In the Air Tonight | RiverClan Patrol

[Cindershade]

What once a morning full of the warmth of the sun, had now fallen to thick clouds with the promise of rain. Green-Leaf was well known for it's sporadic storms, always whipping up before any had to chance to prepare. Cindershade leads her patrol with a tensed silence, her ire admittedly hard to contain when the sight of the Two-Leg Bridge comes into her line of vision. She travels the well-beaten path, shaded tail flicking erratically, the only give away of her agitation. It was not to any member of the patrol she led, but to the very border itself. She hated WindClan with every fiber in her being, and the grim part of her just wishes they would give her any chance of a fight. But this late afternoon, she had more important matters to attend to. WindClan would have to wait—this time.
The lead warrior finally reaches the border with her patrol in tow. Immediately she turns to them, tail raising as she cast a wary glance back towards the open moorland that opens before them. Verdant eyes come to settle upon the youngest of them all, cloaked in a mixture of cinnamon and white. A picture of her mother, where Buckgait's angles were hard and chiseled—Brightpaw was soft with kitten-esque features. Ivory whiskers twitch once before her gaze flits to the remainder. "Keep your eyes and ears sharp, be as diligent as the very river we reap from. Do not stray far, I want your eyes on another member of this patrol at all times." Her eyes darken as their glow seemingly dims and her jaw goes rigid. She'd not take any chances for a retaliation or ambush, she would bring her patrol home safely. "Sablepaw, you are old enough for me not to hold your paw the whole way. Follow them, and be careful. Brightpaw, you will stick with me." She aims to move further towards the shoreline, rubbing against a bundle of reeds to spread her scent. "This—is the border with WindClan. Take a moment to drink in their scent. Commit it to memory and observe." Keen eyes, sharp as razor-edged claws would look to the crest of the hills, waiting for any sense of movement.

//patrol members @Aspenhaze @hazecloud @☆ Brightpaw ☆ @Sablepaw @Mosspaw

Feel free to post before them :3

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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

Disdain colors their expression as figures appear on the other side of the bridge, and Gravelsnap has to grit their teeth to avoid making a potentially disastrous choice. They have to push back the urge to rush across the bridge, to charge at the dark-furred RiverClan warrior with teeth bared. But he knows—he knows what happened the last two times a WindClanner set foot upon that cursed bridge. He swears he can still see blood splattered on stone, whether it’s from the most recent clash at the border or from his uncle so many months ago.

Their hazel gaze shifts to rest upon their apprentice, eel-black tail lashing as they pick their way across the moorland toward the bridge. "RiverClan," they mutter, shifting to rub their cheek against the tall grass that covers their side of the border. To their apprentice they murmur, "Stay at a safe distance. If you aren’t careful, they will leap across the border to drag you across and…" They trail off in a sharp stop, chewing at the inside of their cheek. They don’t think they need to finish their sentence. The warning is clear.


//apprentice tag @Thriftpaw ​

[ you put the fun into dysfunction ]​

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[Sablemist]

In every situation you give me peace

Patrols along windclan's borders were even worse than the ones trailing near thunderclan's. At least the forest dwelling cats were a little more cordial than their moorland neighbors. Soft blue eyes scan the way across the bridge but spot no one at first. She hoped none of windclan would be present during their outing but life was not always so simple. He attention flickers upon a familiar grey and white pelt. If memory serves correctly this was Gravelsnap, she'd seen them on a few other patrols prior to this one. Thankfully they seemed to mainly keep to themselves. The dual toned warrior was perhaps one of the more tolerable cats out of the windclan bunch.

Sablepaw's head turns to face Cindershade as she advises her to stick close to Aspenhaze, Hazecloud and Mosspaw. A silent nod of confirmation is given, her gaze drifting momentarily upon Buckgait's child before peeling away from her mentor. The ivory of her spine curves as she rubs against the twoleg bridge, locking eyes with Gravelsnap and a younger feline by their side. "And," She continues, picking up where the windclanner left off. "We will defend ourselves against trespassers." Sablepaw voices calmly, though there is an edge of something there that even she could not quite place. Riverclan was not a place filled with murderous monsters like the warrior was attempting to imply.​

Don't gotta be afraid because you're in the lead​

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[Mosspool]

"Yes ma'am." Mosspaw responded sharply to her patrol leader's command. Padding alongside her mentor Aspenhaze, she surveyed the Windclan border with her head held high, showing off the scar on the bridge of her nose. She wanted them to see it. It was in the last battle with Windclan that she had earned it, after all. It was the mark of her victory against them.

The sight of figures on the other side of the border made her eyes narrow, and the sound of their voices made her ears fold back against her head. She did not say a word in response, instead she simply glared at the Windclanners. Unless she was ordered otherwise, she would not start anything.​

 

[sanguinerush.]

