border it was just a year ago | return

[Squirrel]

The loss of a parent is truly, nearly, indescribable. Everyone knows the theatrical dramatics associated with it; sobs wrack your body and stall your breath as you crumple to the floor, knowing that nothing will ever be the same again. You go to them on their deathbed and reconcile your differences, the grudges and bitterness that have lingered in your time together. These are well played scenes and everybody knows them. Theatrics have their place as an overemphasized model of emotion, experiences tuned up and put on display for all to associate with, but the truth is often much quieter. You generally cry, yes, but nobody seems to talk about the nothingness that follows.

The world keeps going even when someone's stops.

Some folks never recover from that loss. It sits, it rots, and it festers within them. What they know they're missing, what they once had, it's too much for them to bear. They're the ones that you hold your breath around. You have to choreograph your steps, pre-plan your conversations, lay awake as anxiety rocks through you at the thought of something else going wrong. You know they're at their limit and anything, even a bad day, could mean you'd never see them again.

The death of her mother is never far from Squirrel's mind. The details have grown soft and blurred over time, she wouldn't be able to paint the scene, but the emotions hold as true as ever. It wrecked her when it happened. She'd barely had true consciousness, her responsibilities were childish games, winning arguments with her brother, what she'd eat before bed. She'd been about to apprentice and she was so excited for it.

The events that unfolded left Squirrel broken. Her sister was actually her mother and was left dead by the ravages of some disease. Her father was a cruel and brutal tom that showed up to try to carry the kits off to Windclan. He'd succeeded in taking her brother, leaving Squirrel behind and feeling truly alone.

She'd spent some time in the clan after that, absently walking through the routines of apprenticehood and hoping that maybe, just maybe, she'd begin to feel something, someday. It didn't happen, life kept moving, and she left Skyclan. She'd taken her absence in a moment of quiet. The camp had been still and the moonlit sky kept the moors aglow with pale light. The only noises were those of her clanmates, gentle breathing from the apprentice den behind her back and the murmurs from the warriors that stayed awake to keep watch. She didn't know or care what they said. She hadn't paid mind to anything that happened in those days. Squirrel had made it out of the camp and through the grasses that brushed her legs and the bugs that flit past her nose. Her small paws had carried her across the border, under the trees that lined the territory, and onward.

She had walked, and walked, and walked, and now she was back.

Squirrel sat on the border she'd crossed so many moons ago with an unrecognizable feeling curling in her chest. There were many reasons behind her return, it had been so long, but she felt almost.. scared. She was a different cat than she used to be, shaped by a life of difficulties, and she wasn't sure if she was coming back to anything she knew. It was very likely that everyone she'd known was gone, lost to plague, famine, pestilence, or, even worse, they wouldn't recognize her. She looked different, held herself differently. Her fur was still the same blue tortoiseshell as before and her eyes, though hardened, were as green as ever. She hadn't grown much, destined to be small by birth and solidified by poor nutrition, but the kitten softness that Skyclan knew was gone. She was, undoubtably, scrawny and scarred. She didn't much resemble who she had been.

Her paw tapped a staccato on the dirt beneath her, a nervous habit she'd picked up somewhere along the line. She'd wait where she was until a patrol came around. Her first impression, to undoubtably so many new cats, needed to be good.

[do not feel the need to match length !! this got away from me]
​

 

[SLATESNARL]

Death is a part of life, Slate knows this well. He has witnessed cats fighting for their lives, scrapping over precious resources or even slitting each other's throats over petty disputes from the time his youth. The paling of one's face, the glazing of their eyes... it does not phase him anymore. Loss, however? Slate has never lost anyone close to him. Clanmates came and went, whether disappearing or convulsing to death in the middle of the day. Blazestar's death had hit the hardest so far but, then again, the two had not been particularly close. He did not care to keep anyone close, not enough to render him in shambles emotionally. There is only one cat whom Slate could say he cared about in SkyClan; the one with the biggest target on her back.

