Overrun, run-amuck; the camp now teemed with the swarm brought my new-leaf. Rolling bundles, fool-hardy words and dull sense, the locusts who follows the so-called deputy were unrelenting, a force to be reckoned with crashing into whatever they pleased, its a wonder a single one of them hasn't ended up with pulled teeth and broken bones.

A sigh flows out of him, whispy and soft, smooth as morning mist. The chill has been slowly settling over the pine forest, fogged cloud of new air descending slow. It's scent is potent, the air before it begins to snow. Yes - he better take care before vapor can settle over their skies.

They're singing ♪ There's that gentle buzz, child's song heavy in the air. Ringing of bells, flowing sky... A yawn leaves his lazy maw. Pink tongue curls with the exhale of breath. A patient paw raps soft against the ground, gentle vibration sends warmth into the air. "Check-ups... Check-up-s ♪” he announces, sing-song. "Check on the many before they become... water-bug-s ♪ Keep your skull attached to your spine...” It's a gentle warning, made with eyes fluttered shut and ears assunder.

How nice it might have been for Twitchkit to have been resting at the time, but... no. He was out and about again, finding 'better moss' for the 'lumpy' nest that his father had complained about that morning. So on his short-lived journey he would go, until a melodic voice caught his attention.

Ah- there,dark against pale morning sky, slender paw tip-tapping on the ground in lockstep with his song. Green eyes flickered to befall their medicine cat- Dawnglare was his name, a tom who often spoke in flowery, confusing metaphors that reminded Twitch all too well of the way his father often spoke to his mother. Describing her as night-flecked and fire-eyed, honey from her maw and gaze- it was sickening. It was always sickening, even when it was coming out of someone else's mouth.

But... the tone was different, with Dawnglare. It was songlike instead of sappy, the ballad of a bird chirping a wind chime tune in the morning. It was... nice. Check ups, he announced, and Twitchkit paused in pondering of what exactly that meant. An internal question that needed not be asked before it was answered, as swiftly and gracefully as the nightmares he had about some great beast tearing his leg right out of its socket. Keep your skull attached to your spine.

So, what- if he didn't do these... check-ups, his head would roll right off? Well, what was the point of worrying about these beasts of the forest when it was just going to happen anyway without preventative measures? What had he been doing all his life instead of these checkups, just milling around doing odd jobs for his family instead of ensuring that one day his head wouldn't roll off of his shoulders? He was going to die, he was going to die if he didn't partake! But he didn't even know what it meant!

Racing thoughts translated to Twitchkit's motionless stare, moon-wide with indescribable horror and paranoid possibilities. Slack-jawed, he noticed not how his pupils burned right through Dawnglare's flesh, gaze faraway filled with images of terrible, preventable disaster.
penned by pin ✧
the rhymes were short and strange- intriguing …. waterbugs, The black and white feline halts in his sluggish footfalls toward the edge of camp- his sights set on a resting spot but tugged onto the singsong tune of the medicine cat. Lightly morbid was his phrasing-

A familiar child with chocolate fur seemed stilled by the words- frozen in place and practically stiff like a corpse.

" you’re scaring the children, lad " his voice was wiggly with light sarcasm and a chiseled grin. He approaches the large feline who wears the scent of herb. Nose crinkling with the herbal invasion of his senses. Ugh, how could one be okay with such an overwhelming smell. Little known to him, he perfumes the area with his own stench of metal and burning rubber.

" I live near rubbish- at the twolegplace. sharp rubbish. My paws…." Thistleback wasn’t used to asking for help in any fashion so all he could do was lift a sore black cracked and lightly cut pad. " they sting… " he mutters with a rasped meow.

Check-ups are a good idea, in theory, Blazestar thinks. Oftentimes the warriors don't pay attention to themselves, preoccupied with hunting and patrolling and tending to their mates or kits. He feels a swell of pride as his friend announces -- albeit strangely and spookily -- that it's time for cats to come get checkups.

Twitchkit gives Dawnglare a look like the cinnamon tom is coming for him with outstretched claws. Sheer panic.

Meanwhile, Thistleback limps over, explaining he needs his paw pads checked. Blazestar nods. "Can't do anything if your pads aren't in good shape," he notes.

He finds Twitchkit's panicked gaze again, then searches for Daisyflight's litter. He announces: "All kits should come for check-ups!" He assumes his deputy won't like that, but Blazestar doesn't want to foster the culture in SkyClan where all the young ones are terrified of Dawnglare. It's not good for them; eventually, they'll be warriors like Thistleback, with stinging paw pads and wounds, and they need to feel comfortable getting things looked at.

A sneeze suddenly ignites from the silver tabby woman as she makes her way over. The molly has always been sickly, she doesn't eat a lot which is highly noticeable because of her too think frame. She's coughed up blood before, she's had nosebleeds but she's never been the type to let that get her down. Nor does she let fatigue stop her when she wants to get up and go. Moving is her saving grace or at least that is what she likes to think and she wanders over after hearing Dawnglare's rather ominous take on these check ups. Shifting her ears back her muzzle scrunches up a bit as she settles down near Thistleback only to glance at his paw pad as if she even knows what to do. Maybe he should stop walking around in the rubbish all the time and save himself the pain of it. She doubts there is anything worth looking at around there anyway. Flicking her amber gaze away she looks at the medicine cat, frowning just slightly before she shrugs her narrow shoulders. "You can take a look at me I guess."

Seeing the kit who looks like they might just run off she winces a little and tries to think of something to say to sooth the child's nerves. "He doesn't actually mean your head will fall off, Twitchkit. Dawn is just being a bit extra today. Getting a check up is good for you though to make sure you are as healthy as you can me."


Greenkit's naps are few and far between. He'd rather be out exploring the camp instead, finding all sorts of bugs and sticks and leaves. But, today he naps, the exhaustion of a long day of exploring having lulled him to a peaceful slumber.

That is, until Blazestar's voice rings through the camp, announcing something dreadful:

All kits should come for check-ups.

Tired green eyes open, peering out the nursery entrance. Had he heard correctly? Check-ups? Surely he didn't. Check-ups meant visiting Dawnglare, and his mother wouldn't approve of such.

But, it's Blazestar that says this, and, even though Daisyflight is his mother - even though she's deputy - he's sure the leader's words are what he's meant to follow, at the end of the day. So the ginger tom stands, cautiously padding over to Dawnglare, to Blazestar, and those arriving for check-ups.

"Do I have to...?" he asks Blazestar with a whine in his voice. He realizes that Drizzlethroat is among those getting checked by Dawnglare, and Greenkit thinks that she doesn't look like she's feeling good. Maybe Dawnglare will be too busy with her to do his check up?
Last edited: