IT'S ALL GRAND (forest) AND IT'S ALL GREEN!

[STORMYWING]

☁︎

For a half-moon, the travelers had been living in the mountains, and it all comes to an end now. But they all know well and good they cannot return home the way they came. The ravine is unpassable after the rockslide, and beyond that, they'd traveled for so long underground they'd have no way of knowing what conditions the land above is. They must find a new way.

With their goal secured in their jaws and on frozen paws, they continue through the alpine world until rocks slowly give way to freezing soil and patches of foliage. The snow, once plentiful and thick, becomes scattered and patchy. Pines and spruces no longer sprinkle the land; they've been replaced by towering oaks and sycamores and birches. The ground is blanketed in familiar ferns and bracken which only light up the tabby's eyes further. Little Wolf would've loved this, She realizes with a pang, but she cannot bring herself down now. She knows her clanmate would want them to continue on with ferocity and optimism, holding her memory close but not daring to let it hinder them.

"This is like our territory back home," She comments, eyes shining as she looks around. Her golden eyes flick to the side at the cat walking next to her as she grins. "We made it out of the mountains!" This has to be the best news ever, right? They have the cure, they made it out of the mountains...now they're on the path home. Hang on, Cloudyfur. I'm so close! Re-energized, the compact warrior pushes forward with a new burst of speed, strides becoming swifter as she pushes through the undergrowth. The smells of the forest bathe her in familiarity, something she basks in with a content sigh. If the rest of the journey is like this, it should be smooth sailing for her and her clanmates.

// Others feel free to bring up the fact that the other clans will struggle to hunt!

I WANNA TASTE LOVE AND PAIN ☁︎​

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[batwing]

.i'll be your calm, —————————

————————— before the storm!.

▵ ———————— ◮ ———————— ▵

Batwing thinks he may never forget the snow. He would never forget the way the red coated the snow they rested in, close to Little Wolf's body. He doesn't think he'll forget the dozens of tiny cuts on his paws from shale. He doesn't think he'll forget how cats had fallen into the water and struggled to stay above. The pressure on their shoulders was insurmountable, but they were so close to the finish line. So close. Just a little longer. They had lungwort clasped in their jaws, wrapped in the leaves that Batwing had gone and found. They had survival for their clanmates.

It tasted a bit like hope.

The smell of the forest was like home. His ears slowly perked, green optics widening as he heard Stormywing. It had knocked him out of the depressive swell that threatened to bite down on him, and his vision shifted and turned around. A grin split his muzzle, despite the weariness in his eyes, and he bumped shoulders with Stormywing. "I miss home- but this is a pretty good replacement, for now!" A tiny chuckle left his muzzle, drinking in the air as they kept moving. He dipped and weaved around briars, unfamiliar in their pattern but familiar in how they acted and grew.

They would survive. They'd make it out of the trees and back past the closest mountain to home. They'd make it. They had to, for Little Wolf.

"speech"​

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[Cherryblossom]

Maybe a change of scenery would be good for Cherrypaw. The few leaves of lungwort the others trust her with have long soured in her mouth. She focuses on not biting into them instead of letting her mind wander back to black and red, a task one would think easy enough given what their surroundings were for so long. The mounttains were brilliant and blank, all too willing to be a canvas for a mind worn-out and lonelier than ever. Red leaked from every corner, every shadow, spooling out from the gnarled shade of the trees they sought harder to keep under and winking delicately from the purest patches of snow.

Leaves whisper alive, and branches creak instead of crack. The riot is soothing to her white-weary eyes, a cool and aloe-filled drink to her snow-burnt psyche. Stormywing's shout rises from the other fringe of the crowd, and Batwing's closer voice carries with it a clear undercurrent of relief. "Bet you've never been in a forest this big, right?" she murmurs to @SCORCHPAW , inevitably at her side.

