camp DREAMS OF YESTERDAY // open

[PERCHBERRY]

Perchberry had just returned back to camp with the mouse dangling from his mouth. Like a frozen statue he just stood there in the middle of camp all spaced out, deep in his own thoughts. What had started as an awful day for him had turned out to be less...awful?. He was not sure how to explain what he currently was feeling but he had talked with someone for the first time to share a normal conversation. Perchberry never would have thought it to be possible. Not for someone as awkward and boring as him to keep a conversation going. There was so many more interesting cats to speak with, and although he envied those who could speak their mind so freely, those who actually had friends he had come to accept the fact he never would be like that. Someone like him could never change and be anything else but pathetic him. But today he had met someone who hadn't mind his awkwardness who actually had enjoyed talking with boring Perchberry!. That was enough to bring a small smile across his maw as he awkwardly stared into distance, daydreaming about the thunderclan warrior he had just met.

He would remain like that, into his lil bubble until some kits run right past him, startling him awake. Perchberry would take a step back, blinking before he watched the kits run of again until he rememberd something importand. Their promise. This mouse was not meant to just be given to anyone. Wishing to honor the agreement between the two Perchberry started to walk on over to the nursery and perked his head inside with the mouse, ears slightly pinned back. It always made him feel awkward to walk in here but he pushed himself through and gave the mouse to one of the queens who gratefully thanked him. Dipping his head to them he quickly fleed to the exit again unable to stay in there for too long. Once outside again he would take a seat with a relieved sigh. This was it. His first caught prey as a warrior with a little bit of help of course. Once more a smile tugged at his maw. At least something good had come from becoming a warrior today. For the time being his fathers haunting voice leaving his mind in peace.


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[shellpaw]

perchberry was in the way. standing with his long warrior legs right in the middle of camp, unmoving despite the cut of side - eyes from other cats milling normally about the snowy clearing. to an extent, shellkit expects him to move — to hear she and her littermates barreling through the powdered ice. playing duck - duck - goose took no prisoners. her paws skitter on the slick overcrust of ice her thornlike claws can’t find purchase on, hind end swinging to the side and bam.. right into perchberry’s frozen limbs. she doesn’t say sorry, because the tom really should have known better ; she throws him a quick glance from the corner of ruddy amber eyes, but it is gone just as quick as it came, using his leg to launch herself away from her impending brothers. eventually, he moves. maybe the girl woke him from some sort of eyes - open sleep.. or maybe not, because that was a frightening thought.

she doesn’t mull on it long. the queens call them to eat, and shellkit could nearly groan — she does, in fact. a long, drawn out gurgle of dont wanna despite how her lilac striped limbs force her forward, obedient, anyway. there is a round, fat mouse sitting on the frozen part of the ground, away from the light drizzle of snow they’d been allowed to tussle in. she can almost smell the warmth of its blood underneath — something thick and ironlike, unlike the fish she’d grown up on. she’d still prefer a fish, especially when this mouse.. it pricked her nose. deep in her nostrils, where she should be oohing and ahhing over the scent of fresh kill, there was something.. woodsy. like a tree. the girl lowers her head, opens her jaws agape to take it in. faint, but there, ” why’s it smell funny? “ shellkit inquires ; though when her head turns to address the warrior, she merely watches as his tail tip disappears through the sedge walls of camp. huh. who was she to say — maybe mice were supposed to smell like that..

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𓇼 𝙎𝙊 𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙎𝙊 𝘾𝙊𝙇𝘿

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  SHELLKIT 𓆉 SHE / HER, KITTEN OF RIVERCLAN. KINDLING xx UNKNOWN, NIECE TO SMOKESTAR. TWO MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. PENNED BY ANTLERS.
  delicate lilac - striped molly with sugarplum eyes.
  
  she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of shell - touched cream, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore. feather breath and elderdown fur conceals a body worn fragile by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with baby fat in others. her face is short - muzzled, framed half mast by eyes coined warm, sugared amber ---------- ° ❀ ⋆
  

  currently exhibiting symptoms of whitecough. this includes a running nose, wheezing, sluggishness, and labored breathing. please keep contagion in mind.

  
  

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[iciclefang]

It's good to see Perchberry come out of his shell, even if it's only a little. His mouse—hard-won, no doubt, in leaf-bare stripped wetlands—is gifted to the queens, to the kits who tumble, hard at play, about camp. The tortoiseshell watches from a few foxlengths away, giving Perchberry an approving nod and smiling almost indulgently in Shellkit's direction. "We should be grateful for any prey in this weather," she admonishes, though there's nothing barbed in her tone. Perhaps the little she-kit is still getting used to eating fresh-kill; she remembers the transition vaguely, in blurred memories, of having to chew and tear where once she'd only drank. All fresh-kill smells funny at first, she reasons with a friendly flick of her tail.

