lost and never found ;; windclan patrol.

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♚ She never really enjoyed the boring patrols alongside the Thunderpath; in reality, they were always uneventful. They would remain on their specific sides of the border, respectfully watching from the distance. But something felt eerie as Hyacinthbreath pushed through the snow, exhausted eyes looking around for the ShadowClan cats. The fog in the air made it hard to see over the Thunderpath.

"Mark the borders so we can get this over with." She mutters softly to the patrol, keeping her eye on the swampy forest across the disgusting-scented Thunderpath. "Coyotepaw.. This is the Thunderpath, it's dangerous to cross. Across it is ShadowClan's territory. Our ally." She introduces this to the tom, knowing he hadn't been to this side of the border yet. After all, it was never easy to work up the courage to go if you feared the roaring monsters that stormed past.

@spiritpaw @Coyotepaw @GHOSTSTRIKE
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I won't apologize for being who I am
The thick blanket of fog that enveloped them was denser than anything he'd ever seen within his short lifetime. Had he not remained somewhat close to those on the patrol he was sure he would have visually lost them. Soon the scent of sodden earth mixed with something unknown reached his nares, causing the boy to flatten his ears against his head. Just as Coyote began mulling over the possibilities Hyacinthbreath spoke up as if she held the power to read minds. Frigid green eyes find the warrior's face through the fog before turning to gaze upon the flat asphalt structure. "Thunderpath huh...?" His voice trails off, dying in his throat as he feigns ignorance. He'd seen one before, back when Blazestar had Thistleback, himself, and a few others traverse through twoleg place to speak with some rogue and his band. The memory of the skyclanners threatened to cause a frown to manifest upon his lips, something he so desperately wanted to avoid. The time for mourning was certainly not now where he could be seen. Masking the emotion by flattening his ears and seeming cautiously annoyed with the path he followed up with a question. "What makes it so dangerous to cross?"
Tryna throw shade on me say a lot 'bout you
 


It would seem like the black and white apprentice was not having luck with patrols lately. A part of her wonders what keeps drawing her to the border, it certainly wasn’t a desire to socialize. It wasn’t where her mother was buried, where her body laid, but the thunder path had marked a pivitol point in her life that, when Starlingpaw thinks back to it, she can mark the exact moment when everything changed. Briarstar dead. Slitherpaw gone. Her siblings, each of them mourning quietly, separated. Her aunt and brother, changed. And Starlingpaw? She is unsure how the whole ordeal has changed her, she just knows it has.

She had been searching for herbs when her paws guided her here, like they usually did, unbidden. Like she was walking through a haze. Voices snap her out of her quiet contemplations and she looks up at the Wind Clan patrol. "Gr-greet-greeetiiiings" she calls across the black road. It was quiet, for now, but Starlingpaw knows how quickly that can change. "L-lot-ll-loooots of lots of c-c-cats ha-have d-d-d-diiied here" she explains to the other apprentice when he probes his mentor about why the thunder path was so dangerous. "M-monsters c-c-cooome and and th-t-they they kill they kill t-the-e-emm" she tells him gently. "J-jus-just as-ask just ask Sl-s-s-sliiitherpaw he knows" This last sentence is spoken almost angrily, her eyes narrowed as she thinks of the sibling who had run off without a word to any of them, leading them to all think he was dead. She would never forgive his abandonment. "Hows uhm h-how’s d-daaaaa- dandelionwish?" she asks, inquiring about the young medicine cat that she knows lives on the moors. She would really like to ask about her brother, but she cannot bring herself to do it. She would find out at the next gathering she thinks bitterly.

 
pitchstar hates the thunderpath. the stench that burns his nose and throat, the roaring of the monsters as they pass, and the memories of his mother dying nine times over at his paws. if he looks too long at the asphalt, he swears he could still see her blood soaking its surface. if he had it his way, the rosette tabby would never set foot near the thunderpath again. but his baby sister, his dear starlingpaw, she's ventured to its treacherous border once again. and pitchstar follows her scent trail, determination to keep her safe outweighing his sheer hatred of the place.