Looking at it for a little longer, she realizes she's never been in such a forest either. Bushes and roots crawl intertwined on the forest floor, long-stemmed plants rising up wherever they part, or perhaps parting them themselves in the forest-wide fight for sunlight. Imagining brushing up against a stray leaf or branch makes her wounds, scabbed over but not yet healed, twinge with anticipated pain. No one else had her wounds though. No one would find another way around just for a reckless SkyClan apprentice.​

 

[FIGFEATHER]

It’s strange to be out in the mountains, at a point it had felt like they’d never leave the rocky climate. This enviorment, though not picture perfect to home, was forested and much more comfortable than moors, rocks and wetlands. Plus the grass and moss underneath her toes felt far better, she takes in a substantial breath before carrying onward at the tail of the group.

ThunderClan is bewitched and rejoices for the scenery, Figfeather supposed this was fairly similar to their forest they had back home. It’d be great and all if the trees were pine and the undergrowth wasn’t so thick… She actually finds herself struggling to push through it as she lifts up her chin and pushes past bracken. ”This would be StarClan if I wasn’t up to my chin in greenery…” Figfeather complains to whoever stands nearby her.​

♡ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Figfeather
  » SkyClan Warrior
  » She/her . AMAB
  » 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 her clan to victory.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Duskpool was glad for the change of scenery, trapped beneath a blanket of frigid snow wasn’t good for the grating and stutter of injuries healed long ago. He breathed, frowning, noting the dense, towering pines with a critical hue. “Might be like home, but some of us will have a difficult time huntin’ in this.” He stated deadpan, pivoting a helm to peer upward, wooly tail flickering. The overshadowing greenery reminded him of the pines back in SkyClan, not nearly as full, but an unlikable comfort to the older warrior.

He breathed, wishing for the scent of overwhelming pine, but came back with the aromatic scent of lungwort resting just beneath his paws, held by large leaves they assembled into something he could easily carry. ​

​

thought speech​

 

[dovethroat.]

Though the mountains are undeniably unpleasant, Dovethroat learned very long ago to keep his mouth shut in regards to complaining about them, and more recently has learned to not even think about how much he wishes he was not up in them. Heights freak him out—the only respite is the seemingly endless empty that pans out before them. In a lot of ways, it's a bit frightening—but Dovethroat really likes the open sky. Especially at night. All that darkness with sprinklings of light; it reminds him of something that makes him feel much more at home.

Camaraderie in the group seems to be improving, at least. Dovethroat had been doing an awful lot of keeping his head low and just doing what he had to do, but he feels more comfortable being around all the other journey-goers by now, at least. Talking is still a bit tricky, but Dovethroat was only ever particularly good at speaking to one person. It wasn't like he was expecting to become a chatterbox with his lovely... SkyClanners. Or something. His gut instinct still tells him he likes SkyClan the most as a concept, but he has little reasoning.

He misses Ravensong, if it was not clear. The angst has not come out of his mouth, and is barely readable on his face. How can he dare to be sad when Little Wolf is gone? A soul he hardly knew, extinguished in the wind. He looks over at Cherrypaw only for a moment, but he practically flinches when he realizes that he is.

"I d-don't know if I'll be able to get much of anything good," he admits. Even in the rivers, he's shown that he can't even fish anymore. The thought of being a burden, especially after such a loss—it makes him feel queasy.

[⋆]​

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[SCORCHSTORM]

Scorchpaw is grateful to finally be out of the mountains. Her close-cropped fur and small frame had not fared well in all of that snow and ice; not only had she frozen her tail off, she almost wonders if she'll ever get feeling in her paws again after trudging through nothing but cold cold cold for days on end. It's a miracle she hadn't gotten sick in the mountains. But the snow gives way to soft grass, and then to softer leaf litter, and she feels each inch of it and is so thankful that she doesn't have to shiver through the night any longer (or, at least, not until leafbare).

The density of the forest is not entirely relieving, though. Although it's definitely preferable to the icy indifference of the mountains, here the trees grow too close together; she can hardly see the sun through their thick canopies of leaves. She's nearly up to her elbows in scrub and brush, and gnarled roots are all too eager to catch her paw at just the right angle to make her trip.

