DRAGON ROOST ISLAND | border class


With hindsight being the omnipotent being it was, Silversmoke regretted not pushing to the front of the line to make his class the first one. Leading a gaggle of shelter cats to the Westernmost border with RiverClan, Silversmoke stopped by the water's edge, his coat shimmering with silvers and blues from the noon sun. It wasn't the regular time for patrols by design - the last thing he wanted was for the other clans to interrupt the lesson. Promptly, he started. "This is a border. As you've come to learn, SkyClan shares the forest with four other Clans, it is these outskirts of the territory that determine where our land ends and theirs begins. Do not cross them under any circumstances, trespassing means you forfeit your life, SkyClan's reputation, or both." He searched for Cheddar in the crowd, giving them a pointed look if they were present. 'It's not his fault we didn't him' was easy to think, but not so easy to believe when the tabby was stressed. There was no way in StarClan that all the shelter cats had good intentions with his group, there'd been no way to vet those that came in with how many there were, but because the kittypets had believed in them, he was expected to as well. The broad-muzzled tabby pointed his nose upwards somewhat, his mouth forming a tight frown - formal, but speculative. Regardless of his personal feelings, he didn't have much choice but to trust in the process and pray that the other clans did not smell blood in the water.

"We tend to patrol our borders twice daily, once at dawn and once at sunset, as do the other clans. You are likely to meet them while on patrol, they are less keen on cats that have a history of being around Twolegs, we are on well enough terms with our neighbours but do not expect that to always be the case. Be proud, do not let them walk over you but do not start fights either." It wasn't a nuance he could teach, seeing how close he had been to squabbling at ThunderClan's border last moon in defence of animals he wasn't even that fond of. He rolled his shoulders as his tail swished idly behind him. "This border is separated by the river, obviously. But we share one towards Fourtrees which is landlocked. Go forwards, take in the scents, decide what they mean, and ask any questions that may be bugging you. We will continue shortly." His tone was level as he spoke, giving information rather than a fun lecture. As the first cats tentatively made their way forwards, Silversmoke called out after them. "And don't fall into the river. You have one chance to make a legacy, don't mess up yours by drowning."

 

⭒✧ Sediment coloured the air, the invisible smog of a water source in an array drawn low. Chalk notched one ear to his left. Silversmoke’s terse voice attended to, as he couldn’t miss any salient information, the tom allowed his eyes to roam the horizon. Crops of ferns scattered the burnished rock. The grass below was warm with sun, a perfume much removed from the scent of the square plastic-meadows found at the teachingplace.

The lead warrior lectured them on the importance of borders. The information was nothing new to Chalk, he had assumed a territory system to be in place already. It was good to see it in action though. In his steady way, the sandstone loner slipped through the ranks to parse the stale markers. Still a few paces from the water, a thick-lined diagram swam to mind. Arrows struck a wall of precipitation, down to a featureless round of blue and then back into the sky. Did these cats have some derivative of this process in their lore?

…don't mess up yours by drowning’ A slant met his mouth, small. "Do you get a lot of that? Cats falling in?" For a moment, he considered inching a paw forward but thought better of it. He didn’t yet have the lay of the skyclanner and his understanding, though limited, told him it was common for a frown to fall into fury. They were warriors after all.

Chalk prompted himself back up.(hooker green)Eyes thin against the light, he knocked his chin to point across the river. "They’re fish eaters then?" Riverclan, if his prior investigations were anything to go by.
⭒ ———————————— ✧⭒
 
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TAGS — It's been a whirlwind ever since the shelter cats had been accepted into their clan; he'd been recovering from injury for too long to properly meet them, but hearing of their arrival (and, most importantly, of Slate's return) had almost seemed to speed his recovery. The tom thinks himself an amicable sort, but he hadn't realized exactly how potent his loneliness had become until it seemed escapable. But now he is finally able to be out and about again, and it seems fitting that his first patrol is one that accompanies these not-quite-kittypets to teach them about clan life.

He'd been a kittypet himself, once, and it's a part of his story that he won't soon forget-- so he takes it upon himself to make sure that those like him can settle in nicely. Though he knows there are even some SkyClanners among them that are not keen on kittypets (this patrol leader among them, he remembers), he hopes that the lot of the newcomers might see him as a face to turn to when things get tough.

His plumy tail flicks as he listens to Silversmoke's instruction, a breezy grin set upon his scarred lips. "Nice lecture," he observes to his friend, bright amber eyes flicking towards him. But Chalk soon pitches a query their way, and Cloverjaw's ear twitches with contemplation. "Not if they're careful," he volleys, amusement working its way into his expression. Perhaps his nonchalance is inappropriate, especially when he ought to have learned the importance of caution after his injury, but Cloverjaw is not a strict sort. As for the new warrior's other question, he feels he can answer more earnestly: "Yup," he confirms, tail flicking. Then, with a chuckle, "they have th' breath to prove it, too."​
 
Onto the next class...he can feel his energy waning, not used to being this up and about due to lying in the shelter for so long. He'll recover his stamina with time, he's sure. He tries to not let it show, as listening to this lecture in particular seemed the most important. The last thing he'd want to do is trespass, even if accidentally. He can sometimes be a bit of a klutz, though hopefully it wouldn't translate to him being stupid enough to ignore the smells.

