camp IF YOU'RE HUNGRY＜ RECOVERY? ＞

[THISTLEPAW]

Thistlekit strains towards the first inkling of freedom. Gentlestorm's den is busy — it gets like that, sometimes, but this is the first time in his life that he's been so close to what he desperately wants to be. Thistlepaw. The brave, stupid apprentices that went after the owl. Howlingstar would have let him out of camp by now. He would be patrolling the borders, fighting foxes, training with his mentor! He would have cool scars like them, and Howlingstar's attention like them, and most importantly. . . most importantly, he would be out of here like them. Their future was certain. They would leave Gentlestorm's den and be apprentices again, and sometime soon they would be warriors. They were younger than him!

But it's his frame that's stretched thin from illness, and his body that has only just rid itself of wheezing. He's had good days, now. Several of them stretching into a period of time leaving Thistle unbelievably hopeful. Blocky paws press into the earth, tear at the moss of his nest. Anything to keep them busy. Today is a good day. Despite leafbare's chill still haunting their camp, the sun is warming patches of earth outside the medicine den. He can hear the very beginnings of newleaf. Even if he hasn't lived it before, he can feel it. He knows that it was coming, and with this change in seasons, Thistlekit was going to make it a change of his fate. The overgrown kit is standing firmly before Gentlestorm, his stance wide and defiant despite the sickness still haunting his shape. Despite his determination, his amber eyes have a helpless, fearful glow beneath the force of his certainty.

"I'm better. Right, Gentlestorm? I'm better now." He has to be.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 🙴 𝗕𝐎𝐍𝐄  ╱ 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑰𝑻 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑯 𝑰𝑻? ＜02.24＞ ⸙˚

• OOC. please wait for @GENTLESTORM !!
• 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐊𝐈𝐓. HE - HIM. APPRENTICE ╱ OVERDUE KITTEN OF THUNDERCLAN. ——— the son of an ex-kittypet has spent most of his life confined to the medicine den. bad circumstances and worse healing left him in a limbo between life and death which he only just escaped. there's still recovering to do before his clanmates see him as anything more than a weak, sick kittypet.  ╱ PENNED BY REVELATIONS
  
  a prickly-furred chocolate and slate cat with amber eyes. though with a blocky, nearly bulky frame, thistlekit has been softened, rounded, and stretched thin by his uncertain life. without work or play to thicken the pads of his paws or add strength to his limbs, his skin plays like canvas stretched taut over its frame, his fur a hazy cloak to cover the sickness. he seems soft and unwell in equal measure. certainly not an apprentice to be. . .

• "speech"

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[GENTLESTORM]

'CAUSE SOMEWHERE DOWN THE BANK — His den had been a lot busier than before considering its newest additions being the apprentices that truly believed that they could team up against a kitten especially ones that still bore kitten fat and fur, he can't help wince in the slightest whenever he changes their cobweb to make sure that the wounds are steadily healing and the sight of their once angry red scars hurt his heart. It's today that Gentlestorm finds himself outside of his den making sure that the medicine den didn't get too crowded with potentials visitors, whether it be family or kin, and his feathery ears would twitch when the familiar voice of Thistlekit makes the medicine cat glance up towards the overgrown kitten. The snowy pawed healer remains silent noting the stance that the overgrown kit took, his dark eyes searching his expression and watches him closely before sitting up easily towering the apprentice though he pays close attention to what Thistlekit says. Was he better now? It seemed like it considering how the younger tom was no longer wheezing from illness that had held back the apprentice aged tom from graduating with the rest of those around his age, a small frown forming on Gentlestorm's maw and the sepia tom tilts his helm to the side in the slightest still examining Thistlekit with dark eyes as a soft hmm slips from his throat.

After a heartbeat or two, the frown is discarded for a small yet tired grin and Gentlestorm nods his head "Yes, you seem to be a lot better." Even as he says this there's a small nagging in the back of his mind recalling how he had believed that Berryheart had gotten better from his condition and remembers the same rattling coughs that shook his late friend's body, he decides to murmur quietly for Thistlekit's ears alone "But if you ever feel unwell again... You will seek me out, alright?" His voice stern as he says this and its mostly to be safe, he would rather not lose another clanmate especially not Thistlekit when the younger tom had been a familiar prescence within his den. Gentlestorm allows Thistlekit a moment to think about what he's said only to smile brightly at the apprentice aged feline "We should tell Howlingstar, I'm sure you're thrilled to finally be out of my den." A small sadness twinkles in his eyes but the happiness that he feels in his heart overweighs it, he knows that Thistlekit has been restlessly waiting for this day.

