camp I KNOW IN TIME OUR WOUNDS WILL MEND ✧ first kick

[iciclefang]

Her mood has been dark since she’d learned about Stormywing asking Ferngill about her. Since she’d moved into the nursery, really. Her dreams are troubled, filled with the scents and shadows of the forest, with the snapping winds of the mountains and snow caught in her eyelashes, with golden eyes searing through her pelt and into her soul. Iciclefang, wait! We can make it work, her dream-shadows cry, and she wakes with a heart aching like someone has drawn their claws over it, like someone has gripped it between their teeth and tore into it.

When she wakes this morning, her chest is filled with stone. Tears sting the corners of her eyes, but she suppresses them with shaky, heaving breaths. She thinks of Stormywing and brushes her nose over the mating stone tucked into the corner of her nest. It’s cold, no substitute for her mate’s tabby pelt, for the warmth of her chest, but it soothes her heart.

And she feels a distinct prodding coming from her belly as she pulls her nose away. Blue eyes widen. She turns to observe her flank, and then there’s another disturbance, a rippling movement and a distinct feeling of pressure. Her kits had moved… Stormywing’s kits, they’d moved.

Iciclefang pushes herself to her paws, streaking out of the nursery and toward Ravensong’s den. "I felt something… a kick, I think,” she murmurs, poking her head into the den. "Is that—is that normal?"” She faintly remembers Hazecloud’s kits moving—hadn’t they? Or had she imagined that to make herself feel better?

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

• ooc: @RAVENSONG @Moonpaw but no need to wait :]
• 
• Iciclekit . Iciclepaw . Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 21 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
  — mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring Cicadapaw ; previously mentored n/a
  — riverclan lead warrior. mudpelt x icesparkle, gen 2.
  — former mate to Stormywing ; current mate to no one.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.
  
  

​

 

[RAVENSONG]

Ravensong blinks, sleepily raising his head from his fluffy tail curled over his nose. A faint figure of an orange-and-black cat enters his vision and he recognizes Iciclefang's scent before her appearance. Pregnancy could go sour very quickly, and he had always been flighty about making sure the queens got regular check-ups. He thinks something is terribly wrong when he sees the warrior's face, but then the tension relaxes from his shoulders and he chuckles.

"Quite normal. You'd probably want to wriggle around if you didn't have much space." He jokes drily, rising to his feet. He pokes Moonpaw gently. Another lesson. "This does mean we're at a stage where I can take .... an educated guess at how big the litter will be." He tips his head to the side.

☾₊ ⊹ темная ночь — dark is the night

•  
• 
  RAVENSONG of RIVERCLAN — LH BLACK POLYDACTYL MALE (CARRYING CINNAMON, DILUTE) a tall, slender creature with pitch-black feathery fur, large ears, and a sharply angled skull held up in an aloof manner. smells of dried herb, speaks with a low and rumbly accent and walks with an elegant slinking gait.
  
  — born in twolegplace and orphaned at a young age, he joined riverclan at its inception and began training as a drypaw warrior known for a bitter temperment until beesong made him his medicine cat apprentice. after his mentor's untimely death, he had been named ravensong at the moonstone, young heart revitalized with anger and guilt. he is a somber and thorough medicine cat that guards every word spoken in the confines of his den.
  
  — secretly loves "the stars but not so much what inhabits them" — openly suffers from chronic migraines — single, but "it's complicated"

​

 

[FERNGILL]

He'd taken to checking on Iciclefang quite often- she probably didn't like it much, but Ferngill wanted to show his sister staunchly that he was there for her. It wasn't that he thought she needed anyone else, but... she was self-assured, the most confident of all the cats he'd known... her kits would be his kin, of course, and he wanted to be a friendly face in their lives.

His ears swivelled to the noise- Ravensong's den. His heart immediately skipped a beat, worry sinking its claws in- but, no. No, they were talking about kicking. Which eant- the kits were moving! ferngill hurried over, quick on blazing paws. He could tel how many kits she'd have? Awe glimmered deep in Ferngill's verdant eye for a few long moments as he looked toward his medicine cat friend. "You can do that?" he said, impressed- before his vision flicked over to his sister, and he smiled at her.

