half of my soul, as the poets say ;; joining.

[hyacinthbreath]

♚ @spiritpaw

Jaggedoak leads Hyacinthbreath and Spiritpaw to the borders between WindClan and RiverClan, the frosty water of the river not too far from her paws. Exile for a cat like her, it was.. Strange. She never thought she'd end up in this position, especially not with Spiritpaw with her. Hyacinth leans down, brushing her nose against her apprentice's ear to comfort her. She must be feeling anxious.. Especially after the skirmish.

RiverClan wouldn't take this too kindly. Hence, she stayed on the WindClan side of the border until cats arrived. A cat comes into view, and Hyacinthbreath is quick to state her intentions.

"I need to.. I need to speak to Cicadastar." She musters out, tail wrapping over Spiritpaw's back protectively. "Please. We can't.. We can't stay on WindClan's side of the border much longer. May we.. May we cross the bridge?" She asks, usually stoic expression warped into worry. She didn't want the cat who was like a daughter to her getting hurt in a scuffle she could prevent. "My name is Hyacinthbreath, I was exiled from WindClan by Sootstar. This is my apprentice, Spiritpaw. We.. We're seeking refuge."

Smokethroat.. Please don't be dead, my friend..​

❝ there are wounds inside me, gaping holes of disconnect.
can you drown inside your own body? can you suffocate within this mind? ❞

 

[FISHFACE]

Even when he's on hunting patrols with other cats, Fishface trembles at the thought of a WindClan warrior prowling amidst the reeds, awaiting a chance to croak him or a clanmate of his. He wasn't a participant in the border skirmish, thank the stars, but its aftermath left a bitter feeling in his mind. A lead warrior gravely injured, nigh in the grasp of StarClan by the time he'd arrived home - and Smokethroat's combat prowess far exceeds the oriental tabby's, so heavens help him should he find himself on the field of battle.

He is out and about on this day, eager to make up for the fruitless hunts over the preceding days. Gaunt limbs carry him through the frosted lands, weaving in and out of the underbrush so as to maintain a fair level of discretion. Unbeknownst to the tom, he is border-bound on his trek. It's difficult to navigate when his internal compass is thrown off by all the snow.

Fishface only realises where he is once he happens upon the outer reaches of the territory. The scent marker alone nearly frightens his pelt off. The presence of a WindClan cat scares him out of his wits. Olive-toned eyes jolt wide open at the distant outline, and a gnawing urge to flee for safety takes hold of his system.

And yet the outline stands immobile. If whoever this is brought violent intentions, certainly they'd have started to teethe on his bones by now.

Warily, he moves in their direction, ears folded back against his angular skull. His frame is curled into a defensive stance as he verges on the pewter-furred stranger, though he lends an ear to hear her story.

"N-No," sputters Fishface. Keeping the previous violence in mind, their mandate to see Cicadastar strikes him as a fishy demand to make. "You just want to finish what you've started, isn't that right?" he drawls on, giving both the warrior and her apprentice his full scrutiny. "Our prey is for RiverClan mouths, not WindClan ones - that should be clear by now."

He hopes somebody else comes soon. Snakeblink. Mudpelt. Beesong. Anyone. ​

 

[CLAYFUR]

Lucky for Fishface, someone does come along. Though he isn’t as capable as the other warrior probably hopes, Clayfur trudges over to join his clanmate. At first, upon spotting the familiar form of Fishface, a warm smile crosses his face—but it drops as he hears (and sees) who else awaits him across the border.

Hyacinthbreath. A WindClanner. And at her side, a child. Also a WindClanner. She speaks of her exile and wants to see Cicadastar. Hah. Fat chance. WindClan had very nearly killed Smokethroat; an unforgivable offense, in Clay’s opinion. Not that he likes Smokethroat—and the lead warrior certainly doesn’t like him—but that’s his clanmate, and a fierce protectiveness rages in his chest at the thought.

Hazel eyes narrowed and mouth set in a firm line, Clay steps closer to his clanmate. Fishface seems to have the situation under good enough control, but surely he could use backup. "Cicadastar made it clear that we don’t take in outsiders," he says. It isn’t unkind, the way he says it; it’s a fact. A rule. One that has been broken multiple times now, but the chocolate tabby isn’t sure whether that’s allowed.

