camp CROOKED SOUL [moving in]

ꕀꕀ With the rising of the sun, his vigil is finished. His parents gave him their congratulations at last, offered their showerings of praise, but despite his best efforts, his victory feels hollow. It doesn’t feel right to just… be a warrior. He’s no hero, no star-born son of greatness. He’s just… Sandpelt, and despite the new name he doesn’t feel any more like a warrior than he had two days before. He still feels like an apprentice, seeking someone to give him orders or instructions. He trudges his way back into camp on stiff legs, a tired yawn tugging at his maw. First he shoves his way into the apprentices’ den, and he nearly collapses into his nest—only to realize that he doesn’t sleep in here anymore.

The warriors’ den seems so far away, when he drags his nest over to its entrance. A couple warriors blink sleepily at him from inside, but he gathers his courage and picks his way into the den with a tight smile. He finds a place tucked between four other nests, a comfortable space near the fringes of the nests within the den. As he settles his nest in and paws at it until it’s comfortable, the boy looks around and asks, "Here is fine, right?" He doesn’t know who he’s asking, or why. He’s just… lost.

  • ooc:
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    SANDPELT ❯❯ he/him, warrior of riverclan
    pretty, silky-furred tan tortoiseshell with one yellow eye. calm and hardworking, but can become snappy if angered.
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
    penned by foxlore