border OPEN ╱ I CARE IF I AM GUILTY ´ˎ˗

[SUNNVAR]

He stands unpleasantly alone at the border of ShadowClan, where the stench of monsters and rot overtakes moor heather at last. What clings to sun-warmed fur is his only remnant of safety and familiarity. Soon that too will be lost. The night is beginning to overtake the forest territories– behind ShadowClan's imposing treeline, the sky is framed of purples and blues. He can still see Highstones. He wishes he could no longer see it at all. But that is not the reason for his visit. With the Gathering behind them and the tension within his chest refusing to abate, he had wandered from his nest with a quiet murmur to his mate that he would return, and found himself here.

The kittens that WindClan raised seemed so...beyond him, now. So far from his mind as to what he must worry about. They are content, if not eternally happy, and Lark-kit had seemed genuine as she spoke of her troubles here. And yet– and yet. Something in Chilledstar's voice at the Gathering had made him...cautious. Amidst all the other fires that were lit, it is only right that this too would regain its spark. His gaze tracks the foliage, in wait for a patrol, and it is only when he hears the faint rustling of pawsteps across the cool, smooth skin of this thunderpath, that Sunstride straightens up entirely. Across their border, he makes a stark picture of red against the dulling heather. "I am here to speak with Chilledstar and Smogmaw. It is urgent, and I cannot wait long. But I assure you that it is worth their while to come as quickly as they may." His heart pounds in his chest despite the ease of his words. To demand audience with cats who so clearly despised his clan....it could be bravery, or foolishness.

𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓  ╱╱ 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 〚 11.22.2023 〛 —————«

• OOC. looking for @CHILLEDSTAR. and @smogmaw >:)
• 

  SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.

• "speech"

​

 

[ASHENFALL]

˚⊹₊‧ 𖦹 Ashenpaw knew that he should accept that the kits were good as dead at this point—they were bones littering the bottom of the swamp or flattened nothingness somewhere on top of the thunderpath. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, though. Not around Smogmaw, at least, and not around anyone who would stare at him with mock-pity while rooting for his family's continued downward spiral.

The last time he was here at the Thunderpath, he was met with the pulp and viscera of a murdered Sabletuft, an unfortunate bystander to the curse that haunted Ashenpaw. Blood and saliva and glass-eyes and cold flesh could be seen whenever he closed his eyes. Now, a curse-creature stands before him, across the blackened path and calling to him to listen. He blinks stupidly for a few moments, not recognizing the cat as feline before realizing that he was real and speaking to him. Not only that, but it was the cat from the gathering, that stood blasphemously shoulder to shoulder among clan leaders and claimed the Moonstone as belonging to Windclan. A curse, indeed.

He bristled, mismatched eyes staring widely at the cursed-man with likely a comical look on his face. Smogmaw, he said. He needed to speak to Smogmaw. And Chilledstar. Right.

He thought about turning to go fetch the smog-colored cat from the patrol arriving promptly, but was confronted with images of the rosetted cat dashing across the thunderpath and then gore-and-guts-spilling and remained rooted in his place. If this guy thought he would be turning his back ok him today, he was dead-wrong.

"DAAAAAAADDDD? WINDCLAN'S HERE AND THEY WANT YOUUU!!" He would shout in the general direction of behind himself, toward his mentor and others on border patrol. Someone else would have to go get Chilledstar, he was not letting himself turn away from the potential murder-mittens of Sootstar's right-paw-rabbit. No way, man.

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

• OOC: mobile !!!
• 
• 
  — ashenkit . ashenpaw
  — ftm transmasc. he/him. 8mo apprentice of shadowclan
  — 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!

​

 

[Garlicheart]

Garlicpaw had taken a moment to herself on her hunt to let her emotions flow freely. To just, let it out. She is quiet about it as to not draw attention to herself, but just when she was sure she would be alone for a little bit, she hears Sunstride call out from the border. She wipes her eyes and tries to pretend that she's alright before taking a breath, and approaching the border.

"Y-you....You wanna talk to Chilledstar and Smogmaw....?" She repeats, almost surprised. He wants them quickly, and Garlicpaw feels alarm and anxiety bubble up in her chest. How does she know this isnt a trap? Was there a battle party hidden in the grass? She's scared. She doesn't know who else is around right now.

Thankfully, she hears Ashenpaw call for Smogmaw. She feels instant relief, but now someone has to go get Chilledstar.

