camp OH, I'VE LEFT YOU BEHIND || INVESTIGATING

[Thriftfeather]

A loner, Mousepaw had called him on that terrible day. Snakehiss had agreed with the sentiment. It isn't as though it was undeserved, but it still sticks with Thriftpaw like a bur to his flank. A loner, said like such a thing was insult enough on its own. Thriftpaw remembers being a loner in the same way everyone remembers the world when young: blips of rosy things. Toddling after his mother, tail held aloft. The red-bright berries that had towered over his head, and how they now grow only as high as his neck.

His joining, in conjunct with the end of his youth, is remembered with far more clarity.

A loner, Thriftpaw thinks with the same level of derision he's heard it said. It's a venomous word; Thriftpaw hadn't ever heard it when he was a loner in truth and not in history. A word from WindClan itself then, and not what he would have called himself had he still been a loner. There wouldn't have been a word for him, and the thought is so appealing that Thriftpaw shuts it down before it can blossom into something ugly. He can't forget the knowledge of being a loner now that he is a WindClanner — the contradiction of it all is enough that Thriftpaw's nervous tail bristles.

"Excuse me?" Thriftpaw says to a passing cat, as politely as he can sound while feeling so indignant, "Who are the oldest WindClanners — oldest clanborn WindClanners?"​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 6 MOONS​

 

[SUNSTAR]

Though none will hear him say as much, it was not so terrible a thing to be– a loner, that is. Before coming to these moors, Sunstride had spent some moons as such, in travel from place to place. The colony he had been born in behind him, and the home he would choose before him still, he had been just that. And much like the apprentice, he had not known this word for it. He had simply been himself, as much a natural part of this world as the wind and the stone. Learning that he had been seen differently only some moons after the fact became something terrible in his mind. Though he had not been through the same life that Thriftpaw had, he understood in a sense. Saw it, if nothing else.

The question quietly floors him. The lead warrior sits down. With eyes narrowed in thoughts and a gaze that scans the camp for whatever assistance he might find, his mouth opens and closes below them. "Well," he manages briefly. This is unimportant, a louder part rages, there is more to do in this cursed moon than speak of our past. The past is all that matters, Sunstride soothes himself. He breathes evenly. "I do not know with certainty. I was not among them at the time. I had thought it to be Sootstar's litter. Why do you think of this now?"

＞ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES ╱ REFERENCE ╱ 07.10.2023 𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘐𝘚𝘖𝘕 〙ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. approx. 40 moons old. lead warrior of windclan + former rogue.
  —— gay, monogamous. mate to wolfsong from 07.05.2023.  npc x npc, no larger family.
  —— has recently regained some of his earlier lightness, but maintains his steady facade.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.

• "speech"

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

── .∘°°∘. ── Wolfsong does not move around with the same freedom he once did. His belly feels to be a body of its own, and the kits are growing more active than they once were. He's certain he could determine how many he carries, with a bit of effort, but he finds he does not wish to, afraid to expect and then be...disappointed, to put it politely, and a surprise is not so terrible a thing. However many kits he and Sunstride will welcome, their blood will be the mountains' and their home the moors.

It will not be enough for those like Snakehiss, he knows, but the warrior is unlikely to bully Wolfsong and Sunstride's children. If they were anyone else, if Wolfsong were not their medicine cat and Sunstride not a respected warrior, he knows it would be different. Loners and rogues are not as beloathed as kittypets, but a stigma remains nonetheless.

He's accompanying Sunstride, and thus Thriftpaw's question draws his focus, too. He sits beside his mate a bit awkwardly, still adjusting to his large belly. "Sootstar herself would know," he volunteers in an attempt to be helpful. It would be fitting, wouldn't it?
​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 36 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge. — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know— he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel." — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you. — ☆☆☆☆☆ KITTING: He doesn't remember what it was like to be born. Coincidentally, that is the extent of his familiarity with kitting. At least he won't leave you without moral support.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you. — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​

 

[Thriftfeather]

“Sootstar’s litter?” Thriftpaw echoes as he looks between Sunstride and Wolfsong. He holds an incredulous furrow on his nose ridge and a tone nearing reproachful, "That can’t— that isn’t right. Her kits aren’t old."

The flaws in Thriftpaw’s quiet thought process reveal themselves to Thriftpaw only after he’s started speaking. He’d assumed WindClan was something old enough to be ageless and therefor unquestioned: the same as stones and trees. He’d also known Sootstar had made WindClan, and both of those things couldn’t be true. Sootstar couldn’t have been birthed into a clan she had created. Thriftpaw’s expression had shifted fluidly in time with his thoughts; when Thriftpaw turns his attention back to the pair, the expression he bares is one of resignation. As suspicious as Thriftpaw feels that he already knows the answer, he asks anyway.

