camp GAIA'S ALIVE ↷ [ RETURN TO CAMP ]

[smogstar]

// This marks the end of ShadowClan's bear plot! If you've participated in enough threads, be sure to collect your badge in THIS THREAD! Thank you all for engaging in it, and I hope everybody had fun!


It is difficult to conceive a sensation more loathsome than the scraping of concrete against one's own pawpads. The texture of it seems to have been designed to inflict as much discomfort as rationally possible, with jagged projections that jab at the sensitive skin, and occasional crevices which pinch at the slightest misstep. These tunnels, their so-called habitat, the place in which they'd call camp so long as the bears inhabit ShadowClan's lands—Smogmaw hates them more than the uninvited guests. His knuckles would involuntarily clench something awful as he stands at the passageway's gaping mouth, eyes peeled for any indication of activity from Chilledstar's patrol.

What a lovely strategy, by the way, an absolute stroke of brilliance. After all the intellectual musings, debates, and fights over how they'd go about outwitting the bears, the clan's esteemed leader opts for the incredibly nuanced approach of charging straight into the jaws of the beast. Ah, well. At the very least, they dragged Roosterstrut along for the ride.

Speaking of whom, there's been a noticeable lack of head-splitting screams coming from the deeper marsh. Smogmaw had anticipated hearing the throes of someone's final moments by now, and though he wouldn't go as far as saying that he was disappointed, there existed a tinge of frustration in his features. By what metric is he supposed to decide when it's safe to return or not?

Discomfort. Disbelief. Disdain. All churned within his chest as he kept his vigil, a maelstrom of clashing emotions that simmered and bubbled, and threatened to overflow. "Everyone!" decides the deputy on the spur of a moment, swiveling his head behind to glimpse the sorry souls crammed inside. "The beasts, they've left our territory." He needed to get out. "We must return to our hollow and rebuild, and if all goes well, it'll be like they were never here in the first place." Staying in here for another night would see him tearing out his fur. "We're going home. Now." Irregardless of how true his words were, the ashen tom was desperate to put an end to this folly of an expedition. If it ends up being the case that the bears haven't been chased out, then fine. That'd be dealt with if, or when, the time comes. ​

⁂​

What unease remained in his bones would wane away in the comfort of familiar sights and landmarks, as disturbed as they are. The shell of pine trees enfolding camp is fraught with bear-sized apertures in the branches, and through these gaps can he identify the state of sheer state of chaos that has stricken their camp. Dens destroyed, with bedding materials bestrewn all across the ground. The intact fresh-kill pile came as a reassuring sight (it was about as empty as usual), but there was no shaking the ominous quality of the environment around them.

"I swear to the stars above," Smogmaw's voice breaks in suddenly from the centre of the disheveled camp, a vague attempt at humour colouring his statement, "we better not be missing anybody again."


// The state of camp will be messy for the next little while, so here are a couple of thread ideas you *might* be interested to help the clan rebuild!
- Repairing the dens; straightening out the branches and disturbed soil
- Finding bedding material
- Stocking up the fresh-kill pile
- Reflecting on all that has happened
- Holding a vigil for Poppypaw

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[Needledrift]

She follows her deputy dutifully, cautiously, the fur on the back of her neck prickling uncomfortably. What if the bears were still out there? Could bears possibly be that sneaky, that quiet? Surely not. And yet, Needledrift still felt that teeny pinprick of fear lancing her psyche, the smallest needling feeling that she wouldn't feel completely safe and sound for quite a while.

The storm cloud returned as they made their way into camp, a destroyed husk of what it had been before. Her mental storm cloud returned and Needledrift wilted, a sunflower turned away from the sun in the wake of a summer shower. So much work, so much time, so much effort, done away with in a matter of weeks. It would take forever to get all of this back to normal!

