lost out to a mother long gone ── prompt, open

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 The early sun finds Wolfsong out on the moors. It has left the horizon behind, but the sky still blushes behind a canopy of downy clouds, bellies free from the storm responsible for their swollen river. His gaze is reserved not for the dawn awning above him but the thaw-wet earth. It isn't, he knows, an intentional stacking of small stones. They're haphazard and barely overlap, likely disturbed by the racing paws of several WindClanners at least, or by rabbits, or the tumultuous snow.

But even so, he falls back seasons upon seasons to a day of two eyes and small toes. He was his mother's daughter then, and he has never longed for more than the impossible life where she knew him as her son. She wanted to teach his hasty mind patience, and did so in the clever guise of a game: stacking stones. "Learn the shapes first," he hears her say, and even separated by death and memory, he listens. Wolfsong inspects each stone, some of them smooth and small, others rough and hefty. "Now, think: which stones at the bottom? Is it easier for me to lift you or you to lift me?" He'd vowed that one day he would be strong enough to carry her, but had taken her advice to heart, nudging the heaviest stones for the foundation. The lighter among them follow. "Careful," she says. "It's all right if you have to start over as long as you know why. What went wrong?"

It was heavy on the left. Wolfsong rearranges the stones again, their cold, bitter shells drying his mouth. Occasionally, her voice is there, guiding him as she had that day— or how he imagines she had. It does not escape him that he does not remember what she sounded like. "Yes, good. See? You can listen to me after all."

He steps back and stares at the balanced tower, no taller than the mid-section of his leg. His remaining eye blinks rapidly, feeling not unlike the oncoming blizzard's clouds must have: fit to bursting but brittle.
​

 

[crescentfall]

( ☾⋆ ) the ivory creature rarely found herself strolling the open land of the moors. it made her feel too vulnerable, too exposed. but ever since the snow had briskly melted the tunnels were a nightmare. every time she exited one, the molly turned a different color. the mud was relentless, and she simply wasn't all that enthralled by the idea of grooming for hours to get rid of it.

there was a fuzzy figure in the distance, one that crescentfall had trouble making out despite her closeness to it. she sat and watched while it took objects and moved them, an interesting action. all to the same spot as well. the wind shook her fur lightly as she just stared, sat in complete stillness. cress didn't move until the cat had stopped moving, and looked over their work.

tentative steps approached the figure she now recognized as wolfsong. however, she still had yet to discover what it was they were doing. upon closer inspection, she saw rocks stacked artistically on top of each other to create a rather interesting sculpture. a curious glance up to the tabby's face showed his wistful gaze, only sparking more confusion. she didn't understand why looking at the creation failed to illicit the same response in herself, but then again they were just rocks. "it looks nice, you did a good job," cress hummed, finally breaking the silence. "how did you learn?" she stared at him with a wide gaze, gesturing a small white paw to the pile. useless information, but maybe it would help her pass time until the tunnels dried out a bit more.​

( THE SUN GOES DOWN ; ANOTHER DREAMLESS NIGHT )

 

[WEASELCLAW]

Weaselclaw is enjoying the sunlight, even if it's turned the ground into marshy instability beneath his paws. Running is a haphazard effort, and rabbit-chasing has proven fruitless thus far, but the tabby finds himself enjoying the lack of frost underfoot, the placebo warmth he can feel through his striped pelt, and his mood has lifted considerably.

He can see the careful, precise movements Wolfsong uses to stack the stones, and Weaselclaw frowns. He doesn't understand why the warrior has gone through the trouble. "Won't they just fall down again?" He pads beside Crescentfall, eyeing the formation curiously. "How did you... keep them from just falling already?" His left ear twitches.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[coalfoot]

———————————————【 coalfoot | windclan | male 】——————————————

【◈】While Coalfoot loved to mess with bits and bobs on occasion, sticking them this way and that to discover new ways of orienting them for something interesting to look at, even if it never served a purpose other than to work his mind, he was far from the only cat in WindClan to do so. He had seen Mallowlark doing similar things, even if his choice of medium was... odd.

He wasn't sure if he had ever seen Wolfsong using his paws for such a purpose before. The two-toned tom was out and about, taking in the moor as the snow slowly melted away to once again reveal the hidden earth beneath. He wasn't much of a fan of the mud sticking to his paws and legs, fur plastered to his body uncomfortably, but it wasn't something he couldn't clean off.

It was a trio of Clanmates that he happened to spot, their relaxed stature suggesting that it was not a hunting patrol that brought him closer. Mismatched ears pricked upon spotting the odd formation of stones, only just catching the tail end of Weaselclaw's words. A sparkle of excitement grew in his eyes, Coalfoot sucking in a breath of interest as he drew closer and leaned in, careful not to touch the creation. It seemed so fragile, yet so... sturdy.

