first light — chilly morning

[Orangestar]

𝐵𝑈𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐴 𝑊𝑂𝑀𝐴𝑁, 𝐵𝑌 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝑁𝐷 ✧ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀

• 
  
  — orangeblossom | tags
  — she/her ; deputy of skyclan, mentoring eveningpaw.
  — scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes.
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — chibi by waluigipinball
  — penned by mercibun. @ me in any official tabbytales discord for plots.
  
  

​

This pseudo-Clan of theirs (for that's what it is, such a large group and so and varied in age) has been somewhat protected from the windchill in the little hollow they've found for the evening— but even so, this morning is bitterly cold. Orangeblossom is awoken by it, cracking her eyes open to meet the blue hours of dawn.

Awareness of the temperature sets her ears burning and her whiskers trembling, though she's entertained briefly by a memory of Slate complaining that his whiskers would turn to icicles in similarly bitter weather (their hunting patrol hadn't been successful that day, she remembers, and wonders if this too is an omen of what's to come). Thankfully, this pre-dawn gloom is different to the dark of the caves, far more familiar and something she can just make out the outlines of the others amongst, though her attention is very much centred on the billowing steam of her breath as she exhales.

"StarClan above." She whispers, uncurling herself and rising to her paws. Someone shifts next to her, stirring from sleep, and Orangeblossom mumbles an apology.
​

 

[iciclefang]

The night before had been reminiscent of a brutal and terrible leafbare. Iciclefang’s fur had remained fluffed up until they’d bunked down for the night in a tight little hollow in the cliffside, her memories stained red with blood. Clearsight’s blood, her Clanmates’ at WindClan’s mercy in a temporary camp as their rightful home flooded. Sunningrocks, stolen by ThunderClan during a moment of weakness. Some of her bitterness toward the other Clans had faded during their perilous quest, but the chill in the air bites at her flesh and makes her remember things she’d rather forget.

Still, there’s little room to separate into their respective Clans in the shelter they take from the windchill. When Iciclefang stirs the next morning, she’s perilously close to SkyClan’s stern-faced deputy. She apologizes for moving, and the tortoiseshell yawns in her face, likely gifting her with fish-scented morning breath. “It hardly feels any warmer today,” she mutters, beginning to stretch. One hind leg goes a bit too far and nudges another sleeping cat—she doesn’t immediately see who it is. “Sorry,” she says, mimicking Orangeblossom.

ooc ✧ 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦

•  
•  
• 

  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​

 

[smogstar]

Someone's wayward limb ploughs into his shoulder, lifting the veil of sleep and leaving him exposed to the raw morning air. Frost nips at his throat while jaws split in an intense yawn, and a chill slithers through his muscles when he rises in a stretch. "Thanks for that," Smogmaw grunts dryly, groggy eyes brooding over the outline of whomever had awoken him. It is Iciclefang's fire-speckled pelt which shines through his post-slumber haze. A singular empty chuckle would escape his throat then. Having guided the young warrior through the dreaded caves, one would think that Smogmaw would have earned a smidgeon more courtesy from her.

The night's embrace loses its hold on him, shadows draining away from all corners of his vision. Another yawn ripples through his chest, and only by the time his teeth snap shut can he truly consider himself awake.

"Wager it'll get worse?" the deputy asks, his voice carrying a deeper heft than the two she-cats in his company, who spoke in murmurs instead. Everybody in their little troop will be awake in due time. He sees little need to afford them hushed tones. "Dunno much about how the weather works," he drawls on, "but it feels like the higher we go, the more snow we see, and the more snow we see, the worse the wind bites."

It isn't a complaint, not as much as an observation. Should next Greenleaf prove more unbearable than the last one, there will be little stopping the ashen tom from retracing this journey's steps to end up here. Well, save for Twoleg bridges, cave systems, obligations to his clan and family—but the thought was nice. ​

 

[LIGHTSTRIKE .]

❝ WE HAVE YET TO CRASH ✧°.☀ —————————————————————————————
Lightstrike was curled tightly enough that he was liable to implode if he squeezed any tighter. It seemed he had migrated into his sleep, practically pressed into the pelts around him. Most cats seemed to have done the same, seeking out warmth in the chill. When those pelts inevitably moved,
though, it caused a chain reaction, himself included.

With his source of warmth moving away, the ThunderClanner let out an irritable, somewhat despaired groan before opening his eyes in a bleary squint. Couldn't they sleep longer? He didn't want to start another day of soreness and walking and bright snow yet.

Wager it'll get worse? a familiar hoarse voice asked, and he belatedly realized they were discussing the chilly air. Lightstrike lifted his head to fix the tabby with a crinkled look. "Come on, don't will it into existence," he grumbled sleepily. "That's just cruel."

With a huff, the tom curled into himself again in a stretch, paws pressed to his head and muscles quivering with the effort. In the cramped space it wasn't enough, but he didn't quite want to get up to satiate it. "Can't we sleep a little longer?" he mumbled.

[penned by its_oliverr - ☀]

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

​

 

[Orangestar]

𝐵𝑈𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐴 𝑊𝑂𝑀𝐴𝑁, 𝐵𝑌 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝑁𝐷 ✧ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀

• 
  
  — orangeblossom | tags
  — she/her ; deputy of skyclan, mentoring eveningpaw.
  — scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes.
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — chibi by waluigipinball
  — penned by mercibun. @ me in any official tabbytales discord for plots.
  
  

​

Orangeblossom's nose wrinkles in response to the yawn Iciclefang responds to her with, fighting her immediate instinct to bat at the calico in retaliation. She does, however, recoil with ears flattening, and holds her breath for a moment. Ew ... smells like fish. Iciclefang has turned away by that point, knocking into Smogmaw as she stretches out her limbs, the latter of whom seems entirely unenthused to be woken up in such a way. Her nose wrinkles again with his question, though for an entirely different reason. Snow in the Clans' home was horrible, uncomfortable and cold; but here, where the wind bites and they haven't carved out a permanent home among the stones and trees to hide themselves from the snow, she doesn't want to experience the worst of it. Memory of the blizzard which had trapped SkyClan within their camp flashes across her eyes for a moment and she shudders. StarClan forbid.

"Ugh. Hope not. Leafbare's bad enough in the forest, I don't want to know how cold it might get here." She echoes Lightstrike's sleepy grumble in response to her counterpart, though the cream-and-white tom is is awarded a rare huff of amusement for his whining. Stepping carefully over the curled-up forms, she prods him with a paw. "Nope, come on. It'll be warmer once you get up and get moving. How's your hunting skill in the snow?"
​

 

[hazecloud]

The steady decline into leaf-bare brought a familiar chill down one's spine. Back home, there were signs to prepare. At least a few moons to still clutch onto warm sunlight and enjoy round prey before they were reeled back into sharing meals and on some occasions feeding on prayers instead of food. Out here, and they scraped their claws against stone instead of grass, the drop was sudden. Nothing gradual about it.

Normally the cold didn't bother Hazecloud as much as it did for her short-haired Clanmates. Long, silky fur kept her nest warm and any lucky warriors around her the same. Even so, the mountainous climate proved itself to be much more severe than she anticipated. Even the crisp air had crawled underneath her coat in a swarm. Her head raised and her gaze swept across the clowder, noticing how they had all huddled up together to combat the cold. Even more, there's a weight against her back, someone was certainly cold during the night.

Carefully Hazecloud parted from her nap-neighbor, trying not to wake them. "What could even live out here when it's so cold?" Her voice is a hushed murmur, only the puff from her maw proof she had spoke at all. ​