But she's alright. Cherrypaw is at her side (and StarClan does she ache to see the girl's sides; it aches to imagine the grief; it aches to imagine the guilt) and Scorchpaw tells herself she is just grateful to have a friend to walk with. Luckypaw's company was nice and all, and StarClan knew she wouldn't let him out of her sight again– but it's nice when it's just her and Cherrypaw. Bet you've never been in a forest this big, right? Scorchpaw shakes her head. "The biggest forest I've been in is at Fourtrees," she answers, carefully matching her strides to the other molly's. Or, she tries to, anyway. Each overgrown root reaches for her limbs; each bush she passes through seems to catch her fiery fur. Scorchpaw sticks out her tongue, annoyed. "The moors are nicer. It's hard to move around in all of this," she complains, nodding at the crowded green landscape before them.

𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐈 𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐆𝐄 ✧ 𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙇𝙊𝙊𝘿

• 

• 
  
  — scorchkit . scorchpaw
  — she/they ; apprentice of windclan
  — short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — chibi by giinya, signature by raphaelion
  — penned by meghan

​

 

[FERNGILL]

It was some cruel irony that he could be the colour of fire and yet so, so cold. Of course, during a fair number of training sessions Fernpaw had been subjected to swimming in cold water, and when paws mittened with snow it was very much the same sensation. That didn't mean he liked it, though... definitively, Fernpaw had decided he much preferred warm weather. Snow was fun sometimes, but for weeks and weeks straight, sent spinning by cats near-missing being scooped up by eagles... and sometimes not missing, he thought with a pang of sadness... it was nothing compared to lounging by the river, sun glimmering from the ripples.

It was green- swollen with idyll, dark-emerald like scattered seaglass along the shore. Suddenly verdant, and Fernpaw couldn't help but be transfixed for a few moments. Light stammered through the canopy, trying to reach them- a colder sun since they'd left, but the sun all the same. What drew his attention the most was the spools and trails of undergrowth, twigs bearing spines edges and leaves crenate and ready to bite. Fernpaw winced as he felt his pawpad almost stomp on a thorn, jerking his foot away before it embedded itself in his foot and gave him a limp for the rest of the journey home.

Stormywing danced across the forest floor as if it was as flat as any surface, though- so did every Thunderclanner. They looked as comfortable here as the Riverclanners had in the river, as Smogmaw had been in the caves, as the Skyclanners had been when scaling that sheer cliff-face. Hunting troubles passed him by a little- he was more focused on stepping as carefully as he could. "Do you think this means we're almost home?" A bright green eye settled upon Stormywing, his voice spilling over with hope and excitement. If this looked like Thunderclan territory, surely it couldn't be far off by now... ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[Orangestar]

𝐵𝑈𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐴 𝑊𝑂𝑀𝐴𝑁, 𝐵𝑌 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝑁𝐷 ✧ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀

• 
  
  — orangeblossom | tags
  — she/her ; deputy of skyclan, mentoring eveningpaw.
  — scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes.
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — chibi by waluigipinball
  — penned by mercibun. @ me in any official tabbytales discord for plots.
  
  

​

It takes Orangeblossom's eyes a few moments to adjust to the striking verdancy that sprawls out before them, her eyes meeting ferns and bushels that stand proudly at head-height. Above her, the canopy is painted in autumnal shades, enchanting her for a moment, before Fernpaw's meow draws her attention solidly back to the group before them. Why would they be almost home? ThunderClan's territory is surrounded by other Clans in all directions except the unclaimed border, and the mountains had been so far from home ... it's wishful thinking, and she looses a scoff into the air.

Rather than dignifying the fire-furred tomcat with a full response Orangeblossom places her lungwort beside Figfeather, a silent request to keep it close and safe, and moves to the nearest tree. Despite gnarled oak being a vaguely familiar surface Orangeblossom is far more comfortable scaling pines, and the perpetual scowl on her muzzle deepens as she fails to identify good places to latch her claws.

"A lot of the trees don't have good clawholds." She agrees with Duskpool, her ears twitching backwards. On cue, a smattering of birds takes flight far above her head and she regards them briefly with suspicion in her brown eyes. "We might be forced to ground-hunt."

​

 

[Flamewhisker]

It was no secret that they could not return home the way they had came. The rockslide had completely caved in the ravine that they had traveled through on their way to the mountains...she was partially thankful that they didn't have to return that way. Even before the near death experience, the ravine just in general creeped her out. At the time, she had thought the walls that surrounded them had been large, but after actually being to the mountains, everything felt tiny in comparison. The snow and rocks had grown more sparse, until it was eventually replaced with crunchy grass and thick towering trees. Her began to itch, her heart tugging her towards the forest. It's just like at home!