Spotting the stranger upon the border, Slate releases a huff from his nostrils and beckons the patrol to approach them. The lead warrior certainly would not know of this feline; although he had been in SkyClan for much longer than he could believe, there were still names and faces that were unknown to him. As far as Slate is concerned, this molly is nobody but another stranger. She does not carry the scent of another clan, and she does not trespass as many clueless loners and kittypets do. It looked like she knew how to use her nose. "What's your business here?" The gruff Maine Coon demands, eyeing the tortoiseshell through blazing orange eyes.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐜𝐞

• @Cherrypaw

• 

• 

  ₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾

  slate
  

  — he/him; lead warrior of skyclan
  — a hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — link to full tags; @ on discord or dm @beaaats for plots!​

  ​

​

 

[Cherryblossom]

No solidarity existed between Cherrypaw and those who had also suffered the death of a parent. Both of Twitchbolt's folks were gone, and so too with the only parent Greeneyes and Figfeather had ever known. Even little Pumpkinpaw and Springpaw had their kin snapped up by the jaws of a storm one night. They were so young when it had happened, and still so young, but it is Cherrypaw's father who hasn't even spent a half-moon in the dry, wintry earth. If they dug his big ol' body up today, he would probably look more or less the same as he did in the moment of death. Too little time has passed. Until he was reduced to the SkyClan soil that birthed them all, completely unshackled from all his earthly attachments, Cherrypaw could not say she was at peace with his absence.

Because she could've done something, and if she could've done something then she must still be able to do something. The memory of her father trembling and shuddering to death is burned in her brain, a wound inflamed as though infected. How could such a humiliating, helpless death like that clear his path to the stars? Something in her says it's her fault, but the overwhelming majority of her lifts its chin and stubbornly shakes its head. It had to be Ashenclaw's fault. He could have told any one of his kin, he could have told Orangestar. Surely she would've pressured Dawnglare and Fireflypaw to do more, to work harder, because every one of SkyClan's warriors were equally valuable, right? Cherrypaw would've marched into the hazel bush and held them at claw-point herself, if that's what needed to be done. She would've even risked handing him over to the Twolegs, whose medicinal skills were both awed and feared in the whispers of daylight warriors.

Maybe her father's death had emptied her like it had Squirrelkit, when she had been Squirrelkit, in the way that she is so full with something it is the only thing left in her. She thinks it's anger. It's hot and swirling like anger, working off the fuel of her beating heart, but her rage is gone when she settles into her nest at night. These days it's still there, an ember nestled so deeply in the crook of her ribs she couldn't hope to dig out, and she tries to cry it out into Edenpaw's fur when they're there, when she thinks they're asleep.

Cherrypaw loathes to admit that she is just like Squirrel, and everyone who's ever lost something, because admitting she has succumbed to her grief would mean she has succumbed to something. No one but her siblings seem to care as much as her, and she doesn't see much reason why they should other than the fact that she does. Twitchbolt still has her on patrols, and Slate still has her training. Edenpaw probably expects something more from her than the overabudance of desperate, tear-soaked attention she's been giving them, but that's all they're going to get because it's all she has to offer. Even her mother has carried on, because even the death of the father of her kits is nothing to the needs of her clan.

So she pummels the feeling, whatever it is, into the deepest hollows of herself and gives herself over the beat of a unhalted sun. As ever, she is Slate's colorful, ill-tempered shadow. The girl minds the slushiest patches of melting snow as they traipse along, keeping her eyes to the brindled forest floor and ears to the treetops, until Slate stops. Annoyance flickers in the slight narrow of her eyes. She silently chides herself on not noticing the molly until they were nearly on top of her, but defends herself by noting the general weathered look of their newest visitor. This was no tromping, dizzy kittypet. The molly reminds her of Fang, in a way, all rough edges and wary courtesy. "This is SkyClan territory," Cherrypaw adds, though for some reason she thinks the stranger might already know.

ooc: sorry i got carried away too, you inspired me!!​

 

[Eggbounce.]