He gives Hyacinthbreath a look. Like, a real good, thorough look. She doesn’t seem deceptive, but Clay knows he isn’t smart enough to figure out if she’s trying to trick them. And Spiritpaw—well, he isn’t really worried about an apprentice.

Anyway, back to the point. Hyacinthbreath wants to cross the border and speak to Cicadastar, and Fishface has made it clear to them that they aren’t trusted. And no lead warriors or medic or leader or deputy has shown up yet, so… the decision to let them cross right now falls into his and Fishface’s paws, it seems. And from Fishface, the answer is a solid no. He squares his shoulders, stands up a bit straighter. Tries to look intimidating, but not hostile. He’s pretty sure he looks stupid, but that’s not his focus. "One of us can go get Cicadastar, but not until someone else gets here." He isn’t leaving the other warrior here by himself—what if this is an ambush? WindClan has tunnels and stuff, who’s to say there aren’t warriors lying in wait in some kind of messed-up rabbit tunnel along the border, just waiting to pop out and hurt even more RiverClanners?
​

[ WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? ]​

​

 

[spiritpaw]

She would not say her resolve had been boosted after that. Spirit feels useless and numb, as she had for most of her tiny life, as if she were back with her actual mother again, as if claws were constantly tearing through her cheeks once more. She feels tears prick at the corner of her eyes, something that has happened so many times in the span they walked and shes just. Too tired to keep it back and so the tears slip down her cheeks and patter on to the ground in bitter silence, not a single whimper leaving her mouth.

She feels angry. She wants to punch every single Windclan warrior, wants to scream at them, wants to hurt them like Hyacinth has been hurt but she can't. Shes angry but she isn't her mother. She will never be her mother. Better than her, her mind hones in on the thought and her mind spins, tips back and forth because it hurts. So, so much.

Theres people here. She scrubs the tears from her face in a desperate attempt to not feel weak but when she does she thinks. She thinks of Nettlepaw, how she found him, how his blood soaked her coat as she helped bring him back. She thinks of Aspenpaw and how worried she had been and just then does a choked sob slip from her. "You don't under-stand," her voice cracks and breaks and, FUCK, why can't she do this? She cannot meet her mentors gaze, shame floods her chest as if a dam broke beneath her skin.

"Shes not bad, shes not, please," the young girl almost begs, grovels at their paws for her safety and Hyacinths. "Why would those who spoke out against the skirmish hu-rt you?" it was obvious from the fighting at the border between her clanmates, that it was obvious neither Spirit nor Hyacinth supported it. Blood was shed, Aspen was hurt, Sootstar and her posse will remain in power for as long as the stars let her and it is horror in her realization that she cannot change this.

She presses her face in to Hyacinths side to stop herself from completely breaking down. Her paws were shaking, fuck her paws were shaking bad. The fleeting thought thinks of Iciclepaw once more, would she hate her? Spirit doesn't know if she has it in her to think of it.
​

"speech"​

 

[Cricketpaw]

Cricketpaw stumbled forward through the tall reeds, having been eavesdropping and not wanting to involve himself the second he smelled WindClan because he'd seen the aftermath of that fight and he wasn't too keen to join Smokethroat in the medicine cat den. He cried once for a whole fifteen minutes when he got a thorn in his paw, he could only imagine how much he'd cry if he lost an ear or an eye or something...
Wait, would he cry half as much with only one eye? Things to consider later, he'd ask Beesong.

Speaking of crying, despite his cover being blown he resisted the urge to run away upon spotting Spiritpaw's dejected state and though the bigger Moorland cat scared him he inched forward next to Fishface to lean in her direction with a crooning tone.
"Oh-oh no, no, don't cry! Life is hard but things get nicer! Usually! It's okay!" Was it? He didn't know, but Cricketpaw hated seeing other cats cry so he offered the comforting words anyways; or what he figured was close enough to comfort. He wasn't really good at this sort of thing. "UH-Clayfur! I can uh-I'll go get Cicadastar? I'm not that fast so it might take me a second..." Speed was not his forte, he was a plodding fool with clumsy paws and no good sense of direction so when he bolted from the two warriors side he went first in the direction of the river's flow before stopping himself and quickly turning back around to keep running in the CORRECT direction to the camp this time. His little muddy paws moved as quick as they could, which as he said was not really anything to write home about.

"Cicccaaadddaaastarrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" The chocolate point apprentice wails out as he goes, scaring all the prey in the area with his stupidity but doing his duty by fetching the leader as requested.

