camp IT WOULD APPEAR SO —⟢ DIGGING

[BILBERRYPAW]

It starts something like this:

Bilberrykit likes to pounce. It isn’t an unusual thing to see a kit who likes to pounce—on tails or passing paws, on shadows of overhead birds too high to be seen, on nothing at all. It isn’t even unusual for such an action to be accompanied by shouts of killed you! or by the sort of tittering giggles that can only come from a kit who believes themself to be, possibly, the sneakiest and best pouncer in WindClan. Pouncing, for a kit, tends to be a far louder experience than the kit believes it to be.

It is a concerning thing then, when one walks on Bilberrykit’s hunting grounds, there is silence.

Bilberrykit has discovered a new, singular focus. His paws work into the sand with a speed that would make a rabbit jealous. Despite this, the resulting hole grows only incrementally—sand, as it would seem, likes to find holes dug and fill them in by way of shifting. It makes the size of the hole (large enough to fit Bilberrykit’s head as long as he presses his nose directly to the bottom—he knows, he’s checked!) all the more impressive.

Somewhere in the middle was something like this:

Bilberrykit had pounced on nothing. The force of it had sunk his paws into the sand. He had laughed at first, had started to move, and then he had heard the subtle sound—paw on sand, sand on sand. There isn’t a thought in that moment, no what it? that spurs him into motion. There is, at most, the thin start of a wondering that is immediately nipped by the abrupt beginning of Bilberrykit’s brand new project.

Now, it is Bilberrykit and it is his hole, expanding only slightly faster than it is collapsing in on itself, and the accompanying silence that can only come from someone, for the first time in their life, having a narrow focus. ​

on mobile! | windclan kit | black and white harlequin | four moons | tags​

 

[SCORCHSTAR]

༄༄ The clan’s youngest are normally not of interest to Scorchstreak. Kits easily become obstacles underfoot, and the deputy has better things to do than to entertain any of their games. Still, any time spent in camp is time spent in the vicinity of childlike games and haphazard fun; the calico is resting up for her self-appointed nighttime duties when she finds her attention drawn toward one such activity. A fiery gaze shifts in the direction of a kit’s figure, one who seems to be digging a hole to nowhere.

Striding over to stand nearby Bilberrykit, she watches silently for a moment before speaking up. "You would make for a fine tunneler," she states simply, golden eyes tracking each of the kit’s movements. She watches grains of sand trickle down into the hole, then be flung back out again by tiny kit paws, and something in her chest aches. She thinks of Luckypaw, and how she will only ever see him at the far edge of WindClan’s territory. Still, the deputy can see a tunneler’s future in the black and white kit. Hopefully in a few short months the clan will have another tunneler in training. "Although I would advise against digging in something as flimsy as sand. Dirt would prove easier to dig into." Perhaps it is better for the kit to dig into the sand, though, she thinks. Filling in the hole afterward will be more simple in sand than dirt.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ she’s a growing bed of thorns

• ooc: —
• 
  SCORCHSTREAK ❯❯ she/they, deputy (tunneler) of windclan
  ༄ small, slim flame-streaked calico with fiery golden eyes. stoic and shrewd, but clearly cares deeply for her clan.
  ༄ mate to bluepool ; sibling to rattleheart & rabbitclaw
  ༄ mentor to pinkpaw
  ༄ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ༄ penned by foxlore

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[Periwinklebreeze.]

PLAY US LIKE PAWNS AND RELENTLESSLY CONFINE
INTO LIVING UP TO GENDER ROLES AND HAVING ABSENT MINDS ​

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periwinklebreeze ❀ 22 moons ❀ demi-boy ❀ windclan queen ​

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There is a lingering sense of... awkwardness, that the tom can't quite hide these days when he looks at his kits. They are not his by blood but by choice, and while shades of night paint their pelts in resemblance to his own the differences have only grown clearer. They are small... even for kits. And ow, Bilberrykit is digging.

it's a certainty sort of uncertainty that plagues him - the not knowing, the bad memories that plague him. It's stifling, awkward - he is no tunneler, nor were his kin. Moor runners through and through. And yet, his kits... might not be. It's an uncertain thing, still, and yet some part of him thinks he already knows. Being supportive is the easy choice of course - he could never be anything but - but it is hard to find common ground when he is so clueless. Floundering, uncertain.