Sanguinerush hadn't been present for the battle, but still, the claw marks left upon her clanmate's pelt was wounding enough to Sanguine. She had just pulled herself from a tunnel at the base of the moor, where Gravelsnap stood with Thriftpaw. Her vision traced them for but a moment as she approached, turning her gaze towards Riverclanners. She stared on for a long moment, ignoring the urge to growl and spit less-then-pleasantries at the offending fish-smelling clanners. Though, the statement Sablepaw uttered...

Sanguine couldn't keep her mouth shut, her eyes rolling and a toiled sigh leaving her. "Even though leaping across the border to get us would make you the trespasser. Nice job, kiddo, real smart." Sanguinerush stated, loudly, the smaller tunneler all kinds of fire and bite already. She wasn't intimidating, she knew that. Who cared, though? She wasn't going to allow Riverclan to just flip the narrative, because that would bode all kinds of well for everything.

Sanguinerush's eyes stayed pinned against Riverclan's patrol, bunched up and tense, ready for whatever.​

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"speech"​

 

[Aspenhaze]

Being chosen to patrol WindClan put a lump in Aspenhaze’s stomach, but they’re happy it’s at least not ThunderClan this time. Their trouble with Thunder could wait until the meeting, or maybe even never. Hopefully there wouldn’t be trouble. Either way, they wouldn’t let their anxiety show about this certain situation either, coolly following Cindershade while sticking close to Mosspaw as per usual.

Things quickly turn hostile, though they don’t let any anger show on their face. WindClan is so quick to instigate, maybe they should learn to shut their trap once in awhile? That thought stays behind a fake smile. Aspenhaze is ready to attack if need be, but hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. “We will be staying on our side, no worries about that.” The ‘but you know what will happen if you are the ones to trespass’ goes unsaid, but they know it’s still implied.​

 

[Badgermoon]

"RiverClan staying on their own land? That'd be quite something, were it true." remarked Badgermoon to @SNAKEPAW in a low voice, pondering Aspenhaze's words with a twist of bitterness. Memories of Juniperfrost and the way he died, of Cottonpaw's abduction, stung like hailstones against his mind. The deputy's eyes skimmed over the patrol with vague interest, but he found that his usual simmering outrage was absent. Battles and conflicts came and went, he was beginning to understand: victories and defeats ebbed and flowed, and good cats' lives seeped out of their broken bodies on the regular, til the ground was slick with blood and their graveyard was bursting at the seams. I think I'm just tired. he thought with a flick of one white-tipped ear, pressing his broad body against a stump, scent-marking it with a few cursory brushes of his paws. I can't lie to myself and say I wouldn't tear those little RiverClan whelps to pieces if I could.​

 

[Cindershade]

The quietness of her border patrol came and was extinguished way too quickly, keen eyes honing in on Gravelsnap with young—assuming they were an apprentice. The whispers and gossip filter through velveteen ears, earning a snort from the lead warrior. Sablepaw is quick-witted, calm and efficient with her words that lace with a familiar venom that draws a smirk upon her features. Cindershade does not berate her apprentice, for there was nothing to correct. The statement was true, calmly stated with nothing more. How hypocritical these moorland rats were, snaking through the tall grass with an eager spark in their gaze, instigating a fight once again. Scum, they were. No more than worms feasting on decay of old corpses—how vile.
The rosetted woman locks eyes with another who spits, slathered in soil and Cindershade can not help but laugh at their words and their presence. It seemed the latter to be true, given their state. A worm crawling through the muck and grime. Pitiful. "It's funny that you scold us for borders time and time again, yet you do so more than all the clans combined." Her tone is light, sighing for emphasis in feign disappointment. Sootstar was a tyrant, blood-thirsty with no interest of anyone but her self—it's a wonder how she can lead a clan at all in her eyes. Another figure approaches, hulking bi-colored frame stepping through the heather. Badgermoon, the deputy himself. Was he just ignorant as the rest of them? Did he blindly follow his leader, readying to chomp at the shit thst spews from the ashen smoke? Sootstar will run out of lives one day, a day that everyone anticipates for; would he be the same as her? A shame. WindClan had no hope. Cindershade can only hope that their clan inevitably caves in on itself.
His words were low, whispers to his apprentice beside him, whispers she cannot hear due to the roar of the gorge. But she knows what he says, she knows he gossips like an elder with nothing more to do. Black paws weave against another bundle of reeds, verdant eyes pinpointed on the deputy. With a feign smile, one lacking of warmth, she speaks to him. "Badgermoon, do tell me how WindClan's little surprise raid went with SkyClan, yes? Did they claw your warriors to shreds? I do hope so. Maybe you'll do good not to come rampaging on another's land like a herd of swine next time." It was a rhetorical question, for she did not really care. She only hoped SkyClan, the kittypet clan, tore them all to shreds and left them running with their tail between their legs.

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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​

 

[hazecloud]

WindClan's border was one Hazecloud often did her best to avoid. They had ambushed her home, infiltrated the lands of nearly every Clan under the forest. Most importantly, above all her concerns, one had trespassed just to attack Lichentail. Alone. The molly had nearly dragged herself home and barely remained conscious under the severity of her wounds.