he catches up with her just in time to see the windclan patrol materializing from the fog. just in time to hear the tail-end of the young one's questions. pitchstar crows a bitter laugh. "what makes it so dangerous? strippin' a leader of all nine lives at once, that's what." he narrows his eyes at the foolish apprentice, as if appraising his chances of survival after such a stupid question. they're slim, if he keeps that mindset. "if you want to become nothing more than a memory, flattened beneath the paws of a monster, though... be our guest. but we won't be the ones to scrape up what remains of you."
 
fuck. they walked behind starlingpaw and pitchstar, roughly nudging pitchstar with a look on their face that practically said "shut the fuck up" in the most respectful way. he was, after all, still their leader.

"it just is. monsters don't have any mercy so just keep off it."

no need to traumautize anyone any further by bringing back those memories. it made them sick, and for a moment they swore they could feel their body shaking. it makes them nausous to think about briarstar's body... there was so much screaming. why was there so much screaming– and the blood. swallowing thickly, they only took in another breath, and turning away. they stepped closed to starlingpaw as well, absentmindedly that she was within their reach had anything happened.

"easy, star. we need you safe, okay?"

they worried about being so close to this damned thunderpath but they couldn't be scared forever.

[ NOBODY ELSE MATTERS, GIRL ]
 
Today was the first time that Spirit had experienced jealousy and of course it had to be directed towards a clanmate as Hyacinth takes her attention off her and puts it on Coyote. She huffs in quite the childish way but she remains quiet, embarrassment prickling at her chest as she begins to lag behind (and so she decides to talk to the only other adult in the group). "Do you think-"

And then shes cut off by Pitchstar or whatever his name was talking. Fuck! Do all Shadowclanners have a stick shoved so far up their ass too? What a dreary way to live. She puffs out a breath and flattens her ears, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Shes not sure why shes in such a foul mood today, perhaps because she still cant get the scent of the blood out of her mind, perhaps its because she had been practically drenched in it by the time she got to camp- she shudders.

"As I was saying, you think that if we chased a rabbit here it'd still be good to eat?" her question is quiet as its directed towards Ghost, a small smirk lop siding her lips. "Or, or maybe like, we could uh, hm..." oh well! She lost her train of thought.
"speech"​
 


From his ever-sceptical perspective, the confederacy between Pitchstar and Sootstar is but a product of the two cats' inflated opinions of themselves. It held no ground in the material realm, and did not exist beyond word of mouth. One needn't be an expert on inter-clan diplomacy to recognise this - not once has ShadowClan requested assistance from their ally to support the clan through its prey shortage, and in turn WindClan has never sought help for their militaristic endeavours. Watching on as his leader chastises a foreign apprentice only cements his misgivings.

As Smogmaw approaches the border, he finds himself caught at a crossroads. Does he attempt to salvage communications between the clans, or shall he capitalise on the tension and live life to its fullest? Coming up alongside his deputy, the mackerel tabby decides to do a bit of both.

"Come on, now - let us at least show our allies due regard," the warrior suggests, just loud enough for those along the other side of the thunderpath to hear. He dips his head in greeting to Hyacinthbreath, whom he recognises from the totally-not-for-show ShadowWind feast. "A monster hit a deer off the thunderpath recently," continues Smogmaw, more-so directed towards the WindClan cats as he builds off the friendly dialogue started by Starlingpaw. "Flew right onto our territory. We took it back to camp and had quite the meal."

He casts a catatonic glance to his leader. "Should the same thing happen to a WindClan cat, do we have to return it? Or can we take that back to camp, too?"