Speaking of smells, Toffee Mocha hears two others talking about the clan that supposedly lived on the other side of the river, and is intrigued by talk of them also eating fish.
"Fish breath sounds...unpleasant. Sure is an interestin' choice of a meal." Fishing seems like a lot of work...do fish even taste that good? But who is he to judge, really? He'd go for just about anything right now.
 
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It feels like Snapple's days under the pine trees are filled solely with lessons, as the child is brought forth on yet another. However, this one he doesn't mind as much as the others.

Patrolling - it had been brought up in Orangeblossom's lesson, and the golden-furred tom had been intrigued by the idea of possibly getting to explore the territory. So, with Silversmoke's lesson being just that - a lesson on the territory and its borders - Snapple was keener on listening to the silver-furred warrior than to Orangeblossom and Thistleback. Especially since he gets to see everything for himself!

Amidst the crowd, Snapple follows, eyes wide as he takes everything in. He thinks Mother would like this place, and his brother too. Perhaps when he goes back to his old colony, he'll try to convince them to move here, so he won't have to leave!

The tom listens carefully as they stop along the river. This is RiverClan's border - he learns. Ears twitch at Silversmoke's warning, and white paws suddenly take a step back as he realizes how close he is to the water's edge. Drowning, he doesn't want to do that! Snapple will keep his distance as he wanders along the border, his gaze lifting at the chatter amongst the others. Fish.

His jaws part, and he too can identify the smell. Gross!

"Does RiverClan know they smell bad?" Snapple asks. He can't imagine eating fish all the time - especially if they taste as weird as they smell!
 

Silversmoke stared long and hard as Chalk asked if cats falling in was a common occurrence. With a graveness that indicated it was a big problem (despite it only happening once in his known lifetime), he nodded. Praise comes from a tentative friend before he is given the chance to answer Chalk's follow-up question and again, the Lead Warrior nodded, only this time he was quick and the movement was sharp. He was no public speaker, not truly, but having an apprentice at least taught him how to orchestrate lectures. Rotating to the water itself, Silversmoke's ears began to twitch in indignation. He reimagined the taste of crayfish on his tongue from a twoleg's crowfeed and nearly grimaced at the memory. Fish wasn't much better than that, only more tender, easier to chew, but still not a favourite. "Their palettes are... questionable, but be mindful not to insult them to their faces. Peace is precarious, any insult can be met with sharper things than words." It was a blanket answer to all those who questioned the practice, even to Snapple, who seemed more concerned with the stench of their fur. He simultaneously blessed and cursed Cloverjaw for bringing it up, perhaps the distraction could be turned into a teachable moment too.

His attention began to prominently settle upon Snap and Toffee. "Their diet does well for them, anyhow. You can tell who a RiverClanner is at a gathering because of how plump and shiny they are. They're like kittypets, only they earn the right to look the way they do." Self-improvement was a far more attractive trait than being given everything on a platter, still, so many animals chose the easy way out. He would be surprised if, after the shelter, any of the cats dared risk human interaction again. Silversmoke waved his tail madly and cleared his throat, indicating to the rest of the patrol that he desired attention. "You will each be assigned a task for the day by the Deputy. That is usually Orangeblossom, but she is taking time away to nurse her young. Thistleback is who will assign you for the time being. When your patrols are finished, you report to him any findings and he will in turn tell Blazestar." 'Be careful of that one,' he'd have mewed if treason wasn't a flavour he hated more than mudbugs. Thistleback's temporary position was understandable, but given events prior to the shelter cats' joinings, it wasn't one he felt completely amicable about.

 
જ➶ Another day and another class to try and learn how to better fit in with Skyclan. He steps lightly after the rest of the group and leans down tl smell against the water. To him it smells well, okay. It makes him think of home and the yummy fish he used to be able to eat back then. The fish from the silver tin. It had always been a nice treat and even though he has refuses to return home because he can not he still misses it. Honey colored eyes lift up as he looks towards the rest of the group and he finds his muzzle opening before he shuts it again. For some reason he doesn't want to have a differing opinion and so he keeps his thoughts to himself. Truly he wants to fit into Skyclan so he merely listens to what is being said about dawn patrols and then others being sent out in the evening.

What Riverclan ate sounded so much more appealing than getting the fur of a squirrel or mouse stuck in his teeth. His muzzle scrunches up a little at the very thought and he thinks to come to the river to see if he can catch a fish or two. It'll be a better time for him he is sure.