from the river, so this was new to her. Was it a bug? She loved bugs. It sort of looked like one. "Is it a bug?" She reached out a tiny orange paw to lightly prod at the creature.
╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

The scream that splits the camp's peaceful silence sends icy eyes flying open, fur prickling on the back of her spine. Iciclepaw pushes herself to her paws, trepidation battling with resolve as she takes a deep breath and exits the den. She never goes into the warrior's den -- she has no real desire to -- but she forces herself to push her head through the opening and take in the sight of Smokethroat facing off with something tiny.

For a moment, she thinks she must still be dreaming. Her mentor, burly and dour and serious, is staring wide-eyed at a river crab. Cicadastar and Clayfur are cackling, Redpath sympathizing. Gloomkit points and laughs, and Peachkit paws at the creature as it skitters away from Smokethroat.

The tortoiseshell's mottled shoulders heave as she sighs. "Don't worry, Smokethroat. I think Peachkit will protect you." Amusement darkens her features, but just barely. "Perhaps I should sleep outside the warrior's den and stand guard? Make sure no more of your enemies come scuttling in?"

- ,,

He felts his fur warming around his face, neck, the insides of his ears visible and reddening and the sudden chorus of laughter and delight rising up over his nonsensical ordeal. That he'd been so startled by a simple crab that he woke the entire camp was not something he would live down quickly and he was mentally preparing for it to be brought up in every conversation going forward. Perhaps it was especially Cicadastar's laugh that made his fur prickle so aggressively as well because it wasn't often they heard the mottled tom make such a sound and for it to be at his own expense was a little overwhelming. He had half a mind to crush that crab for its indolence, crack its shell beneath his paw in retribution, but that felt terribly petty for what was just an unfortunate surprise.
"I see you're all laughing now but when more of them swarm the camp thinking we're easy prey it will be your tails pinched and poked for not preparing." The dark tom tried a more lighthearted response, ears flat to hide how suddenly enflamed their insides were and he eyed Peachkit approaching the scuttling creature with its claws poised to nip without so much as a single warning; it was just a crab and if she got a tiny pinch over her curiousity she would learn to take more care in approaching strange things. "...well thank StarClan Peachkit is here. My own apprentice would just let me die I see. Unsurprising." Dawn break eyes narrowed at the tortie's remark and he raised a paw to lightly swat at her, "Keep it up, I'll drop a few of these in the apprentice den so help me..."


Redpath couldn't help but giggle. She approached the crab to keep an eye on it. It was a trespasser, an intruder. And Peachkit was fending it off all by herself! But if that thing pinched her it was going to get bit.

"You're right, this crab could have been a scout!" She said. "It's gonna scuttle back to it's ..... Crab clan and tell everyone how good we are!" She continued jokingly.

She was conflicted on the idea of dropping crabs in the apprentices den. On one paw, it would be funny. On the other hand, it could be mean.

..............But the idea of pranking with a crab.

She was thinking about it. The braincell was spinning.