To Perchberry, she mews, "There's not much in the fresh-kill pile, but you should take something for yourself." Her nose wrinkles just slightly. "Maybe another funny-smelling mouse, if we've got any." The possibility that the piece of prey could have come from enemy Clan territory never crosses her mind... though if she'd wandered any closer, she'd detect the flavors of the forest ground into the bit of meat's fur easily. It's the same scent her mate wears on her pelt, after all.

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[FERNGILL]

Ferngill wasn't as familiar with Perchberry as he'd like to be. That was a pretty bad thing, really- he prided himself on being familiar with all, able to give a smile to anyone who needed one, but in truth... well, since Perchberry was quite quiet and Ferngill was often a bonfire-warm talker, they hadn't crossed paths so much. Attention pivoted to the queens and kits, who setled around a mouse- a mouse!- caught by Perchberry himself. Interest flickered emerald-shine in Ferngill's eye, along with a star-spark of humour as Shellkit exclaimed about the funny smell.

"A mouse in this weather- well done, Perchberry," Ferngill exclaimed, tone very genuine- he gave a nod at his littermate's mention of how rare that sort of prey was. Looking to Shellkit, he added with humour, "Funny to us, but- to the other Clans, fish smells funny." It was ridiculous to him, and he made it sound so. On the journey he'd never seen so many cats turn their nose up at fish- too strong, some of them had said. Thinking of those faces now, it almost made him laugh all over again.​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[ROOKFANG]

THE HERMIT ─── Leaf-bare's cruelness could not disrupt the desire for survival, especially for the future generations and the ones he lived with. He knew the dependency of the river was what tied them together, a unity of cats who rushed into the evermoving currents without fear, yet that did not mean the river had stilled itself with the cold. Instead, it had become almost a deathly trap if one stayed too long in the frigid depths, Rookfang's pelt feeling a march of shivers dance down his spine as the crystalline droplets he lapped at now entered his jaws. He would never give away the bitter dislike for the winter and how it had clawed at the energy of their lives. All it did was drain and take away, burying the rest in blankets of powdery snow. But no matter how much he may glare or hiss at the freezing temperatures and environment, it was but a simple part of their cycle and he supposed not everything could be perfect all the time.

His attention was picked up by the voices of the others, half-lidded steely eyes readjusting to where his clanmates were located in their camp as the dark sable tom heaved himself from his crouched position and stalked over, the all too familiar sound of compact snow crunching underneath his heavyweight as he went to slide by Iciclefang, offering a light flick of his tail-tip against her to let her be aware of his presence. He blinked in perplexed wonder at the sight of a mouse, especially with the peculiar scent that was wrapped around its still body. With his damaged vision, his already strong sense of smell had risen to compensate and allowed for it to be easier for him to identify such scents. Rookfang's focus had shifted briefly to stare at Perchberry, unfaltering hardened gaze not offering any sign of negative or positive signs until a curt nod of approval was directed towards the newly made warrior. He seemed...quiet. Timid. Not that Rookfang could judge as he was no better in his own special way.

"Well done Perchberry, it's better than I've had any luck with today." The spiky-furred tom couldn't help but give out a huff of dry amusement to float off from him at the comment of Shellkit, the youth expressing wonder for the peculiar scent as the queen ensured the kittens would soon learn to eat different forms of prey. He could recall the outrage he had felt upon having to eat prey for the first time, stubbornly refusing until he was at the edge of starvation. Upon then, he had learned the taste of different sources from the river and from the land that encased them, the strange textures and forms of how one ate certain prey. He had grown to like fish just as any Riverclanner would but he always held a secret soft spot for aviary prey he kept that desire to himself to enjoy once the rest of his clan had enjoyed their food.

As Ferngill mentioned how the other Clans viewed fish, his mind drifted to how his mother and Valepaw were about such prey. His snake of a mother had been wonderfully enjoyful of any sort of free meal she could get from his Riverclan father. His little brother on the other hand had struggled at first in accepting this lifestyle. His brotherly worry suddenly blossomed at realizing he needed to ensure Valepaw was comfortable as his happiness came first before anything Rookfang desired for their lives. "Not a chance I would ever try rabbit...." His cold nose wrinkled at the visual of himself trying Windclan's prey. It must be as dry and tasteless as they behaved, no wonder they were such wretched cats.

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