@CICADASTAR
​

 

[CLEARSIGHT]

---

➵ Clearsight is close behind his mate.

He'd followed Clayfur from camp, meaning to ask something, following up on a conversation from earlier — and picked up his pace when he caught WindClan scent mixing with that of his love. They're near the bridge, he realizes, heart dropping into his stomach — they're on the bridge, he realizes when he finally reaches the scene.

He sees in his mind's eye Smokethroat bloody and dying under the claws of a WindClan patrol.

Not Clayfur. Not his Clayfur.

He's across the clearing in seconds, curling around the earthen tom before coming to stand at his side — his mouth forms a snarl, a hiss in the back of his throat, and oh, how he wants to be far less forgiving than either of his clanmates have been. How he wants to shatter this tense neutrality.

But he clamps down on the hiss, pushes it back, and speaks carefully controlled despite himself.

"I'm here," he says, golden eyes sliding across his clanmates. His tone brooks no argument: Fishface or Clayfur will have to retrieve their leader because Clearsight is not leaving.

No WindClan filth this side of the border, he wants to say — as though they'd bring Cicadastar here. No, they'd bring him two WindClan pelts —

He wants to spit the words out with claws to back them up, but he says instead, coldly, "Do not presume your story will grant you welcome. Cicadastar is no fool." It is not his place to turn them away, but he can certainly deliver a warning.

He keeps his claws unsheathed, flexing them against the sand. He presses in closer to Clayfur, protective rage bubbling in his chest.

​

---

& we've all got battle scars ✗ ​

 

[hyacinthbreath]

♚ A gentle nuzzle to her apprentice's face as she hiccuped away tears, trying to defend Hyacinth yet again. She felt guilty, having Spiritpaw go through so much. But she knew Spiritpaw wouldn't fare well in WindClan alone. The cats there, Sootstar's soldiers, they were a threat- and they would turn everyone she loved into walking zombies who followed every order given. "Ruhig, little ghost." She soothes the young molly, the judgemental stares one she was expecting. They weren't Smokethroat, they didn't understand her situation.

And if Smokethroat wasn't around already, had something happened to him? Worry causes her to gnaw at the inside of her cheek, though she's pulled out of her thoughts by the RiverClan cats fiercely standing on their side of the border. Hyacinthbreath anxiously looks behind her, worried that Sootstar would send Juniperfrost or another one of her soldiers after them. To make sure they were gone, truly gone. Ah, she hated this.

"When the skirmish happened, I had no knowledge of it. Believe me when I say I do not support Weaselclaw's actions that day." She meows softly, accented tune level and calm. "But my child was in that fight, and he allowed her to stay. She could have died because of him, because of.. His stupid, stupid-" She feels the bubbling anger rise again, and has to exhale a sharp breath to calm herself. To avoid another episode like before. She was better than this. ".. Please, I just.. I just need to talk to Cicadastar. Smokethroat can vouch for me. I would never harm a RiverClan cat." She pleads with the group of cats, but knows that they wouldn't let her pass. Hyacinthbreath resolves, then, to stay in place until Cicadastar came. Whether she had to remain there all night or not, she would wait.

Hyacinthbreath was no coward. She wouldn't back down because a bunch of taller toms came waltzing right over to her expecting her to shrink before them. She was tiny, but there was a fierceness in her age. "We mean no harm to any of you. That rabbit was rightfully yours the moment it crossed the border."​

❝ there are wounds inside me, gaping holes of disconnect.
can you drown inside your own body? can you suffocate within this mind? ❞

 

[BEESONG]

beesong had approached the growing tension at the border in silence, his left eye narrowed and never leaving hyacinthbreath. waiting for her to strike, preparing himself to defend his clanmates like he'd had to defend smokethroat mere sunrises ago. it isn't often that the healer unsheathes his claws. he always tries to hope that conflicts can be resolved without violence. but he also isn't one to play make-believe; too much blood has been spilled by windclan. peace with them is nothing more than a pipe dream.

his claws gleam in the weak leaf-bare sunlight. a silent promise that he would not let hyacinthbreath make another casualty out of his clanmates without a fight.

