just a stomach and a jumble of nerves || thunderpath tunnel

[betonyfrost]

Being back in the musty tunnels beneath the thunderpath brings memories bubbling to the surface of Betonyfrost’s mind. This is the place where her life as she knows it now began. Here, Betonyfrost fell in love. Being here now, Betonyfrost can still smell the mingling scents of charred wood and rain, she can still see dark pillars of smoke rising endlessly into the watching sky. There is a version of herself that lingers down here, young and foolish and folded over herself as if she could ever force herself to be small.

Above her the world rumbles and Betonyfrost doesn’t flinch.

“So much has changed,” Betonyfrost glances to the ceiling — higher than that of the dens she knows, but with the feeling that it will press down on her all the same, “Maybe StarClan is trying to tell us that this is the better camp? It’s shown itself to be safe from both bears and fires.”

It isn’t often that Betonyfrost tries to joke. It sounds strange, even to herself. She sighs as if exasperated by her own attempt.​

shadowclan queen | blue mackerel tabby | 20 moons | tags​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

† So much has changed.

Sharppaw is lying on his side. He spends his time here the same way he had in the camp that didn't keep him up at night. His state as a patient offers him free time that he's both thankful for, and that he despises. He's stuck, really. Laying around does no good for him. Getting out of camp does no good for anyone. He lingers similarly to Betonyfrost, though really, it probably wasn't similar at all. Sharppaw would not pretend that he knew her.

He hums in agreement, though. The marsh moved too quickly and too, too slow at the same time, somehow. The obvious thing was that the roof they now slept under Rumbled and shook. Sharppaw is still thinking about old, stupid things. Her ears dully ring. The roar of the Thunderpath does enough to impede her thoughts, but it never severs them. Like when you try not to think of something, but you know that you still are. He's troubled no matter what, really. What else was new, though?

Sharppaw heaves a loud sigh. He should really get over himself.

A monster crashing over head brings the thought slamming into concrete, but its in tact enough to bother him still. Eyes half - lidded. Sharppaw listens to Betonyfrost instead. (Not really. Not really– was he?) She knows its a joke, but she can't help but grimace, all the same. Bears were what they were, everyone keeps saying. " Bears are... quieter than this, "​

 

[STUMPYSPOTS]

STUMPYSPOTS ♀​ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♡​

”Even so…” A rasp comes from the round she-cat, she laid in the muck and had been listening into the newly blossomed conversation. ”…We may just have to get use to it. I’d rather hear the roars of monsters knowing they won’t stray off their path, than hear the roar of a bear and fret it may enter camp in the midst of the night.” Especially now that it seems their ‘old’ camp was their home now. Betonyfrost may just be right even if she had meant to jest. This was the second time they’ve had to evacuate to the thunder path tunnel in less than twelve moon cycles, maybe this is where ShadowClan was meant to be? The idea weighs down on her heart, underneath the roar of monsters was no place for a cat… but neither was being clamped in between the jaws of bears. If it was one or the other, Stumpyspots knows which she’d be picking.

 

[betonyfrost]

Betonyfrost snorts, humorless, at Sharppaw's words. With a bear about, a complaint about the noise that came with their temporary camp felt laughably trivial. The bear feels far more present than the fire did — looming and dangerous. There hadn't been plumes of smoke to serve as warning when they had wandered into camp. The fear feels more raw, closer to the surface.

"Are they quieter?" Betonyfrost asks it as if she truly doesn't know, head tilted to the side like a listening dog, "They seemed rather loud to me. Maybe you should go up to one and find out. I've found myself rather curious."

Stumpyspots must feel the same way. She doesn't have the same sarcastic bite as Betonyfrost, but Betonyfrost gives her an acknowledging nod all the same.

"This isn't such a terrible place," Betonyfrost continues, more thoughtful than before, "Despite it all, I have good memories down here. There aren't so many places like that."​

shadowclan queen | blue mackerel tabby | 20 moons | tags​

 

[Yarrowpaw]

Yarrowpaw, of course, had no memories of this place. Most of the memories he did have, though - a whole four (nearly five!) moons of them - were colored by the presence (or absence) of this cat: his mother. All his short life, he'd longed to be near Betonyfrost, to spend time with her, to know she loved him and cared for him. He could still remember, vaguely, when he had been young enough to snuggle close to her blue-striped body when the nights were long, cold, and dark. These things had passed away as he aged, and been eliminated entirely with his apprenticeship. Now he spent most of his time with Leafjaw, or huddled in this tunnel. Leafjaw was even less cuddly than Betonyfrost, though, if that was even possible - and, bereft of other options, he returned helplessly to the (unknown, but indisputable) source and (impossible, ill-advised) solution to his neediness. All of this to say, the chocolate tabby immediately sought out Betonyfrost as soon as Leafjaw declared their work done for the moment. Upon finding her, he'd edge as close as he could, offering a timid, hopeful smile to the curly-eared warrior and the two ShadowClanners with her. "I think it should all leave us alone and be quiet." offered the young apprentice with a derisive huff! - Twolegs' monsters or bears or whatever else tried to get in the way, he didn't like it, not one bit of any of it.​

 

[FERNDANCE]

"I've said it before and I'll say it again... Smogmaw's snoring is louder than this." Lost at the outskirts of the territory with WindClan breathing down her neck, Ferndance had not known the reasons why her clan had chosen to hide in the tunnels as opposed to the Carrionplace. The noise was like daily thunder, the conditions dimmer and darker than even the mire she'd come to claim as her home. As she whispered her own statement, veering between truth and jest, it was clear that she wasn't the only one who found an issue with their current accommodation. Sarcasm dripped like leaks from the roof and protest was imminent, despite the clanwide acknowledgment that there was little else in the way of choice. It hadn't been all bad for her though, her tenure in the tunnels would be significantly shorter, and she'd found a friend she'd proclaimed to be her son (if not to get him in the group, then to see the reactions of those around her and revel in the confusion as if it were a feast). Her heartrate normal, and fear pushed to the back of her mind where it would not hurt, the Lead Warrior continued. "The last time I was here, I was running after clanmates that left me behind." She did not speak like it was a bad memory, but... there was a twinge of jealousy in her eyes as she realised she had no such fond memories of the tunnels.

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