camp LACED — frost

[Thriftfeather]

When Thriftpaw wakes, it is to a world that shimmers.

He rises from his nest slowly and casts his gaze about in a way that would come across as startled had he not been sleep-bleary. There isn't a surface untouched; it coats the tall grasses and surrounding gorse. It has even invaded the edges of his tattered nest. Thriftpaw touches his pad uncertainly to it and, when he overturns his paw, finds droplets of cold water soaking into his callouses.

Thriftpaw fully rises with a stretch, his curiosity having overtaken his hesitance. The sky is still a milky off-white; a chill runs down Thriftpaw's spine. It's the heather that joins the gorse surrounding camp that catch Thriftpaw's scrutiny, he squints at them and looks at them from every angle. They appear weighted, but at Thriftpaw's prodding they momentarily shake and then settle once again — just as they always do. Others wake and mill about, seemingly not nearly as interested in the recent development as Thriftpaw is. So it's... normal?

"Is this...." Thriftpaw leans and sniffs the affected heather, then rises with a frown, "Is it snow?"​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 7 MOONS​

 

[BLUEFROST]

When Bluepaw stirs in her nest this silvery-gray dawn, it is cold. She has not felt the cold since she was nursery-bound, but she had all the same. Her mother had nested in snow and ice during her pregnancy, believing it would strengthen the kits within her belly. She’d been born away from camp, under a clear, cold sky, and her earliest memories are of tussling just outside the nursery in melting frost. She had not endured the long leafbare the rest of her Clan had, but she knows about the cold—just a fraction more than Thriftpaw does, it seems.

She rises from her nest, too, following the golden tomcat to where the heather meets the gorse barrier. His tentative paw taps at the foliage. It shines, reflects dull morning light on its near-metallic surface. “It is not.” Her tone is not unkind, for once. She looks at him sniff at the frost-gripped heather with what would be amusement, were she a different sort of cat. “It is frost. It is like snow, but it melts faster and does not stick to the ground.” She turns her gaze to where the sun peeks over the moorland hills. “By sunhigh, all the frost will have melted away.”

ooc ✧ 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝒸𝑒𝒶𝓃'𝓈 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈

•  
•  
• 

  — bluekit . bluepaw
  — she/her, apprentice of windclan
  — bisexual ; single
  — long-haired blue she-cat with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — art by Meg

​

 

[SUNSTAR]

✦　　. 　 ˚　.   Had it truly been so long since WindClan had seen a leafbare? It is strange to think that it creeps up upon them now– that his clanmates had not endured the one that came before; that Thriftpaw did not know the cold the way he did. At times it is an absurdity, the distance between him and those he shares these moors with. They did not come from the mountains with him. They did not wrestle amidst the snow and make carefully crafted dens of it. He asks if this is that, and Sunstride cannot help but grin at the ridiculousness of it all. Bluepaw has beaten him to an explanation, but like an excited kit let loose upon camp for the first time, the deputy utters, "Watch this," and shifts into a crouch. His blood-hot paws press hard against the silver-tipped moorland grasses. When he lifts them, it is to clear pawprints left where he had once been.

"It makes tracking our prey much easier, at least while it lasts. As Bluepaw has said, it will fade quickly once the sun returns in full. Enjoy it while you have the moment." The reminder of their hunts is a grim one for him. His head lifts to scent the air, a low, warm sigh falling off of his tongue. It ghosts away in the cool air. He will gather patrols now. With their bellies rumbling and their borders threatened, it will not be an easy morning. Perhaps the frost will give them luck for now.

𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘐𝘚𝘖𝘕; 𝘚𝘜𝘕-𝘉𝘓𝘖𝘖𝘋 𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌  ╱╱ 9.16.2023 ˊˎ＜

• OOC. —
• ✦　　. 　 ˚　.   FORMERLY SUNNVAR. HE - HIM - HIS OR THEY - THEM. DEPUTY OF WINDCLAN. 4 YEARS OLD. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  —————————
  
  
  ——  a tall auburn tabby with thick fur and bright glacial eyes. sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond it, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of them. he radiates confidence and self-assured authority.
  