she's seeking refuge after being exiled by sootstar. beesong swallows an incredulous laugh. a windclanner, looking to join riverclan, who had just suffered an attack from her clanmates, while in the same breath admitting to being exiled. she must be crazy, or stupid, or both. "you were exiled?" beesong echoes, as if trying to convince themself that they'd heard her correctly. "for what?" surely, she didn't expect cicadastar to allow her into their ranks without an explanation. beesong wouldn't put it past sootstar to exile a cat for simply breathing in her direction wrong, but they have no way of knowing if that's what happened here. hyacinthbreath could've committed treason, for all they know.

we can't harbor another spiderfall, they think, with a clench of their jaw at the thought of the dead rogue's name.

he falls silent once more, to listen to the hiccuping words of the younger one- hyacinthbreath's apprentice, spiritpaw. tears streak her pale face, as she exclaims that those who spoke against the skirmish wouldn't hurt them. beesong huffs a disbelieving laugh. naive thinking like that would only get one injured, or killed. every cat is equally as capable of hurting others as they are helping them. windclan's environment, and their leader, tend to exploit the former in cats. honeytwist had been one of the kindest cats beesong had known in the pine colony; and look at which path windclan had taken her down. she'd attacked another medicine cat.

hyacinthbreath speaks again, reiterating that she didn't support weaselclaw's actions. beesong tilts their head, regarding her with suspicion veiled with an unreadable expression. she doesn't seem to be lying, but they also do not know how skilled of a deceiver she is. it could be a lie just as easily as it could be the truth. spiderfall had fooled them all for moons, with his carefully crafted web of deception.

it's when hyacinthbreath mentions smokethroat that the healer speaks up again. his gaze sharpens. "smokethroat is healing in my den, after your lead warrior nearly took his life over a rabbit." his voice is icy, now, colder than the bitter leaf-bare wind that bites at his exposed skin. "you'll have to wait for cicadastar."​

 

[BUCKGAIT.]

MY NAME IS BRUTUS AND MY NAME MEANS HEAVY ✧​

her paws fall heavy, eyes ablaze and a cruel sneer formed upon her features. the smell of the moors is sickening, and she has no sympathy for those rabbit chasers. they did not belong upon the wetlands before the rule of the clans, and they do not belong here now. it does not matter how woeful their stories are, she hears nothing worthy from either of the moor runners. they shouldn't be here, and riverclan has no room for them. not in the cold, with the scarcity of food.

"cicada has been plenty foolish," buck breaks the air, silencing clearsight's defense of his leader. taking in a fleeing medicine cat, belly full of life, and her kin. that was foolish. it took more from the cats who had already lived here. worked hard here. "but i'm no fool. you have no place here, i'll make sure the stench of windclan never leaves you." her words are cruel, and body tense. she will not relent, not allow for these cats to find a sanctuary here. the water territory was not meant to shelter this many outsiders, and cicada is blind to the strain he is putting upon the lands.

she is aware of the cruelty of soot, and any cat who follows her is as foolish as a mouse who trusts a fox. that does not mean that they have access to riverclan. that does not mean they should be welcomed in any capacity. her eyes follow beesong for a slight moment, listens to his speech. to hear just a fragment about smokethroat. she never truly liked the tom, but he's as good a warrior as any. she'll have any windclanner's head for him, and she's looking at two pleading for something she will not allow them to have. they can be in their walls, pretend to swim as they do, but buck will know. and she will make sure they feel as unwanted as they are.
​

 

[DogTeeth]

Cricketpaw’s call pulls the riverclan warrior’s nose from the snow, pausing from his pawing at the stale scent of vole in a cluster of frozen stalks. Wide blue eyes and hurried steps brings him to the line-up. The smell of Windclan makes Dogteeth’s heart drop to his stomach. He hadn’t been there for the attack, but Smokethroat’s wounds told enough story. The moorland felines lived on cold hills with cold hearts, it’s fear and pensive caution that Dogteeth studies Hyacinthbreath.

Though he wore no dancing hackles like his clanmates, there is horror in the wideness of his eyes.

Spiritpaw’s burst of tears, her plea written with urgency. The roots of truth sinking into his belief and a softened maw slacks with sympathy at the sight. If it were his decision, it was obvious- he flinches with the words but he knows they weren’t wrong. The river was slowly freezing over and they had Shadowclan refugees. Yet, how would these three survive on their own?

" what in the stars is going…on… " he murmurs to himself. Was this Starclan’s doing?why else would these clans be pouring onto the borders asking for help? why, us.

