camp I HEAR THE WALLS REPEATING⁀➷ MISSING!!

[FOXGLARE]

⁀➷ //CW: minor injury/blood mentions

takes place after this thread

He waited long after the sight of their pelts disappeared into the night, long after the feeling of her cheek pressed to his faded into memory, long after the blood speckled onto the floor had cooled. If it wasn't painful enough already, it was salt on the wound to have to raise a claw to shed the blood needed for their story. The cut to her foreleg was shallow enough for the medicine cat to take care of herself, but he felt no better doing it. The smattering of red and the lingering smell of outsider would be all that remained of Cottonsprigs last time within Windclan's border. He waited long enough to get angry again.

Was this really her only option? To run off out of her home like some sort of traitor? Would they have ostracized her after all that she'd done for the clan, after she'd put the clan above her own kin? She seemed to think so, and she couldn't be convinced out of it.

The night was still awash with starlight and cricket-hum when he knew he had to go back. He didn't know whether it would have been a bigger betrayal to go after them, but the wrongness seeping into his paws as he turned back to camp suggested otherwise. He would stay, within the invisible walls of the moorlands, and he would he would protect her in the damned only way they could think of, by pretending that she was dead.

He broke into a run, and made it to camp just before the earliest of dawn-patrollers awoke, the rise of anxiety within him perhaps translating appropriately enough to look like panic. He made a beeline to the medicine den, sticking his head in to see what he knew he'd find, an empty nest. (He didn't know why a part of him still expected to find her there.)

By now, he'd probably caused enough of a stir rushing into camp to find himself facing at least a pawful of clanmates staring at him—pissed or confused or some combination of the two.

"It's Cotton, she ain't-.." There's a shake to his own voice he neither expects nor appreciates, but he continues through it, "Was out n' found rogue scent on the border and... Blood, Cottonsprig's blood. And no Cottonsprig. I fear-" He cuts himself off, not willing to speak it even if it was a lie. It wasn't. The lands outside the clans were not kind to lone cats, especially not those with kits. He'd fear every moment she's gone.

He glances back toward the camp entrance, hoping someone's gone to get Sunstar, "We need to find her."

WE CAME FROM DIRT ⁀➷☾⁺₊ WE HAVE TO SWALLOW IT.

• OOC: @SUNSTAR but open to everyone ! WAAA SHES GONE ;-;
• 
• 
  
  — meztli . sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
  — he/him. 20mo moor-runner of windclan. Mentored by shalestripe. currently mentoring frightpaw. formerly mentored sunlitpaw.
  — a scarred, hulking white and golden tabby tom with gray eyes
  — taciturn, vigilant, reserved, self-righteous, restrained, independent, humanitarian, unyielding
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by eezy

​

 

[BLUEFROST]

Bluefrost had not slept. Her sister's final goodbye swirls like a paw dipped into water through her brain, muddling the depths of her mind. She stares blankly out of the nursery until the dawn lightens the sky into silver, and then she can see Foxglare's silhouette push its way through the heather tunnel leading into the clearing. She watches his fur stand on end, watches his flanks heave as he runs first to the medicine cat's den, then to the dawn patrol which begins to gather for their duties.

"It's Cotton," he breathes. Bluefrost sinks her claws into the soft material of her nest. She closes her eyes. Foxglare is frantic enough, yes. He had watched her go with — with whoever her friend was, some outsider who was the only cat between her sister's well-being and her death. "Was out n' found rogue scent on the border and... blood. Cottonsprig's blood."

Her eyes drift to Foxglare's paws. They're clean. Her throat is tight. She pushes herself to her paws and ambles out of the nursery, her belly swinging. Bluefrost's eyes are glassy with exhaustion, with genuine fear. Cottonsprig, I hope whoever that cat is can keep you safe from harm. "She's missing?" She puts incredulity into her voice. "Blood? We need to find her now."

She echoes Foxglare, uselessly. There's nothing else for her to do. Her paws itch to join the search party — to find a clue of who had stolen her away from WindClan, to find some semblance of where she might have disappeared to — but it's too late for her to do that. She's nursery-bound.