This was the most comfortable she had felt during their journey. She couldn't smell much over the lungwort that was in her jaws, but her mouth watered as she imagined all the prey hiding in the undergrowth. Prey had been scarce in the mountains, and birds the size that she had never imagined had hunted them at all times. It felt like a blessing now to be under the safety of the trees canopy. She closed her eyes, and took in a blissful breath. A small glimmer of hope sparked within her, a faint light beginning to return to her formerly dull gaze. It felt like if she looked out far enough, that maybe her clanmates would appear. I can't wait to get home...

Concerned voices started to stir around her, and she was unwillingly dragged back to reality. 'Some of us will have a difficult time hunting....It's hard to move around in all of this...' Her ear twitched, and she tried to catch the eye of any nearby Thunderclanners. "Our forest back home is no different than this one...Thunderclan can handle the hunting while we are here." ​

★ born to find that great unknown

• ​
• 
  FLAMEWHISKER of THUNDERCLAN
  LH red tabby with low white (masks black tabby, carries dilute, solid)
  — Lead Warrior of Thunderclan ; currently mentoring Acornpaw
  — she/her ; mated with Flycatcher
  — mother to Stormpaw & Falconpaw
  — 25 moons ; ages on the 20th
  — Smells like dirt, old leaves, tree sap, faint hint of flowers
  — will start a fight, will finish fights, will kill (case depending)
  — "speech" ; thoughts ; attacks
  — penned by Icey ! ; link to tags
  — link to toyhouse
  — funny guy art by waluigipinball​

 

[DOEBLAZE]

her jaw is toeing the line of soreness from so firmly clasping her designated bundle of lungwort, but she refuses to loosen her grip. this lungwort, these little plants, means everything to the ailing and hungry clanmates back home. a cat had died for the purple flowers and speckled leaves, and the thought further steels bobbie as she's taken step after frozen step.

finally, blessedly, vast peaks and glittering vistas of snow pocked by pinwheeling shadows wane in favor of rich umber soil and great drifts of undergrowth. towering trees, ripe with leaves and branches and banked by lush and unfamilar undergrowth, guard the skies. bobbie eyes them warily, doubtful of her ability to track down a bird in the mess of scents and sounds and green that must exist up there. fern and bracken tickle at her thin limbs, giving her a faint fright with each motion, and every pawstep only plunges into a riot of undergrowth. sun fights for space through the great canopy and nodding ferns, all of it frighteningly unfamiliar; each inhale brings such a rush of scents that it nearly makes her head spin.

stormywing and batwing voice a nostalgic fondness that initially puzzles bobbie—but she supposes she would act the same if presented with a pleasantly sparse world of pines as opposed to this strange place veiled in dewy ferns and briars ready to snag a pelt. duskpool is quick to express doubts about the feasibility of their hunting here, and she nods an agreement, glancing towards figfeather as she complains about the greenery, which in some places is easily the height of bobbie's own head.

"if only we had some pines," she agrees, and a quick swing of the head reveals only leaves beginning to flame with leaf-fall's blessings. not an unblemished needle of fir or pine in sight, to her dismay, and the undergrowth only seems to grow thicker, "i can barely see the trees to climb them," the tabby remarks wryly, adding, "at least we're out of those stars-forsaken mountains, though."

starclan knows no eagle is hungry enough to try and wing through the racket of lush emerald and amber dripping from every branch and vine. a dusty-pelted riverclanner seems to agree with her clanmates—the water-dwelling cats must be even less familiar with this landscape than bobbie herself, she registers with a jolt. cherrypaw and scorchpaw chat about the unfamiliar green world they've entered, and fernpaw's voice oozes excitement at the prospect of home growing closer. orangeblossom breaks in with her usual practicality, assessing one of the great gnarled oaks.