​

OOC INFO REF

• —
  
  
• — Dogteeth
  — twenty-five moons
  — voice ref
  — warrior of Riverclan
  — gay | crushing on n/a
  — small curly-furred blonde and tan tom with blue eyes.
  — very gentle soul / easily upset and sensitive
  — deals a nasty bite
  BIOGRAPHY——— ✧
  
• 
  
  

​

 

[CICADASTAR]

GUTTA CAVAT LAPIDEM : the shout comes to him just as he’s stepping out of camp, a single paw still hovering over fresh snow. his ears flit down. he sighs. it’s never ending, huh? it never ends. the mottled felidae wanted a simple walk, a simple clearing of his thoughts — smokethroat was awake, was alive, but struggling against a maddening illness within him and each moment that passes he fears the inkspill tom will drift back into murky unconsciousness, never to wake again. it’s selfish, he’s selfish . . wants to keep the dark tom speaking to him so he doesn’t have to face the gaping maw of permanence that starclan has taken from him. CICAAAAAAAADASTAAAAAAR! his features are steely, tired, like a queen with her loudest kit. cricketpaw finds him and he just barely manages a smile to his face, feels the gathering of a headache in the back of his head where spine meets skull. he tsks, “ do not yell, little cricketpaw. there are thousands of ears listening . . “ foreboding, though not intentionally — he sweeps his icy gaze towards the frosted trees, the life hidden amongst them.

then, he’s told. windclan. windclan is here, and they’re . .

cicadastar has been plenty foolish. always, it’s always the same, bitchy rumble he flicks a derisive ear at, erupting from the reeds where cricketpaw leads him, briskly. hatefulness chills his words, “ watch your mouth, or you’ll be no better off than them — starclan knows your opinions would find better place among the loner lands. “ the mottled tom snaps, lifting his lip to reveal teeth as he passes the pallid brown molly. he wasn’t afraid — it would be a blessing to rid himself of her, watch the frost set in blue and white. selfish, foxhearted, he gives her a derisive roll of his eyes as he passes her, standing before the windclanner, cruel blue luminaries drifting down to narrow suspiciously. exile. exiled from windclan. what on earth could they possibly have done to earn sootstar’s wrath, moreso than the warriors she scars beyond the rabbit - scented border? she says smokethroat’s name and his eyes squeeze against it, sets his mouth in a thin line and it sounds like an echo, the ghost of his past and suddenly he wants wasp. the long - limbed, warmer version of himself, standing tall and critical and suddenly, he wants to bump against him, feel the solidity beneath his shoulder.

“ i’m here. “ it’s quiet. absent. he wants to rest, regretted leaving his place coiled aside smokethroat’s herbal nest when beesong allowed it. his headache grows as the woman speaks, continues, desperation clear in the odd slope of her vocals — his warriors were interrogating her, cold and vicious and he is thankful for it. his head thrums with his migraine again and there are children at her side — while she is not tall by any means, the one at her flank is young, bumbling, crying. cicadastar grits his teeth, feels the scrape of it echo through his head and winces, “ hyacinthbreath. “ he’s seen her at gatherings, knows the marring upon her chest — it’s worse, now. jagged, puffed scarring he glances to, observes blatantly, feels sick to his stomach as he does ( that was a gift. he thinks, tries to conjure the image of the woman standing, letting sootstar strike her. he wonders how she feels about it now, so bare and ugly. ), “ you’ve come to riverclan . . why? “

smokethroat. he needed to speak to smokethroat, to willowroot, remembers the fury in which the former had come to him with after the gathering many moons ago. windclan was a danger to the clans, to themselves — but he would be no better. he thinks of creeping onto their moors, sinking teeth into the rabbit he knows still mill about the valleys, “ in leafbare, too. “ they are starving and with two extra mouths, the muscle along his jaw twitches, stress furrowing his brow. rabbit - hunter, moor - hunter, she would know where to lead them. she knows windclan’s weak spots, and the thought alone is enough to slowly sheathe the claws that tapped light against the frosted, pebbled ground. beesong asks why she was exiled and he merely quirks a brow, flicking his tail to accentuate their words. why? why, why, why? was this a trick? this little thing, had sootstar sent her? his nose twitches, swaying long, curling whiskers. no. he could put her down with a paw, doesn’t see why the same isn’t done with the rowdy blue smoke herself. she didn’t have the patience to send a spy, didn’t have the mind, as proud as she was.

the chimera was different.