What joy could there possibly be in the dirt? A noble role or not, it is foreign to him. And so he hovers on the sidelines at first, listening to Scorchstreak speak a he shifts from paw to paw nervously. " That's, erm- a n-nice hole? " he offers, doing his best to sound encouraging but likely failing thanks to the bewildered tone his voice takes. He just... doesn't get it. What's so fun about dirt?

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

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Don't you think it's funny how they tell us how to live?​

Don't you think it's funny how we're all delinquent kids?​

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[SOOTSPOT]

Memories of youth were rattled within Sootspot's brain, as much as he remembered his mother and his sister, specifics were lost to the titanic breadth of time between now and then. It had always been his destiny to be a tunneler, but aside from stocky legs, had he ever showed the signs of wanting to be one? He tilted his head at the digging kitten, an unfamiliarity to their childish actions that made his heart feel empty from a missed experience. The Deputy was a much-needed distraction. "Scorchstreak..." his tone was as gentle as a dove's coo. "Your intentions are pure, but your vocabulary leaves plenty to be desired. Soil would be easier to dig into, dirt is.. waste." He explained as if the former rogue still held onto her barbaric origins, as if she had not been a clan cat long enough to have learned their terminology. Sootspot smiled and ducked his head away from the Deputy, his attention finding Bilberrykit soon after. Twice now he had used the little one to make another seem bad, the careful chimera felt grateful for the diminished intellect of youth, for they were more unlikely to find patterns of behaviour that the tom was all too aware of.

That's a nice hole, Periwinkle complimented, and feeling his pride as a Tunneler questioned by such a mundane statement, the tom moved forward to inspect just how competent Bilblerry's digging was. Even in the daylight, it was easy to see... flaws in the child's logic - he wasted so much energy trying to displace sand that Sootspot was certain he'd only make a mouselength of progress by the time the moon woke up. There was a painfully sincere sincerity to the disappointed blinks from the emotionally stunted chimera. 'Dear former friend, why must you celebrate mediocrity so? A kitten of mine would never be as sad as this. Perhaps Scorchstreak was right to say he should be digging dirt instead.' It took time to learn and time for a child to develop, time he so readily forgot about when he did not see any for more than a fraction of his time awake. A smile appeared on his muzzle, strained against the desire to show off his knowledge in front of Bilberry. "Keep going and I am certain you shall reach the tunnels," he promised in a raspy voice.
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[BILBERRYPAW]

Bilberrykit perks at Scorchstreak's voice, his sand-crusted nose swinging her way and his busy paws taking a break. The sand, uncaring of Bilberrykit's hard work, shifts a grain at a time back to where it began. Scorchstreak offers both a compliment and advice; Bilberrykit takes both with a small bounce in place and an excited chirp.

"I didn't know different grounds dug different!" His attention returns to the hole as he exclaims—if he leaves it alone for too long, it starts to shrink, "This one is going to be a brand new den for, um, for me to live in. When I'm leader." Grit clings to his edges, caught in his fine fur like gnats in a web, and the intermittent shakes her has been doing have done little to dispel it, "My head already fits so it doesn't need to be all that much bigger."

He doesn't notice the presence of his father until he speaks, as is the intensity that digging has captured his focus. For a moment, Bilberrykit is worried that Periwinklebreeze will tell him that sand is like birds, and that it isn't the kind of thing he is supposed to play with. But instead Periwinklebreeze offers words of wavering encouragement. Bilberrykit gestures for Periwinklebreeze to come near, "You like it? You can live in my den too, but it isn't actually going to be a den so you actually need to keep sleeping in the nursery."