"How old is WindClan?" He’s afraid that whatever answer given will only frustrate him further. WindClan is older that Sootstar’s litter presumably, but younger than Sootstar herself. There had to be more lonerborn cats in WindClan than those clanborn, then. And in however many moons WindClan has existed, it has already sprung up fissures between those who make it? Thriftpaw continues, trying to sound kind beneath the burbling worry that grips his heart, "And where did you two come from before — before you were here. Were you also loners? Before?"​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 6 MOONS​

 

[SOOTSPOT]

"Myself and Cloudedsky are the first trueblooded WindClanners, that is correct." He held his head high as he spoke such universal truths, a complacent smirk twisted upon his white muzzle at the thought. Once, it had been a fact that had made him and Cloudedsky royalty. Never challenged, never defied, it'd been a power that Sootspot could've gotten used to - until of course, more and more kittens started showing up. Suddenly, his blood didn't seem to matter so much, his interests fallen into obscurity and his attitude tolerated but never approved of. Sootspot offered a strained look towards Thriftpaw, the small chimera standing tall. "We are..." he clicked his tongue in thought. This was the first time he realised that he didn't actually know how old WindClan was. They had been a constant in his own life, what came before scarcely seemed to matter compared to what was to come. "Older than twelve moons, less than twenty moons. Counting is not one of my specialties I am afraid," he lied. Counting was indeed a specialty, he would count how many times a Lead Warrior had slighted his vision of WindClan or how many times he had been overlooked for his younger siblings. He kept a mental tally of all of that, just not a tally pertaining to a broader picture.

Pupils darted towards Sunstride and Wolfsong like minnows as Thriftpaw asked them their origins, the tip of his tail giving a little curl as his gaze settled expectantly upon them. It would bring him great satisfaction to say that they had been rogues, but it would bring him even greater satisfaction to have them be the ones admit their sullied pasts. He gestured towards the golden apprentice with his head, a polite reminder to 'get a move on' and explain things to him. Then, just as soon as he expressed impatience, he smiled once more, ears pricked forward attentively. "And how was it you came to live in WindClan?" Sootspot added on. He knew, he may have only been a child then, but he knew. Thriftpaw, however, did not know, and the chimera wanted to make sure the tabby got all of the details so he could make his own judgments about the pair. All Sootspot knew was that he didn't trust them as far as he could throw them, regardless of what his mother saw in her council. Such creatures had betrayed her before for their own self-interest, they would do it again.


​

 

[cottonsprig]

Outsiders, as each demographic can be boiled down to, are not Cottonpaw's favorites. Yet all the same she cannot find it in her heart to actively despise those from different backgrounds. She's a lateral shift of her family's normal agenda; a young teen suffering in her own biased creation. Such is just to say that she does not despise Wolfsong or Thriftpaw in the same manner she does not despise her eldest brother, or any other WindClanner; they're all here. That's all that matters.

She trots close to the group, ears twisting as she gathers her own curiosity. She knows vaguely of her mentor and Sunstride's past - however only that it does not start in the marsh or moors. They're distant cats, though now trusted by Sootstar and thus their lives validated by the stars. Cottonpaw sits in close to Sootspot, like a child eager to hear a story, and looks up expectantly towards the toms. She just hopes Wolfsong doesn't chase her off to do some chores.​

 

[LEMONTONGUE]

"They're the oldest by mere days."

Lemontongue makes his presence known with a corrective snort at Sootspot's claim, frosted limbs striding over to the crowd of cats. They aren’t typically ones he’d hang out with - not that he really hangs out with, well… anyone, these days - but talk of Sootstar’s firstborn litter always shines a frustratingly bright light on them, puts them on a pedestal that, in reality, is shared by him too.

The second-born litter to WindClan, among the first to honor the tradition of kit names. He’s used to sitting in the shadows of that fact by now, but correction feels important in this moment as he thinks back to his earliest memories, to his first gathering - one of the clans’ first, maybe. He’d arrived as Lemonkit, as proof that WindClan was thriving - huddled close to his own mother, just wanting to go home. He is just as much part of the clan’s beginnings as Cloudedsky and Sootspot are.

“I was born after them,” he informs Thriftpaw, as if the apprentice will actually care. He doubts it, but still speaks the reminder into the air, ears twitching as he settles into the group. He has nothing better to do right now, anyway. “I've been around long enough for the seasons to cycle once, and then some, so WindClan mustn’t be too much older.”