“ windclan attacked us only days ago, “ it’s blunt. it’s careful, met with a steady narrowing of his pupils, “ attacked my — attacked smokethroat. “ she’s here. she was exiled. why? why? his head spins and aches again. his ears pin against it, “ you come here now, to pledge to riverclan, for what? seeking refuge? if i had that moorland dog in my claws i would rip him to shreds myself, there is no refuge here. “ the little ones, so young. they would die out in the cold and he knows it, remembers it himself, through the shadow - haze of his childhood. huddling together, pressing for warmth — windclan was not kind to them and it shows in their wiry, scarred figures. his heart screams at him and he thinks of willowroot, or bonejaw, of the kits on their way and soon, they would be these children’s ages in the blink of an eye. they too, would be warriors. he sighs, breath billowing around his arched muzzle in a cloud of smoke, “ and there is no promise of a gentle life. tell me your story, but know windclan has wronged us, and their time is coming — apologies will not feed my warriors. “ he would fight. he would weasel his way in, starve them, revel in it — his stomach growls, inaudible.

− ♱ information visual reference out of character translations ♱ −

• − CICADASTAR ; he / him. roughly thirty nine months old, riverclan leader
  − handsome, lanky black smoke tortie chimera with curly fur and ice blue eyes
  − gay. speaks with a german accent, ages on the seventh, penned by antlers
  
  
• 
• none.

​

​

 

[iciclefang]

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮​

The scent of WindClan starts a stirring in her blood, sparks of fire that start at her paw pads and burn in her ears. She sits along the line her Clanmates have formed, her jaw clenched. She knows Hyacinthbreath; she's a sort of friend to her mentor, talking at Gatherings. And Iciclepaw remembers Spiritpaw, Hyacinthbreath's apprentice. The little molly has seemingly lost her fire now, is trembling and crying, but Iciclepaw's heart has hardened to all of the moorland cats.

She finds herself agreeing with Buckgait. Why are so many cats coming to their Clan when they are struggling to feed themselves? Especially WindClan! They say they spoke out against the skirmish, but Iciclepaw's eyes narrow with doubt. She could be a sometimes friend to a WindClanner at a Gathering, but she does not know if she can find it in her to be denmates with one.

- ,,​

​

 

[Minnowpaw]

( ♬ ) Dark copper eyes would peek out from behind her mentor, Dogteeth probably not realizing that his apprentice had shadowed behind him when Cricketpaw came wailing for their leader.

Her eyes would widen in sympathy for the former windclan apprentice and should Spiritpaw catch her eye Minnowpaw would offer a tiny little wave of greeting. Like many of her clanmates, she is upset about what happened between Windclan and Riverclan, but her blood doesn't boil and neither does she seek vengeance on Smokethroats behalf. Instead, the silver-coated molly had felt pity in her stomach, because how desperate were the Windclanners for prey if they were willing to cross borders and start a mini-war over a rabbit?

She steps out a bit more, pressing against Dogteeth's side as her ears perk up in hope when Cicadastar appears and offers to at least hear their story. Maybe they had a good reason for being exiled? ​

( BUT I WATCH YOUR EYES AS SHE; WALKS BY )

 

[hyacinthbreath]

♚ Beesong arrives next, and though he's small, Hyacinthbreath feels like he's a giant compared to her. Intimidating to other cats, it thrills Hyacinthbreath to see the scarred medicine cat standing tall despite his small size. Her tail twitches in greeting, a look of relief on her face- quickly extinguished by the aching in her bones. "I promise I'll explain everything when Cicadastar arrives." She meows softly, giving the tom an apologetic look. It's when Buckgait arrives, half-hazardly insulting their Leader, that Hyacinthbreath tenses again. That molly.. Who shit in her fresh-kill this morning?

You're not welcome here. "I can prove myself. I can swim- I'm a fast learner, and I'm quick on my feet. Spiritpaw is a prodigy at hunting." She praises the molly for her skills, her determination to be accepted. Spiritpaw couldn't be left to the winds, Hyacinthbreath couldn't take care of both of them alone for long. Her muzzle brushes against the side of Spiritpaw's head, comforting her- and herself.

Then, cats began to gather- cats she'd never seen before. Iciclepaw is there- a sight she knew Spiritpaw would ache at seeing. They had become friends, did they not? Now, she wondered, if things would ever be mended between the two apprentices. She hoped so, at least. Hyacinthbreath straightens up when she hears the accented rumble of Cicadastar's arrival; stiffening at ease in the presence of the salt and pepper tom.

