camp notes from the underground | nonsense

[DOGFUR]

Hunger drives him out. He cannot stand being hungry. In that wretched house in which he was born, there was food in abundance—a cat only had to know where She kept it. It was not hard to figure out, but eventually the trick was up when she took it out of the soft pouch and instead into some container that was only half-clear and had a top that clicked when the right paw movement was applied to it. And as a stray, he had learned Who was messy and Who wasn't. But here... oh, this is hell.

The scrawny tortoiseshell sits in a spot in camp where he can see the stars. They are blinding but his yellow eyes remain wide all the same. Dogfur twitches and his right front paw makes a strange twisting movement at the wrist. He shudders at the sight of such a weight above them. Unprompted, the ShadowClan warrior began to prattle:

"How will every single cat fit in that sky when they die? I mean, when I die, I may be one of the first to get my own comfy starry den—that will be quite a lovely thing. Maybe it would even be big enough to house two! That's the privilege of being among the first you know. 'S why I am so lucky for being born now. I would hate, hate hate—" He was spitting out this word, some saliva sputtering from his tortoiseshell mottled lips. It was evident that the scrawny thing had limited understanding of the faith. "Hate to be a cat born several generations down. There will be so many dead cats in the sky, there will be no room. Well yes, of course, if you think about it, if everyone here had a litter, the number of cats would quadruple, and then they would have some and so on, and on, and on. And then! When you die, you'd be squashed up against some smelly cat from ThunderClan and have to hold your tongue because we should all get along in StarClan!"

He glanced around wildly, staring straight at the first cat that his gaze caught. "Well?" He prompted. "Is it right?"


​

 

[LICHENTAIL]

Lichentail was born in the marshes and had endured all of her seasons so far within their shadowy, dense confinements. This is only her second leafbare, and while it is certainly worst than her first after the fires, it's a familiar suffering. She hates to see her Clanmates wobbling about camp like skeletons wearing patchy fur, and she hates the cramping in her belly even more.

Hunger keeps her awake tonight. She's drawn outside the warrior's den, towards a single warrior sitting bathed in moonlight. Dogfur. She almost turns back around, but he starts prattling immediately. About StarClan. Half-baked ideas about their warrior ancestors, about the place her mother and father reside for eternity.

"It's not right," she says with feeling, shaking her head. Swampwater eyes fixate on him. "StarClan has room for us all. Have you ever seen the end of the sky?" Though her tone is stern, it is not mean-spirited. Dogfur has different origins than she does, different parents. It's only natural it takes some longer than others to learn the truth.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[Rainecho]

Rainecho does not consider herself the kind of cat who was made to live an easy life. The stars knew what they were doing when they had allowed her to be born into the marsh group. Life had never been easy, leaf-bare was always harder. Though she will say the one she had gone through last year had been easier. The fires had made things even more difficult for her beloved clan and though she wishes there was more she could do to help she knows that it is not in her paws. If the stars called someone there wasn't anything they or their half-baked medicine cat could do about it.

That being said there is no denial in her mind about their existence. She had seen the spirit cats rise in front of her the same as anyone else who had taken part in the great battle had. She knew her sister, Storm, was among them. Her mother on the other paw, she is not certain. Did the stars allow bad mothers to live among them? Who knew? If she was well and truly gone though the only thing Rainecho would say is good riddance.

She nods along to Lichentail's words. She was correct, Dogfur was not. It had to be expected from an outsider though, someone not born among them certainly had no hopes of understanding everything. Forest-born cats were better in every way, it was just a simple fact. She lets out a snort from her nose, her lips curling up into a smile as she laughs lightly. "Starclan is infinite, she's right. The sky does not end at the horizon. Im certain there will be plenty of space for you and I when we die. Who knows maybe we could even end up sharing a den up there. Life is crazy huh?" Her flirting is blatant but she doesn't really mean it. She just likes poking her clanmate's buttons, having some fun. She winks at the tortoiseshell tom and lets out another small laugh.
​

 

[FERNDANCE]

"Everything you said is absolutely true. Absolutely." The ticked tabby nodded in affirmation as she approached, showing little sentience in her mulling expression besides a polite, near-permanent smile. She reclined on her haunched slowly, raising an idle paw and licking down the fur ruffled by endless swamp-trudging. When her green eyes flittered upwards again, they landed on Dogfur, who somehow looked more disheveled than the hoarding Ferndance. "I'm sorry... I wasn't paying attention." She finally admitted. It had been a long rant and not targeted toward the warrior, for a time, she thought he'd just been talking to himself and was content to leave him alone until others piped up with their own opinions. Both talked about the vast endlessness of StarClan, and how everyone would have a place in the afterlife regardless of how big or small they were. Rainecho's words cause her to tilt her head towards the younger she-cat. "Why wait until death to share a den with someone?" All the warriors technically shared a den already, but she was sure the other would gather her meaning. Wiggling her haunches to get comfortable, she turned back towards Dogfur, now having a firmer grasp on his rant.

