GLEN TO GLEN ╱ NIGHT "SWIM"

[HOUNDSTRIDE.]

He'd avoided the water off on his own. Fresh wounds and a fresher feeling of what it'd been like to drown made him hate the sound even as he'd followed the bank. Fishing was still the way that he ate; he still nestled himself up in reeds when he could to rest. It was a long journey home. An' not once had he let himself slip past the top of his paws. That decision'd been tucked behind logic: it was leafbare, he had no clanmates to warm him up when he pulled himself out. If somethin' went wrong, there was no cat to watch him but himself. And who could know what sort'f trouble he could get himself without a medicine cat to help? It'd made sense, sure, but nothing quite touched the truth.

Newleaf was here. Waters were warm, fish were plenty, and Houndstride still hasn't quite touched the river.

He's at the bank now, the water's edge lapping up to his toes. Nighttime's hardly the best time for a swim, but it felt simpler away from his clanmates' eyes, and he's not so far off he can't shout if somethin' goes wrong. His path from the warriors' den was treaded daintily; it felt like home. The insomnia of moons long gone, just Houndstride at it again, pulling himself out to stare at the stars. Just Houndstride. No matter that so many of the faces in that den are ones he last saw kitten-round.

Better to let the water wash away those thoughts. He steps forward, timid where no cat can see him, until it covers his paws. A few more and it brushes his belly. By the time the water touches his chin, Hound feels like he might fall asleep here beneath the stars. His paws still touch the river rocks beneath him; the moon is a bright light above his head; the reeds whisper a lullaby. And for the first time in many moons, he feels like a RiverClan warrior as this water soaks right back into his bones. Any expectation of pain is gone. It waves gently across his fur and soothes his tense scars. When he stretches his neck up and tilts his head back, there's no burst of fire to follow.

Houndstride pad backs towards the bank and curls up there, where the water still crests his hips and his tail floats like a bulrush bent behind him, and lets his eyes linger half-closed.

𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐋𝐄𝐓: 𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊.  ╱ ( 𝑬𝑿𝑰𝑻 𝑯𝑨𝑴𝑳𝑬𝑻 ) 〚 03.11.2024 〛 𓆟༝ ˚ ｡ ⋆｡˚ ༝ • .𓆝

• OOC. —
• 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄. HE - HIM - HIS. PRODIGAL WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. ————— mauled by a fox moons ago and has the scars to prove it. though his wounds are healed, nothing can rid him of that pain.  ╱ PENNED BY REVELATIONS
  
  a lean chocolate tabby with lime green eyes. the scars that had once been limited to the bridge of his nose now shatter and expand across that entire side of his face, up to a ripped ear and down to his shoulder and front right leg. it is somewhat difficult for him to put his weight on that paw at odd angles, and he gets grumpy after a long while of walking, but it does not inhibit him terribly.

• "speech"

​

 

[Carpspeckle]

Carpspeckle stepped halfway from the bushes nearby, her head tipping to the side as she saw her Clanmate. His pelt was soaked and dripping with water. Carpspeckle's green eyes widened. Had Houndstride actually gone into the water after all these moons?

''Houndstride?''

Carpspeckle's voice was soft as she called out to the tom, emerging fully from the bushes, her tail brushing along the ground. The Wildrose Bengal slunk over to her fellow RiverClanner and sat back on her haunches beside him, tilting her head up and towards the stars. Towards StarClan. Her ears drooped a bit. Were her littermates - Silverminnow and Troutsplash - there? Watching Carpspeckle and her every move? Only StarClan knew.

 

[ROOKFANG]

THE HERMIT ─── The night's curtain always pulled off more than just the bright warmth of the sun, it always allowed others to break apart from their cocoons, slipping into the comforting darkness. Rookfang had come to solemn terms with his terrible discombobulated sleep schedule, he knew all too well that his body had become battered into adjustment of trauma and resurrecting memories. It never brought back the loved ones he longed to see again, just the haunting cries and screams he would dwell on, ones he never got to hear when he had first arrived at the deadly scene of his little fallen family. Even so, time was like the river, each wave and current causing any rough edges to begin to soften and smoothen out, every cry now becoming fainter. They would always be there but the nighttime allowed his thoughts to freely wander alongside him as he stalked across camp, heavy spiked tail slowly waving behind the large form as he headed to the edges of their island. With no patrols or hunting duties, the male cherished the exhaustion that came with the speckled sky above them, half-lidded intense gaze fluttering up to Starclan's path.

He knew his siblings would most likely not be there, they had unfortunately perished before they could have been found by Riverclan. So...where were they now? Was there a hidden land outside of Starclan's grasp that cats without knowing them stayed at? He knew not to question his faith but if it meant seeing his family again, the fanged tom knew the ugly truth that refused to push itself out to be said, just a constant thought whirling inside his skull as he inhaled the dying leafbare air that floated with the newleaf's energy. Rookfang found himself cutting into what appeared an interaction between Houndstride and Carpspeckle, his sable brown figure joining into the scene although he felt like he was intruding.

The male could see the other tom was nestled into the river's arms, allowing it to tug gently at his submerged portions and Rookfang was thankful that it was no longer the blade of ice that cut through his clanmate's pelts now that the weather began to blossom with warmth even after sundown. His gaze trailed over to Carpspeckle, her call and joining the fellow warrior laced with concern. This caused his concern to begin to bubble up, steely stoic facial features cracking the slightest as he meowed "Thank Starclan we are no longer in leafbare. I missed the river's flow during the night." He stepped in, prepared for a march of shivers but was greeted with the simple lull of the water, stalking over to slide by the leftover empty side of Houndstride. Hopefully, the other did not mind the company, Rookfang's attentive gaze still observing to see if it was okay to join the other. ​

 

[Carpspeckle]

The Wildrose Bengal jumped, her green eyes widening with surprise as Rookfang approached. Sitting back on her haunches, Carpspeckle forced her fur flat and gave her chest a couple of embarrassed licks. ''Great StarClan, Rookfang! You scared me out of my fur!'' The younger warrior exclaimed, her mottled dark gray pelt glowing silver under the moonlight. The RiverClanner wrapped her tail neatly around her huge forepaws, turning gaze to her approaching Clanmate.

