camp MOONGLOW [ ☾ ] RECOVERING

[Swansong]

( ☁︎ )　 Swanpaw has been very distant for a long time, now. Two moons of dreaming, slipping between sleep and hardly more real periods of wakeful delirium. Visions of starry pelts and softly lit marshes painted themselves across his eyelids, pulling him closer and closer. He can hardly remember the faces now.

He's surprised they did not take him; keeping him half-living for so long only to set him free, bitter taste of lungwort on his tongue... It seems a mercy of StarClan, a kindness granted upon a family afforded very little. (Or perhaps a sign of something more; why is it he who survived when Halfshade did not? He files it away in his mind for later. The thought of his mother's death, hazy and unreal as the memory is, still hurts to grasp.)

It is with Swanpaw's usual unhurried gait that he emerges from the medicine den. Automatic, purposeless; one could be forgiven for thinking it another bout of sleepwalking. But there is a long-gone sharpness to his hooded gaze, surveying the camp as though taking it in for the first time. He settles by the medicine den's entrance, already exhausted from the walk, and curls his tail around him. Scans for familiar faces; his father is home now, yes?

He does not call out, does not announce his presence. It hurts too much to speak above a whisper still, so Swanpaw lingers at the medicine den's entrance in silence.

I WANNA BE HAUNTED ☁︎ I WANNA BE LOVED ! 【 11.6.23 】

• // for clarity's sake, swanpaw is not fully recovered, but is lucid & able to move again! this is his first outing after receiving the lungwort
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• "SPEECH"

• ☾ 　⁺　₊ 　⋆　SWANPAW.　APPRENTICE OF SHADOWCLAN.　HE / HIM / HIS.
  7 MOONS & AGES ON THE 17TH.　PENNED BY SATURNID.
  
  

  

  ☾ — A PALE, ELEGANT CREAM TABBY WITH PERIWINKLE BLUE EYES.

  
  
  HALFSHADE xx SMOGMAW. LITTERMATE TO APPLEPAW GARLICPAW & ASHENPAW. OLDER SIBLING TO HALFKIT BIRDKIT TANGLEKIT & DREAMKIT. MENTORED BY SABLETUFT​

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[Garlicheart]

It's taking a lot out of her, trying to carry on with her training in spite of everything. Too much was happening all at once and she couldn't handle it, she felt as if she were about to break at any moment. She needs something good to happen desperately, or she feels she might just give up the facade. Fortunately, something good IS happening. A soft cream figure emerges from the medicine den and dull eyes turn to look, the shine returning to them as Garlicpaw feels a rush of relief and happiness that she desperately needed.

"Swanny!!"

She bounds across camp to meet him, feeling like she could fly with each stride until she halts in front of him, unsure if she can touch him or not.But for now, life has returned to her eyes and she feels better than she has for these past two moons.

"Are you better? I'm so glad you're awake!!" She says, trying not to tear up. "I missed you..." ​

 

[smogstar]

When wispy curls float across the medicine cave's mouth, a dreamlike creature set with a drowsy blue gaze, Smogmaw reaches a full stop mid-stride. Swanpaw.

The young tom tastes sunlight in what ought to have been the first time in several moons, washing away the dust and disease that'd settled amongst his furs during bedrest. How relieving it must be to feel the crisp breeze and not stagnant nothingness; to have pure, free air fill the lungs after wallowing in death and rot for so long; to stand alongside the healthy, the living, no longer sharing a den with literal carcasses. In parallel, Smogmaw is immensely relieved to lay his eyes on his son once again. His impassive demeanour is left shattered by a smile so poignant, it'd stretch all the way to his ears if given the chance.

Lungwort, timing, and the absence of both had cut short Halfshade's time in this world. That the same couldn't be said for Swanpaw makes her passing no less painful, no less unfair, yet he is at least given a moment to let roll some of the grief from his shoulders.

To be candid, it's Garlicpaw who sounds the alarm and beckons his focus. Bicoloured limbs tear across camp's breadth with categorical haste, and he nearly catches a mud dollop in the face as he follows in her paws' wake. His shoulder meets his daughter's before he draws to a halt, and without a modicum of hesitation, his tongue latches onto the younger's forehead and ruffles his creamy furs. "Oh, son," Smogmaw meows thankfully. "I missed you for every day and night I was away. It's so, so good to see you better." Eyes aglow with mellow warmth hold onto his boy and refuse to let go. ​

 

[COMFREYPAW]

She’s out of the medicine den now, today being the first day her head feels clear, the first day her fever has left her completely. Comfreypaw sits comfortably near the apprentice’s den, grooming rippling black striped fur, when she sees a fellow yellowcough patient stumble weakly into the sunlight. Swanpaw’s pale fur ignites in the light, making him seem half a phantom. He says nothing, but immediately, his kin flocks toward him. Garlicpaw, his exuberant littermate, is the first to exclaim her excitement. “I missed you,” she says, and Comfreypaw’s ears sway uncomfortably.

And then the deputy, long-awaited hero, bringer of lungwort, clambers over, pressing his nose into his son’s fur. “I missed you for every day and night I was away,” Smogmaw tells Swanpaw, and Comfreypaw feels her throat constrict.

It’s impolite and selfish to begrudge Swanpaw his family. Besides, her mother does love her, in her own way. And she’s nearly a warrior, far too old for foolish kitten tears. She blinks away the stubborn thorn of feeling lodged in her throat, then pushes herself to her paws and pads forward. “It’s good to see you feeling better,” she chirps in a too-bright voice.