"that bark looks like it's waiting for someone to wrench a claw," she agrees, moving to stand nearer to the ginger-and-white deputy. the shingled bark lies flatter than pine, offering little resistance for a wary claw, and the cracks that do exist are so twisted she couldn't hope to use them for clawholds. bobbie tilts her head, inhaling but barely catching any prey-scent under all the spicy green undergrowth's smell, and frowns. "if we can find any prey, that is. i can hardly smell the lungwort before my nose in all this, never mind tracking down something."

she blinks at flamewhisker, catching her voice as she asserts that thunderclan will handle the hunting. bobbie nods; she's hardly going to object to that when there's clearly a slim chance of the other clans finding anything in all this greenery. the ginger lead warrior's words confirm bobbie's suspicions; what is a curse to the other clans is, in flamewhisker's forest-green eyes, a waiting bounty.

only the sun has come this close ✿ ( only the sun )

• 

• 

  bobbie ; warrior of skyclan
  x. she/her ; 42 moons ; tags
  x. small, scarred lilac tabby and white she-cat with green eyes
  x. played by dejavu
  bobbie is a kittypet-born skyclan warrior who would die for her clan regardless of whose blood runs through her veins. perpetually self-assessing, she often finds herself short of who she wants to be. skyclan gossip, if it's to be believed, hints at something more than friendship between her and blazestar.

​

 

[STORMYWING]

☁︎

Batwing bumps her shoulder and she is quick to return his gleeful grin. "I'll take it!" She agrees readily with him. This is second best to their home forest and she cannot wait to get her rump up a tree and start flying. She is about to traipse happily into the foliage when she turns around to listen to the complaints other clan cats are making. She quirks a brow judgmentally before remembering that the other clans don't have territories like this. They wouldn't be used to such a thick forest, she realizes as she registers their uncomfortable faces.

But Flamewhisker assures them that ThunderClan can handle the hunting and Stormywing can only agree with a sure nod, eyes glinting with determination. "That's right!" Her chest puffs out, proud to be one of the few sets of paws capable of fulfilling such a task. Bobbie next comments that they may not be able to find any prey and the much younger she-cat flashes her that token smirk, striking a stance that says, Watch me! "Don't worry, we can track anything down in this!"

I WANNA TASTE LOVE AND PAIN ☁︎​

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[nightbird]

they drew upon a forest, one so similar to thunderclan's that it felt as if her clanmates back home were about to burst through the undergrowth to welcome them back. one look over her should was enough to quell that nostalgic feeling.

as happy as she was to be out of the snow, it felt bittersweet. it was one step closer to home, but little wolf lay to rest in those mountains. her family would never see her again, didn't even have the chance to visit her grave. they were all one step closer to breaking that news, the reminder loomed over her head.

of course the other clans had something to say about the terrain. complaints of not being able to hunt, navigate the growth. the worry for how they were to eat, while valid, grated her ears. in her newfound sour mood, she nearly tossed her head to the nearest shadowclanner to remind them that they had no trouble navigating it when they hunted on thunderclan's territory last leaf-bare, but her jaws remained shut.

flamewhisker, in all of her kindness, offered that thunderclan would do the hunting, even though stormywing was quick to pipe up in agreement nightbird remained silent as she moved over to her fellow lead warrior. "we couldn't possibly hunt for them all," she inserted, tail flicking. there were enough cats here to make a whole new clan! there was no way that seven hunters could ever keep them sustained, and even if by some stroke of starclan's luck they did, how much energy would that leave them with to continue?

nightbird didn't know a solution, they didn't have the time to teach everyone to navigate the growth. it was a losing situation, just for thunderclan of course. everyone else would be sitting and preening while they waited for prey to get delivered like elders.

---

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  
  

• 

• NIGHTBIRD ✩ she/her, lead warrior of thunderclan, twenty-six moons
  ⭃ nightbird is a small black smoke molly with pale silver eyes. a loner turned thunderclanner, her loyalty and drive to provide for her clan is unwavering. however, she is not known for harboring a bleeding heart, instead equipped with sarcastically fueled wit, brutal honesty, and a sharply edged tongue.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by vayle ↛ @vayl3 on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[batwing]

.i'll be your calm, —————————

————————— before the storm!.