StarClan, guide her paws.

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

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

​

 

[juncoclaw]

Cottonsprig left. She left Junco behind - Junco was here now, and Cottonsprig wasn't. What was it all for? Why doesn't she break out and run? Why didn't she leave the moment the medicine cat - former medicine cat now, she supposes - revealed her awful secret?

When Foxglare bursts into camp, whom Junco can barely make out through the dim morning light from her burrow, she has an inkling that she knows. There is still a purpose to be fulfilled, for Cottonsprig's sake, loathed as she was to admit it. Is this what love was? To have your heart jerked around like a kit's toy and still fight for the well-being of its' tormentor? As Foxglare and Bluefrost speak amongst each other, demanding a search party, Junco pokes her head out of the nearby burrow she lives in.

Her eyes are round with concern, and distraught as she is, she barely manages to hold back the tears that have plagued her in her alone time these recent days. Whatever knowledge she has, Junco expertly disguises it under layers of fear and worry and longing. "Missing?" she whispers, as if she can hardly believe her ears. "Please," Junco begs, raising her voice enough to be heard. "Let me help find her. Please. Cottonsprig is my.. my friend." Perhaps she could have ran away with Cottonsprig and helped her raise the kits that aren't hers. She could have taken care of her, hunted for her. But, determinedly, the blue molly turned her down. This is why.

It is up to her, and the other cats Cottonsprig left behind, to ensure the safety of her secret. Junco's half-seeing gaze goes to Bluefrost, grieving as she had been, and then to Foxglare, the very cat who escorted her away. In between the three, a truth lies heavy in the air, unspoken. It is up to them.
​

CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER

• juncokit juncopaw JUNCOCLAW "JUNCO" ━━ penned by ixora
  ━━ BARNCAT
  ━━ 16 MOONS,, ages every 21st
  ━━ CASSO xx BUDGE
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to none | FORMERLY MENTORED by mockinggrin
  ━━ HEALTH ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎ | junco is healthy.​
• 
  
  
• speech is #6a7d8a​

 

[ROWANPAW]

Cottonsprig, missing? They couldn't fathom it; she was here one day and gone the next. A peculiar feeling stirs within Rowanpaw's chest, a compressing sense of... concern. They doubted that the medicine cat knew how to hold her own against a rogue, but then again, no body had been found. If they could just try and pick up a scent beyond the borders and scour the land for any sign of her, perhaps there would still be time.

Well then, there was no time to waste. "I want to help, too." Rowanpaw volunteers, faux brows furrowed as they step forth with their patchy tail held high. They had a rather awkward conversation with Cottonsprig recently and they had found themselves actively avoiding direct interaction with the healer following it, but they did not hate her for what had transpired between her and their father.

Expectantly, the tunneler apprentice turns over their shoulder to pick out their mentor among the crowd. "Swiftshade...?" The chimera seeks confirmation. She knows that her mentor as well as Sunstar would have the final say, but part of her would rather insist on aiding in the search anyway.

𝐈𝐌 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ✹ . + 　 　˚ 　　　　 · 　 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐓

• @SWIFTSHADE

• 

• 

  a tunneler apprentice of windclan, rowanpaw is eight moons and is mentored by swiftshade they are the child of snakehiss and berrysnap. split directly down the middle, their right half is solid black and their left half is tortoiseshell patterned. they also have amber and blue heterochromia. ✦

​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

Horror shook through Foxglare's voice- Featherspine's head shot up in an instant, eyes fluttering wide. Just for a moment, an inner wall crashed into debris to reveal panic and paranoia within. Cottonsprig, gone- a trail of blood left behind. Immediately, deep-brown features twisted into a grimace. Who- who would have dared? A medicine cat- outside of politics, only there to heal and to hear the word of StarClan. A rogue, then- it had to be- DuskClan, maybe. Featherspine's mind leapt upon the conclusion even before he stopped striding toward them.