Not every part of her situation had to be sad and heartbreaking. He hoped she would be able to see the light in this, see how amazing it really was. Without thinking of- of what had been given up for them, these kits could be marvelled at, because they were alive and wasn't that wonderful? "Wow! Is- is that something you wanna know?" ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[iciclefang]

She’d woken him up, but she doesn’t feel guilty. Ravensong would want to know if there’s something wrong with the kits. She shifts her paws impatiently as the ebony-pelted medicine cat lifts his nose from under his tail; she can see concern gleaming in silvery-green eyes before a chuckle rumbles in his throat. Some of the tension leaves her shoulders at the sound—as much as she hates being laughed at, she knows the situation couldn’t possibly as serious as she’d worried it had been.

“So it’s normal,” she repeats, the fur lying flat on her neck. “Thank StarClan. I’ve never… felt something so strange before,” she confesses, and a white-tipped paw finds the beating, pulsing core of her belly. Another flutter… her eyes widen. Is one of them reacting to her touch?

For the first time, she allows herself to imagine them in actuality. In less than a moon, they’ll be living children, kits with fluffy pelts and unstable limbs and bushy, triangular little tails. They’ll be cats, cats with living spirits, with questions on their tiny tongues and hearts beating beneath little chests. She shares a deep look with Ferngill, murmuring, “You can tell how many? Yes, I’d… I’d like to know.” She presses again on her belly, though this time there’s no reaction. She closes her eyes briefly—which of them had kicked? A kit with sturdy legs, built for swimming, or… or for climbing trees, for weaving through forest undergrowth?

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

• ooc: —
• 
• Iciclekit . Iciclepaw . Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 21 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
  — mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring Cicadapaw ; previously mentored n/a
  — riverclan lead warrior. mudpelt x icesparkle, gen 2.
  — former mate to Stormywing ; current mate to no one.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.
  
  

​

 

[minnowpaw!]

"You can tell?" Minnowpaw's meow comes slightly shrill with excitement, detouring from her trek across camp in order to be nosy. It's not unusual for the blue smoke to do so, oft distracted from her studies to chase down the latest question that's popped into her mind. What is unusual is the fact she hadn't known that medicine cats could tell how many kits a queen was having. Had Ravensong done the same for Willowroot? Had it been Beesong that taught him that? Was it StarClan magic?

She peers around Ferngill, ears pricked and blue eyes fixed not on Iciclefang but on Ravensong. Her attention flicks towards the queen, hesitating only briefly (because Iciclefang is scary normally but she's scarier now that she's going to be a ma) before she continues. "That's so cool ... Can I watch too?"​

 

[brookstorm]

Brookstorm pulls her lips into a thin, dragging line as she approaches. Like many others she hadn't expected Iciclefang of all cats to - well, be expecting. She had supposed that what came with being pregnant was a lot of confusing moments such as this one, but she hadn't anticipated that she would be privy to any of them. It just so happens, unfortunately, that Brookstorm stepped on newleafs soon-to-be bountiful presents - thorns. And while she plucked most of them out just fine, there's still one stubborn one. Not to mention, her paw pad feels a bit torn and sore now, which is no fun either.

"It seems... a little too personal to watch, Minnowpaw," Brookstorm mutters as she sits to the side, patiently. She's never been there to experience a situation such as this - obviously not as a sire or dam, and never will she as an older sibling. But she feels that there is some sort of intimacy that belongs with family building situations. Enough that she properly considers abandoning her thorn related needs for a moment.​

 

[MUDPELT]

"I wanna feel! I wanna feel!" Mudpelt had been nowhere in sight - on the other side of camp, in fact! But he's got big ears, and they sure do hear. At the very mention of kicks, he is barreling towards his daughter like a monster on the thunderpath, massive paws thudding hard against the ground to get to her. He slides to a clumsy stop near his kits, amber eyes glowing with glee and whiskers twitching with undisguised cheer. He's sort of panting now, but is eagerly look at Iciclefang with all the love a father could ever have for his daughter. "I mean (puff, puff), can I feel?" He asks a little more gingerly. Grandkits. He has grandkits on the way. He has no idea who their sire is, but he doesn't care. If it was important, Iciclefang would surely tell him.​

 

[RAVENSONG]

Ravensong nods toward Ferngill. "Not an exact count, but I can rule out a few options." He chuckled. His eyes softened when Iciclefang gave her permission. Although part of the Clan had started to gather around, with curious Minnowpaw and the more sage Brookstorm, he permitted it for now, seeking Iciclefang's eyes for any sign she was uncomfortable.

