private ONE HEART BROKE, FOUR HANDS BLOODY || COTTONSPRIG

[POLLENFUR]

The weight of night has fallen; cricketsong is heavy as the humidity in the greenleaf-rich air. Pollenfur sneaks away from the barn, her tongue lashing about her lips, her ears pricked and alert. Junco had left some time ago — and the travelers she's known are few and far between. She can't help but admit she's grown lonely with the company who filters through her domain, in and out, in and out, but she knows how it feels to have the itch in your paws. She still feels it herself, sometimes — and were it not for Downypaw... I would never stay.

But her daughter remains, locked in WindClan, bound by duty, and Pollenfur haunts the Horseplace like an earthen-pelted specter. Cats come and go, and though she's made friends, she never anticipates those bonds will strengthen. The drifters are just that, really, and the ones who stay are content to be mousers for their adjacent Twolegs.

Pollenfur steadies her paws upon the fenceposts that looks out into the northern edge of the fields beyond. Her belly is full —the mice have been plenty since the warm seasons — and her mind is sharp. She'd headed for the field with the sole intention of watching the sun rise.

She isn't surprised to see a silhouette emerge from the brush beyond. They're round, thick, unsteady on dainty white paws, and their sad gray face is splashed with exhaustion and something Pollenfur can't quite read. The chocolate tortoiseshell leaps from her perch and approaches with smooth, confident steps, her amber eyes half-lidded, her tail lifted with friendliness. "Hello, traveler. What brings you here?" She studies the other, immediately recognizing what others may not — this cat is an expecting queen, full and thick with kittens. Her scent is vaguely familiar, but Pollenfur can't decipher it through milk, kit-scent, and the rough edge of the scrubland. She looks familiar, but...

She looks like Sootstar.

The thought sends a thunderclap through her body. Pollenfur's pelt begins to rise, wary, though she maintains the smile on her features.

"You're far from home, aren't you?" Now she knows who this cat is. This is Cottonpaw. This is Sootstar's daughter, medicine cat apprentice to the Clan. "What... what are you doing here?" Pollenfur's squared amber eyes fix pointedly on the smoked she-cat's protruding middle.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: @cottonsprig
• 
• Pollen . Pollenfur, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — 60 moons old, ages realistically on the 1st.
  — mentored by n/a ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored Melonpaw
  — loner, formerly a windclan warrior. npc x npc, gen 1.
  — formerly mated to Hyacinthbreath, currently mated to n/a.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh chocolate tortoiseshell with white and amber eyes. intellectual; mature; whimsical; philosophical; absent-minded; avoidant.

​

 

[cottonsprig]

Cottonsprig parts the undergrowth with minute difficulty, yet her breath is borderline haggard and her pelt disheveled. Her tail lashes as she looks outwards, out to WindClan who's borders are only a few foxlengths away. Is she really giving up so easily? The fumbling kicks in her stomach make her queasy, but she cannot tell if the unease is anxiety to return to her only home - or if the mere concept of finding the wildlands again is similarly disruptive.

Pregnancy, Cottonsprig learns now with first-paw experience, is more than a physical ailment to be troubled with. She's mentally worn, fits of tears springing to her eyes in waves over instances that would've never bothered her now. She is no picturesque beauty in the moonlight, taking a walk to stretch her legs before returning to the sanctity of the nursery - she's wild, she's tired, she's hungry and sad and in so much heart-empty pain. She has no one, and -

A voice calls from the wind. She stiffens, aquamarine eyes flitting towards the source. The calico she sees is vaguely familiar - perhaps someone she's seen in passing, from all the times she's seen Junco? Oh, Junco... Her heart weeps again, but she tries to focus on the she-cat on the fence line. It's immediate, the fear that she may tattle for no reason other than she can. "I... uh..." She cannot form words so easily. She seats herself, a quick few licks to her chest fur to hide her shame. Do the barncats know, let alone care, for her predicament? (... Would she want them to?)

"You're far from home, aren't you?" She says. Cottonsprig observes her for a few longer moments, and though familiarity still rings, she cannot so readily place a name. She's a cat who helped in the battle against Sootstar, a barncat that knows a little too much of Clanlife to be considered a simple fan of the lifestyle. Her lips press into a thin line, and then a wary smile. "I'm... out for a walk, is all," she tries to say, though her voice warbles either from sadness or fear. She tries to reign it in, and fails. "Did you come out to see the sun rise? It's... ah, real pretty over the fields, isn't it?" She attempts to distract whilst she gauges just how much Pollenfur cares - if the older, maternal woman cares at all.​

 

[POLLENFUR]

Pollenfur's eyes narrow as she searches Cottonpaw's face, the brilliant blue flames of her eyes. She's tired, and Pollenfur remembers well the toll a pregnancy takes upon a queen's body and mind, but she supposes being a WindClan queen is a different story. You'd find yourself surrounded by Clanmates, by kin and friends who put their lives on the line to defend your unborn kits, who exert themselves to put food in your belly at all hours of the day and night.