And then it is Sootspot who once again mentions something casually that lights countless questions in Bilberrykit's young mind. He does stop digging then, truly so, to press into Sootspot's space, "I can reach the tunnels!? " He had assumed that beneath sand would be nothing but more sand, and beneath soil would be nothing but soil, and that... "There's tunnel-stuff beneath us? How deep does it—what's under the tunnel-stuff? Can you dig that deep?"​

windclan kit | black and white harlequin | four moons | tags​

 

[SHEEPPAW]

Sheeppaw is awake, why is he awake? He was enjoying a nice nap near the apprentice's den. But he is awake, and that blows all the fun dreaming he did out into the wind! He was splayed out on the dusty ground, enjoying a snooze but he was awakened by several adult voices. He raises to his paws, with a yawn leaving his dark maw.

The young black smoke sleepily drags his paws towards the gathering group of clanmates... standing around a hole? Eh? What's happening here? Charcoal-dusted paws atop long limbs make their way towards the hole with a tilt of his head. Curious. Flicking a large ear towards Scorchstreak and Periwinklebreeze, he peers into the hole a black and white kit was digging into. Bilberrykit! "It looks cool! Buuut, whatcha diggin' a hole for Bilberrykit?" He asks, as he plops himself onto his stomach, his dark forepaws curled under his chest.

He sweeps along the ground with his usual messy tail, while he watches the kit dig his hole. He reaaally wants to join in the hole digging but maybe later. Ears perk and swivel to Sootspot, when the warrior explained different types of dirt. Soil is easier to dig into?! WHAT?! He whips his head around to stare at the tunneler with wide eyes. "Soil is easier to dig? Really? I didn't know you can dig in different grounds!" He is surprised to learn something about digging. He turns his head back to watch Bilberrykit dig his hole, with a beaming smile on his face. Then Sootspot mentions something about reaching the tunnels, he blinks and looks up at the warrior with tilt of his head. "Yeah! Can you reaaally reach the tunnels...?" He agrees with Bilberrykit when the kitten asks Sootspot a flurry of questions. Maybe the tunneler is pulling his tail, he seems like the type of cat who would do that. Suspicious.

FEEL THE LAUGHTER BUILD ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 SLUMBER PARTIES

•  
• no ref yet </3
• ( HEY! WHATCHA GOT? ) ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ SHEEPPAW. ╱ windclan apprentice.
  ✶ amab ; HE / HIM ; 7 MOONS & AGES EVERY 29TH.
  ✶ undecided / not looking / open to puppy-crushes
  ✶ a lanky, longhaired black smoke with high white and blue eyes
  ✶ thoughts ; "Speech, 8E7F7F" ; attacks only
  ✶ may powerplay minor harm ╱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ✶ smells like early morning dew & windblown heather
  — all opinions are ic
  
  → biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by calzone
  

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[SOOTSPOT]

Oh dear, it was talking to him. He blinked down at Bilberrykit, standing as still as a statue, as if certain that the youth would only know he was present if he detected movement. One-off comments were so often shooed away by warriors that Sootspot had not rehearsed a tall tale for a child past its conception. 'I suppose this my penance, for being woefully unprepared.' He straightened his shoulders as he fell back on his haunches. "There are tunnels everywhere in WindClan, some are even kept secret from your father. But yes, there are some beneath us." Sheeppaw joined in then, old enough to know at least something about the tunnels but asking him questions like he was still in the nursery. The fur upon his chest puffed out like a rooster, hairs trying to conceal parts of his scar as if they were the thin fingers on leafbare branches. Just as equally as their naivete sent a bristle down his spine, being the one to give them knowledge felt as if he had ascended to a state of enlightenment. His chartreuse gaze cooly shifted between the pair, counting a total of six questions between them. Only one had been answered so far.

"Should Bilberry keep digging, he will reach the tunnels, yes. They are not so deep as to be impossible for you to find, but deep enough that reaching them may take you some time. I..." He tilted his head. "Yes, I suppose I could dig beneath the tunnels, but it would be pointless; not only would it waste time on valuable projects digging deeper, the soil is firmer, harder to scoop with your claws.... and there are different types of it. Clay is commonplace, sand and gravel too. It is important to make paths using only the best types of soil, none of those I have listed are adequate."


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