I'M GONNA BE THE SNACK THAT SMILES BACK
I'M GONNA BE THE KIT TO YOUR KAT ​

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eggpaw & 11 moons & male & he/him & skyclan apprentice ​

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Eggpaw is far more cheerful than those who join him on this patrol, greeting squirrel with a wave of his tail and a smile. And, well, if that smile is just a little less bright and a little more forced than usual? Well, nobody but him will ever notice. He's trying hard not to think about it, to be his normal, cheerful self - bumbling and bright. Always. Thats the image he has, and it's always been one he's born proudly - sure, he's not the smartest or most gifted cat in skyclan, but his enthusiasm and friendliness is it's own skill. At least, thats what teaktail says, and the boy is inclined to agree with him. But the heavy weight of death and grief hangs overhead like an axe waiting to fall, and no matter how hard he tries he cannot fully shake it - no, it sticks to him like tree sap, clingy and unyielding. because his dad is dead and gone and buried beneath the earth, and now everything is different and nothing is alright. But he can pretend - can keep on chugging along telling himself that it's fine, and maybe someday he'll actually believe it. " Hello! Who're you? " he chirps out, though his voice breaks just a little and its enough to send claws digging into the earth in an attempt to pull himself back together.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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( I ' M ━ G O N N A ━ B E ━ T HE ━ O N E ━ Y O U ━ U N W R A P )

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[FIGFEATHER]

The moons really have been whisked away. After Squirrelpaw had disappeared, barely older than a kit- especially back then Figpaw would steadily grow into Figfeather. So much has happened since then it felt like a lifetime ago, and for some cats it was.

Wobbling to stand next to Eggbounce her orange eyes travel up and down the blue tortoiseshell, a trickling feeling of recognition creeping up on her. No kitten fluff remained on her cheeks or stomach, her face more angular with the build of a full grown she-cat. Figfeather is silent for serval long moments, her tongue nearly slipping from her lips as she scavenges through her brain as to why this cat seemed so familiar.

Pink nose twitches to pick up her scent, it sparks no familiarity. Yet the way this cat whom she's never seen before sits politely at the border, waiting, tell her all she needs to know. "...I know you from somewhere."" Figfeather dares to say, though perhaps she was about to make a fool of herself. Maybe this cat has never stood paw in this forest before?

♡ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Figfeather
  » SkyClan Warrior
  » She/her . AMAB
  » Mentoring Wolfpaw
  » Mate to Fantastream
  » Sire to Sangriakit & Coffeekit
  » A red tabby she-cat with a mangled leg.
  » ”Speech”․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A foe in battle whose ability to strategize can shift tides.
  » Excels in strategizing and pre-planning her battles.
  » Fights defensively and aid to her clan to victory.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[Howlfire]

Random strays were not an uncommon sight on SkyClan lands. Frequently they found themselves visited by curious kittypets and loners. Most were harmless enough, driven away with a few sharp words, lest they were here to join the clan.

She is not far behind the other cats on patrol when an unfamiliar scent hits her nose and she hears Slate call out, demanding to know what the cat wanted. Cherrypaw is close by his side, occupying a space Howlfire once had, and points out to the stranger they are on SkyClan's land. As Howlfire pads up, she hears Eggbounce's more friendlier greeting, and finally gets the chance to eye the newcomer herself. Like Figfeather, she feels a stirring of recognition in her brain, and her brows furrow as she tries to recall a face. It has been many moons since she has seen Squirrelpaw and the name does not immediately return to her, for although she is the same cat, there is very little that has remained the same about her. Amber eyes shift to Figfeather at her words, wondering if her friend is thinking the same thing. "Have you been here before?" Howlfire asks.​

 

[Coyotecrest]

The loss of his mother was a hazy memory he preferred to push away rather than truly face and come to terms with. There are times he could not think of her without remembering a night wailing to the stars above. Pleading and begging with tear stained cheeks for those celestial cats spare her life. Silence was his answer that night. Quiet rejection to a fervent prayer as Thistleback sought to comfort a broken boy. Life truly flipped and turned upside down not too long after her passing and the turbulent events that followed suit would haunt him for the rest of his days. Learning of his sister's disappearance by the time he returned to skyclan morphed into another blow for him to shoulder. A gaping wound that never quite healed. Life continued on but the occasional wonder of his littermate's well being sprung to the forefront of his mind every once in a while. The gnawing of the unknown pestering him whenever the thought surged forth.