The topic moves to Sunstride and Wolfsong and their origins. Though he is acutely aware of how Sunstride and Wolfsong had arrived at the clan - of how they’d grown to be such a seemingly integral part of it - Lemontongue still looks to them for answers; a moment of interest used to silence himself from sharing more of his own story. He was merely an apprentice when they’d arrived, anyway, perhaps too young still to understand the politics of it all.
​

 

[Thriftfeather]

WindClan is young. The confirmation comes from multiple mouths, and still Thriftpaw struggles to wrap his mind around it. WindClan is young and — what? Does it change anything? Does it need to change anything? There is an argument somewhere in him; someone must have their age wrong. No one can be a trueblooded WindClanner, as Sootspot had put it, because the bloodline was no older than a single generation.

He keeps silent on his thoughts, however. It must be that he's mistaken in something. It must be that were Thriftpaw to speak out, he would look foolish. Ghostwail had told him that Sootstar's litters were acceptable cats to befriend, had even named Cottonpaw specifically, and here Thriftpaw was about to ruin his chances over semantics.

"You must be proud to have that honor," Thriftpaw tells Sootspot. It isn't any achievement that Sootspot needed to work for, and perhaps it is the unfairness of it all that rankles Thriftpaw. He'll never have that opportunity — he will never be anything but lonerborn, and by all appearances he had missed his chance to be clanborn by happenstance alone. Destiny, StarClan, something had favored Sootspot over Thriftpaw.

To Lemontongue Thriftpaw offers an uncertain glance. Is he counted among the trueblooded? He wants to ask what makes a cat trueblooded — if it was granted by virtue of being born on the moors, or if there had to be important family ties to elevate one from the rest, but suddenly Thriftpaw fears his own ignorance. These are things a real WindClanner doesn't need to ask; they had gained the knowledge when they were still blinking open blue eyes in the nursery.

"That's..." Thriftpaw starts, and finds that he has nothing to say to any of this that wouldn't prove him to be a mousebrained loner — as if they don't all already know, "When Ghostwail had first — how much of WindClan is — is trueblooded?"​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 6 MOONS​

 

[SNAKEHISS]

Snakehiss had always prided himself — openly and loudly — on being a WindClanner born of moor blood. His parents had not come from strange, faraway lands nor the stuffy and smelly nests of twolegs. They, along with their parents before them, had dwelled in these lands long before WindClan had laid claim to them. "This territory is your birthright," His parents had murmured in his ears from the moment he'd entered the world. The throne was his birthright, not Sootstar's. To take her place and lead WindClan as a moor-born cat would be the ultimate form of honor; such ambition had always lingered in the back of his mind and now began to take form since he had earned his warrior name.

He cannot claim superiority in the form of being the oldest clan-born WindClanner, no, but Snakehiss will gladly ride off the fact that his family had resided here long before a majority of clans. As he's always done. He has more of a right to this land than any cat standing here!

When Thriftpaw inquires next about the amount of pure-blooded WindClanners, Snakehiss huffs, "Hopefully more soon. There are far too many outsiders in our ranks." Snakehiss is careful not to outright challenge the Moor Queen's decisions in the presence of her children, as much as he detests her pity on the undesirables. How could Sootstar possibly see any potential in the soft-pawed kittypet-borns that meandered up to the borders? Rogues possessed strength and an innate bloodlust, traits useful for bolstering the Moor Queen's ranks, but Snakehiss couldn't see the use in other outsiders admitted into WindClan. Moor-born loners were the most useful outsiders, as was taught to him by his parents, because of their natural talent of bounding over the hills and chasing rabbits. However, those were far and few in between now that WindClan had moved into the territory. Brightshine's family was a rather prominent moor-born lineage; it was a shame that it had been tainted with their ties to Yewberry and all.

Suspicion building within the young warrior, Snakehiss peers toward Thriftpaw and demands, "Why do you wish to know so badly?" Was he up to something? Were he and the other outsiders planning to rid WindClan of the clan-born cats and overtake the moors for themselves? It was awfully peculiar how curious the golden apprentice was...

✰ INFO

• 
  
• 

  ✰ SNAKEHISS
  —— he/him; warrior ( moor runner ) of windclan
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— long-limbed black tom with green eyes, a small white chest patch, and a notable bite mark on his right foreleg
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[SEDGEPOUNCE]

"He's just curious," Sedgepaw pipes up. He's not sure what drives him to swoop to Thriftpaw's defense. The same protectiveness he felt for all of WindClan's small and downtrodden, probably. Or maybe it's just his innate need to prove Snakehiss wrong. The possibilities are endless.

He doesn't blame Thriftpaw for being curious, nor is he really surprised. The young apprentice is notoriously loner-born, but more pointedly, he almost perpetually looks like a bird someone's backed into a corner—wide eyes and flapping wings and pitter-pattering heart going wild in its chest. Sedgepaw pities him. "There's nothing wrong with an impromptu history lesson." Besides, kids Thrift's age were always yammering on about something. Even those not infected with the latent prejudice coiled around WindClan like a vice.