, ”​

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[APPLEJAW]

Swanpaw lives. He is a pale ghost at the maw of the medicine den. He rests there as if nothing has changed. Applepaw cannot see that aura of suffering around him so strongly anymore. He does not look ready to collapse out of sickness. He just looks like Swanpaw. Dopey, snoozy Swanpaw.

Garlicpaw's cry stops her in her tracks. And evidently, it does the same for their father. Applepaw can only stand blankly for a moment. A part of her had thought, if Halfshade had perished, surely Swanpaw would have to as well. It's a reminder of the thing they had not had in common. The boon Swanpaw had over their mother. That he had not had three (... or four), scraps to suck the life out of him. If Applepaw could've chosen who would die between the both of them...

Applepaw shakes her head. What is wrong with her?

She approaches, like a good daughter, and a good sister. She would not cry like Garlicpaw does. Nor would she take the risk Smogmaw does, to rasp a tongue across his head. But she looks to her brother, and she is... relieved. It is better that one survived than none at all, wasn't it? She had little to say that the others did not already, but still, she parts her maw, " I'm glad you're well. "

Even Comfreypaw is here, whom Applepaw would look too with a softness she hadn't afforded her, the last time they spoke. She blinks at Comfreypaw, and it contains the very same thing she had told her brother. Quieter, then, " You too. "

( one track mind, one track heart ) ༊ ( if i fail i'll fall apart )

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• 

• ( CAUSE I FEEL LIKE I'M THE WORST, SO I ALWAYS ACT LIKE I'M THE BEST ) APPLEPAW. apprentice of shadowclan. eldest sister to swanpaw, ashenpaw, and garlicpaw. ( + birdkit, halfkit & tanglekit )
  —— she / her; confused by the use of others.
  —— currently 7 moons old as of 10.22.23. ages every 17th.
  
  longhaired blue torbie with a white chest, paws, and underbelly. A young cat you would describe as " bossy, " Applekit is quick to take charge of any situation she sees herself as the probable head of. A rule - follower to a T, and thinks herself better than the majority of her clan for this. Not ignorant enough to think herself above a warrior, but seeks to gain that status as quickly as possible. Intensely self - motivated to be the best in a mixture of blind, childish desire, and never wanting to be afraid of anything ever again.

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[S A B L E T U F T]

can we leave it behind? — Pale fur is welcomed in the light of his Clanmates eyes and Sabletuft found himself feeling the same. Relief washed over the weight of worry that he kept on his shoulders ever since his apprentice was nested within the medicine den. Selfishly, part of him was worried he would find himself in another Loampelt scenario, having an unsatisfying mentorship and another potential stain on his record of training. But Swanpaw proved himself greater, stronger, than those that had wasted away from the sickness.

"Still sleepy, though?" Through his gruff voice his tone was notably teasing. The warmth that would have been in his approach shone in glowing amber eyes. "I'll find something decent to eat for you later and we can talk after you've caught up with your kin. They've surely missed you." — tags​

"

 

[ASHENFALL]

˚⊹₊‧ 𖦹 "I thought that doing nothing but sleep for nearly two moons straight would be plenty for you," Ashenpaw approached with an irreverent smirk on his face, perhaps appearing a touch too casual for the role of 'bereaved family member reuniting with sibling after long battle with sickness, "But you never fail to impress, Swanny..."

He quieted and sat a few tail lengths away, letting Garlicpaw and Smogmaw shower Swanpaw with enough affection for the lot of them. He was... happy. Happy that Swanpaw did not follow Halfshade to Starclan, and happy to see his sleepy little face beneath sunlight once more. But, what did he do to deserve to feel this happiness? Ashenpaw did not embark on the journey to find the life-saving lungwort, nor did he even visit Swanpaw while he was in that stars-forsaken den. Really, the only significant thing he'd done lately was get his mentor murdered over in Thunderclan. So he did his best to let that particular unfit emotion get eaten up by a familiar shame.

"Comfreypaw's out too," he says abruptly, interrupting his own thoughts, "Kudos to everyone for not bringing back dud cures, I guess."

FOLLOW THE TIDE ˚⊹₊‧ 𖦹 WITH THE MONSTERS ON YOUR SHOULDER

• OOC:
• 
• 
  — ashenkit . ashenpaw
  — ftm transmasc. he/him. 7mo apprentice of shadowclan
  — gay ; single ; not looking
  — longhaired muted blue torbie with heterochromatic pale blue and amber eyes
  — smells like rainsoaked ferns and swamp milkweed
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — fullbody by tropics sticker by saturnid
  — penned by eezy
  — currently in an era of grief and anger, approach with caution. all ic opinions!

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[NETTLEPAW ♡]

Nettlepaw sidled up to Ashenpaw's side, jay-blue eyes set upon the crowd. The cured flocked from the den-doors, sleepy and still sick but lucid enough to greet their gladdened family, and Swanpaw in golden-paleness and Comfreypaw in dark stripes were two pelts that Nettlepaw was glad to see despite not being kin to any of them. When he looked at Swanpaw particularly, he grew aware acutely of who had lived and who had died. Halfshade stuck out in his memory- Flintpaw had survived when she had passed on.

Was it irrational to think they might hate him for it? Hate him, who had nothing to do with it? Nettlepaw made no medicinal decisions, but- Flintpaw was his littermate, still. By proxy, would people hold some hatred toward him for not having to grieve any one of his kin?

Turmoil and tumult his itself well behind blue, like a cloudless sky showing no sign of an oncoming storm. There was always a storm somewhere, but not in these skies, not in these eyes.

"We were due some good luck," Nettlepaw hummed, tacking it to the end of Ashenpaw's sentence. It wasn't a lie. It wasn't a fallacy or a joke or a futile attempt to lighten the mood, for once. "I'm glad to see you both better, too."​

penned by pin ♡​