Ice billowed a haze in narrowed eyes. A rogue, Foxglare had said it- and it made sense, but Featherspine could not help but spit with frost permeating her words, "Was it DuskClan scent?" Quills flared along his back, brambles encircling the jagged scar baring the flash of his spine.

His throat was dry. Narrowed eyes searched for Sunstar, but by now she had steeled herself against engulfing panic, and had stilled again with stiff spikes flared from a marbled pelt. No one, surely, would've killed her ... no one would have dared. But blood, blood- his jaw tightened, loosened, in rapid succession. His voice could not bark orders, but his paws could root him in his stance- with a lash of her tail, Featherspine wordlessly signalled that she too would join this hunt.

Retrieval of her... it had to be. Not... not the capturing of something cold, something that used to be Cottonsprig, and decidedly wasn't anymore. Deep in his bones, though, Featherspine knew she must prepare for that sight.​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[PINKSHINE]

Cottonsprig is gone. Missing. And... that wasn't supposed to happen. Well – nothing bad was ever really supposed to happen, but... No body, alive or otherwise? Just clues left and a Medicine Cat missing, and not even the fun sort of clues... A scent. A smear of blood. Her smile wavers, but if there was no body... there was a chance that she was still out there. Just, um... gotten lost somehow, somewhere? To frown would be to admit defeat, to believe in the easiest and saddest outcome... But maybe if she smiled, Cottonsprig would come home. She bites down her rising whine, straightening herself instead. At the appearance of her friend Bluefrost, Pinkshine would try to smooth her tail over her back in a reassuring gesture." We're gonna find her, " she mews determinedly. Juncoclaw and Rowanpaw rally behind this idea too, even if they don't really know it. Cottonsprig was a friend to all of WindClan.

At the mention of DuskClan, Pinkshine's eyes narrow. Though they'd worked to fix up camp, the remnants of them weren't totally gone..." Yeah, was it? " she parrots. The lash of Featherspine's tail makes her nose scrunch — but maybe he needed to be a little mad to have enough determination for the job... Quickly glancing to Bluefrost and Rowanpaw both, she suggests. " Sh-should we check the tunnels? Maybe Cottonsprig's hiding... " She was a tunneler first, wasn't she?​

 

[SWIFTSHADE]

ᯓ.° ️️️ ️️╱ ️️️ ️️ ️️️ Immediately his mind is sitting on the worst that might happen. That Cottonsprig is dead and they are down a medicine cat that Wolfsong had spent so much time training. That they would have to begin again as the other clans grow their experience. Already their territories are healthier. Nobody else had a fire raze their territory, or a pack of near-rogues (it pains him to call them that, even still) attack their camp. Everything would get easier for the other four clans while WindClan, it seems, is doomed to suffering. If she's gone with the claws of a rogue stained in her blood, surely she is gone. Surely she would have limped back by now if that were not the case.

Pinkshine, of all cats, offers the only alternative he finds satisfying. She was a tunneler, trained beneath Scorchstreak. She would still know her way around there, and she remains dainty enough to fit. "We'll help," he assures Rowanpaw, sparing his apprentice a glance down and a firm nod. Though cool green eyes flit away on instinct, Swiftshade wrangles them back with an order: "Go find @SCORCHSTREAK, she can help us organize tunneling patrols to search for her. And Sunstar as well." It is strange to act as if he has any authority to call either of the cats, but surely they would want to know. It wasn't like he was doing anything but asking his apprentice to find them. It was a strange, unfamiliar power.

𝘐 𝘒𝘕𝘖𝘞 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘍𝘌𝘌𝘓 𝘓𝘐𝘒𝘌 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘈𝘙𝘌 ╱ ️️️ 𝘽𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝘿𝙊𝙒𝙉 ️️️ ️️️ ⌞07.21⌝

• 

  ✧₊⁺ ️️️ ️️╱ ️️️ ️️ ️️️ OOC. this is the second time today one of my windclanners has mentioned sun and its freaking me out. my characters shouldnt interact lol

  ᯓ.° ️️️ ️️ ️️️ 𝙎𝙒𝙄𝙁𝙏𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙀. ️️️ HE - THEY.
  ᯓ.° ️️️ ️️ ️️️ TUNNELER OF WINDCLAN.
  ᯓ.° ️️️ ️️ ️️️ MENTORING ROWANPAW.

