camp HOLLOW AND MADE OF DREAMS ❀ RETURN

[LUNGWORTKIT]

The child curls weakly in on herself as she is carried back to . . . somewhere, she does not know where, only that it might be somewhere with more of the wonderful warmth that emanates from the smoky she - cat that carries her. She had been fever - hot, the world blazing and confusing in its star - brightness, washed in loose technicolor—but now she is cold, suddenly, so cold her small limbs tremble ever - harder and she pulls them close to herself with what little strength remains in her tiny body.

" Whuh, " she wheezes, probably the beginning of one of her choppy little sentences, but then the rain - beaten familiarity of the moor dissolves and she's somewhere else. The child's eyes flash fever - bright and wondrous—the world is wavering and ever - moving, flashes of cats she can't quite catch at the corners of her eyes—this is so new it burns, stings her red and cracked little nose with its newness. There are so many colors—so many smells—so many cats, more than she had ever known there could be, for it had been only her and Mama and the cats she couldn't see, the ones Mama would call out to in wheezing gasps. And then the blue - smoked giant—or had she been, for there are cats much larger than she had known there could be here.

The kit makes to say something, an expression of her wonder perhaps, and all that comes out is a thick gasp for air, tiny claws kneading at nothing as if the motion might reward her with the rain - dew freshness she craves, suddenly stolen away. Gradually she is getting the sense that the world she has known—one defined by wavering lines, by the tempestuous mistress of fever and chill, by the constant battle for air, for breath—may not be what she should know. Her gasps sharpen the dull, tarry ache in her throat and she whines tearfully, crying out with her limited words, " Hurts. "

OOC : @cottonsprig and @SUNSTAR but no need to wait!

❀

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[BLUEFROST]

Bluefrost's aversion to outsiders has not been tempered by the secret festering in her gut. The tunneler's green eyes blow wide as Cottonsprig ushers a rain-beaten scrap of fur through the gorse and heather, and her nose wrinkles in instant distaste. Another rogue-born kit, and her sister — damn her sister, stars damn her and her foolish heart — has brought it into the heart of their camp. The tunneler approaches the two of them with gleaming green eyes, her gaze hardening instantly as she tastes the air. There is a stench, familiar and overpowering, that emanates from this kitten like a thick miasma.

"It's sick." Bluefrost stares, first at the wayward kit, then at Cottonsprig. "What does it have, and why have you brought it into our camp?" Her tone is cold and businesslike.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 16 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan warrior. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

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[weepingkit]

Weepingkit had spent most of the rain-swept night in one of the Clan's old burrows, sleeping peacefully for once to the sound of pattering on the ground outside. She only wakes from her heavy sleep as it finishes, and the sounds of voices can be heard outside.

The girl pokes her head out of the burrow, blinking away sleep and revealing the same wide, wonderous eyes she always had. The sounds of a crying kitten grates her ears and nearly brings her to tears; it is too reminiscent of herself. She sees it then, carried by the medicine cat - a rogue-born kitten like herself, with no mother and no father, only the worried blue smoke that brings her in.

"Sick," Weepingkit echoes, with a sharp click on the '-ck'. It certainly looks it - small and frail with runny eyes and nose. Instinctively, Weepingkit shrinks back into the burrow, but curiosity - and longing for similarity - keeps her gaze locked firmly on the little scrap. Just like me, she thinks, regarding her crying and lonesomeness with awe.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  speech is #58778d
  

• 

• WEEPINGKIT ✩ kit of windclan
  ⭃ she/her ━ afab ━ ?? moons
  ⭃ a small, wispy blue point kitten with dull blue eyes.
  ⭃ sister to mourningkit
  ⭃ penned by ixora ↛ @.ixora on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[SPLINTERPAW.]

BUT MAYBE THAT'S A LIE​

---

he doesn't know what that means, to be sick. he's never gotten sick before and he doesn't think he's heard of anyone else that's been sick either. usually, he wouldn't even go investigate, feeling a lot more safe and calm with his parents or littermates around but the kit is small, kind of like he is. smaller, though, he believes. his wide eyes blink and he slowly steps forward, sniffing the air and furrowing his brows in confusion. the other kitten smells different, but how can bluefrost tell its sick? the sudden sound of her speaking, however, makes the kit tumble back, eyes widening. he didn't think she would speak at all! his ears pinned back and he slowly crept back forward, pushing closer to take a better sniff of her. she kind of smelled like... the bones that auntie scorchstreak found. huh. weird.

"h...hurts?"

he quietly repeats her words, uncertain of what he can do. he doesn't think he wants to do anything. he wants his mama or papa. that's what he really wants. why was he out here, again?

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[Quietcrow]

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ Too often, little kits are left on their own to face the world. Quitecrow has a soft spot in his heart for them, carved from experience. It seemed as though Windclan found plenty of them on their borders. The young warrior is instantly drawn to a weird, foreign aroma that is being conveyed through the camp. The tiny bundle that Cottonsprig is carrying, drenched from the rain, catches his curious gaze. Quietcrow trots through the rain next to Bluefrost, not expecting to see what she has found. The kit appears to be in terrible condition, with watery eyes that seem to be in a fog. Heartbreaking.

'It's sick.' Though he doesn’t focus on the rest of the other warriors words. His gaze flickers up at the medicine cat, concerned. "Perhaps the rain … gave it a cold? The kit is lucky… You found them, Cottonsprig," he murmurs, his chest uneasy with worry.

ooc Information

• ooc: —
• 
  
  

  Quietpaw — ･ he/him ･ moor runner ･Windclan ･ PENNED BY @Ghostunes!

  A timid mostly black tom with white markings on his chest and back. Note: often has short pauses in his speech when he talks. ​

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[cottonsprig]

The rain tapers out as she crosses the moorland, the soaked bundle of fur thudding against her chest as she tries to make haste. Much of her thinks again of the herbs she will utilize for the child, while other bits of her thinks of excuses as for why she was out in the rain, all on her own... Cottonsprig almost hopes the surprise of a kitten at all will keep the inquiries of her lonesome walks away.

Her sister is first to find her, and though Bluefrost does not block her path, Cottonsprig pauses her gait. Hurts, the kitten says. The blue smoke tries to rumble a purr in her chest to help the foundling relax, her own blue eyes looking towards her sister. Again she wants to snap, Don't talk down to me, but she finds it far easier to hold her tongue when there's a clump of sickly fur between her teeth. She's forced to think, in the very least.

"She's sick, Bluefrost. I'm not going to let a child wither in the rain like that," Cottonsprig clarifies in between adjusting the kitten in her grasp. Weepingkit and Splinterkit err close, and in her hurry to fuss over her new project, the medicine cat doesn't immediately nudge the curious noses away. Instead, she tries to serve her sister the same authoritative tone she was given - though her ears twist back with minor discomfort. "Could you find something to keep the kits distracted? I can't have them hounding the medicine den while I'm working..."

Quietcrow speaks and Cottonsprig only then notices that she had not gifted the illness a name. It hurts to breathe, she's crusted by her nose and was trying to vomit when she found her... "... A cold, yeah," she lies, her ears folding back. "If it's something different, then I will handle it. Our herb stores can more than handle a single sickly kit," Cottonsprig finishes, and though her tone is matter-of-fact, she does try and offer the black furred warrior a slight nod and a smile. "Could you help me make a space for her in my den?" she does eventually ask Quietcrow, ears returning to their upright position.​