He sits among the crowd, at a loss of anything better to do, though Sedgepaw has never been one to particularly question WindClan and all that it is. He has never met a loner, or a kittypet. All of the cats that he's ever known have pledged themselves to WindClan by the time they were ever close enough to even utter a hello. But he hears about the rest of the forest, how different they are. How dangerous they are to WindClan and everything they stand for.

These are all huge, broad concepts of which Sedgepaw thinks of very little. He is a WindClan cat, born and raised. He is more occupied of the going-ons within their borders, and sees plenty of conflicts between true-blooded cats as it is. He's never had to think about these things before.

"There was, uh, a group before WindClan, I think. That's where Sootstar came from, right?" he adds, looking toward Sootspot and Cottonpaw for confirmation. Of course, he's been regaled with WindClan's founding several times since his kithood, but the topic has always been...well. A little taboo.​

 

[RABBITCLAW]

"There were two groups," she answers. The she-cat had been listening to her clanmates with caution. She understands Thriftpaw's questioning because of the current talk about windclan blood. Their clan prides itself in having said blood, but the reality is that very few of them actually have windclan blood. Sootstar's first litter from what she recalls listening to the elders is the first cats to have been born as windclanners. Despite her demeanor she spent sometime listening to the elders talk about the past and how the clans came to be. Her siblings were not Windclanners by blood. They had been born and raised in an abandoned badger's den. Isolated from all other cats besides themselves. Her nephew and nieces on the other paw, were born and raised in windclan. In short the topic was a little taboo, so most tried to toe around it. It was more commonplace now to not mention it, but if you asked an elder and brought them their favorite prey... Coughs, anyway. Let's not out any elders specifically. I don't want Sootstar or some other warriors like Snakehiss giving them trouble.

Maybe it seemed like she was on Thiftpaw's side, yet she wasn't sure about that. She didn't know the tom too well, but she thought it was ridiculous this whole true blooded thing. Almost all of them were not true blooded windclanners. "Before the clans there were two groups that ruled the land. The marsh and pine group. I don't remember which group Sootstar was born into, but there were no clans. There... There was a great battle between the marsh and pine group. The details are fuzzy, but after the battle, two groups became five clans. That's the rundown more or less Thirftpaw." Despite the impromptu history lesson on how windclan and the other clans came to be, she is aware that doesn't answer his question. His question was how much of Windclan was true blooded. The short history lesson only answers the fact that there was no windclan before. That it was in fact part of a former group.

She turned her head towards Thirftpaw, "The truth is I don't know how much of us are true bloodied. I'm not. I would say a decent chunk of Windclanners were once rogues, but point is Thirfty. A good amount of aren't true blooded." Imagine if Sootstar kicked out everywhere who wasn't true blooded? More than half the clan would be forced out. The problem is that most true blooded windclanners are young. Sootstar's first litter being the oldest, so if we all got thrown out... Sootstar would be left with only young cats who she would have to train with the help of her kits. ​

 

[SNAKEHISS]

A soft frown grows on Snakehiss's lips as Sedgepaw, ever the peacekeeper, conveniently shows up to defend Thriftpaw's "curiosity". Even if he wasn't directly cracking a joke in order to ease tensions, he still found a way to speak up for his clanmates and give everyone the benefit of the doubt if it meant avoiding conflict. Does he even have the capability of holding a grudge, or even being remotely angry with someone? Sometimes his agreeability and tendency to please was outright annoying.

The talk of the groups "before" WindClan only causes a stiffening tension in his jaw, annoyed twitches of his tail tip. The groups "ruled" their respective territories, though it wasn't until Sootstar came along that the cats living on the moors were forced to either flee their homeland or assimilate into the newly created clan.

"There were other cats besides the Marsh and Pine groups living on these lands, lest you forget." Not that Snakehiss really expected Rabbitclaw to know the abridged history of these lands; apparently Scorchstreak and her siblings had joined WindClan following its creation, after all. They would only know the tales that the former Marsh Groupers would pass onto them... not like anyone gave a damn about the few cats that had called these moors home far before WindClan. However, if anyone dared to disregard his ancestors then he'd have an earful to offer them.

It was difficult to truly view WindClan the way that his parents did. This life was all he knew; Sootstar had been his hero as a kit, even. He doesn't hate WindClan for taking over the moors, and if his parents feel differently, then at least they're smart enough to keep their opinions to themselves. However, as he grew older, he began to understand how the establishment of the clans affected the cats living outside of the colonies. His parents had hammered the responsibility resting upon his shoulders into his head from an early age — bring honor to his predecessors and never let anyone forget who they were.

✰ INFO

• 
  
• 

  ✰ SNAKEHISS
  —— he/him; warrior ( moor runner ) of windclan
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— long-limbed black tom with green eyes, a small white chest patch, and a notable bite mark on his right foreleg
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​