GOOD MORNING MORIOH || Thunderclan dawn patrol

[Rabbitnose]

Rabbitnose hopped along with a pep in his step through the crisp morning air and the cool dew on the grass and undergrowth. It was nice out, but not for long. The sun would soon rise higher into the sky and with it, it's sweltering heat would bear down on the world once more. He didn't like dawn patrols, but he couldn't deny that it was the better option during greenleaf. He didn't even mind that he was being sent to Shadowclan. He didn't like them much, and while he was fine with letting them stay on their territory while bears wreaked havoc through theirs, he wasn't so naive to expect that it made them friends. He can't remember the last time a Shadowclanner said anything nice to him, or anyone, really.

"If Shadowclan shows up, be cordial. Lets not ruin the morning with sour attitudes!" He said to his patrol. "Hopefully they will do the same." He added.

Reaching the thunderpath, he began to rub his face on a tree. He appreciated that the thunderpath didn't stink as it does once it gets hot. Things are just so much better when it's not disgustingly hot out. Oh, how he longed for cooler days. Not leafbare exactly, but man, he just wanted to be able to breathe and not feel like he was roasting.

(( @freckleflame @STORMYWING ))​

 

[freckleflame]

it was early. it was bright. it stank, and suddenly her joking with stormywing didn’t seem as funny as it had been yesterday. the bulky woman pads sluggishly after her father with ears angled to each side of her head, fighting the urge to wrinkle her nose as they approached the flat, reeking rock. rabbitnose was right, however — it wasn’t as acrid now, doused in shades of early morning. it would be pretty, should the blazing sun not scorch her corneas with each glance towards it. freckleflame blinks, closes her eyes for a few more seconds than necessary, aiming to trudge in the blue - white toms pawsteps, avoiding the greenery and undergrowth in indentions he’d made.

until a root springs from nowhere, her ginger paw lodging just beneath it and suddenly her eyes are flying wide, stumbling head - first over the loop of gnarled tree — and it’s no one’s fault but her own, really. she lands in the tall grass beneath the oak itself, the fluff of her flank bunching up against the dew - studded ground. she lets out a little prrrp to indicate that she was okay, despite not making any move to lift herself back to her paws.

be cordial, rabbitnose says, and she groans, tilts her head to look at him from her supine form, ” ayup, i got it. but hey — “ never without questions, not since she was a kit. a single seaglass eye scrunches closed where she presses it against the ground, rubs her scent glands against the base of the tree, the grass. she flops to the other side and coils, rubs her head as far as she can reach, blades of grass jutting from dark fur, ” can we ask about sunnyday..? i’m wondering if they told ‘m to kick rocks yet, or if he’s still there usin’ up all their herbs. “ her thick tail slaps the ground. no one deserved to be hurt, but starclan knows she would have sent him on the second she could.

˗ˏˋ ⠀ SPEAKING ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ⋆ ☀︎ ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ⋆ AESTHETIC ⠀ ˎˊ˗

• i.
  
• FRECKLEFLAME ——————— of thunderclan ⠀ 𓍊𓋼 ⠀ . ׁ
  𖦹 . LESBIAN. SINGLE, CRUSHES EASILY. SMELLS LIKE SUN - WARMED OAK. ELEVEN MOONS. 8 / 3 / 2023 NAMED A WARRIOR. MENTORED BY WOLFWIND, PENNED BY ANTLERS.
  
  
  f. she / her, daughter of sunfreckle and rabbitnose. large, cream patched tortoiseshell she - cat with pale green eyes. fire - forged, smoldering ; shades of vibrant russet, dousing swathes of shadow and interwoven with ribbons pale cream come to drape like licks of flame over a well - toned form. in warriorhood she has grown to full, hulking height ; unspecified maine coon heritage born of sunfreckle's kittypet background shows itself in large, round paws and tufted, long - furred toes set upon thick, tabby - splotched limbs. freckleflame is broad shouldered and square - jawed, wild cheek fur like the blazing edges of a red sun — a hulking, thick - furred thunderclan warrior, forever blaze - kissed. a characteristic lack of personal space leads her to a slouching, touchy posture, often inclined to lean or bump against her peers, all while beating a lazy, heavy - eyed grin.
  
  
• 
  
  
  

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[hitch]

┌──═━┈━═──┐
────── R O S E M I R E ──────
└──═━┈━═──┘

He works best during daybreak and twilight, but he isn't always lucky enough to get those patrols. Some days he's under the sun's unblinking glare for so long that the layers of mud hiding his skin split, and if he can't reapply a layer quickly enough, he'll spend the next week or so in heavy discomfort, itchy and pained. The periphery of ShadowClan territory has the best shade, but Rosemire can't exactly sit under the trees and leave his clanmates to handle the majority of the hunting. He hasn't passed out from the muggy heat yet, and he knows how lucky he is that ShadowClan has a canopy at all, limited as it is— he could be in WindClan. He'd probably evaporate within an hour.

