On this night, Chilledstar's absence shall dim ShadowClan's presence at the gathering. In their stead plods Smogmaw, who staunches his unease in stride. The visceral tide of sludge and slush, caked onto his fur from the ankles down, renders every step leaden. Still, this outer discomfort fades against the torrent within. It is a rare occasion for him to stand tall, a chance to display ShadowClan's resilience undiminished. Crowds, though, have an insidious habit of draining him long before proceedings so much as begin. The mottling of skeletal branches cast over the night sky looms more as twisted talons overhead than shelter, and the oaks' sway conveys a sense that all here have a single mind in waiting. All watching, and baring impatient fangs.
Jaws grit against such delusions, and paws trudge onward towards the Great Rock jutting at the gathering's centre stage. An attempt is made to fortify his resolve by recalling the moons he has spent craving this role, to share the esteemed space with the other clans' leaders, and to hold court among them, even temporarily. Still, anxiety bites deeper than his own aspirations, leaving him a tad disoriented; a rear paw loses its purchase when he ascends the boulder, forcing him to scrabble gracelessly to his destination.
One by one do the leaders arrive, all turning beady gazes to him. Breaths emerge deep yet offer no respite. "Greetings, all," Smogmaw hails them and the audience below. He clears his throat from phlegm thick and stubborn, then continues. "I will be representing ShadowClan tonight. Chilledstar's back in our swamp, recovering from fatal injuries they'd gotten from a rogue's paws. Stand with me in the hopes that they'll recover, strong and healthy, sooner than later."
A sniffle parts the deputy's words, and for a second time, his throat clears noisily. His gaze wanes down to his muddy forepaws for a fleeting moment. "Let this be a reminder of the threat posed by rogues. For moons has ShadowClan suffered the trespass of their kind, and there's a select group of 'em who've conspired bloodshed against us. Since the last gathering, their crooked claws have stolen the life of Nettlepaw, who was just eight moons old." Brows arch in sympathy, for the medicine cat who has lost too much already, and for the apprentice whose future is but a ghost in the wind. "We will not allow a tragedy like this to pass unanswered or forgotten. Should anyone hold insight to the whereabouts of Granitepelt, Siltcloud, or Ghostpaw - who we've firm reason to believe are responsible - do my clan the justice of coming forward! Or, bring their pelts directly to our border, and we'll thank you tenfold for it." A sigh slips then, heavy like mist over a stagnant mire.
"The uninvited guests on our lands go beyond rogues. A warrior of ours, Roosterstrut, was plucked from where he stood seemingly by twoleg paws- er, whatever they're called." Amber eyes waft their focus onto SkyClan's new leader. Though he is enthused to learn a past comrade has risen to new heights, the formalities will have to come at a later point in time. "I ask SkyClan to be vigilant on its outings near Twolegplace. If any of your warriors come across a meek, conscience-stricken orange tabby, please help Roosterstrut find his way home."
That's the end of the bleak tidings. Shoulderblades squared and muzzle angled with coaxed confidence, Smogmaw conveys as much conviction and composure his apprehensive state would permit. Promotions, newly-admitted warriors, apprentices, and all the like flow past him with a palatable ease. A summary of this moon's past meeting. "Moving on, a couple'a moons ago, three cats appeared on ShadowClan's border. The progeny of Skunktail; blood relatives to our clan's first leader, Briarstar. This bloodline has long coursed through our swamp, and we are proud to welcome Pipitclaw, Hawkstride, and Snipe[ENTER SUFFIX] into our fold."
Smogmaw's tongue sweeps over his jowls. In lieu of his disdain for the perpetuation of such dynasties, his commitment to upholding clan-wide trust overrules his own unsavoury judgements on heritage. Plus, with seven offspring to his name, four whom neared warrior status, harbouring reservations at this point would reflect poorly on his impartiality. Right, on that note: "A lotta apprentices join our ranks this moon. Bloodpaw, Snowypaw, Shadepaw, Swallowpaw, Singepaw, Bonepaw, and Sneezepaw. They will aim high and do our clan proud. Also, Honeypaw has well proven her merit and joins her warrior brethren as Honeymoon."
For the first time, his sightline lowers and scours the crowd from the side. Cat upon cat, the countless eyes beneath make for a stupefying amalgam. Shadows cling to the congregation, all eerily still yet for their gaze alone which gleams haunting. He cannot single out his apprentices, Bloodpaw and Ashenpaw, nor the three lead warriors whom he wishes to name next. A blink, two, and eyes return ahead, his posture straining for more substance than there is beneath his fur. "Finally, there are three new lead warriors here with us tonight. Sharpshadow, Forestshade, and Lilacfur. All three carry untold grit, backbone, and devotion to ShadowClan; qualities which will secure the wellbeing of our clan moving forward."