The molly gave a nod of agreement, opening her jaws to speak. ''I am, too. No more leaf-bare means all the more fish in the river for RiverClan,'' She purred warmly, her green eyes glistening warily as they flickered over to Houndstride.

 

[Snakeblink]

The most frustrating fact about Snakeblink’s insomnia is, by far, that night is a particularly useless time for him: the eyes that earned him this name struggle to adapt to the meager light of the stars, and he spends long hours staring at nothing, wondering if he ought to ask Shadestone for pointers on how to get around when one cannot make out a single obstacle in front of his paws.

Tonight he takes the risk to step towards the water’s edge anyway, hoping a drink of water and perhaps a quick dip into the river would help with the itch under his skin refusing to let him rest. He knows their territory well enough that he can make his way around at night without too much trouble — as long as they stay around camp, he thinks, remembering when the flood displaced them towards the gorge and he would have walked right off the edge and down the chasm if not for Cindershade’s quick reflexes.

The murmur of voices has him veering off from his trajectory. Stepping into the shallows to more easily follow the curve of the shore, he wades towards the source of the sound — and right on top of it as he bumps into one of the cats talking in the dark, freezing and blinking furiously to try and make out their silhouette. He thinks he recognizes Houndstride’s voice, as well as Rookfang’s low rumble, and maybe Carpspeckle’s higher pitch. Three dark-furred cats melding perfectly in the night.

He clears his throat. ”Evening, and apologies to whichever one of you I walked into. Enjoying the milder weather?”​

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• 
  
  
  — Snakeblink • he / him. 50 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

​

​

 

[claythorn]

It seemed sleep was thin between at least three- now four- of the figures present at the bank of the river. Claypaw had never slept well, as if it was on beat with the rest of her persona. Her social skills lacking, her sleep few and far between, but she'd be damned if she didn't get her bank-walks in night-to-night. It wasn't the sound of the water that bothered her. No, Claypaw had always been lulled softly by the gentle trickling nose of water brushing against stone.

It was the feeling. The feeling between her paws, head beneath the surface of the water that excited her fear. And that wasn't something Claypaw liked to feel- fear. Fear for herself, not for others. Terror at the way the water clung to her fur, choking her alive despite her breath held perfectly well. She had stopped a measure away from the warriors, far-off vision staring over the bank of the water. Ears slowly lowered against her head.

And then the flood topped it all off.

Her head turned away, fur standing on end all of a sudden. Their voices weren't too far off, highly aware of important figures, and ones she didn't know too well settled in the reeds, but that wasn't her concern tonight. I really need to get over this. Embarrassment burned as she brought herself down from the fear of the water, and shifted to settle back where the sand was dry, where the light barely reflected off of the ground. Sure, it was newleaf, and the water was warming. Perhaps a measure better then before, it wasn't frozen like when she had been plunged in a water's depth.

✧　°　.　♦　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
  "yuh"
• 
  
  a large, lh chocolate torbie towering, nine moons old, she/her. well-build and muscled. a drypaw. former river colony cat.

​

 

[HOUNDSTRIDE.]

He should've known his peace wouldn't've lasted long. Carpspeckle's voice grates across his nerves, his head lifting some from the water. It drips from his chin, rippling back out across his paws. "Hmn?" he mumbles, though the sound's hardly a welcoming one. She seems worried. So does Rookfang, when he joins along his other side. That one's not quite so terrible company, maybe just 'cause he's quieter, but the warrior rattles out his frustrations with a short exhale. "Thought this was 'posed to be a restful time, or'd RiverClan start takin' after the marshes while I was gone?" Chatting away like it was the normal thing to do at this hour, StarClan save them all.

He didn't want to talk about the ice and snow that used to be, or the warm newleaf that was now. Both brought bad memories. And he was tired of that nonsense. Like Claypaw, lingering on the banks brought it all back. Unlike the apprentice. . . well, at least he'd tried to confront it. Probably for the best she's a kinder mentor than him. At least, Houndstride assumes that's the case. He puts his head back down and snorts through his nose. "For the best that we don't. Snakeblink's at enough risk to himself when there's a full sun 'bove his head." A beat. "Don't drown," he warns the warrior idly.

𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐋𝐄𝐓: 𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊.  ╱ ( 𝑬𝑿𝑰𝑻 𝑯𝑨𝑴𝑳𝑬𝑻 ) 〚 03.11.2024 〛 𓆟༝ ˚ ｡ ⋆｡˚ ༝ • .𓆝

• OOC. —
• 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄. HE - HIM - HIS. PRODIGAL WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. ————— mauled by a fox moons ago and has the scars to prove it. though his wounds are healed, nothing can rid him of that pain.  ╱ PENNED BY REVELATIONS
  
  a lean chocolate tabby with lime green eyes. the scars that had once been limited to the bridge of his nose now shatter and expand across that entire side of his face, up to a ripped ear and down to his shoulder and front right leg. it is somewhat difficult for him to put his weight on that paw at odd angles, and he gets grumpy after a long while of walking, but it does not inhibit him terribly.

• "speech"

​