camp don't let it all go to your head } struggling

AS HE RAISED HIS FIST BEFORE HE SPOKE — Moving into the nursery was supposed to be a joyous occasion. One that many queens often celebrated alongside their mate, building a nest of their own that could let them curl protectively around their children once they came into the world. That was what Rattleheart had wanted more than anything - the beautiful image that had always lingered in his mind each time he and Venomstrike had discussed kits. Late night discussions curled against each other, his head often resting against his mate's bulk as he chattered away about what they could name the little ones, and whether they might end up as tunnelers or moor runners. Or both, more than likely. He'd been looking forward to it so much that the anticipation had been nearly painful, and now he finally had the chance to make that dream come true.

Only, he had never imagined a sky full of fire during all of those fantasies.

There was a dour look on his face as he entered the nursery, jaws full of moss and paws shaking just a bit with each step that he took. An anxious twitch brought on by all that was happening, long tail lashing in time as he found an unoccupied corner of the gorse den. An impressive feat, considering how many kits the clan already had to contend with - he had been worried there would be nowhere for him to rest. At least it didn't take long for him to make himself a nest, pressing moss down into something manageable and comfortable before he weaved wildflowers in. Their sweet scent was usually enough to make Rattleheart smile, though this time he could only think of how many flowers had been devoured by the blaze so far. His throat grew tight, and suddenly the lead warrior found himself wishing he had asked Venomstrike to assist him. Instead he had insisted on having the large moor runner stay away, so that he could keep an eye out if help was needed.

A heavy sigh slipped from his muzzle as he settled into the nest that he had built, curling up slightly but still keeping his gaze open and focused on the shadowed glimpses of the horizon that he could see. The new queen couldn't help but wonder how much time he would even have in the nursery, especially if they were forced to evacuate. Would he even get a chance to deliver his kits in Windclan territory? And if he didn't, where would they end up being born? Rattleheart's worries were making his head spin, eyes stinging before he curled up even further, just enough that he could press his nose to the faint swell of his stomach - not yet large enough that he was struggling, but still noticeable. "Don't worry, little ones. None of us will let you get hurt. And one day... one day this will all just be a nightmare." He knew full well that his kits could not yet hear him, yet he felt the need to console them anyways. Or perhaps he was just consoling himself.

Either way, he knew the questions would eventually come - he hadn't even had the chance to tell anyone yet, save for Venomstrike.


  • 75034712_8183RsjuzqJmQXv.png
    longhaired black and white tom with pale green eyes
    50 moons old; ages the 1st every month
    afab; uses he/she/they pronouns
    homosexual homoromantic; mated to venomstrike
    sibling to scorchstreak, lizardbounce, and rabbitclaw
    currently mentoring downypaw
    somewhat difficult to befriend; wary but kind
    "speech", thoughts, attacking
    peaceful powerplay allowed
    all opinions are ic
 
Cottonpaw dislikes that new queens put a bitter taste in her mouth. She names it envy - and she swats it away every time she finds it beneath her tongue. Having new kits in the Clan is always a welcome event, even if her own are forbidden from existing. There's no true sense in being jealous, not when she can still watch the little ones grow up. They've had plenty of litters recently that needed the extra paws and while she's not the first to volunteer, she always sticks around just in case she can be of help.

This time, however, she arrives in the nursery to check in on the queens and their litters. Smoke creeps into their camp on windy days and she's heard a couple unwanted coughs here and there. Cottonpaw has deigned it a part of her duties to make sure no kitten is breathing in too much of the mucky stuff and, if they had, trying to prescribe them something that may help out. Her visit today is interrupted, however, by spying Rattleheart within the confines of the nursery.

It's a quick blip on her tongue - a frown doesn't arrive but the sourness settles for too long. "Rattleheart...!" she greets him, surprise evident instead. A smile happily fits into her expression and the envy slips away (at least, for now.) "Congratulations! Oh, this is exciting," she breathes out a happy sigh, "Surely your little ones will be destined for the tunnels, I think. We can always do with more little tunnelers," Scorchstreak must be enthralled with the news, if they know yet.​