A forepaw drags unchecked over the rock's surface before pausing in thought, allowing a second of respite from words that pass his lips mechanically. "That is all from ShadowClan, 'nless I - ahem - remember anything I missed."
He gives the next speaker a solemn nod. After much time, and many more announcements, the ShadowClan deputy feels at ease.
Jaws grit against such delusions, and paws trudge onward towards the Great Rock jutting at the gathering's centre stage. An attempt is made to fortify his resolve by recalling the moons he has spent craving this role, to share the esteemed space with the other clans' leaders, and to hold court among them, even temporarily. Still, anxiety bites deeper than his own aspirations, leaving him a tad disoriented; a rear paw loses its purchase when he ascends the boulder, forcing him to scrabble gracelessly to his destination.
One by one do the leaders arrive, all turning beady gazes to him. Breaths emerge deep yet offer no respite. "Greetings, all," Smogmaw hails them and the audience below. He clears his throat from phlegm thick and stubborn, then continues. "I will be representing ShadowClan tonight. Chilledstar's back in our swamp, recovering from fatal injuries they'd gotten from a rogue's paws. Stand with me in the hopes that they'll recover, strong and healthy, sooner than later."
A sniffle parts the deputy's words, and for a second time, his throat clears noisily. His gaze wanes down to his muddy forepaws for a fleeting moment. "Let this be a reminder of the threat posed by rogues. For moons has ShadowClan suffered the trespass of their kind, and there's a select group of 'em who've conspired bloodshed against us. Since the last gathering, their crooked claws have stolen the life of Nettlepaw, who was just eight moons old." Brows arch in sympathy, for the medicine cat who has lost too much already, and for the apprentice whose future is but a ghost in the wind. "We will not allow a tragedy like this to pass unanswered or forgotten. Should anyone hold insight to the whereabouts of Granitepelt, Siltcloud, or Ghostpaw - who we've firm reason to believe are responsible - do my clan the justice of coming forward! Or, bring their pelts directly to our border, and we'll thank you tenfold for it." A sigh slips then, heavy like mist over a stagnant mire.
"The uninvited guests on our lands go beyond rogues. A warrior of ours, Roosterstrut, was plucked from where he stood seemingly by twoleg paws- er, whatever they're called." Amber eyes waft their focus onto SkyClan's new leader. Though he is enthused to learn a past comrade has risen to new heights, the formalities will have to come at a later point in time. "I ask SkyClan to be vigilant on its outings near Twolegplace. If any of your warriors come across a meek, conscience-stricken orange tabby, please help Roosterstrut find his way home."
That's the end of the bleak tidings. Shoulderblades squared and muzzle angled with coaxed confidence, Smogmaw conveys as much conviction and composure his apprehensive state would permit. Promotions, newly-admitted warriors, apprentices, and all the like flow past him with a palatable ease. A summary of this moon's past meeting. "Moving on, a couple'a moons ago, three cats appeared on ShadowClan's border. The progeny of Skunktail; blood relatives to our clan's first leader, Briarstar. This bloodline has long coursed through our swamp, and we are proud to welcome Pipitclaw, Hawkstride, and Snipe[ENTER SUFFIX] into our fold."
Smogmaw's tongue sweeps over his jowls. In lieu of his disdain for the perpetuation of such dynasties, his commitment to upholding clan-wide trust overrules his own unsavoury judgements on heritage. Plus, with seven offspring to his name, four whom neared warrior status, harbouring reservations at this point would reflect poorly on his impartiality. Right, on that note: "A lotta apprentices join our ranks this moon. Bloodpaw, Snowypaw, Shadepaw, Swallowpaw, Singepaw, Bonepaw, and Sneezepaw. They will aim high and do our clan proud. Also, Honeypaw has well proven her merit and joins her warrior brethren as Honeymoon."
For the first time, his sightline lowers and scours the crowd from the side. Cat upon cat, the countless eyes beneath make for a stupefying amalgam. Shadows cling to the congregation, all eerily still yet for their gaze alone which gleams haunting. He cannot single out his apprentices, Bloodpaw and Ashenpaw, nor the three lead warriors whom he wishes to name next. A blink, two, and eyes return ahead, his posture straining for more substance than there is beneath his fur. "Finally, there are three new lead warriors here with us tonight. Sharpshadow, Forestshade, and Lilacfur. All three carry untold grit, backbone, and devotion to ShadowClan; qualities which will secure the wellbeing of our clan moving forward."
A forepaw drags unchecked over the rock's surface before pausing in thought, allowing a second of respite from words that pass his lips mechanically. "That is all from ShadowClan, 'nless I - ahem - remember anything I missed."
He gives the next speaker a solemn nod. After much time, and many more announcements, the ShadowClan deputy feels at ease.