Rosemire steps in close to a tree trunk, dragging his side across it and grimacing when rough bark tugs on the mud slicking his pelt. He knows he's...unsightly, to say the least: he probably looks like a patch of bog gained legs, but ThunderClan doesn't seem like the type to be superstitious. He hadn't thought they could be clumsy in their neck of the woods, either— which doesn't explain the sudden flying arc of mottled fur across the thunderpath. He spares a glance for the others on the patrol, wondering if he's the only one who noticed.

"Morning," he greets after a moment. "A little early for practicing stunts, I thought."
​

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[STORMYWING]

Stormywing plods along, her striped tail flicking to and fro at her heels as she follows Rabbitnose and his daughter. A yawn parts her jaws, ivory fangs glinting in the dawn’s light. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” She mews through her yawn, voice deep with sleep.

All is quiet for a while; that is, until the tortoiseshell just ahead of her stumbles forward and practically falls onto her face. “Whoa!” The bicolor exclaims, ears shooting forward with alarm, but amusement quickly cloaks her expression when she realizes Freckleflame isn’t hurt. She trots forward a few paces to stand in front of the she-cat who is now rolling about to spread her scent. “You shoulda been named Frecklefall!” She jokes lightheartedly, no malice in her voice.

It’s then that she notices they aren’t alone as a ShadowClanner calls across the thunderpath. She lifts her head to peer over her shoulder at the pale tom. Her snout scrunches with distaste; she can poke fun at her friends, but when a ShadowClanner has the nerve to do it, she gets defensive. The small warrior whirls around and swiftly retorts, “Dontcha got rats to wrestle or something?” ​

 

[Needledrift]

Maybe it was the lasting feelings from the confrontation with Chilledstar, maybe it was the stranger that nobody in camp seemed to know what to do with, maybe it was the sudden loss of a friend - or a combination of all of those things and more - but Needledrift had been on edge recently, a lot more than she would ever have liked to admit.

The ThunderClan patrol does little to calm her nerves. Since Howlingstar's visit, the gray she-cat couldn't help but think of the angry point cat that had pushed the golden stranger towards certain death. She had heard how angry he was and that sort of fury frightened her in a way. It was silly, being able to stare a bear in the face and be willing to die for the clan, while also being paranoid that a murderous cat would travel to ShadowClan in the wake of exile to wreak some cartoonish revenge on the cats that housed his failed victim.

But still, she worried, and made sure that @TADPOLEPAW and @mothpaw were close to her at all times when they were out and about in the territory. She flicks her tail against them now, one feather-light touch to each of her apprentices' shoulders. It soothes her heart for only a moment.

She halts alongside Rosemire with a grimace, her ears twitching as the ThunderClan warriors across the way jest with each other, though expressions turn less than pleased when the pale warrior on the marshland side offers a comment in turn. A less than ideal situation, for sure, considering how tenuous clan relations seemed after Howlingstar left.

Deciding to leave the gray tabby warrior to Rosemire, Needledrift instead turns her gaze to her apprentices and tilts her head to one side. "Mark the border along here." She mews as clearly as she can. There was no use getting herself and her trainees worked up over a scrunched muzzle. ​

 

[hitch]

┌──═━┈━═──┐
────── R O S E M I R E ──────
└──═━┈━═──┘

He hadn't really meant to sound insulting— he'd figured the ThunderClanner could play off the bout of clumsiness as intentional, but he supposes he should have expected that it'd be taken maliciously. Bad manners are something of the norm at the borders, regardless of who's on the other side, even if ThunderClan had seemed willing enough to let them shelter on their territory from the bears. One step forward, but always three back.

"Sure do," he says, instead of correcting her assumption, because he doubts that would be believable. Rosemire drags his bare cheek over another trunk, closing his eye to avoid any debris potentially blinding him. Needledrift doesn't seem inclined to comment at all, speaking only to her apprentices with her. Fair enough. "They're all lined up and impatiently waiting for me. They've started to accept me as one of them, probably because I've helped raise eight generations and built graves for their lost family members." He thinks this tree is going to smell more like mud than him, but it's practically the same thing at this point. "It's a good thing, y'know. Means I've slowly acclimated them into willingly sacrificing themselves to ShadowClan in leafbare. A true gift's convincing generations they have one purpose."
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[mothpaw .]

Having a new mentor was strange. Accompanied by the fresh scar down his face, he had trailed after Needledrift and Tadpolepaw into the forest- to the Thunderclan border. Webstripe had never taken him this far before, so his eyes shifted and trailed the marshes as he crept after them. Gentle reminders to stay close did their job, and he scampered up at Needledrift's ankles every now and again. As they made it to the border and slowed, the words shared between Stormywing and Rosemire makes Mothpaw's ears flatten, if but briefly.

It was no lie they made friends of rats, maybe. Mothpaw really didn't know- yes, the rats scampered in the marshes, but with how little the apprentice had been permitted to leave camp before this new mentor, he hadn't a clue. So, he does as he told, marking where indicated. Paws brushed into the ground, muzzle and side against a bush or tree trunk. ​

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"speech"​