  "speech"

• 
  
  a small, lean black and white cat with gray-green eyes. even within windclan's populace, swiftshade is remarkably short. despite his compact, muscular frame and proportionally long legs, he could almost be mistaken for a thunderclan apprentice! (you'll lose your tongue if you say so.)
  
  
  despite his uncertainty over windclan's rebellion, swiftshade has remained under the radar as a tunneler since the early days of sunstar's leadership. as a relatively young cat, he is determined to prove himself and certainly a hard worker. befriending him is no easy task, but he's a good cat to have on patrol, at least.

​

 

[SCORCHSTAR]

༄༄ The tortoiseshell apprentice who comes to gather her strikes claws against the flint inside Scorchstreak’s chest. Concern, a rare sight upon the deputy’s face, ignites with barely a spark needed once she hears her former apprentice’s name. She stalks over to join the gathered group, casting a thank you to Rowanpaw, before her smoldering gaze flits across the others. Assessing the situation takes little effort—even if she hadn’t heard Juncoclaw’s irritating whine coming from the she-cat’s burrow. The deputy casts a glare at the guards keeping watch over their prisoner, the clearest way for her to communicate that they should not have allowed her to be a part of this discussion. “Cottonsprig is my… my friend.” She turns on the one-eyed traitor, baring her teeth as her ears flatten to her skull. The audacity of this prison-bound rogue, to believe herself worthy of being trusted to go on not only a herb patrol, but a search for their missing clanmate as well. "You… are a prisoner. You are not a WindClanner. You do not leave this camp. You are lucky that your guards allow you any lenience. Now, keep your mouth shut." She turns away from the burrow then, tail lashing as she returns her focus to the task at hand.

Bluefrost’s determination to find her sister is worrisome, coming from the normally icy tunneler. In direct opposition is the fiery flare of Featherspine’s words—the young moor runner asks if the scent had belonged to a DuskClanner. The band of rogues is the likely cause of the healer’s disappearance; it is mostly this suspicion that drives Scorchstreak to nod in response to Pinkshine’s suggestion. Checking the tunnels is a good idea, perhaps the most solid one they’ve got. If Cottonsprig is still within the moorland territory, then she is probably somewhere in the winding underground passages. She was a tunneler before she was a medicine cat, after all. "I will take Pinkshine and search the tunnels from here to the horseplace. Swiftshade, take Rowanpaw to search from here to RiverClan. I’ll have @Mossthorn take @Grasspaw to search along the ThunderClan and ShadowClan borders. Report back to me if you find any sign of her." When she finishes speaking, her jaw clicks shut and she turns to search for the rosetted leader. Sunstar can handle aboveground patrols, she supposes.

☽♰☾ IT WAS WAR, IT WASN’T FAIR

• ooc: tunnel search patrols are optional flavor text
• 
  SCORCHSTREAK ❯❯ she/they, deputy (tunneler) of windclan
  ༄ small, slim flame-streaked calico with fiery golden eyes. cold and closed-off, ferociously protective of her clanmates. rarely seen aboveground.
  ༄ mate to bluepool ; sibling to rattleheart & rabbitclaw
  ༄ mentor to none ; previously mentored pinkshine
  ༄ peaceful and healing powerplay is allowed, but if not a friend she may react poorly
  ༄ penned by foxlore

​

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── He knows when he meets a scrambling camp that something terrible has happened, and at first, he expects it to be revealed that another of their warriors have died at DuskClan claws. The truth is somehow better and worse. He stands in shock, blinking his sole eye slowly as Scorchstreak reprimands Juncoclaw for her desperate bid to help search for— Cottonsprig. Cottonsprig. She's missing, taken, possibly in the venomous mire of DuskClan tending to some forsaken traitor's deservedly festering wounds. What better prize to spite WindClan than the captivity of a medicine cat? Of Sootstar's daughter?

