- Jul 14, 2022
- 325
- 112
- 43
( ☾ ) frosty stars glimmer gently in the darkening sky, hailing night as the moon makes its journey towards the summit. riverclan's camp emotes a beautifully haunting stillness. murmurings from clanmates filter in and out of hearing, pawsteps shuffling past as tired warriors duck into dens or filter through the pitiful amount of prey still left in the pile. even still, the wind so often rustling trees is absent. the river's usual roar has been muted to a trickle as ice slowly creeps across, sheltering the chilled water from the depths of winter. along the banks, the trees claw at the sky with bone bare branches, leering over the reed sheltered camp like golems of some strange evil. willowroot has always thought the trees here have a chilling sense of life to them. in the half light of dusk, they are living, trembling with whatever soft breeze happens by.
the world is awake even as the clans retreat into the warm welcome of sleep. the smoke queen sits lone sentry outside of what is now a rapidly filling sick-bay. the medicine den seems to be overflowing lately, clanmates coming home shaking, more often than not with a deep cut or waterlogged lungs. it sends fear into her heart every time someone yells now. too many of those calls have been ones of trouble. with smokethroat hardly conscious in his state, and cicadastar half mad with fury, there are few calm authority figures in the clan. she tries her best to be - stars, she tried her best during the skirmish with windclan. even so, guilt buries itself deep within her, something not even the wriggling of kits in her belly can disguise. it is, in fact, the kits very presence that fuels her feelings. her terror in battle had left her torn between her children and the clan she's sworn her life to protect. smokethroat would not be halfway to the stars had she done something. it may have meant compromising her kittens' lives. she had stood, voice hoarse from screaming, every inch of her body telling her to fight, and every instinct telling her to run.
so, she sits outside of the medicine den on this frigid night, unwilling to profess her grief to anyone, and yet clinging to the vague hope that being close to the injured will somehow rid her of her guilt. she's left the nursery under the ruse of needing air, although she expects poppysplash has seen right through her lie. the dappled molly has been stars-sent throughout the moons of this pregnancy, even as the troubling feelings root deeper into willow's mind. the frigid air helps clear her head, sets her breathing back to its normal pace. closing her eyes, the lead warrior basks in the soft glow of the rising moon. at least tonight, things are peaceful. or, perhaps not. there is a twinging in her belly. she is used to uncomfortable feelings as a result of the growing life inside of her, but this feels... different. verdent eyes snap open, glancing from side to side as if to check no one is watching. she hardly wants to burden beesong at this late hour with something that will most likely go away. so she sits, gut churning, heart beginning to race. about a minute later, she's up, paws carrying her towards the far end of camp where she pauses, turns and heads back. she repeats this for a while, softly murmuring to herself as the discomfort grows more noticible. eventually, she's aware of eyes on her- the night guards watch with curiously guarded expressions. one reaches a paw out as if to help, but retracts it, looking worried. willowroot is now well aware that something is wrong.
tonight of all nights, just after the raining of countless injuries. of course you chose tonight, you little stink bugs, she thinks, half fondly, half exasperated as she feels a ripple in her midsection. as the contractions begin rolling through her body, she manages to slip back into the nursery, stumbling to her nest with a hiss of pain. "poppy," her voice is quiet, ears flat. there is the unmistakable scent of fear on the air, even as excitement glimmers in her eyes. starclan, let this go alright. "poppy, i think they're coming."
// i wrote half of this on the airplane and the other half at my friend's house because my mom has covid,,, you can definitely see where the two halves meet. oh well lmao. feel free to reply before those tagged! i'll write the actual birth in my next post.
@POPPYSPLASH. @Hazekit @ANTLERKIT @POOLKIT @mercibun @BEESONG @BUCKGAIT. @ashpaw!
the world is awake even as the clans retreat into the warm welcome of sleep. the smoke queen sits lone sentry outside of what is now a rapidly filling sick-bay. the medicine den seems to be overflowing lately, clanmates coming home shaking, more often than not with a deep cut or waterlogged lungs. it sends fear into her heart every time someone yells now. too many of those calls have been ones of trouble. with smokethroat hardly conscious in his state, and cicadastar half mad with fury, there are few calm authority figures in the clan. she tries her best to be - stars, she tried her best during the skirmish with windclan. even so, guilt buries itself deep within her, something not even the wriggling of kits in her belly can disguise. it is, in fact, the kits very presence that fuels her feelings. her terror in battle had left her torn between her children and the clan she's sworn her life to protect. smokethroat would not be halfway to the stars had she done something. it may have meant compromising her kittens' lives. she had stood, voice hoarse from screaming, every inch of her body telling her to fight, and every instinct telling her to run.
so, she sits outside of the medicine den on this frigid night, unwilling to profess her grief to anyone, and yet clinging to the vague hope that being close to the injured will somehow rid her of her guilt. she's left the nursery under the ruse of needing air, although she expects poppysplash has seen right through her lie. the dappled molly has been stars-sent throughout the moons of this pregnancy, even as the troubling feelings root deeper into willow's mind. the frigid air helps clear her head, sets her breathing back to its normal pace. closing her eyes, the lead warrior basks in the soft glow of the rising moon. at least tonight, things are peaceful. or, perhaps not. there is a twinging in her belly. she is used to uncomfortable feelings as a result of the growing life inside of her, but this feels... different. verdent eyes snap open, glancing from side to side as if to check no one is watching. she hardly wants to burden beesong at this late hour with something that will most likely go away. so she sits, gut churning, heart beginning to race. about a minute later, she's up, paws carrying her towards the far end of camp where she pauses, turns and heads back. she repeats this for a while, softly murmuring to herself as the discomfort grows more noticible. eventually, she's aware of eyes on her- the night guards watch with curiously guarded expressions. one reaches a paw out as if to help, but retracts it, looking worried. willowroot is now well aware that something is wrong.
tonight of all nights, just after the raining of countless injuries. of course you chose tonight, you little stink bugs, she thinks, half fondly, half exasperated as she feels a ripple in her midsection. as the contractions begin rolling through her body, she manages to slip back into the nursery, stumbling to her nest with a hiss of pain. "poppy," her voice is quiet, ears flat. there is the unmistakable scent of fear on the air, even as excitement glimmers in her eyes. starclan, let this go alright. "poppy, i think they're coming."
// i wrote half of this on the airplane and the other half at my friend's house because my mom has covid,,, you can definitely see where the two halves meet. oh well lmao. feel free to reply before those tagged! i'll write the actual birth in my next post.
@POPPYSPLASH. @Hazekit @ANTLERKIT @POOLKIT @mercibun @BEESONG @BUCKGAIT. @ashpaw!
( THE LIGHT YOU GAVE ME )