After a moment of staring, he pulled in a small gasp, a smile growing on his maw. "Oh!" he exclaimed, looking up at Wolfsong eagerly. "I see what you did! That's amazing! How long did it take you to make this?" Maybe he could try it himself sometime... There were plenty of stones near the RiverClan border.

Lifting a paw to gesture toward the stones, he looked over to Weaselclaw, still grinning. "See, it's kind of like a pile, or a mound, but more... deliberate. Different? The big ones are heavier, so they go on the bottom. If they were on the top, they would fall." It made sense to him, at least. Or was he thinking about it wrong? He would figure it out when he tried it himself.

[penned by its_oliverr].

​

 

[HOUNDTHISTLE]

"YOU'RE NOT A PART TIME GOD"​

Curiosity pulled him forward, watching the only slightly younger cat stack the stones and he came to stand with the others. Similar to Weaselclaw, he doesn't understand why, but he can appreciate the effort. "S'pose it's just neat, y'know? I mean, I can't stack stones like that," Houndthistle said simply, lowering his head further to peer closer at the stones, his whiskers ever so softly brushing the tower of stones, before lifting ever so cautiously as to not disturb them before speaking with a bit more heart, "Knew someone who liked to claw things into the dirt. Pictures, he'd call 'em! Some cats just like doin' strange things. Don' need no rhyme or reason to do em."
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✦ ★ ✦​

 

[Firefang]

Firepaw isn't one to be easily impressed, a byproduct truly of being pushed to do great things function to her mattered more then aesthetics and she truly didn't care much for decorating or playing around. It's something she decides is juvenile and she's certain she's not that she's 9 moons old almost a warrior; she isn't a kit she doesn't have time for playing around yet she finds herself drawn in regardless of her 'disinterest' an excuse always quick to guard her from hypocrisy. Yeah she played in the snow with the other apprentices but she was just tryna' win at that game and also she just wanted them to like her more; no to respect her more and if she didn't spend time with them they'd forget about her until her paws were pummeling them in the next combat training session. Now she's heading towards Wolfsong and his odd little stack of rocks because she knows she will be joining the warriors soon, and also well she didn't mind the tom much he wasn't overbearing and she also didn't need to worry about biting her tongue around him as she needed to do with the other warriors.

She looks nonplussed more confused then anything else, a 'brow' raised as she looks at his creation and then to him. Like her clanmates before her she's got no clue what the point of this thing is. She doesn't get why Coalfoot seems so impressed by it, briefly she shoots a look at the warrior; it really felt like ages since she'd seen him around whilst she wasn\t particularly close to any of the sick she'd wanted nothing more then for them to get better and that's what most of them did. Houndthistle joins in with his own two-cents but it still doesn't make sense to her, it was just rocks nothin' special about them. Unlike those before her she doesn't bite her tongue she decides to ask directly ❝Whats the point of it? Or is it just like what Houndthistle said just somethin' useless, like no 'rhyme or reason to it' whatever he said❞ she means no offense with her blunt words, she's just curious.​

( PLACE ME IN MY CASKET TONIGHT ; BECAUSE IM ALREADY DYING INSIDE )

 

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 He does not allow the melancholia to take deeper root than it already has, bidding his mother's memory farewell with a deep-chested ache. It's not unlike the protest of old wounds when the skies are thick with rain-swollen clouds, and it may stiffen his joints, but he can handle that with more aplomb than he did as a child. So the soft-stepping Crescentfall finds Wolfsong with a gaze less brittle and an easy, friendly smile— though not entirely free of his longing, unfortunately. He dislikes vulnerability before people who aren't Sunstride.

"The stones could not outwit me," he says dryly, and the paler feline's question gives him pause, considering his answer. Ah, but we all came from somewhere, did we not? It is no great secret that I have a mother— evasiveness would only seem strange. So he tells her the truth. "My mother taught me when I was young and impestuous. A lesson in patience— and I think she was also grateful for the respite it gave her."

Finding Weaselclaw's eyes, he inclines his head in acknowledgement and agreement. "They will. But they do not need to last forever." All reigns are short, most of all those that cling too tightly. But his smile remains amiable, one-eyed gaze still open despite what lingers behind, though it brightens with mirth at Coalfoot's exuberant praise.

An excitable thing, isn't he? A sparrow singing among the new leaves. "Not long enough to numb my arse." Chuckling, he gives the small tower a slight nudge. It holds, for he hadn't pressed with very much force. Weaselclaw wonders at the how, but Coalfoot is faster to answer than Wolfsong, and he nods his confirmation. "A steady mouth and paw don't hurt, either, but a clumsy set will."

