DISAMBIGUATED SITUATION ↷ [ SHC GUESTS ]

[smogstar]

The conjured image of Howlingstar briefing her underlings on this decision tempts a wary upward twitch of his mouth. There must've been a sea of frowns flooding across the camp, gleams of uncertainty and apprehension in the eyes of her loyal followers, and rightly so. Mere moons after they'd pinched a rabbit or two from ThunderClan's end of the thunderpath, the marsh-dwellers have been welcomed back into the forest with open paws. It's an act of irregular charity, a measure that Smogmaw knows his clan wouldn't have extended to them had the roles been reversed. But, if this how the ThunderClan leader wants to play it, then he will eagerly oblige. Escape from those bleak tunnels has become an insatiable thirst in his heart, and he knows fully well that it's an idea popular among his clanmates.

Black-smirched appendages would slink out from the clasp of the tunnels. They'd flinch suddenly upon touching the dry earth, a texture most obnoxiously unusual to his mire-inclined paws, though he promptly adjusts to the sensation. In no time at all, his entire form emerges from the underground passages' mouth, and his first course of action in ThunderClan's territory is to lay down. It's a comfortless movement, for the wounds left by Sootstar had yet to fully heal, and the strain of his clan's situation haunts him still.

Yet, as he inhales and absorbs the forest air, how clean it is, how it's deficient of rotting vegetation and stagnant water, it brings a sense of renewal to Smogmaw's weary body. Bitter oak. Damp soil, but not mud. On the spur of an instant, he decides that he hates the smell of this land. At least in his territory, the suffocating stench of the swamp serves to conceal his scent and mask his very existence—he can blend in seamlessly to his surroundings and trust he'll be left to his own devices. Here, he can sniff out prey from afar, and he imagines the locals can detect his presence in turn. He's vulnerable, sticking out like a sore tail, and not bound to linger for very long.

"At least I can't smell bear shit," the deputy mutters in a dry meow, pivoting his head to face the next clanmate to spill out from the tunnels in his wake. "Keep your eyes peeled for prey they won't miss." ​

 

[LIGHTSTRIKE .]

❝ WE HAVE YET TO CRASH ✧°.☀ —————————————————————————————
Allowing the crowd of frogmunchers to cross their border and stay there, with no repercussions, did not mean that the border no longer needed to be renewed. It would, and Lightpaw would not let the stupid ShadowClanners forget where they were, expression sour as he followed along with the rest of his patrol.

"Why couldn't they have gone and pestered WindClan or something? With any luck, they would take each other out," he muttered half-heartedly to no one in particular. "At least we can't smell them from over there." Sure, maybe it was insensitive, but was this really Howlingstar's best option?

The scent of ShadowClan grew stronger as they approached, and it wasn't long before they spotted the wretched cluster of them huddled near the thunderpath, many still emerging from the dank tunnel. They had been sent namely to check on them, to make sure they didn't get any funny ideas, and renewing the border was a good excuse. Fortunately or not, Lightpaw didn't hear the muttered comment of Smogmaw, too far out of range.

The golden tom's approach didn't cease, head low and ears tilted back but less hostile and moreso aggravated and annoyed. They were on ThunderClan territory, and regardless of what his leader said, he wouldn't let them forget it. He hardly gave greeting, skirting the edge of the foreign Clan in favor of marking his scent, stare sliding over to them all the while. A reminder of where they were. The fake polite exchanges could be left up to the warriors to deal with.

He worked his way across, even into the throng of cats, eventually catching sight of Smogmaw and offering a brief smile that was little more than a purse of his lips. "Nice day, isn't it? Don't mind me, just marking our border." There was slight emphasis on that last word, and he resumed doing just that.

If the scent was a little stronger than strictly necessary, well, what was the harm, right?

// mentor and apprentice tag @nightbird @DUSKPAW

[penned by its_oliverr - ☀]

——————————— ☀.°✧ BUT WE STILL MAY AS WELL ENJOY IT ❞ ​

​

 

[Sparkwing]

When Sparkpaw learned Shadowclan was staying at the border, he has only one objective in mind.... It was time for him and his fated nemesis to FIGHT TO THE DEATH.

