- Jun 2, 2023
- 103
- 18
- 18
It's been a long time. Guilt gnaws at the edge of Rumblerain's countenance as they breach familiar scrubland, seasonal changes visible in the dried leaves and coarse grasses that scratch at their short pelt. Despite the exhaustion that drags at their steps, the promise of home keeps them going. Even with the hollow of DuskClan camp looming closer and closer, Rumblerain feels like a piece of them has remained on the far side of the forest with that third blue-jay feather. When they'd left WindClan, chased away with the cats who had become closer than kin, they had been scared and angry.
This time, even with two kits carefully carried between several adults (or occasionally walking on their own, reminding Rumblerain how close to apprenticeship they truly were) and with stories swapped during rest breaks on the way to forge a sense of comradery, Rumblerain feels wretched. They miss Edenberry desperately, and can still feel the apologetic pressure of their nose against their burning muzzle. It's made them quieter than usual, a saddened veneer of detachedness distancing them from the generous pawful of new DuskClanners.
It's only when the patrol breaches the hollow of DuskClan camp and Rumblerain carefully lets Mizzlekit down that they surface from their thoughts, tongue swiping across their maw as if that woul banish the lingering kittypet-scent from their son. No Thriftfeather to greet them is strange, and Rumblerain turns to the others with a nod.
"This is the camp. We'll get some moss so you can make nests after resting, and then pair you all with a mentor. Thank you, again." Some faint approximation of a smile touches their maw, though it doesn't reach tired eyes.
This time, even with two kits carefully carried between several adults (or occasionally walking on their own, reminding Rumblerain how close to apprenticeship they truly were) and with stories swapped during rest breaks on the way to forge a sense of comradery, Rumblerain feels wretched. They miss Edenberry desperately, and can still feel the apologetic pressure of their nose against their burning muzzle. It's made them quieter than usual, a saddened veneer of detachedness distancing them from the generous pawful of new DuskClanners.
It's only when the patrol breaches the hollow of DuskClan camp and Rumblerain carefully lets Mizzlekit down that they surface from their thoughts, tongue swiping across their maw as if that woul banish the lingering kittypet-scent from their son. No Thriftfeather to greet them is strange, and Rumblerain turns to the others with a nod.
"This is the camp. We'll get some moss so you can make nests after resting, and then pair you all with a mentor. Thank you, again." Some faint approximation of a smile touches their maw, though it doesn't reach tired eyes.
-
// a bit retro! this takes place september 20, but still nearly a half moon after thriftfeather vanished</3 oops
@hollowcreek @Mizzlekit @arethusakit @vixen @Coyote. @shrike @Viper but no need to wait! -
[ art by antiigone ] -
RUMBLERAIN ✧ they/them, leader of duskclan
— "a lanky, scruffy seal and white point with blue eyes."
— single ;
— speech is in #858AC0
— tags | penned by mercibun, contact on discord for plots.