"You can hear my guess." He offers to Minnowpaw, gently aiming to press his paws against Iciclefang's swollen belly to test the waters. He remained silent and concentrated during his effort, moving his paws around. "One, two...." Litter sizes could vary and without his eyes to help, he was relying on touch and practice. "Three, I think." He removed his paw with a smile. "We can keep checking." He promised her, backing away to allow Mudpelt room if Iciclefang wished her father to have his turn.

☾₊ ⊹ темная ночь — dark is the night

•  
• 
  RAVENSONG of RIVERCLAN — LH BLACK POLYDACTYL MALE (CARRYING CINNAMON, DILUTE) a tall, slender creature with pitch-black feathery fur, large ears, and a sharply angled skull held up in an aloof manner. smells of dried herb, speaks with a low and rumbly accent and walks with an elegant slinking gait.
  
  — born in twolegplace and orphaned at a young age, he joined riverclan at its inception and began training as a drypaw warrior known for a bitter temperment until beesong made him his medicine cat apprentice. after his mentor's untimely death, he had been named ravensong at the moonstone, young heart revitalized with anger and guilt. he is a somber and thorough medicine cat that guards every word spoken in the confines of his den.
  
  — secretly loves "the stars but not so much what inhabits them" — openly suffers from chronic migraines — single, but "it's complicated"

​

 

[iciclefang]

Clanmates gather, Minnowpaw excitedly and Brookstorm trepidatiously, favoring a paw she’d no doubt come to see Ravensong about. Iciclefang flicks an ear and gives the young gray warrior an appreciative look, but she shakes her head gently in the apprentice’s direction. “I don’t mind,” she murmurs with a shrug. Her father arrives on bumbling paws, nearly clearing camp in a few leaps to arrive in time to feel the kits moving. Iciclefang chuffs with laughter, nodding her head. “Of course, Mudpelt.” She gives her brother a good-humored glance and turns back to Ravensong.

Ravensong’s paws gently knead her belly, and Iciclefang’s eyes widen at his approximation. One, two… She blinks. So at least two. She’d been hoping for a smaller litter, and her breath is held until she exhales on Ravensong’s, “Three, I think.” “Three kits,” she murmurs wonderingly. She twists her neck around to gaze at her midsection, her eyes losing their flinty exterior and softening into blue pools of water. “Thank you, Ravensong.” What a gift the medicine cat has given her. “I’ll need to think of three names, now,” she mews good-naturedly.

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

• ooc: —
• 
• Iciclekit . Iciclepaw . Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 21 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
  — mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring Cicadapaw ; previously mentored n/a
  — riverclan lead warrior & queen. mudpelt x icesparkle, gen 2.
  — former mate to Stormywing ; current mate to no one.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.
  
  

​

 

[MUDPELT]

Mudpelt looks to Ravensong, eyes round with wonder and curiosity as he feels Iciclefang’s midsection. He takes a small step closer, trying his best to observe without crowding. One, two… The tom blinks in surprise, glancing from the medicine cat to his daughter with a growing smile on his face. Three! “That’s incredible!” He trills with a short laugh, breathless. “Three kits wandering around your paws - wow, Iciclefang!” He recalls once more how much work it had been for Icesparkle to rear four kits; their second litter had been a big one, for sure.

The tortoiseshell gives him permission to feel, and he beams at her eagerly. On careful paws, he creeps forward and sits down next to her. A large brown paw is lifted and placed carefully on her rounded stomach. He waits….and then, there’s movement. A flutter. He felt it! Amber eyes grow wide and he looks to Iciclefang, then to Ferngill, to Ravensong, back to Iciclefang’s stomach. “Oh my gosh, I feel them! Ha! Wow, they’re going to be strong swimmers, I can tell! Those kicks are something!” The future grandfather can’t wipe the grin off his face.​