Red fur fluffed up and he bolted out of the camp with a quick "WOLFWIND I HAVE A DATE WITH DESTINY LETS GO"

Poppypaw called him ugly and so she must pay. There was only room for one of them in this forest, and it was him!! Today, Poppypaw would be defeated!!

Whether Wolfwind was behind him or not he wasn't sure. But he made it to the border in record time, and stood in front of Smogmaw with a determined and fiery look.

"Where's Poppypaw!!! She is my fated nemesis and I must defeat her in combat!!!!!" He demands. "If that's okay of course-" He added in a normal tone of voice rather than his previous shout. He didn't want to be impolite!!​

(( @WOLFWIND mentor tag!!))

 

[skyclaw]

Skypaw tails his mentor closely, a grimace marring his otherwise neutral expression. Like many others, he is unhappy with the allowance of ShadowClanners in their land; the boars are more than enough. But he strives to understand Howlingstar, for several reasons beyond her being their star-bound leader. His understanding with her, however, does not translate into total hospitality and kindness. He would reserve those for cats who actually deserve it.

Lightpaw moves quick and gets to work, tone pointed and purposeful. Sparkpaw... is loud. Unnecessarily so. But Wolfwind is his mentor and unless she chides him for being so brash, then Skypaw won't dwell on it for too long. It's a little comedic, anyhow. Nonetheless the young apprentice allows his gaze to float about the lingering and brave ShadowClan cats, tempted to put names to faces. Smogmaw, perhaps fortunately, is the only one he can place and only by virtue of his position. Skypaw flicks his tail, "Which way are we heading after this?" he asks the warriors of the patrol, unwilling to smell the thunderpath stench for too long.​

 

[♡ Thicketpaw.]

THEY SAY THESE ARE THE GOLDEN YEARS
thicketpaw | 04 months | intersex | she/her | physically easy | mentally easy | attack in bold #daa520

---

Her first encounter with such strangers had been one of confusion and uncertainty - thicketpaw had remained silent in the face of her clanmates advice, merely a bystander. Her second meeting - well, its certainly shocking. The golden furred child takes only a moment to blink big doe eyes at the strangers after emerging, before a cacophony of words are tossed her way. It takes a moment for her mind to catch up to what is being said, face utterly blank and figure still save for the ever fluttering flick of her long tail.

Tears well up in wide eyes, lip quivering, before the child promptly bursts into tears and sobs. Its not as though she'd particularly liked poppypaw, or known the girl as anything other than just another apprentice, but sparkpaws words open fresh wounds full of fear. "Wh-why are y-you so mean! P-poppypaw is d-dead you- you-" actually, thicket can't even come up with a decent insult, her mind white and blank, cutting herself off with a rather dramatic wail.

Well, now she sees why her clanmates have such low opinions of thunderclan.

​

​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

Raccoonstripe is displeased about Howlingstar’s decision to allow marsh rats into their territory, but he knows better than to go against orders. His mother has a kind heart; sometimes, he thinks, it’s a little too kind. Had he been leader, their borders would have been closed. It’s ShadowClan’s problem—let them deal with it. ThunderClan’s territory is infested with boars, anyway; he figures they’re facing death regardless of where they park their mud-covered tails.

He’s accompanied Nightbird on patrol, @Moonpaw and @Brackenpaw trailing after him. Lightpaw’s comment about ShadowClan joining WindClan on the moor makes him snort with laughter. “Anywhere but here,” he agrees in a low voice.

Of course, Wolfwind’s apprentice breaks their cover through fronds of bracken to shriek at ShadowClan as they slip from their Thunderpath tunnel. Raccoonstripe exhales, frustrated; if Wolfwind were to be nearby, he’d give her a glare. “Control your apprentice, will you?” Sparkpaw is jabbering on about some cat named Poppypaw. Raccoonstripe’s whiskers twitch impatiently.