Cottonpaw doesn't just look tired, though. Pollenfur's heart aches faintly as she studies the younger she-cat. She looks lonely. "Is it safe for you to be so far from camp alone?" The calico tilts her head to one side, but she does not dwell on what Cottonpaw does not want to answer.

"It's Pollenfur," she supplies with a smile when the young queen seems to falter. "And you're Cottonpaw, right? I remember you a little, from when Sunstar brought you all to the barn." She gives a short purr of remembrance. "How are Brightshine and her kits? And Sunstar, is he doing well? I was glad to see the moorland begin to grow again after the fire."

But small talk dissipates like smoke between them. Pollenfur is quiet for a moment. "You must be hungry, traveling all that way in your condition. Why don't I catch you something to eat? I'll just be a moment. Stay and rest your paws, why don't you?" She has never seen a Clan queen look so paw-sore, so tattered and weary, and though suspicion begins to brew in her belly, she does not question the healer-in-training too closely.

She departs through the fenceposts, back into the warm enclosure of the barn. Within minutes, she's found a plump, seed-thick mouse, and she trots back out to her company with it hanging from her jaws. "Here. It's all yours. There are plenty more where that came from, too, if you want." Pollenfur drops the morsel at the girl's snow-colored paws, then hesitates. "Is... is all well, in WindClan?"

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Pollen . Pollenfur, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — 60 moons old, ages realistically on the 1st.
  — mentored by n/a ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored Melonpaw
  — loner, formerly a windclan warrior. npc x npc, gen 1.
  — formerly mated to Hyacinthbreath, currently mated to n/a.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh chocolate tortoiseshell with white and amber eyes. intellectual; mature; whimsical; philosophical; absent-minded; avoidant.

​

 

[cottonsprig]

She swallows thickly. Her tone edges on a sob as she murmurs out a wobbly, "No," to Pollenfur's question. It's not safe. She's torn an eye from a tom's face and encountered DuskClan more often than she'd like out here - but has she any choice? Does the calico understand the struggles she's facing, or has her time as a barn cat blinded her to the woes of a Clan cat? The bitter thoughts of her mind hardly quell but they stir no longer as the other offers her name. They are not enemies - they are just two loners, getting by.

Questions are tossed towards her, and though Cottonsprig has answers, she fears the validity of them. Last she knew, they were all alive and healthy. But it's been weeks since - the seasons have changed, with leaves now turning colors and no longer clinging so tightly to the branches that grew them. She withholds a deep sigh, trying a passive smile. "Well, close. I've been named Cottonsprig since," though now she wonders if she should be just Cotton from henceforth, if she doesn't throw herself to the mercy of the Clans. Pollenfur kept her name, but who's to tell her she can't?

"They're warriors now - Pinkshine and Downyfur," she holds to the small talk only slightly. Her eyes flick to the far off border a few times, wary of a patrol approaching with dawn cresting the hills. "Sunstar... I'm not sure when you saw him last. He is alive," and will be, six more times. Unless... She swallows the painful lump in her throat.

Pollenfur insists she stay for a meal. Her stomach rumbles and rattles with the idea of food so she only nods, seating herself close to the barn wall whilst she waits for the other she-cat to catch something. It's not long before a mouse is deposited by her paws, and Cottonsprig prays silently before taking a first bite. She tries to be quick but clean about it, refusing to be any bit savage or feral despite her time in the wastes. The question comes up again, and she blinks a few times before sitting straighter once more.

"If... I may be honest, Pollenfur?" she asks, and Cottonsprig wonders how much she can trust the barn cat. She doesn't err on the side of the Clans anymore, but does that mean she won't flick her snake's tongue should Sunstar ask? If there is a grand enough reward... One look at the calico she-cat and the medicine cat frowns inwardly, upset that she's even connected such dastardly traits to the other. She's trying to be kind and helpful. And, in full honesty, what more can either of them do in this situation?

"I don't... think I'm a WindClanner anymore. I've not been home - been there in... almost a moon, I think." Cottonsprig keeps her gaze outwards, trying to obscure the sadness in them. "The Clans have codes and... I've broken one. But instead of facing my consequences, I ran. I... I ran," she repeats, unable to say much more.​