With wilted tail and wilted ears, folded flat against her body, Needledrift meandered over to the prickly entrance of the warrior's den, the budding berries of the shrub picked clean and half the plant smashed by giant paws. It would need reinforcing in order to be fully functional again. A sigh makes it way out of her misaligned jaw, a heavy summer-storm sigh. This is going to take all day, isn't it...​

i will never leave your room, tell everything that bothers you​

 

[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ Quiet. It is so odd for him to be so quiet and not filling
the returning patrol with his trademark broken laughter. The tom is for lack of better words tired from being in the tunnel, to being on Thunderclan lands and being reminded of what happened on the Thunderpath and then making the journey back here. Back home. Though his mind does wonder at just what will make them have to flee again. How will they lose their home next time. Who will die next? His jaws twist into a straining grin and he shakes his head. That is for the future he supposes and he shakes his head a little more before finally he steps paw into camp, it looks bedraggled to say the least. Crushed, dirty, misplaced. Oh well. If they can clean it up once they can do it again. Flicking his tail back and forth he slips his way up beside Needledrift as she looks at how the warrior den appears. It is...not the best and he tilts his head. "It'll look better soon. We can make it look better." Truthfully he also wonders if his collect of treasures survived. Especially those teeth he got from that young kit.

Gently he presses against Needle as he gives his own sigh before he finally slips forth and looks around the interior. Some brambles here and there and weaving some sticks in would be a good start and he pokss his head out to look at Needle with a grin. "Looks like we are going stick hunting."​

 

[HONEYJAW]

Home was an....odd sort of idea to Honeyjaw. Ask him a few moons ago and he would say he's not all that certain it's something he could apply to ShadowClan. It wasn't meant to be his home. Dragonfly's, maybe– living like this had changed his mind, though. The way that they tucked themselves into the tunnels and strove to protect their clanmates left its mark on him. As someone who valued loyalty above most anything else, this place suddenly didn't seem all that bad. Maybe it was just because his daughter made it out safe. Maybe it's because, whatever happened, they're coming back here despite their losses. In the ruins of what remained, they could...heal. Stars know Honey's used to that.

His sigh at the state of camp turns into a chuckle, which bubbles over into a laugh. He can't help it, though it's a little bit desperate he knows. Trotting along at his side, Dragonflypaw gives him a funny sort of look. "Missing anybody in the physical sense or the mental sense? Because StarClan looking at this might've just taken me out of commission for a moon or two." An outright lie. Already Honeyjaw is preparing to tidy up the nests. A life on the move had certainly taught him to make those fast and well. "I'll go....get some moss. Maybe I'll find my sanity somewhere with it."

﹥ˏˋ  OOC NOTES ╱ REFERENCE ╱ 07.02.2023  𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘔𝘌 𝘏𝘖𝘞 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘐 𝘏𝘈𝘝𝘌 ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• honeyjaw ╱╱ 36 moons old ╱╱ he - him - his ╱╱ warrior of shadowclan.
  ──── a former loner who joined the clan approximately six months ago (give or take).
  ──── named for the deep honey-brown of his pelt as well as his too natural charisma.
  ──── has an apprentice-aged kid he joined with, def scared of watching 'em grow up.
  ──── bisexual- kinda flirtatious yet never seems to really pursue a relationship. single.
  
  a short-furred dark chocolate point tom with the smallest splashes of white on his forehead, front paws, and tail tip. well-built, but overall average in size and unremarkable aside from his lightly curled ears and the magnetism of his smile. seems to show signs of aging earlier than expected, with a salt-and-pepper dusting around his jaw and muzzle.

• "speech"

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[Dewfrost]

Although foolish to think they would never return home, Dewfrost had grown accustomed to the idea it was a possibility. Those bears were no small beasts and even with the might of all ShadowClan, she doubted they could have driven them away.

The silver tabby follows her deputy with the rest of her clan as they finally return home. It had been somewhat pleasant residing in edge of ThunderClan's territory, but Dewfrost missed her marshy home and was glad to return to it properly and not their initial shelter when they had ran from the bears. Stepping back into camp, Dewfrost inhaled deeply, relishing in the sights and smell of the place she called home. It was a mess, but it was still here at least. "I can help get to work repairing the dens," Dewfrost offered, speaking to no one in particular. ​

 

[Starlingheart]

Home. There wasn't a day spent in the tunnel under the thunderpath that Starlingheart did not yearn for their camp. Sure, the temporary shelter that ThunderClan had allowed them to set up had been a welcome respite but she missed the dark hollow that they made their home in, the big oak tree where the leaders den was located. She imagined her kits one day playing around those big roots, imagined them running around the camp while she yells after them to be careful of the thorns that made up their protective walls. She had begun to fear that it would never come to pass, that she would be raising her children in that dank cursed tunnel.