Skypaw looks just as displeased with the ginger apprentice as he is; Raccoonstripe smirks and swings his broad tabby head to his nephew. “We won’t be here long, don’t worry. It’s a little… crowded, after all.” He spots a familiar blue-gray pelt through the undergrowth and realizes ShadowClan’s deputy has graced them all with his presence. “Smogmaw, it’s—“”

He’s cut short. An apprentice opposite the yowling Sparkpaw begins to burst into tears. “Poppypaw is dead!” they say, and Raccoonstripe lifts a paw and drags it over his face in exasperation. “Great StarClan,” he mutters. “So much for being productive today…”
​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[nightbird]

she had been absolutely shocked when hearing that howlingstar had granted the shadowclanner's a sliver of the forest. nightbird would have sooner let them all become bear fodder. their neighbors had stolen from them countless times, and in turn are offered sanctuary. it made her skin crawl, even more so that there was nothing to be done about it.

a huff of agreement is offered to lightpaw's words, anything would be better than this. she pays little mind to the shadowclanners crossing through onto their land as if gazing upon them for too long would cause her to combust. the lead warrior only really looks when pale fur cuts right through them to the border. her amusement is just barely stifled at the taunting action. if the circumstances were different, she may have shot her apprentice a warning, but she did not care if shadowclan feelings were hurt. instead, her gaze is raked over the marsh cats to ensure nobody made a move towards him. he was only doing his duty after all, marking the borders was a very important task.

nightbird is happy with moving on to continue the patrol, but there are loud words from a shadowclan youth. her ears press back at the wailing, she sends a glance to raccoonstripe that would seem to say the exact words that left his maw in a mutter. the smoke looks back to the crying apprentice, face warped into a grimace at the sounds leaving her. this was, entirely too much to deal with. someone needed to retrieve their babbling kit.​

 

[S A B L E T U F T]

can we leave it behind? — The invitation from Howlingstar felt like a gift of brambles, Sabletuft thought unlike Smogmaw. Security on the ThunderClan side of the path, but in the pockets of owing them something in the future. He could only assume it was a political move, as leaders made. He thought of how they had claimed Sunningrocks from RiverClan, had even been willing to lose a star-blessed life over it. If RiverClan finally met them again at full-force, would they call ShadowClan for assistance? To repay what had been 'gifted'? He could only wish to be as smug about the situation as his deputy, but he simply imagined Howlingstar with much more sinister ambitions due to Sunnyday's venting.

The spiral of thoughts stirred, the Lead appeared distant. Ever since the full moon he had felt... lonely. Sabletuft missed talking to the golden tom while their Clans collected under the oaks. The silence beneath the Thunderpath while they stayed beside each other, quietly enjoying each other's company. At the same time he hoped Sunnyday would stay far away from the path, hoping he had heard the news of ShadowClans encroaching camp.

His distance broke at Thicketpaw's cry, and Sabletuft felt his jaw tighten. "Thicketpaw." His voice is hardly above a growl. He doesn't know who is right to be more upset with, Sparkpaw for his obnoxious yowling, or Thicketpaw for her loud... grieving. He decided the younger apprentice was less deserving of his scorn.

"She joined StarClan very recently..." He muttered, tail hanging low as it thudded against the grass. Irritation prickled underneath his pelt. He decided to acknowledge Lightpaw, surprisingly the less annoying of all the apprentices here. "None of us will stop you, it's almost like we're not even here."

Almost. — tags​

 

[Sparkwing]

Sparkpaw stared at Thicketpaw in shock. Had he heard right? Poppypaw, dead? That can't be, he just saw her days ago! At the tunnels! Right there, he could see where she had last been standing when he saw her.

"But....."

Sabletuft confirms what Thicketpaw said, and his ears lower and he looks at the ground with a frown. She was his enemy, but he thought of her as some weird amalgamation of a friend and enemy. He liked their shouting matches. Sometimes he found himself looking forward to them. To hear that she was now gone..... It did give him a strong pang of grief in his heart. His tail drooped and hung limply behind him as he grappled with this reality.

"I.....I hope she rests peacefully." He says with sincerity.

It was perhaps, too easy for him to come to terms with her death. He has seen firsthand how quickly someone can die, here one moment, and gone the next. He can only hope Poppypaw didn't suffer. He wouldn't ask for specifics. His nemesis was dead, and it wasn't how he had expected it to happen, but he accepted it.​

 

[Swansong]

————— ☾ —————
NOW I KNOW WHAT'S REAL, WHAT'S FAKE

Swankit trails along behind his father, glad as all the Clan is to get out of the suffocating stink of the tunnels. The murk gets all in his fur, and he doesn't like it very much. Neither does his mother, which means plenty of grooming every time he gets dirty. No more of that, now.