But she is more than that. She is Wolfsong's friend, his once-and-always apprentice, and he is meant to— to simply wait for Scorchstreak's patrols to find something? To tend the now lonely Lungwortkit and pray the cough wracking her bones does not suffocate WindClan? It shackles him to be the mender in a way he did not experience when he tore Hummingbirdheart from his daughter, because he knows, dreadfully, that without Cottonsprig he alone is responsible for wounds and sickness. It is risky and irresponsible to throw himself at Sunstar and demand, command, beg that he hunt DuskClan for what they have done. Who else could have taken her?

What sense does it make for a wandering rogue to simply take a clan cat? None. It does not matter to Wolfsong that loss is often senseless, that there was no reason for his son to die in the fires. It cannot be some passing coincidence.

He grits his teeth, violently stricken with dread. He does not have Pinkshine's optimism that they will simply find Cottonsprig hiding in a tunnel. That would be much too easy, and while he may doubt the senselessness of loss, Wolfsong does not underestimate its toil and strain.

He glances at his son's tight jaw, at Bluefrost's tired eyes, and quickly looks away toward the leader's den. The comfort there calls to him, undeserved as he still believes it to be, and he chastises himself for his weakness as his vision blurs.
​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 46 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTAR (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  
  — ★★★☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart and his own pregnancy, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  
  — ★★★☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​

 

[Mossthorn]

The stir that arises in the camp caused by their medicine cat's disappearance is enough to wake even the stars, Mossthorn thinks. She is napping when Foxglare returns with the bad news. Cottonsprig's blood found on their border along with the scent of rogue. Worry creases her brows, draws a frown to her face as immediately her mind drifts to the worst. The worryin Bluefrost's voice is enough to make her heart falter, and she tries her best to put herself in the young mollies paws. If Webwing were missing... Well, there wasn't a damn thing in the world that could stop her from doing everything in her power to get him back. Her kin, her blood, was everything to her. But to be laden with kits? With new life? She cannot say she wouldn't do the same as Bluefrost is doing now, but the amount of anguish she would feel, the pain the poor girl must be going through right now... Mossthorn sucks in a deep breath. Her gaze hardening as it flits to the next cat who speaks. Juncoclaw. She does feel sympathy for the she-cat, but if she were honest, it is not much. Traitor rings through her mind at the same time as Scorchstreak snaps at her a reminder that her freedom was not in high regards.

The mention of DuskClan makes her spine prickle with unease. Featherspine is right, it is a possibility, but not one that Mossthorn wishes to consider. Please stars, let us just wash our paws of that filth and be done with them she prays silently. Pinkshine isuggests that perhaps she is just hiding, and though that idea is much more favorable than the alternative, she is not entirely certain she doesn't just believe their medicine cat is... gone.

She looks towards Swiftshade as the molly offers her help in searching, and she herself is about to offer as well when Scorchstreak takes command, ordering herself and Grasspaw to go to the tunnels that were close to ShadowClan and ThunderClan and search there. She dips her head respectfully in the flame-touched mollies direction. "I'll do everything in my power to try and find her" she vows, her voice soft."Come along Grasspaw, we must depart at once"

( .ೃ࿐ ) watch what happens next

• 
  
• MOSSTHORN WINDCLAN WARRIOR ; SHE / HER; SISTER TO TBD ; MATE TO COLDBITE
  

  A feisty she cat with a heart of gold. Her appearance is befitting her tunneler status, as she stands shorter than most, and her sleek black fur excels at repelling the dirt that she shifts through. Her eyes are such a light blue color that they appear gray and upon her pelt she wears many scars, testaments to the battles she has fought in her lifetime.

  ✦ Peaceful and healing powerplay permitted, no killing, maiming, or injuring without permission
  ✦ Skilled & experienced in combat. Fights dirty.
  

​