WHERE THE DOGS ROAM ✿ POR LA CALLE QUE TE LLEVA A CURICÓ

• 

  MEDICINE CAT IN TRAINING;
  — ✿✿✿✿✿ FLESH WOUNDS
  — ✿✿✿❀❀ INFECTIONS
  — ✿✿✿❀❀ ACHES & PAINS
  — ✿✿✿❀❀ ILLNESS
  — ✿✿❀❀❀ BREATHING ISSUES
  — ✿❀❀❀❀ TRAVELING HERBS
  — ✿✿❀❀❀ BROKEN BONES
  — ❀❀❀❀❀ KITTING
  — ❀❀❀❀❀ POISONS
• 
  ✿ a longhaired blue sepia tom w/low white and brown eyes
  ✿ gentlestorm is a very warm individual and friendly to those who he meets, he's very social and willing to lend anyone a paw if they need it. he's very patient, caring, and it's usually rare to earn his ire.
  ✿ 52 moons old; ages the 27th every month
  ✿ widowed/not interested; mated to little wolf
  ✿ easy to befriend/interact with ; hard to anger/upset
  ✿ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✿ peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[Softsight]

Softpaw had taken up visiting the medicine cat's den when it wasn't so busy to check in on Vixenpaw after the fiasco with the owl that her sister and fellow apprentices had encountered. She hated getting in Gentlestorm's way when he was working, even if she did sneak glances at what his business was whenever she was nearby. Being a medicine cat seemed like hard work, but there had to be relief in knowing that you could help your Clanmates when they needed your help.

The small she-cat was making her way towards the den when her eyes caught on Thistlekit, who was standing strong and facing Gentlestorm. She knew that the tom had been sickly for many moons, and seeing him so determined was enough to give Softpaw a boost of curiosity as she padded closer.

"You look very lively, Thistlekit," Softpaw commented as she came to a halt next to Gentlestorm, speaking first before she turned to the medicine cat and gave him a respectful nod in greeting. "Are you going to become an apprentice soon?" Straight to the point, no beating around the bush. Thistlekit was older than her as far as Softpaw knew, and calling him 'kit felt strange as it rolled off of her tongue.​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

Though a part of him wants to blame Thistlekit’s bad constitution on his kittypet blood, the rational side of Raccoonstripe’s brain intervenes, reminding him of his mother’s death to yellowcough—to all the cats who’d nearly been stolen from ThunderClan, of the ones who’d traveled to join their ancestors on starry paws. He watches with interested, gleaming dark eyes as the little scrap bounces upright from Gentlestorm’s den, kneading the ground with his paws. Softpaw remarks that he looks lively, and Raccoonstripe has to agree—it seems the sickness has left his body at last. The dark tabby warrior pads closer to join the others, sitting and neatly curling his tail around mismatched paws. “I imagine it’s time,” he remarks to Softpaw. “But you’ve missed a lot in the medicine cat’s den. Are your skills still sharp?”

His eyes flick to a scrap of moss, and with a deft movement, he scoops it into the air with a forepaw, bouncing it toward Thistlekit’s feet. “Show me your pounce,” he coaches in a firm voice. He wants to see his form, wants to see that there’s still a spark behind eyes dulled from moons of sickness and sequestering.

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

• ooc: —
• 
• Raccoon . Raccoonstripe, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 37 moons old, ages realistically on the 5th.
  — mentored by n/a ; mentoring none ; previously mentored Wildheart, Moonwhisper
  — thunderclan lead warrior. gray wolf x howlingstar, gen 2.
  — currently mated to Nightbird.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh black tabby with white and dark brown eyes. charismatic, charming, calculating, ambitious, shallow, manipulative.
  
  

​

 

[THISTLEPAW]

We should tell Howlingstar is the closest he has ever gotten to freedom, and Thistlekit's breath gusts from his lungs in one harsh punch. "Yes!" It nearly becomes a wheeze, but that is weakness and weakness is this den, and he will never, ever, stay in here again. "Yes, I'll come back," he lies, and is already fit to burst from the den when he hears Softpaw's voice. It wasn't her fault. It isn't her fault that his skin tingles and his chest burns and his teeth start to itch with the unfairness of it all. She was younger than him. She got to come here when she wanted and leave when she wanted. She got to be a 'paw. But soon he would be too. "I'm better now," he insists again, the fur along his back beginning to bristle. "She has to let me be an apprentice. She has to!"

Was it because he was a kittypet that she didn't trust him? Was he too sick, too weak, to be trusted out here in wilds? That was hardly fair. It was exactly right, too. Howlingstar had lost a life, but Thistlekit– he'd quite nearly stayed dead. Now his body aches from even the action of stretching into a pounce, tottering slightly on sick-weak paws. Thistlekit obeys without question, without an ounce of hesitance. Even if he fails miserably, they need to know that he'll try. That he wants to try and get better. A wiggle, adjusting his paws, and oversized paws slam down to cradle the mossball in one pounce. Hardly a hunter's crouch; he treats it like an opponent, his claws and teeth digging clumsily in.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 🙴 𝗕𝐎𝐍𝐄  ╱ 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑰𝑻 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑯 𝑰𝑻? ＜02.24＞ ⸙˚

• OOC. —
• 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐊𝐈𝐓. HE - HIM. APPRENTICE ╱ OVERDUE KITTEN OF THUNDERCLAN. ——— the son of an ex-kittypet has spent most of his life confined to the medicine den. bad circumstances and worse healing left him in a limbo between life and death which he only just escaped. there's still recovering to do before his clanmates see him as anything more than a weak, sick kittypet.  ╱ PENNED BY REVELATIONS
  
  a prickly-furred chocolate and slate cat with amber eyes. though with a blocky, nearly bulky frame, thistlekit has been softened, rounded, and stretched thin by his uncertain life. without work or play to thicken the pads of his paws or add strength to his limbs, his skin plays like canvas stretched taut over its frame, his fur a hazy cloak to cover the sickness. he seems soft and unwell in equal measure. certainly not an apprentice to be. . .

• "speech"

​