There is much to do, but in her state there are few things she can do to actually help but she wants so desperately for their life to return to some semblance of normal. Her green eyes settle on her brother, the way he leans on the gray-furred she cat next to him. She does not comment but she cannot help but feel a small pang of jealousy. She wanted to go to him, but he had someone else. That's okay. So did she.

"We shoul-should get the body re-red-ready for-for the vigil" she stammers to Magpiepaw or Granitepelt of whoever happened to be close by, suddenly feeling weak and overwhelmed, already tired as she thinks of the state her den had been in the last time she had seen it. There would be much work to do indeed.

​

 

[Emberpaw]

We’re… leaving? Emberkit was pulled from her nervous dwellings, viridescent eyes shifting toward the mouth of the tunnel. Smogmaw was saying it was time to go, time to go home. But… what about Chilledstar? And the others? They aren’t back yet! For a moment she was frozen, her hopes and fears doing war within her. Maybe this was a good sign. Maybe this meant that they’d been victorious, and had simply stayed away to start rebuilding what was broken. Or… Emberkit lacked the worldly experience to truly envision what might have happened to the patrol. But the thought alone was ugly, awakening a grotesque worm inside her belly that thrashed and wailed. Theyre okay. They’re all okay.

She padded after through the mass of cats, tiny legs nearly windmilling with the effort to keep up. The dark tabby glanced around with wide eyes, searching for someone to stick to. Her gaze fell first upon Needledrift, and she darted to the molly’s side. The kitten held no grudges for what the warrior had done during the bear’s initial attack. Their most recent interaction had been the warrior coming to her and Chilledstar’s defence against Betonyfrost, and Emberkit was still grateful for that. She stuck to Needledrift like sap on a mouse’s ears all the way back to their home. When they finally arrived Emberkit surveyed the destruction, but really she was searching for faces. Chilledstar? Roosterstrut?
“Are they… are they here? ”

 

[brackenlight]

The wait is agonizing; it's too easy to think about all the ways the patrol that'd been sent out could go horribly, gruesomely wrong. A sense of relief permeates her at the same time -- should anything go wrong, at least nothing will happen to Brackenlight, tucked safely away in this filthy, cramped, awful tunnel. StarClan, please let them succeed. She can't stand the thought of living down here any longer. Oh, and it would be nice if no one died, too.

Eventually Smogmaw calls for everyone's attention, declares the wait to be over. She swiftly looks up from where she lays, ears pricked, before rising to her paws and looking around, past the deputy's mackerel-striped form, for any sign of the patrol. No voices, no scents. How does he know? Had he heard some signal? Seen the bears departing? She doesn't question it for longer than a moment or two in her eagerness to abandon this makeshift camp. "Thank StarClan," sighs the warrior as she makes her way to the mouth of the tunnel.

Her hopeful heart sinks at the state of the camp once they arrive. It's in shambles. Ugh! Cleaning up is going to take absolutely forever. "I'll join you, Dewfrost." The enthusiasm in her tone, though authentic-sounding, is a sham; inwardly she's dreading the work that needs to be done, the amount of labor it's going to require when all she wants to do is, well, as little as possible if she's being honest.
​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

This return is so like the last one, only the leader who’d led them away from their forest is the one who leads them back. There were no Thunderpath deaths this time, no kittens left motherless. Their one casualty is Poppypaw, and StarClan knew most of the cats here were silently thanking the bears for that loss. The slate-pelted warrior follows his Clanmates to their hollow, dark emerald eyes glittering as he takes in the damage. Shrubbery is smashed and clawed away, berries plucked from their boughs; bracken is scattered, prey is flattened and chewed.

“Messy creatures,” he mutters to nobody in particular. He can see Starlingheart standing near her den, which is, miraculously, in tact. He presses his flank to hers in a gesture of comfort.

She murmurs that they should prepare the body; he has to prevent himself from flinching. “Of course. I’ll gather anything you need.” His eyes flick about, searching for her strange new apprentice. “Magpiepaw should learn to deal with the dead. ShadowClan has plenty of death. Ought to prepare him now.”

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — granitekit . granitepaw . granitepelt
  — he/him ; warrior of shadowclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Starlingheart
  — short-haired gray tom with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Meg

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