camp ON THE HORIZON ഒ₊˚ RECOVERING

[SHEEPPAW]

Sheeppaw has been distant for a long time, stuck ill and prone in the medicine den. Weeks of dreaming of running through the moors, while curled up in his temporary nest. Sleeping between sleep and hardly more real periods of wakeful delirium. He is surprised but grateful that Starclan has not took him... except for Quietcrow that had died in the Badger Sett. Shaking his head to clear the negative thought of the passing of his temporary denmate.

She emerges from the camp's heather tunnel; automatically with dark limbs stepping one after another. She probably looked like a mess, coat messy and curled from resting all of the time from in the Badger Sett. Yellowcough had hit him hard, the illness had easily took her within its gross, sickly grasp. But she had recovered completely fine! Finally!

The moor - runner apprentice, lets a toothy grin spread across his maw. He raises his dark tail high, waving it in a greeting. "Hellooo, I'm back! Free from the yucky sickness!" Hooded gaze, surveys the bustling camp as if taking it all in for the first time, all while bouncing on his toes.

⊹ ⏜ ۫ . 𝙎𝙉𝙊𝙊𝙕𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙇𝙊𝙐𝘿𝙎 ᶻ 𝘾𝘼𝙉 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙁𝙀𝙀𝙇 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙇𝘼𝙐𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝘽𝙐𝙄𝙇𝘿

•  
• no ref yet </3
• ( HEY! WHATCHA GOT? ) ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ SHEEPPAW. ╱ windclan apprentice.
  ⤷ amab ; HE / SHE ; not opposed to gendered terms
  ⸝⸝ CURRENTLY 10 MOONS OLD. AGES EVERY 29TH.
  ✶ undecided / not actively looking / open to puppy-crushes
  ✶ a lanky, longhaired black smoke with high white and blue eyes
  ✶ thoughts ; "Speech, B9D6F2" ; attacks only
  ✶ may powerplay minor harm ╱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ✶ smells like night air & windblown heather
  — all opinions are ic
  
  → biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by calzone

​

 

[Vulturepaw]

˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖ 　Every day since leaving the badger sett is spent in a sort of breathless suspense. Every hair on Vulturepaw's back feels like it's standing on end, his body tensed with the anticipation of bad news. The lives of his clanmates rest in the paws of Wolfsong and Celandinepaw. He is powerless, left to only hope that everyone will make it back alive. He does not pray; he does not think that the stars hold enough kindness to listen to him.

The return of Sheeppaw comes with an exhale of relief. She arrives in camp hardly a day after they do, and Vulturepaw's ears perk immediately at the sound of her voice. "Oh! They exclaim softly, head shooting up to blink at the other apprentice. They trot over quickly, tail raised. A scrutinizing eye roves over him, as if searching for any sign of illness. He seems none the worse for wear, crowing about beating the yucky sickness. Their mouth quirks upward. "Welcome back, they offer her quietly, lingering close to Sheeppaw's side.

THERE ARE FLOWERS GROWING ALL AROUND ⛧ A MASSIVE ANIMAL INSIDE OF ME‎

• 
  

• 

  
  
  "SPEECH"
  ​

• 
  VULTUREPAW ⛧ he / they, apprentice of windclan, seven moons.
  ⭃ a spiky-furred dark tabby with amber eyes.
  ⭃ skittish and dour, with a superstitious sort of pessimism.
  ⭃ micheal x npc, adopted by periwinklebreeze. sibling to dustpaw and bilberrypaw.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[downyfur]

The ubiquity of camp is eclipsed by a sudden cry, illuminated in the halycon tones only the youth could still conjure. Yucky would not have been the word Downyfur would've used. Noxious, maybe, with the way its stench hung over the badger sett like a fog-thick miasma, but the word "yucky" was too glib and irreverent for their complaisant sensibilities. But Sheep-paw had always seemed childish for his age; in that way, he reminded them of their sister. Even in the tenebrous quietude of the sick-den, that fulgence of his must have kept him alive where Quietcrow had failed, and she emerges as jovial as she had been sunrises before succumbing to the malaise.

Still, the light in the face of his demise discomfits them, as though Sheep-paw meant to rub it in while his death knell still rung in the background of their sordid lives. He'd been part of their cohort of apprentices, whose teenage years were augured by the first wave of virulence and all the wars thereafter; they imagined some sort of kinship had survived that, not the immutable bond between close friends, but something worthwhile still.

Even so, Sheep-paw's reappearance is met with a soft, benignant purr from them, a distant echo of Vulturepaw's closer one: "Welcome back! You sure seem all better now." They remain at least a tail's length from the newly-recovered, though their xenial smile reflects none of their body's tentativeness.​