- Aug 10, 2022
- 633
- 144
- 43
A sleek figure slips through reeds and fronds of bracken, her tail lifted high and her blue eyes shining through the furtive darkness of night. Clutched in a white-dusted mouth is a jagged chunk of gravel, plucked carefully from the shallowest depths of the river that runs through her home. Iciclefang had enlisted the help of her Clanmates, all of whom had likely been a bit perplexed at her choice of prize—but to her, it’s perfect. It’s exactly what she’d been looking for. She’d seen numerous pretty, useless trinkets; stones without blemish, stones that shone a particular shade of blue or were rosy-tinted, almost pink; she’d seen bits of glass, bits of twoleg refuse that shone as brilliantly as any cast-away star.
But this is the one she has to give to Stormywing. This is the one she’d found, as if fated by StarClan themselves. It’s clunky in her mouth, and she is so distracted by the enormity of her task that she moves a bit clumsier, a bit louder than she otherwise would. Her ears swivel, listening to the churn of the river slapping against either side of ThunderClan and RiverClan’s territories. She hears pawsteps, and for a heartbeat she’s alarmed—but then there’s that familiar scent, musky and warm and flavored with the forest’s song, and her body relaxes.
Iciclefang moves like water toward the shore, trilling her greeting from behind the stone. Once Stormywing approaches her, she’ll proudly drop the prize between their paws, her smile small but confident. “Look,” she says, her purr explosive in her throat. She nudges the stone closer to her chosen mate’s big white paws, her tail twitching behind her with excitement. “Isn’t it perfect? Look at the top of it!”
A slim, delicate white-tipped foot taps the surface of the stone, revealing a tiny mark etched into the top that looks like a crooked “X”. She eagerly eyes Stormywing, watching her expression. This is momentous in RiverClan, after all—this is official, now. Iciclefang is now openly asking Stormywing to be her mate.
[ @STORMYWING ]
But this is the one she has to give to Stormywing. This is the one she’d found, as if fated by StarClan themselves. It’s clunky in her mouth, and she is so distracted by the enormity of her task that she moves a bit clumsier, a bit louder than she otherwise would. Her ears swivel, listening to the churn of the river slapping against either side of ThunderClan and RiverClan’s territories. She hears pawsteps, and for a heartbeat she’s alarmed—but then there’s that familiar scent, musky and warm and flavored with the forest’s song, and her body relaxes.
Iciclefang moves like water toward the shore, trilling her greeting from behind the stone. Once Stormywing approaches her, she’ll proudly drop the prize between their paws, her smile small but confident. “Look,” she says, her purr explosive in her throat. She nudges the stone closer to her chosen mate’s big white paws, her tail twitching behind her with excitement. “Isn’t it perfect? Look at the top of it!”
A slim, delicate white-tipped foot taps the surface of the stone, revealing a tiny mark etched into the top that looks like a crooked “X”. She eagerly eyes Stormywing, watching her expression. This is momentous in RiverClan, after all—this is official, now. Iciclefang is now openly asking Stormywing to be her mate.
[ @STORMYWING ]
, ”