He watches Houndthistle inspect the small tower, crouching low, though even like this Wolfsong knows he couldn't be mistaken for small. Like Sunstride, the larger WindClanners are oddities themselves. "No rhyme or reason?" The wheat-furred cat echoes, sharply amused now. "You may accuse my stone tower of lacking worth, but it was great use to your mother at the hour of your birth: enduring mistakes." There is your rhyme and reason. And he winks as he grins to prove it's all in good fun, though Hound's reaction is out of his control.

Hopefully that is sufficient for Firepaw as well; he doesn't know that he can explain its uses again while keeping his tongue in check, even for an apprentice. For that same reason, he knocks the tower over with a swipe of his paw. "Who will try next?"
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[Sedgerunner]

"BUT I STILL HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR"​

Striding forth upon amble paws, Sedgerunner has dissappear from the dip within the moorland that was their camp to ease her nerves. The expanse of soft sloping hills; the fragrent, though frost-bitten and wilted from Leaf-Bare, blossoms tickling her nose. It settled the rift within her chest, relinquishing the calamity in her very being as she embraced it's presence. She could not see herself in any other place besides the vast moorland before her. Even through these trying times she still felt the tug in her heart to run through the lengthy blades of grass and Gorse, to be free from looming oaks and pines. It was home.
Along the softened ridges of the moor she spots the familiar mixture of golden fur and darker markings and a collective group that surrounded him as he spoke. She slinks over towards them, curiosity pulls at her chest to see what what happening. Her curiosity fades into puzzlement as she settles beside Firepaw, observing the balanced stones with a quizzical raise of her brow. The way the larger stones beared the smaller stones, their smooth and rigid surfaces collectively working seamlessly together when stacked in correct placements. The moor runner melts into an awe-inspiring state of mind, her mind churning with her own thoughts. Sedgerunner often felt—a bit out of place to say. The stones to her reminded her of WindClan. The large ones at the bottom were the warriors and apprentices, who were the base fundamentals and support. The ones in the middle were the queens, kits, and medicine cat, ones to be protected at all cost and in reward, the others would prosper. Then the one that balanced along the top, is one was the leader and deputy. They kept the balance and led from the front, and with great guidance and care, they kept everyone in line. Their balance depended on the strength of the warriors and the prosperity of medicine and life. If one were to fall, then the whole structure tumbled down into nothing but a crumbled heap.
Sedgerunner sighed, wondering where she fell into place of it all. Of course she was at the base, the warriors, but she felt off-kilter. She was merely small pebble compared to the stoic weight-bearing stones, a thorn in their side it felt like. She didn't have that rigid edge about her, for her surface was too smooth and slippery. She often fell out of her place, tumbling behind the rest but she will still wedge herself in between in order to fit in.

Her mind snaps back into reality when Wolfsong knocks over the neatly stacked stones, a gasp snesking past her tongue. Sedgerunner immediately closes her mouth, with tight lips, looking around st the group before her. "Sorry—" A chirp slips past a taut jaw, worried about the confused glances that would come over her. Her virdian gaze flit to Wolfsong, then to the toppled stone as he asks who wanted a turn to try. "I—I can, unless someone else wants to first. I can go later."
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✦ ★ ✦​

 

[HOUNDTHISTLE]

"YOU'RE NOT A PART TIME GOD"​

Wolfsong's eye on him was met with a similarly hallowed gaze, the older tom's grey ears perking upon his head as he addressed the others. The mere talk of mothers makes his usually vacant yet guarded gaze glaze over with what one would assume is memories, faint, the only things he could piece together were the imprint of milk, but with the scent of milk that every cat knew just as they knew the sky was blue, the grass was green, and birds could fly was the drowning of blood-both memories of motherly figures he's encountered in his life seemed tainted by its presence-and his "brows" furrow slightly. Temptation then comes to just knock down the tower himself and walk off, turn his back on this feeling and this conversation that brought forth such a memory, but he didn't want to be rude. Afterall, nobody so far was rude to him here, he just sat in the background and lurked like a beast, waiting for its owner's command. He patrolled, he hunted, he ate, and he slept, that was what Houndthistle did, but the scars that marred his pelt told that wasn't all he's ever done.

Wolfsong's words pull him back into the moment and the tom's jab seems to sweeten the situation. You may accuse my stone tower of lacking worth, but it was great use to your mother at the hour of your birth: enduring mistakes. And boy, did that bring a laugh from his chest. Deep, an unfamiliar sound that rasped upon his vocal chords-obviously not used in many moons-and barked past his teeth before fizzling into a small cough, giving a nod in agreeance, "Ha! Yeah, yeah yer not wrong there. She'd pro'ly say I got the smarts of a frog and the spirit of a damned stoat." The wink is met with another chuckle and a subtle shake of his head.