"I guess it's like what happens if our territories become too crowded. We look to expand our territory, StarClan does the same. Or... they wait until our old and sick die off but... I guess that wouldn't happen in StarClan, would it? If there's no sickness... or old age... hmm..." Infinity was a difficult thing for the cat to comprehend. She'd seen countless lands in her youth but to her parents, there had always been a barrier - the large two-leg fences had signaled the 'end', and that they needed to turn back around. Ferndance couldn't help but wonder if there were similar fences scattered about in StarClan for the kittypet's idea of paradise - or, did kittypets even get to go to the same afterlife as the rest of them? "If we can do whatever we want in StarClan, do you think I could become a dog and scare medicine cat apprentices with my omens? 'Bark bark. Save the world. Bark bark'." Her normally demure voice took on a gravelly tone as she replicated a canine and, similar to Dogfur, she appeared to be in her own little world.

​

 

[smogstar]

This season has altered Smogmaw's outlook on the afterlife. Where the dark-striped tom once impeached the idea of a world beyond this one, a domain in the skies or underneath the ground where the dead roamed, the looming threat of starvation has in turn made him open to supernatural theories. Perhaps, just perhaps, the idea of preserving his mind outside of death is one which tickles his fancy. And while it remains impossible to comprehend the true nature of StarClan, perhaps - just perhaps - there is a truer, more profound meaning to this existence, a truth which in essence transcends the current understanding of things.

Hmmm....

Nah, probably not.

Like many a Shadowclan cat, Smogmaw's sleep schedule can at best be described as insufficient, and thus he roams the camp, heedful of those in his vicinity. Unlike his clanmates, his head is kept out of the clouds tonight. His heavy eyes keep low and skim across the hardened ground as he trudges along. Snippets of conversation trickle into his ears, and he is mildly intrigued by what he can piece together. He glances over at the throng of clanmates, Dogfur seeming to be the one to kickstart this philosophical discussion.

"StarClan cats can send messages, can't they?" he asks, his tone monotonous, of course. There's hardly any life behind his eyes as he shambles over. "Starlingheart was going off about them tellin' her sum'n about herbs, or somewhat," the tabby continues, looking implicitly toward the male tortie. "So what I'm thinkin' is... when one of us dies, we'll send a message to say what it's like up there. What the accommodations are like, who the annoying ones are, and so forth."

Going off current trends, it's safe to assume one of those present will go belly-up before Newleaf. Not saying that it's going to be Ferndance, but it'll probably be Ferndance.​

 

[DOGFUR]

Lichentail, the first cat his half-sunken eyes latch onto, is unenthused. His patchy tail swishes behind him. "Hmm. Hmm!" The warrior thinks out loud. "What a thought, yes." Had he ever seen the horizon? Rainecho sides with the other she-cat. "But," His crooked paws mark out two spaces on the ground. "Our territories—they're small. Will they have enough sky space directly above us?" His eyes widen even further. "And that would be very funny, Rainecho. Wh-what a thought! Yes, but if I were given a big den, it would be all for myself, my dear clanmate." He purred with glee. His eyes flashed with just as much playfulness back and some of the hair raised from his spine.

By the time Ferndance pipes up, Dogfur is excited because she could follow his nonsensical line of reasoning. He twitches, hind leg doing a skipping thump against the frozen ground. He raised his left paw erratically, nearly leaping out of his seated position. "There are rules!" He nearly yelped. He looked around at the others as if for confirmation. "I'm sure there are. They-they-they would pun-ish you, Ferndance." He snickered, excitedly moving closer to the other warrior.

His crooked whiskers tremble with delight as more of his Clanmates listen in. Smogmaw is a very impressive catch for his ramblings. "Do we have a volunteer? A vol-un-teer. Smogmaw? You? Keh-heh-he."

​

 

[BARKBREATH.]

He din't know this 'Dogfur' well, but seemed they were about as big-brained as their namesake. Blabbering questions like they were fresh out the nursery. Couldn't exactly blame 'em, with how relatively new all this star-stuff still was. He didn't quite get their purpose still. More lives just for 'em to be stripped away in an instant. Suppose the star cats hadn't been ready for how clumsy some folks could be.

Clumsy. Wasn't that an easygoing way to put it?

Barkbreath joins in on their ramblings with a crooked look, brow cocked with mild curiosity, stupid as it were. "The territories are small? Naw, our territory is small. Others got prey for miles." he says with a snort, only a bit f' bile wellin' in his throat. The distaste ain't hidden. "They all share the skies I bet. F' it was only Shadowclan we'd be way better off about now. Once m' up in the sky, I wont wanna look at yer sorry asses no more. Too depressin'." he declares wit' a glance toward Smogmaw.

And suddenly the fool is practically leapin out of 'ier own skin, proclaimin' somethin' about rules. Barkbreath turns to em with a quirked brow. Guy was a bit too obsessed with the dead, he'd say "Ya best save your sacrifice for a worse-off day." Really, he wasn't sure what the hell the idiot was talkin' about, but what else could he assume but sacrifice? Threats 'f cannibalism were runnin' rampant this leaf-bare. It wouldn't be so far off.​