  

  ✦ NPC x NPC. DECEASED MOTHER, ESTRANGED FATHER. NO LITTERMATES. MATE TO WOLFSONG. FATHER TO BEARKIT, SINGEDKIT, RIVEKIT, SUNLITKIT, AND FEATHERKIT ——

• "speech"

​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

It would be no surprise that Featherkit was up early- and though the ghost of her frown was etched upon her face, there was an odd, light pondering about her expression. Sun-bright eyes gazed upon the ground as if the frost upon it would twist into a towering beast, or indeed simply spring from its sleep- and she was quite content merely theorising. A voice cut in through the silence, though- narrowed eyes flickered toward the apprentice, instinctive annoyance sparking in his chest. Featherkit was not sure he had wanted to know the answer- everything he had ever learned about the world was violent and strange, and stalked in his infrequent dreams like foxes.

The approach of his father tempered the irritation, though- calmness rolled over him like mist on ice, and he watched the skilful demonstration with fascination aglimmer in his sharp gaze. Not yet comfortable with the sour-green gaze of Bluepaw, unacquainted with her as he was her brother... or, indeed, Thriftpaw's confusion-crumpled face, Featherkit gravitated toward his father.

Without her frown, Featherkit bore a neutral expression of subtle interest. "That's so useful," she observed, clearly having huddled the knowledge close to her heart. Though... still, she addressed her father as if he was the only one there. ​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[Thriftfeather]

Frost, Thriftpaw hears, and feels himself flush at the answer. He knows about frost in the same way he knows about snow: information cobbled together from careless mentions in stories. Frost should have been the obvious first assumption — snow has to fall from the sky, when frost creeps up from the ground. He gives Bluepaw a grateful nod, and then returns his attention to the newly named frost.

"Like dew," He says to himself. It arrives in the night and leaves come midmorning. The last dredges of uncertainty fade and leave Thriftpaw with nothing but his curiosity.

Sunstride's lesson is taken in eagerly. Thriftpaw leans over the impression Sunstride leaves in the frost, and makes a delighted sound when he sees how perfect it is. Tracks over sand and dry soil are never so precise and do not stick without movement to deepen them. "This is my first Leaf-fall," Thriftpaw says like a confession, despite the obvious truth to the statement, "It's... prettier than I thought it would be."

He startles at Featherkit's voice, having not heard his approach, and turns to face Featherkit so quickly that he kicks an arch of sand into the air. Thriftpaw doesn't know what to make of kits, and he knows even less what he is supposed to do with Featherkit's dispassionate observation.

"It could be fun, too," Thriftpaw reminds her, because normally kits should be more concerned about the fun of things than the use of them. He bats at some of the heather in an idle demonstration, "See? It moves differently than it did before. That's —" Thriftpaw drops his paw, "That could be fun."​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 7 MOONS​

 

[VENOMSTRIKE]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ The sight of frost makes the tom wonder how this leaf-bare would treat them and he doubts that it'll be good considering the fact that they had warriors and apprentices missing from their masses. He tries to remain hopeful and a little optimistic, his curiosity causing him to walk over to Thriftpaw and the rest of those that were gathered. He would offer a respectful nod in Sunstride's direction before focusing his gaze on the pawprints that he had left behind, admittedly, it was still pretty cool that they were able to track prey by using it but sadly it was something that didn't last for long. An advantage for those that go on early patrols he supposes and he watches a little body gravitate to the deputy, a small smile forming on his maw. One of Sunstride and Wolfsong's little ones, he has yet to meet them all but hopes to do so at some point. Maybe he'd try catching something and bring it to his friends family.

He watches as Thriftpaw tries to make frost fun for Featherkit and can't help but remain rather amused, it seemed the little kit was more interested in on how useful the frost could be than of how fun it could potentially be. She'd make an interesting apprentice to however ended up receiving her and "Snow might be a bit more fun." He offers quietly.

➷ HELL AND HIGH WATER, TO LAY HERE TOGETHER

• 
  ⁀➷ 44 moons old
  ⁀➷ windclan moor runner
  ⁀➷ bisexual homoromantic; single; padding after rattleheart
  ⁀➷ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ⁀➷ med difficultly in combat; relies on brute strength and his ability to quickly strike
  ⁀➷ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ⁀➷ penned by bosstaurus

​

 

[BLUEFROST]

Her mother's deputy joins Thriftpaw and her, light-colored eyes glazed with memory. Bluepaw had heard he and Wolfsong had been born in the mountains their Clanmates now journey to, far away, hard, and cold. Perhaps the coming leafbare is less of a curse to cats used to worse weather. When Sunstride pulls his paw away from the moorland grass, he leaves a clear pawprint where the frost had melted under the heat of his body. She blinks, her tail swishing idly behind her, as one of Sunstride's kits ventures closer. The little auburn feline says the pawprint in the frost is useful, which causes her amusement to swell.

