camp LEFT BEHIND AFTER THE STORM [wallowing]

[BRANCHPAW]

𓆱 Since the gathering, something has been… off, with Branchpaw. Everything feels hopelessly wrong in a way that he can't describe, and it's noticeable even to the cats he hardly speaks with. He's irritable in a way he's never been before, even snapping at Flintwish a time or two. Is it possible to drown without ever touching a body of water, he wonders, because that's what it feels like every time he looks at one of his older siblings, at his mothers, at everyone who knew and still never did anything simple, like telling him. It weighs on his every step, his every action; it's unbelievably tiring.

It finally comes to a head when he wakes up one morning, his mood stormy on the heels of a dream where a little Branchkit was curled against midnight-black fur, where everything was warm and his older sister was still exactly where she was supposed to be. He tosses and turns in his nest, feeling the catch of moss against his unruly fur. When he gives up and climbs from his nest at last, the spiked mane at his neck is ruffled up so badly that even he can tell how messy it must look. In the cold apprentices' den, he blurts out without preamble: "Splashdance is a stupid name." It's said with feeling, a hiss between clenched teeth. Splashdance. He'd seen her at the gathering talking to Ferndance—he'd wanted to approach her, but he'd ended up settling close enough to listen to their conversation while also staying far enough away to look ignorant.

I hope she drowns in the river, if she loves it so much.

For a moment, he's taken aback by the vitriol, the sting of nettle in his own inner voice. But it's… true. His sister had left, without even saying goodbye to him and Gigglepaw and Morelpaw. She went to RiverClan and now she's pretending to be someone else, and everyone is just okay with that?! He wants to scream. He wants to march across the river himself, just to show up trembling and soaking wet at her doorstep, and then scream in her face. He knows his mentor is lingering somewhere nearby, probably waiting for him to drag himself out of his nest, so he tips his head back to stare in Flintwish's presumed direction. "Ugghhhh…" he groans dramatically (not dramatically at all, he thinks, since the situation absolutely calls for it) and flops onto his side in the dirt. "I don't wanna do—ha—any training today. Can't we just say we're both sick?" He attempts to produce a pathetic-sounding cough, but the laugh that bubbles up in his throat makes it clear just how put-on it is.

archers never make good kings 𖠰𖠰 fly headfirst into everything

• ooc: mentor tag @FLINTWISH but u don't have to wait !
• 
• BRANCHPAW ❯❯ he/him, apprentice of shadowclan
  𖠰 fluffy lilac tabby with white spotting and amber eyes. quiet but cheerful, a natural storyteller.
  𖠰 son of ferndance and needledrift ; brother to bonechill, bloodwing, shadewhisker, snowypaw, gigglepaw, morelpaw
  𖠰 mentored by flintwish
  𖠰 peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  𖠰 penned by foxlore

​

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[Gigglepaw]

Something has been wrong with Branchpaw ever since they'd all returned from the Gathering a moon ago, and Gigglepaw doesn't know what it is. She wants nothing more than to keep her brother company and ask him what's on his mind, but between Leafbare rearing its head sooner than usual - apparently - and Clan duties and watching Flintwish's kits play, she hasn't been able to find the time for her brother, which hurts to realize. As much as she enjoys being an apprentice, there are days like these where Gigglepaw wishes she had the carefree nature of a kit to speak with Branchpaw and Morelpaw as much as she could.

"Who's Splashdance?" Gigglepaw asks, stopping in her tracks from where she was exiting the apprentices' den. If it was some other cat that had gotten Branchpaw down, then Gigglepaw was more than ready to put them back in their place! Before she'd left, Forestshade had instructed her well in the field of combat, and Gigglepaw was confident that she could defend her brother should she be needed. Unlike Branchpaw, Gigglepaw had been preoccupied speaking with a different RiverClanner by the name of Shellpaw at the last Gathering - she hadn't noticed Splashdance at all.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OOC ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ INFO ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• !

• 

• GIGGLEPAW ✩ apprentice of shadowclan, eight moons
  → blinks incessantly & uncontrollably.
  → peaceful and healing powerplay permitted.
  → penned by Archivist → .archivist on discord.

​

 

[MIRESTAR]

"I thought we could do some more battle training today, to keep us warm and active," Mirestar is explaining to Plumpaw, weighing the pros and cons of focusing on each specific skill. Whether Plumpaw intends to join the battle that looms on the horizon or not, it's important to keep one's set of claws sharp and ready. In an ideal world, she would stay safely tucked in camp... but then so would Lilacfur, Mapletuft, Thrasherthroat, and just about every cat of ShadowClan, leaving the battlefield bare.