Cream ears twitch at the beginnings of Slate's curt tone, green eyes lifting and head craning to spot a blue tortoiseshell molly waiting politely at the border. Quietly he steps closer, pausing beside the marmalade figure of Figfeather as he analyzed the stranger before him. Coyotecrest's eyes squint slowly as his brows pinch thoughtfully together. "...I know you from somewhere." His fellow warrior finally murmured and he could not help but to feel the same. His nose twitched, yet failed to find familiarity in her scent. But old memories were a fickle thing, choosing to emerge whenever they saw fit. Foggy memories of kitten tumbles alongside a tortoiseshell pelt leek into his consciousness. The sight of that same familiar form weeping alongside him at Leopardcloud's final moments. Then finally, those same fearful green eyes peering back at him as he walked alongside Juniperfrost back to windclan.

His gaze finally breaks, shifting to rest shakily upon his mate as Howlfire questioned the stranger further. Her added stream of familiarity added to his soaring convictions. Green eyes turn back to the patient molly, as breath gathers within his lungs. "Squirrel..?" The ending portion of paw dies quickly on his tongue. She was of warrior age now and he hesitated to place a title meant for the clan's younger members upon her. Regardless, his gaze searched her own. Seeking a spark of recognition as he dared to venture further. "It's...its Coyote." The tom voiced as he took a step closer. ​

̶̶̶̶  «̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶   skyclan warrior / twentyone moons old / he/him  ̶ ̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ »̶ ̶̶̶  ​

 

[SQUALLMIST]

Since the birth of the clans — or, maybe, since his own birth, an entrance into the world left stranded amid twoleg trash — Squallmist’s life hasn’t been without loss.

His father’s death marked SkyClan’s birth and a legacy lost, his brother’s murder forged the way for warrior names, a reminder held forever in his own. Even SkyClan’s leader is gone now, among the many faces he’s seen arrive to the pine forest, the many faces he’s had to grieve thereafter. Though his home seems ever changing, the silver tabby thinks loss might be a constant, with how familiar its gotten.

Just as the apprentices tasked to him. Centipedepaw and Squirrelpaw are both long gone now: one murdered, one who might be somewhere in the stars herself. Neither of which fated to receive their warrior names. Neither of which he’d managed to keep safe. Squallmist knows his home by heart. Squallmist once greeted every new face alongside his father, once vowed to protect those who sought shelter in their home. And yet, he couldn’t keep his apprentices safe. Had their loss only been more proof, a sign from Rain and his star-pelted group that he wasn’t ready for the legacy he once believed to be his? Maybe.

Half-sighted gaze guides his paws along side his clanmates on their border patrol, and there’s little surprise to him that a new face lingers along it. Plenty of cats wait here — or, if they aren’t as careful, wander past this border — seeking refuge, or a place to spend their day. He expects this to be another one, a face he’ll greet up front, this time. Yet, as they near, something seems familiar about the blue tortoiseshell. It’s not the sharpness of her features, but something still, something…

Charcoal ears twitch at his clanmates’ words. Familiarity lingers in some of their voices, and Squallmist’s eye locks onto the newcomer, a frown pulling at his maw. Because, if she seems familiar, he must know her too. Somewhere along the way, hardened gaze turns softer, a small she-cat shifting to someone even smaller in his mind. Scared and grieving, just as he had been. Surely, it isn’t —

Coyotecrest’s voice cuts in, and that’s all the confirmation Squallmist needs. The younger warrior’s sister stands before them. Squallmist’s apprentice has returned, is alive against all odds.

A step taken closer to the young she-cat, though made in shorter distance than Coyotecrest’s own. He fears he failed her, knows he must have. But she is alive, she is here. The older warrior can hardly believe it; the kid’s been alive this whole time. “ You’re back, “ he says slowly, as if speaking any faster might scare her off again.
​

 

[Squirrel]

Squirrel knew what to expect from the patrol. She may have been gone from the clans for.. a considerable while, but she could at least remember the patrols. There was the lead warrior, she'd assume the dark tom that made the initial approach, and the clanmates that accompanied them. They would ask what she was doing, tell her that she was on Skyclan territory, and who she was. The routine had remained unchanged, give or take a few words and the order in which they were said, and she could feel her chest begin to loosen. The tight knot that sat in it didn't unravel, it had been there for far too long and wound itself much too tight, but it frayed a bit.

The next two cats gave her pause. Squirrel had assumed that she would be able to recognize all the skyclanners she saw but- no. She was older, they were older, everyone had changed. It was foolish of her not to think such a thing before this. She hadn't mimed conversations with imaginary cats she didn't entirely remember, walking endlessly and chattering into the air as she did. She'd just anticipated knowing them or, well, not.