She is not as successful as her tortie companion in keeping compsure. Silky fur rose in bristling hostility at the sight of them. She picked them apart in the group, wondering which one was the culprit that attacked the Lead.

"I've never met so many cats so thirsty for blood..." She murmured, staying close to Aspenhaze as they padded down the border line. Not just in their interaction with RiverClan, but the constant fights with the other Clans. ShadowClan, SkyClan... Was Sootstar adamant to lose a life in every altercation? To lose the lives of her warriors? She found no sense in her endless bloodshed. At least Cicadastar hadn't tried launching a fruitless attack on the rogues they had found and offered for peace, first. ​

 

[Thriftfeather]

Thriftpaw has never seen cats from another clan before. From all that he had been told, Thriftpaw had been expecting something monstrous. Long spindly limbs like a spider or teeth that hang far beyond their jaws like a boar's tusks. These cats look normal and that is somehow worse — their eyes don't bulge and their skin doesn't hang from their bones as if they are made from individual parts instead of a whole. Thriftpaw is momentarily overwhelmed with how he is supposed to recognize danger from sight alone when it shares his face, but then he recalls their scent.

RiverClan smells different; disgusting, when compared to WindClan. Thriftpaw remembers that, just as he remembers that RiverClan's leader has insanity, and just as he will remember that RiverClan will drag him beneath the dark waters to drown if he strays too near. Thriftpaw will remember everything Gravelsnap teaches him. He nods gravely and ignores as best he can the familiar queasy fear that rises in his gut.

"I'm not thirsty for blood," Thriftpaw says to Gravelsnap rather than to the warrior that spoke, indignant. Insane, he thinks, wrong, just like their leader. Unsafe, but isn't everywhere?​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 5 MOONS​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

The RiverClan cats who stand across the border are not very smart—this is clear immediately. The young one begins threatening them right off the bat, and Sanguinerush followed it up with a snarky comment. Gravelsnap shoots the other warrior a sidelong glare, a narrowing of hazel eyes that shows exactly how unhappy they are with their clanmate’s comments. They do not have the energy to argue with these useless water-cats.

To them, Thriftpaw says that he isn’t what the RiverClanner implies, and Gravelsnap huffs. "You aren’t thirsty for blood," they confirm, nodding stiffly at their apprentice. Some of their clanmates may truly be bloodthirsty, but the river-dwelling cats shouldn’t throw stones when their clan has been just as guilty of violence.

Either way, they do not want to be here any longer than they have to, not when Thriftpaw could easily meet the same fate as their uncle. "Let’s mark the border and get back before they can find a reason to attack us." They rub their shoulder against a stone, and then turn to wander further into WindClan territory. They do not turn their back on the RiverClan patrol, but they shoot a glance at the golden tabby tom, expecting Thriftpaw to follow.​

[ you put the fun into dysfunction ]​

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[SOOTSPOT]

Dirt specks lined his black paws as he pushed himself into view, finding himself a short distance away from the rest of his posturing clanmates. It was easy to know when RiverClanners were around, he thought. Their pawsteps were heavier from a diet of fish and lies, their coats sleek and, dare he saw, in a near-permanent state of dampness from their excursions in the river. Staring longer at the river rats did little to increase the creativity of his insults, for how could one even begin to describe something so vile that it made a kittypet look like a hero? He didn't dignify the patrol leader with a response at first: even she had to know that WindClan wouldn't be so keen to trespass if the other clans were not at fault with their repeated insults and threats. It was not a thirst for blood that drove WindClan, but a thirst for justice, one that RiverClan frequently denied them. Why should a WindClan exile get the luxury of staying in another clan? Why did they all approve of a treacherous medic infesting another place with his lies?

Words were spoken to the Deputy next. The Tunneler was no high rank, but he was more than that: he was the son of the only one that could keep his home afloat. He moved forwards, feathered tail dragging behind him before he suddenly threw it towards the stars. "Perhaps you should ask the Kittypet King the next time you see him," he smiled like a cat that had just swallowed the canary, his own bird being the public truth of the situation on SkyClan's borders. He pushed his mother's own demise to the back of his head as he postured like a proud rooster. "If he can even speak after what our leader did to him... he would do well not to shelter animals not RiverClan wanted next time." He tilted his head towards Cindershade, blinking slowly as if waiting for her to protest his belief. He wanted her to picture a world where the WindClan exiles went to RiverClan's borders begging for shelter, if, after all the destruction that Hyacinthbreath had brought, they would be willing to go through the same thing again. He wanted her to wonder who was to blame, the clan of loyal warriors or the clan who harboured those that refused to give up a part of themselves.

A sharp sigh escaped him; no matter what he wanted her to think, he doubted she would listen to a WindClanner. He wouldn't want to listen to an enemy either.



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