"It is, but it does mean we can be tracked, too. That, and the prey will begin to burrow deep into the earth soon because of the cold." She has not lived through a full leafbare yet, but she's heard many tales from her fellow tunnelers about how it was them who'd carried WindClan on their backs the first season.

She turns back to Thriftpaw, who says this is his first leaf-fall. Bluepaw regards him through half-lidded green eyes. "It is my first leaf-fall, too," she confesses. Though she sometimes feels so much older than her peers, it is humbling to remember they'd have shared a nursery, had she not been apprenticed already when Thriftpaw had been brought to camp. Case in point—Thriftpaw tries to demonstrate how much fun the frost is to Featherkit, to which Venomstrike says snow would be more fun.

"Perhaps." Fun is not a topic she's well-versed on; even as a kit, she'd never understood her littermates' games. "Snow seems an inconvenience, though."

ooc ✧ 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝒸𝑒𝒶𝓃'𝓈 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈

•  

• 

• 

  — bluekit . bluepaw
  — she/her, apprentice of windclan
  — bisexual ; single
  — long-haired blue she-cat with white and green eyes
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — art by Meg

​

 

[rivewhisper]

"BABY, DON'T YOU KNOW I SUFFER?"​

Rivekit knew it was cold the instant her nose was lifted from her tail in their nest. Her siblings and Wolfsong against her pelt had kept her warm, but rising and breaking away from them was difficult enough. Still, the day yawned wide open, and opportunities were always presented. Her ears perked as she heard conversation, and padded swiftly over to join it, vision cast across the cats there.

Choosing to stand next to her sibling- shoulders bumping- she held her tongue for now. Observing with wide blue eyes, ears perked and unblinking vision a bit eery. "It is pretty." Rivekit murmured after Thriftpaw. Because it was. She wanted to slide through it, fling the frozen water into the air and watch it drift down, glittering and melting in the sun. She was momentarily lost in her daydream until Venomstrike was speaking of snow.

Her fathers had spoken of snow before, of course. Stories age old and lost on Rivekit, but the notion of snow did not go unheard. Her ears perked, turning towards the warrior in earnest. She mostly ignored Bluepaw as she spoke, her body nearby vibrating with excitement. "You've seen snow before? What is it like? I want to see it." Rivekit said, vision shifting towards her father next. "How long do you think it's going to be before it snows?" She asked Sunstride.​

✦ ★ ✦​

 

[breezerunner]

Breezerunner isn't sure if he's stirred first by the frigid air or the morning light. It's refreshing to wake up to a world so crisp, and when he stirs in his nest he's tempted to burrow his face into his paws and tail a little deeper and relish the feeling. There's quiet conversation happening outside though, and Breezerunner finally decides it isn't worth it to try and squeeze out a handful of minutes of rest. When the blue and white tom slips outside, he notices the small group of WindClanners (mostly comprised of apprentices) and moves over to join them quietly.

Unlike many of the other WindClanners here, Breezerunner has already experienced his first colder seasons. Though his time spent in them isn't well-remembered due to his young age, he distinctly remembers all those frosty dawns when he'd wake up to the world encrusted in a sheet of pristine snow and ice. It had been beautiful, no matter how inconvenient it might have been for other reasons. "Snow is pretty, too," Breezerunner comments, as if insinuating that if they thought this was pretty they should wait for the real thing "and it isn't too bad to hunt and track in the snow."

Now that he really thinks about it, Breezerunner had trained to become a moor runner in the dead of bare-leaf. Prey had already been thinned out by the migrations and hibernations, but he frowns a bit to think about that when combined with the current famine. "The tracks last a lot longer in the snow," he adds on, trying to veer his mind away from the worries that are beginning to build in his mind "and tunnelers are always able to help us out with burrowing prey."

​