She opened her mouth to reply, gave herself a moment of pause, and closed it. Words did not come in time to predate her brothers appearance. She knew immediately that it was him. She knew before she took in his green eyes, just like hers, or the way his cream fur spiked around him. it could have been the cadence of his steps, as tortoiseshell ears twitched to take them in, or the quiet consideration before he approached. She would know her brother in blindness and death. He was her brother, how could she not?

Squirrel felt herself stiffen as he took a step closer. She couldn't stop it. The trembling of her paws and the fur that lifted upon her back were ingrained, long-since cemented behaviors. She had been alone for so long. " I-... " Impressions be damned. She hadn't anticipated- hadn't let herself hope for this. " I'm.. yeah. " The tom that stepped forward, just two steps behind her brother, was the icing on the metaphorical cake. She'd been wrong about the knot loosening before. " I'm Squirrel. I used to be a Skyclanner and I'm hoping to return. "

Her words felt thick and wrongly sized in a mouth that barely registered itself moving. Practice was the only thing fueling her speech. She'd tested out a multitude of things to say and at least something came from it. " If I'm not welcome back then I-.. I hold no ill will. "​

 

[HAWKSPINE]

Hawkpaw presses close to Howlfire's side as their patrol encounters a stranger, bristling with fear and not defensiveness. The tortoiseshell before them doesn't seem hostile at all, but still her heart calls out a warning as Coyotecrest takes a careful step forward with Squallmist close behind. Breath quickening, her ears prick towards the two warriors. In a brief moment of self-consciousness, the torbie becomes acutely aware that her spiky fur is a near perfect match to Coyotecrest's own - how embarrassing, especially with Cherrypaw here too - but curiosity overrides it soon enough once more at the reunion of sorts occurring right in front of her muzzle.

"Dad? Dad!" Hawkpaw hisses to Coyotecrest, a very unsubtle whisper that's more reminiscent of her kitten days than anything she's used to now, hoping for answers. Squirrel is a pretty name, but that still doesn't answer any of her questions. "You know this cat?"
​

 

[SLATESNARL]

What begins as a standard border procedure quickly evolves into a reunion of sorts, which prompts a slight raise of Slate's eyebrows. One by one, his patrolmates peer forth at this blue tortoiseshell she-cat, seeming to vaguely recognize her. Then, Coyotecrest mentions her by name — Squirrel. The lead warrior glances at Squallmist as the older warrior confirms that this feline did, in fact, used to reside in SkyClan. If his clanmates know her already and are willing to trust her right off the bat, then perhaps he has little need for raised suspicion, but of course Slate does not fully let his guard down. This cat is a stranger to him either way, having been gone for a long time — cats and their motivations could change, especially while living on the outside.

This cat does not press an urgency to be let back into her old clan—reasonable; just because she had lived here once did not mean she should be automatically let back in. However, Slate wonders how she had come to leave in the first place. His eyes grow half-lidded and his chin lifts expectantly as he assumes the role of a judge in place of Orangestar or Twitchbolt or any other lead warrior, neither or whom is present at the moment, "Why did you leave SkyClan?" In other words, did you abandon SkyClan and are hoping to get back in because life on the outside got too hard? He did not completely discount other possibilities, though. It was not unheard of for cats—SkyClanners, especially—to be abducted by twolegs. Perhaps that is what happened to Squirrel. He didn't know; nobody else seemed to know, either.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐜𝐞

•  

• 

• 

  ₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾

  slate
  

  — he/him; lead warrior of skyclan
  — a hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — link to full tags; @ on discord or dm @beaaats for plots!​

  ​

​

 

[Coyotecrest]

He's tempted to take yet another step, flaxen paw hovering loosely above the ground. But within the midst of her light bristling he stops, opting to place the lofty appendage upon the ground again. He needed to be more thoughtful, more considerate of her space despite his eagerness to embrace her. There was no telling what all she'd gone through while away from camp all this time. And he couldn't rush the feeling of comfort. Especially not now when so many eyes lay upon her.