Swankit remains distant as cats speak around him, barely reacting to the screaming of Sparkpaw or the sobbing of Thicketpaw. Instead he surveys the forest with sleepy blue eyes. Farther from camp than he's ever been, seems he keeps going farther and farther. This place is different from his home, not as muddy or dim, trees littering every inch of it. It's strange. He likes strange places, though. It looks a bit like something he saw in a dream once, with so many trees reaching up to the sky like that, blotting out the sun...

Swankit blinks, slowly, turns his attention to the conversation he's been half-listening to. Ah yes, Poppypaw. "Sorry about Thicketpaw being loud and crying... We're all just very sad." He considers for a moment. "Poppypaw was loud, too. I didn't like her, because my sister didn't like her, because my mom didn't like her. But I still feel really sad..." Should he? He doesn't really know. Is it okay to feel sad about someone's death if you didn't like them when they were alive? The loud cat seems to...

He still only has a loose grasp on death. The yelling cat talks more quietly of rest, and that he understands. "I dunno if she's peaceful... She's not a peaceful cat. I think... Um, I hope she rests loudly. Having fun. Yelling in her dreams..." he trails off, imagining it. That seems more right for her.

After a moment, he blinks, seeming to remember where he is. "Ah, and... Hello, ThunderClan... I'm Swankit and, um, this is my papa." He gestures loosely to Smogmaw. It's always polite to introduce yourself, he knows.

RATHER SLEEP THAN STAY AWAKE
————— ☾ —————

☾⋆⁺₊⋆ info ; visual

• //
  ​
• SWANKIT named for his pale fur, after his maternal grandmother.
  — he/him. 2 moons.
  — shadowclan kit.
  — quiet and dreamy.
  
  penned by saturnid.​
• "SPEECH"
  ​
• 

​

 

[smogstar]

The features of Smogmaw's rugged mug would remain unfettered by the presence of locals. His eyes, semi-lidded and wearied, drift not from the point they'd become affixed to when he'd initially settled down, even as ThunderClan voices and footfalls grow ever nearer. It is only when one of them addresses him head-on that he coaxes his focus away and looks up, though tinged by displeasure. With a slow, meticulous blink, he locks stares with the sun-touched apprentice. "Proceed, then, and leave us to our worries," the deputy meows shortly after Sabletuft voices a similar response. Should any of this lot take issue with their visitants, complaints ought to be directed to the she-cat who'd invited them over in the first place.

A tail-flick and a shimmy later, and Smogmaw finds himself in the company of more clanmates. Thicketpaw, the aforementioned Sabletuft, and his own son eventually join him, and their company gives him a shrivel of relief to cling onto in these obscure lands.

When a splitting voice tears from the ThunderClan patrol and carries through the wind like a crow's shriek, his regard would abandon the group with great enthusiasm and instead fall upon young Swankit. Poor boy. He has weathered an incredible storm over the past moon, and though Smogmaw held reservations about his son's ability to endure and overcome, seeing the young tom articulate himself with sensible confidence puts a small smile on his maw.

"Thicketpaw's distress can be excused," the dark-smudged tabby affirms, turning to face his Lead for but a moment before forcing himself to ogle the patrol once more. "ShadowClan blood is smeared all over these bears' claws. It's been a trying time for us all."

Though Howlingstar's act of charity has granted ShadowClan respite from their struggles, the deputy does not foresee it fostering an opportunity for his clan to strengthen bonds with their neighbours. Neither party appears to tolerate one another's presence, but above all, he thinks there lingers a collective understanding that the favour would not be reciprocated in the same manner. They didn't deserve special treatment from Howlingstar, and these treehuggers sure as shit didn't deserve it from Chilledstar. At least, this is the cracked lens he sees it all through.

Another had imparted their address at a prior point, though they were cut off by the loudmouthed miscreant. Now that the figurative dust has settled, he pivots to view the moon-and-midnight tom with a crooked brow. "It's-," he echoes, looking upon Raccoonstripe with an air of skepticism. "It's a pleasure. I know." Fortunately, with his son so generously putting an introduction forward, he needn't say any more.​