He watches the tower tumble, the smallest stone that sat upon the top coming to crash along with the rest of them to the bottom, only the stable foundation remaining in its same spot. Perhaps if he was more insightful and creative, he'd create some elaborate metaphor, but Houndthistle wasn't smart and didn't even bother. Instead he tilted his chin to peer at the smallest stone that had traveled farthest than the others, catapaulted by some force that didn't quite send the others over as far. A sly smile hit his lips as Wolfsong offered his little audience an opportunity to also stack stones and Sedgerunner offered to work with someone else. "I already know I ain't got the patience to do this. But, if I ever get an apprentice, I know what I'mma use as a punishment for em, huh?" He commented, casting a humorous glance to the others in the group.
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✦ ★ ✦​

 

[SUNFLOWERMASK]

( ❁ ) Sunflowerkit is wandering the camp when they hear the cats talking. No one they recognize, so they don't pay it too much mind... But they're so bored, so they eavesdrop a bit. It's far from the first time; the kit is nosier than they seem. What the cats are talking about intrigues them though. It doesn't make much sense. They seem to be talking about something so Sunflowerkit decides to sneak a peak.

They're glad they do.

The stack of stones is nearly as tall as Sunflowerkit themself, small as they are. They're stacked so precisely, largest to smallest, balanced in a way that seems impossible to the kit. But the other cats are saying that the golden tom made this. They feel a bit mesmerized, staring at the stack and then at the tom in wonder. How, they think, but the question's already been asked. (Thankfully. They're not fond of speaking.) So instead they listen intently to Wolfsong's replies, hanging on each word. They like the way he speaks, though it's a bit hard to follow. He seems like he knows a lot. When he nudges the tower, they watch with bated breath, fascination only increasing when it refuses to topple. It's a little bit magical, to the kit.

When Wolfsong knocks the tower over with just a single swipe of his paw, they let out a small gasp, a quiet mirror of Sedgerunner's. Why would he do something like that?

But when he speaks only a moment later, they understand just a bit. He destroyed it so someone else could rebuild it... Strange, but they have to admit they'd like to learn. They dart forward as soon as Wolfsong finishes speaking, catching the smallest stone in their teeth as it slows, the last to stop rolling. They glance at Sedgewhisker as she offers to rebuild it, carrying the small rock back to set it by the base. Well, whether she helps or not, they want to try. They tune out Houndthistle's words (a punishment, as if!), focusing on the task in front of them.

Okay, how was it set up again? They scan the rocks, now scattered. At least the base is still there... They look around, rolling the small stone back and forth with their paw as they think. Biggest at the bottom, smallest at the top. So now they need to find the next biggest? They glance down at the small one, hesitant to leave it behind in case it gets knocked away again. Still, they have to save it for last, so they weave through the fallen rocks, searching until they find a suitably large one. It hasn't gone far. They nudge it with their head until it's right next to the base and just barely magage to fit their jaws around the rock, hefting it up with no small amount of effort, and--

Sunflowerkit sets the rock clumsily between two on the base, and it immediately starts to roll off. They frantically press their head against it, pulling away hesitantly once they've pushed it a bit further atop the other rocks. For a moment they just stare, waiting for it to fall again. When it doesn't a small smile spreads across their face, looking up at Wolfsong in excitement.​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 Wolf is pleased by the larger feline's reaction, and visibly so; the slant of his smile is crooked and laughter warms his beryl eye. I now know Houndthistle's ego is not easily bruised— or that a slight will not anger him. He has waded into dangerous depths before by underestimating the thickness of a cat's hide (sometimes intentionally) and he is glad that WindClan will not see such a brawl. "I don't know that I'd agree, though our mothers are said to know us best. Maybe you will prove me wrong, but"—he looks him up and down, then pays pointed attention to his face—"you at least have a large enough brain to balance your skull atop your neck." That earlier sharpness returns and he adds slyly, "I assume it's a brain."

Sedgerunner draws his gaze when an audible gust of shocked air leaves her, and he waves away her apology with a paw. "You are free to. There are more stones nearby if need be." Slight movement halves his focus, and then steals it entirely when he takes more of an interest in watching the kit work. Sedgerunner may have to wait her chance after all, or gather more stones, given how determined they seem to stack them on their own. Houndthistle's jest has one of his ears flicking and a distracted smile out of the corner of his maw, but he says nothing. Sunflowerkit panics for a moment, then rallies their effort to secure the stone before they look to him with obvious delight.

He inclines his head slightly, and now the quirk of his mouth is a softer thing. They remember the pattern. So young and already clever— will Sootstar see the same potential? "Keep going," Wolfsong encourages.
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