It is Branchpaw's voice that stops them, courtesy of being close enough to the apprentices' den still, giving them the chance to overhear. They have not heard the name Splashdance spat with so much negativity... perhaps in a naively crafted sense of comfort, Mirestar had thought that particular storm is over. Evidently not.

Mirestar murmurs an excuse me to their apprentice. Flintwish and Gigglepaw are already there — the former no doubt waiting for his apprentice to come, while the latter is spewing confusion. A thorn of guilt pierces their heart; Mirestar had been so focused on keeping Splashdance safe and Ferndance happy that they have failed to consider further effects on their Clanmates. Not everybody is so happy about this choice... and how could they, when their former denmate and family has been made warrior of the rivers, not shadows?

A surprised blink descends upon Gigglepaw's form. "Splashdance is his sister," they murmur, eager to provide context, but near-scared of the possibility that she had not known that for a reason.

"Oh, that cough sounds bad..." Mirestar says with faux-concern. Branchpaw laughs as he fails to fake his evident sickness, so surely, adding a bit of joke couldn't hurt? They look to Flintwish for support- or their thoughts, whichever may come first. "You better ask for some herbs from Marblepaw. They taste so sour and yucky, but it's worth it, isn't it?"

@plumpaw

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[Needledrift]

☾ White-hot alarm rippled down Needledrift's spine: Splashdance is his sister. Your sister, is the implicit continuation that Mirestar forgets, but Needledrift doesn't. It is physically impossible to do so, a brandished scar on her psyche that dug itself deeper with every reminder: your daughter isn't dead, but you can not reach her any more easily than if she were.

Annoyance flashes in her green eyes, an abnormal emotion to be displayed on her typically pleasant face, that mother's annoyance typically reserved for teenagers cursing around their children. Splashdance was an awful curse to Needledrift's little ears, a curse that she and Ferndance had not had the ability to address yet. "Splashdance.... is a RiverClan warrior now. But she was... is your... sister." Your dead sister. My daughter. My Snowypaw. ​

 

[plumpaw]

Plumpaw listens intently, her eyes widening with a mix of curiosity and discomfort as Branchpaw's bitter tone fills the air. Her ears twitch when he practically spits out Splashdance, a name she recognizes vaguely but doesn't fully understand the weight of. She's heard murmurs about the Gathering, caught hints of tension since then, but Branchpaw's anger takes her off guard. It's raw, almost like a wound left open too long. Plumpaw feels a pang of sympathy—it's clear his frustration runs deeper than an apprentice squabble, and she can sense his pain, even if she doesn't quite understand the reasons behind it. When Mirestar excuses themself to check on the apprentices, Plumpaw nods, watching her mentor as they move toward Branchpaw, Gigglepaw, and Flintwish. She finds herself lingering nearby, torn between wanting to offer support and respecting Branchpaw's privacy. Family is everything to most cats, and Plumpaw can only imagine the ache Branchpaw must feel, like a part of his heart is just… missing. He's lost his sister to RiverClan, and that's a sting that doesn't fade quickly, if ever.

Gigglepaw's innocent question brings Plumpaw a flicker of amusement. But Gigglepaw's confusion just highlights how different each apprentice's experience is. Plumpaw knows that loyalty to ShadowClan comes first, but she can't help but wonder how Branchpaw feels when he looks at the river, knowing that part of his family now lives beyond its shimmering waters. As Mirestar tries to lighten the mood with a jest about herbs, Plumpaw watches Branchpaw's reaction closely, hoping it might ease the tension. Needledrift's soft yet strained voice only adds to the weight that sits in the air. She shifts on her paws as she realizes the sorrow embedded in those words—Needledrift lost her daughter, too, in a way. The pain is shared, but it's also isolating, each cat bearing it differently.

In this moment, Plumpaw feels a surge of protectiveness for her Clanmates. ShadowClan stands together, through greenleaf and leafbare, triumph and tragedy. But as Branchpaw's grief reverberates around her, she realizes that not all battles can be fought with claws. Some wars are internal, bitter struggles against loss, betrayal, and anger. Taking a quiet breath, Plumpaw steps forward, her voice calm but firm. "Maybe training will help," she murmurs. "You could join Mirestar and I for a bit, if they're okay with it." She hopes he agrees, hopes it may be the smallest balm on his wounds.​