You've come to RiverClan.. Why?

"A shadow looms over WindClan, König. She won't rest until every single cat in WindClan is at her beck and call." Hyacinthbreath wheezes out against the cold, a cloud of breath leaving her lips. Breathing life into her tiny body. "Even the children." She glares hatefully down at her paws, claws flexing against the ground. She wanted to do better for her family, wanted to take them away and never return. But her family was more than blood; WindClan's members were her home. "After the border skirmish, Sootstar scolded Weaselclaw and demoted him for starting that fight. But he was let off with no more than a slap of the paw.. It wasn't even punishment to him." She hissed under her breath, feeling the rage bubbling up once more. Temper, temper..

He looks boldly towards the scar on her chest, and Hyacinthbreath feels something shift in discomfort inside of her. Her stomach twists, and she's reminded of all she'd done wrong then. This scar was a sigil of pride for me originally. Now it just reminds me of all of my failures. She thought to herself, nose shriveled up in disgust at herself. Sea blue hues glance back upwards to the hulking, tall water-dweller.

— attacked smokethroat.

So Smokethroat was hurt because of that stupid cretin. Hyacinthbreath feels tears of frustration bubble up at the corners of her eyes, and she can't help the deepening of her voice; dripping and deadly. "He'll pay for that, Cicadastar. That, I promise you. I would have killed him myself the moment I found out my daughter was involved in that skirmish. She only recently became an apprentice. She only had the bare minimum fight training under her paws. She could have gotten killed because of his stupid decision. He's a Lead Warrior, for StarClan sake. He leads by example. He goes, cats are inclined to follow him!" She snaps out, paws stomping the ground. She hated him, hated his stupid guts- how dare he?!

..And there is no promise of a gentle life. tell me your story, But know windclan has wronged us, and their time is coming — apologies will not feed my warriors.

"I make no empty promises to all of you. I helped Sootstar form WindClan when we arrived on the moors, and I can't deny that I didn't hurt those around me trying to prove blind loyalty to her. I wanted to belong to someplace, to feel like I was at home." She exhales a shaky breath, shame riddling her pelt. "I stepped down from Lead Warrior because I knew I didn't deserve the position. I needed to earn the trust of my clanmates back, and I did. With time. But.. But.." She hesitates- she couldn't lie, she wouldn't. Not to Cicadastar. Not to someone who Smokethroat obviously trusts. "Juniperfrost, one of Sootstar's close soldiers. He insulted my family, called me weak-minded for being angry over the skirmish. For wanting to protect my daughter, Aspenpaw. I.. I just lost it, Cicadastar. I saw black, and I.. Next thing I knew, I was clawing at his smug face and watching his shocked expression twist in agony. He's fine, Dandelionwish is treating him- though for the crime of harming him, Sootstar exiled me." She shifted on her paws, biting the inside of her cheek bitterly. Stupid, stupid tom.. Stupid! "But I know Sootstar was sick of me speaking out against her. Expressing my discomfort with her decisions. She hated how most of the cats there respected me, how they listened when I offered suggestions- I was a pawn that she no longer needed anymore, and so she cast me out. She didn't need a cat who didn't bow at her every command, even if it hurt another clanmate." Hyacinthbreath ponders on if she ever meant anything to Sootstar at all. If she was just a soldier from the beginning, despite Sootstar's promises of safety and family.

Power got to her head. Hyacinth thought numbly, shivering as a gust of wind blew against their sides.

"I seek no pity. Only redemption. If you let me, I won't disappoint you. I breathe for my family and friends, and yet they understand what would happen if we were to meet on opposing sides. No mercy from me, we fight like Warriors. I helped dig most of the newer tunnels in the territory, I know the layout like the back of my paw. The territory is imprinted in my soul. My kits are that camp, though- Periwinklepaw, Wisteriapaw, Aspenpaw, Cloudpaw. They're all there with their mother Moonshadow, and they chose to stay. Sootstar wouldn't let them leave even if they wanted to. Spiritpaw.. She risked everything to come with me. Sootstar won't be happy about it. But she'll have to kill me if she wants her back."​

❝ there are wounds inside me, gaping holes of disconnect.
can you drown inside your own body? can you suffocate within this mind? ❞