 
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♚ Hyacinthbreath finds no amusement in the way Coyotepaw asks why the Thunderpath was dangerous. Chilledgaze gives the exact answer she would have, and the silvery molly tips her head in thanks to the Deputy. "What he said." She simply returns, violet-tinted eyes glancing back at her apprentice when she speaks of something about chasing a rabbit, only to trail off in her distraction. It doesn't take a genius to know that she's pouting, and Hyacinth flicks her tail to her apprentice to ask her to come stand beside her. The stuttering apprentice asks a question about Dandelionwish, and she winces internally. The poor kid, having to deal with everything alone..

"He's just fine." She quips, a woman of few words in these moments. "Busy." She adds, before her attention is stolen by Pitchstar's arrival himself. She's still bitter about his treatment of Yewberry, from what the lilac tom had told him. It was supposed to be a feast where everyone shared meals together, and yet Pitchstar had a stick shoved so far up his ass that it made her want to yank it out. Guts and all. "May she rest in peace, Briarstar." She gives her own sincere attention to the mention of their last leader's death. If Briarstar could lose all nine lives at once, Sootstar wasn't immortal then, was she? She shoves the thought down, eyes trailing over to the last tom that arrived.

A monster hit a deer off the thunderpath recently, flew right onto our territory. We took it back to camp and had quite the meal. "StarClan blessed you with such a wonderful catch? I'm surprised." The tiny molly remarks, not impressed with the tom. Perhaps he was lying to make his clan seem special or something, but he was talking out of his ass for all she knew. She rolls her eyes as he turns to his leader to speak again. Should the same thing happen to a WindClan cat, do we have to return it? Or can we take that back to camp, too? Hyacinth snorts audibly, shaking her head. Finding amusement in that, now, was a dark discovery. "If they're dead, sure. If you fancy the taste of cat." She retorts with a visible grimace of disgust, fluffing out her fur in the cold winds.

Once they had finished up the rest of the border marking, Hyacinthbreath didn't take much longer staying in place. She begins to walk alongside the Thunderpath, making her trip down the border to mark further down. The sooner they could get this done and over with, the better. She had no time for could-be cannibals.​
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As odd as it may have sounded, Ghost had never marked a border himself before. Back int he Coalition, cats like him -soldiers- were sent ahead of the actual patrols to chase off any stray mutts that might be in the area. After locking the border down and making sure it was safe, only then would the border patrol arrive to mark the boundaries. Typical clan affairs hadn't been his business, though. Soldiers like him hadn't been considered part of the actual coalition, expected to die young on the frontline to some stray dog or rogue cat. Hunting was probably the only skill they were taught outside of warfare, and that was only to that they could add to the meager food piles should the oppurtunity to do so arise.

It was only Ghoststrike, a shecat called Hyacinthbreath, and two apprentices that had been sent to deal with the Shadowclan border, a much smaller group than he was used to, be he figured there were probably reasons for that. Tension must not be as high between his group and Shadowclan, otherwise he can't imagine the Deputy would have assigned only a rogue and two children to this females patrol. Granted, Ghost could well take care of himself, but Spiritpaw and Coyotepaw?

Ears twitched, swiveling toward the apprentice as she spoke to him. One of the shadowclanners tossed in their two cents, but Ghost wasn't really in the mood to socialize with these cats- not the ones on the other side of the road, at least.

"Depends on how the prey is hit." he replied as his dark gaze shifted to Spiritpaw, voice gruff but tone neutral. "Usually its fine to eat afterward, but if it's hit by one of its feet - those spinnin' black things- sometimes the prey gets destroyed. Nothing but gore that you couldn't carry back to camp if you tried." he explained.

Some animals were only struck by the front or knocked by the undercarriage of the car and were left in one piece, good to eat. Others? They were flattened and torn apart, insides becoming outsides as they were crushed beyond anything salvageable. "In which case, it sounds like our friends across the road might be happy to lick the ground clean." a flash of cold amusement behind dark eyes. If they'd drag another cat off to eat, he was sure licking the pavement clean wasn't far off. Then again they did look lean, and survival was survival.

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rogue - male - 25 months - single - a very tall, muscular tabby with dark gray fur and white markings. heavily scarred with dark amber eyes

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