▵ ———————— ◮ ———————— ▵

A tiny laugh was given back towards Stormywing, but the other cat's words caused his ears to flatten softly and his head to turn towards them. He rumbled quietly, paws ghosting over the ground. Head cocked oddly, turning sideways to look through gorse, briar, fern, and what else tangled their path. Ivy crawled around their paws, softening the ground. And as Flamewhisker spoke, he picked his head up, turning towards their lead warriors.

Lungwort dangled from his jaws as Nightbird spoke back towards Flamewhisker, and he drew closer. Words came across softly insistent. "But we have to try, right?" Batwing said, ears twitched and perked up. "If no one else, then us. And we need all of us to get home, right?" Batwing's head turned towards the crowd, vision searching for Hazecloud. Words he had spoken to her privately- We all need to work together if we're going to make it.

Batwing looked back towards Nightbird. As stupid as he could be sometimes- and admittedly, he did feel guilt over his impulsiveness- he knew that this wasn't without fail. "We'll catch as much as we can when we make camp. We'll be exhausted on the other end of this forest, but we'll all survive." He said, shifting his stance. He had confidence, and so he picked his head up, his chest slightly puffed out and ears standing tall. Tall was a word, after all, considering Batwing's overall size.

"We'll show you guys the best way to navigate the thicker brush." Batwing decided, turning back towards the group. He offered a tiny grin to the troops that marched alongside him, back home to rescue the sick and dying.

"speech"​

​

​

 

[SLATE]

The thick foliage and bushels of warm orange and red are a welcomed sight. Pale snow cover, dull rock faces and inclines, and sparse trees no longer bog his vision. Past events are left behind in the mountains, such as the heart-pounding tussle with the badger and the death of Little Wolf. Now, the group was moving on, lungwort in their jaws and a longing for home in their hearts. Slate was glad to get out of the sickly, stuffy SkyClan camp at first but now he was missing the familiar comfort of his nest... as well as his brother's presence. He silently hopes that he's okay.

The tree cover was familiar, though at the same time, rather overwhelming. Even his clanmates admit to the potential difficulties of navigating this area, even as fellow forest-dwellers. Slate doesn't see the issue in being unable to climb; he's always hunted better on the ground, after all.

His dark nose wrinkles as the ThunderClanners begin volunteering themselves to provide food for the group. Perhaps it was meant to be a nice gesture at first, though Slate quickly concludes that they are insinuating that the other clans couldn't hunt for themselves in this environment. As easy as it sounded, kicking back while the ThunderClanners did all the work, Slate cared way too much about his own pride to do so. Please. How hard could hunting here be?

At least one of the ThunderClanners speaks some sense, suggesting that hunting for the entire group would be a large undertaking. She was right; they all had to be trying to hunt, not just a select few. This was unfamiliar territory, sure, but all cats had basic hunting instincts. They could manage if they at least tried.

The lead warrior snorts, "I think I can manage. I haven't forgotten how to hunt." These cocky ThunderClanners wouldn't get an ego stroke out of him, mark his words. They've already preached about being "saviors" to the other clans. Slate, on the other paw, was determined to prove them wrong. He didn't need a savior.

Healing bite mark on his flank, stubborn as a mule and ever determined to hold his own, Slate turned around and disappeared into the undergrowth to try and find something.

✰ INFO

• // out!
  
• 

  ✰ SLATE
  —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[iciclefang]

◇────────────【☆】★【☆】────────────◇​

XXXXXIciclefang trots alongside Fernpaw and Dovethroat, her expression neutral, devoid of the worry some of the other cats exhibit. Like Slate, she hardly sees the problem—surely the undergrowth couldn’t be too hard to hunt in? The tortoiseshell tastes the air, and though there’s prey-scent, it’s buried beneath a green, wet stench of foliage both fresh and rotting. Leaf-mold, though she can’t identify the stench at first, and other secret, shadowy things buried in brambles and undergrowth. “ThunderClan might as well live in a cave,” she murmurs to her Clanmates. “A green cave, but a cave nonetheless.”

XXXXXShe twitches an ear. There’s the distant sound of prey scuttling about in the undergrowth, but Iciclefang’s paws, while deft on riverbanks and in water, stumble into a thicket that crunches beneath her paws. The shrew beneath the cover of leaves darts away, into the hole of a tree root. Her expression grows annoyed. “So what are the rest of us meant to do while ThunderClan gorges themselves?” Her blue gaze flicks to Stormywing, and though the affection there is apparent, she quickly moves her eyes away. No cat can suspect anything—not that there’s anything to suspect. One stolen night under the moon isn’t exactly a mating proposal, for StarClan’s sake.

─────────​

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[STORMFEATHER]

While she is pleased she is in her element in contrast to the other cats, Stormpaw cannot help but feel reluctance at the idea of being forced to hunt for all the other cats. She narrows her gaze at the RiverClan and SkyClan cats gathered around them. It must be such a difficult, sad life, if they could not hunt in this. While Stormpaw is no good huntress—the forest is where she grew up in and she knew how to maneuver it.

"Other cats could come with us." She suggests with a reluctant flick of her tail. "We can get cats to flush out prey into ThunderClan claws."

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[Mouseflight]

Maneuvering through the thick forest was causing issues for Mouseflight. He was small and found himself having to jump over a lot of the foliage upon the ground for fear of it getting stuck in his fur and causing knots on his stomach. Already he felt leaves and sticks run along his sides and face finally screwed up as he tripped over a root that splayed out before him, ears pinning back for a moment as an annoyed growl left his throat.

"Is this really what ThunderClan is like?" He'd ask as he stopped for a moment to look around them. It was suffocating the amount of trees there were, no way to see the sky above them. "I never realized how thick the trees were from the border." Not that he ever really paid attention at the border save for making sure no ThunderClanners decided to try and drag WindClanners across the border to try and start lies of how horrible WindClan was.

⋆｡°✩ threw my voice into the dark

•  
• 
  ⋆ mousekit - mousepaw - mouseflight
  ⋆ ftm - he/him - 12 moons
  ⋆ bisexual - open to relationship
  ⋆ tunneler of windclan
  ⋆ attack - speech - thought
  ⋆ penned by tikki

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[smogstar]

Snow-sheeted peaks succumb to swathes of verdant woodland. The residual chill in his bones had not lost its lustre, but the tom found he could at least breathe easier in this climate. There's something about the mountains and elevated altitudes that steals the air from one's throat just as it's summoned. Such pressures needn't be fretted over, now. If the shift in scenery holds any weight, it denotes just how close they've come to finishing this little adventure. He can nigh on smell the rot and decay wafting in the air—home rests a few sunrises away.

Smogmaw's rare flicker of optimism sits juxtaposed to newfound concerns among his companions. Having called the prey-scarce marshes his home for the bulk of his days, the tom does not invest worry into what his next meal will look like. If everyone shared similar experiences during their tenures in the caves, he fails to see why there are any qualms whatsoever. "There'll be scraps aplenty in this forest, I'm sure," the tom purports, not stalling in his step as he speaks his piece. "Ought'a find a nice carcass or two, if prey's as rich as they're making it out to be." 'They', in this context, functioning as a denonym for the ThunderClan cats in their midst.

A sidelong glance, albeit fleeting, is cast in Mouseflight's trajectory, and the echo of a sneer manifests in his lips. Those moor-rats were so used to barren wastelands, they'd likely look at a cattail patch as though it were a natural wonder. "You're bound to trip over a root if you keep your head hoisted like that," he comments—just as his chest heaves headlong into a shrub.​

 

[STORMYWING]

☁︎

Nightbird is the first to show reluctance at the idea, and perhaps Stormywing would have dipped her head in embarrassment towards the lead warrior if Batwing hadn't piped up. They can try, and besides, what choice do they have? This is the way home. If the other cats can't hunt, ThunderClan must do it. A SkyClanner insists he can hunt for himself and she rolls her eyes with a smirk. Good! One less cat for us to feed! She thinks, but it's Iciclefang's voice that catches the majority of her attention.

"Don't worry, we'll hunt for everyone. We'll share," She promises with a determined smile, brows furrowing. "Your clans helped us. We're just returning the favor." She hasn't forgotten the RiverClanners holding the bridge tight for cats to cross, nor has she forgotten the cliffside that the SkyClanners guided them up. And they'd all be dead somewhere underground if it weren't for the ShadowClanners.

I WANNA TASTE LOVE AND PAIN ☁︎​

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