Cream lips purse together thoughtfully as he fights for more to say. But his daughter worried hiss startled him from his inner musings. Mint colored eyes trail downward, focusing on Hawkpaw as she displayed warily spiked fur and wide eyes. His chest tightened in response to the subtle fear wafting off her in the face of a stranger. "It's okay Honky," He murmured softly, voice low as he nudged her chin with his nose. "This is...my sister, your aunt." He explained briefly, turning his gaze back to the torteishell as Slate began to question her.

He too wished to know why she left. She still would've had Thistleback to look after her and she should have been safe here in skyclan. So what pushed her away? ​

̶̶̶̶  «̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶   skyclan warrior / twentyone moons old / he/him  ̶ ̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ »̶ ̶̶̶  ​

 

[Squirrel]

Squirrel had expected to be questioned. She'd rehearsed her answers, figured out how to give away just enough to seem authentic but not enough to give pause, and spent night after night agonizing over how she'd go about getting back into Skyclan. Her return wasn't a decision that had been made lightly. She'd certainly not expected to ever return when she left but she was a different cat now. She wasn't run by rash, youthful impulse. Logic, reason, and rationale took its place, or at least she liked to think so. It was difficult to be assured of it when you were left speechless and stressed.

She'd said all that she could remember and past that? none of her prepared lines were coming back to her. She didn't want to say the wrong thing and waste her planning, effort, and sanity. The latter of the three was hanging on by a thread already. She took the knowledge of her niece, the young cat by her brother that, if she looked a bit closer, was undoubtably of their blood. She could match some markings and traits to one of the other cats present and, trying to force her brain to connect a few easy strings, made the assumption that they were probably the other parent and her brother, Coyote's, mate. There was so much she had missed.

" I- uh.. " Squirrel wasn't sure where to start. Was she supposed to give a play by play of every thought she'd had, every tear she'd shed? There was no way for her to verbalize the way she'd felt, nothing accurate enough to bring it to words. It wasn't like that was what mattered anyways though. The cat, the one questioning her, probably just wanted to make sure she wasn't here for anything bad. " I left when I was very young. My mother had just died, my brother had been taken from me, from Skyclan, and I felt like I was alone. " She hadn't been entirely alone, she'd had clanmates rally around her and try to help, but it hadn't been enough. She'd wanted her mom, wanted her brother. " I wasn't thinking rationally and I.. I guess I couldn't deal with it. It wasn't a wise choice to leave but I was only a few moons old. I didn't know any better. "​

 

[Howlfire]

It takes for Coyotecrest and Squallmist's arrival for Howlfire to put the pieces together in her brain. This was Squirrel - formerly, Squirrelpaw - Coyotecrest's sister. That was why she recognised the other. But stars, so much had changed since Squirrelpaw had disappeared, not only that but Squirrelpaw seemed different too.

Hawkpaw is understandably worried when she sees her father approach what appears to be a strange cat to her. Howlfire is about to call her back but Coyotecrest assures her that all is well. Slate asks why she left SkyClan, and Howlfire looks at her with renewed interest, also curious as to why she left. However. when she hears the story, her brows knit together in sympathy. Leopardcloud. She could remember the queen only vaguely in her memories, and remembered her passing even less, but she did recall her to be a pretty, albeit sad cat. "Grief makes us do strange things..." Howlfire mewed sympathetically. ​

 

[Orangestar]

"Squirrel." Orangestar meows, an undertone of surprise lining her voice. White paws carry her to stand by Slate, slight limp evident today as the familiar dull ache of her injury echoes up her hindleg with every step she takes. She wouldn't have recognised the tortoiseshell had she not been standing next to Coyotecrest and Squallmist, the family resemblance between the two siblings and the concern of her former mentor allowing Orangestar to cotton on. Was Leopardcloud watching them now? Gleeful that her other kit had returned home? Orangestar spares a skyward glance.

"... I will allow you to stay, if you intend to remain in SkyClan." She pre-empts the questioning look from the young she-cat with a twitch of her ears and a meow of, "Blazestar is dead. But there are many of the same cats still here."

ooc ✧ 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦

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•  
• 
  
  ORANGESTAR ✧ she/her, leader of skyclan | nine lives
  " a scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes."
  
  — single ; mentoring springpaw
  — speech is in #E3B2A9
  — tags | art by pin
  

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