"Um... I'll go get Chilledstar. I'll be right back, Sunfry!" She calls, and bounds off. She does not realize that she's gotten the deputy's name wrong. She's only heard his name a few times in passing and never quite clearly enough.

Racing through the swamp helped her cheeks dry from the tears she was shedding, and she is thankful that she now looks much better. bursting into camp, she looks around for Chilledstar. She doesnt see them immediately and so, like Ashenpaw, she YELLS.

"CHILLEDSTAAAR! THE WINDCLAN DEPUTY IS AT THE BORDER AND WANTS TO TALK TO YOUUU!" She calls out. "SMOGMAW IS ALREADY THERE!!"

And now she waits for Chilledstar to Appear. She's ready to follow them back to the border.​

 

[APPLEJAW]

No business with WindClan is good business.

Applepaw raises her head to the scent— a distant part of her noting with pride how the scent came to her without idle thought, he reavtion of a warrior being honed. It is not hard to find the source, a coat as bold as it was. WindClan's presence at the border was not a battle party with teeth bared, nor a stealthy, night-time attack, but a single cat who announced themselves rather clearly.

" ...Sunstride, " she murmurs. It's a name she's picked up from gatherings; Sootstride's new right - paw.

Urgent news, apparently, though it did not involve Sootstar herself showing her gnarled face. Then again, she had done just the same at the gathering herself. Applepaw wonders if she had less lives than she would like the rest to know; if she was holeing herself up within her den to preserve what's left.

Applepaw had no authority to deny WindClan's deputy, and she would not if she could. There's a glimmer of unhidden curiosity in her eye. She would've had no trouble turning to Smogmaw herself, if Ashenpaw was too mouse-brained to do so competantly. Really, Ashenpaw had no reason to embarass ShadowClan further, but what reason did he have for anything he did?. A low hiss rattles in your throat, " Hush, for once in your life, " she whisper - hisses to her brother, only marginally succeeding im keeping her annoyance hidden.

Garlicpaw would run off, presumably to fetch Chilledstar themselves. Applepaw waits, resigning herself to be one of the only respectable cats amongst the patrol.

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

• ooc: mobile!! & mentor tag: @GRANITEPELT
  

• 

• ( 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 8 moons old as of 11.17.23. 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.

​

 

[Skunktail]

—————————————————————⊰☆⊱————————————————————

"Got a lot of guts showing your face here after that show at the gathering." Skunktail's spearmint green gaze is narrowed as he saunters forward, tail lashing and head bobbing along lazily before he comes to a stop among the crowd of gathered apprentices with his own in tow. His black lips curl back to show his teeth, sizing the WindClan deputy up with interest. He could take this guy probably, pretty easily even, any cat who bent to the whim of Sootstar's miniscule and loud figure was probably pathetic in a real fight; weak willed as well. Fortunately for Sunstride he didn't have much interest in slinging claws at the moment, but the second Chilledstar gave the word he'd be across that border and gnashing teeth for the white of that throat in a milisecond.
The thought brings him some amusement and his scowl softens to a smile, "I hope this is good."
Nothing short of some divine gift from StarClan would be worth tolerating the moorland stench near their territory.

☆ ———— promise me she's not your world ☆ ———————— 'Cause Andy, you're a star

• Apprentice Tag - @Briarpaw.
• 
  
  
  Skunktail
  —⊰⋅ Warrior of ShadowClan
  —⊰⋅ He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ SH Black & white tom w/spearmint green eyes
  

​

 

[SERPENTSPINE]

its the scent that draws him in. the faint whiff of heather and iron tinging the mud rot scent of their borders, acrid heat from the thunderpath dulling its wretched scent since leafbare’s dreaded approach. only seconds later, ashenpaw calls for his father — an obnoxious, crowing thing that had molten orange side - eyeing smogmaw once he approaches, offering a bland an are you going to do something about that flick of narrowed pupils towards the apprentice. garlicpaw scampers to yell for chilledstar, inclines an ear at the faint echo of her voice doing very much the same. at least it’s further away.

droll eyes watch the deputy carefully, flicks his gaze towards the undergrowth along their border. huh, ” wheres the rest of your pack? “ he muses around a thicket of long grass held in his molars, suspicion inclining tall ears back.

𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘, 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘 ☻ 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙎𝙊 𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝙔𝙊𝙐

• i.
  
• 
  
  
• 
  
  SERPENTGRIN HE / HIM, YOUNG WARRIOR OF SHADOWCLAN. JAGGED xx SHADOW, YOUNGER BROTHER TO CHILLEDSTAR. 15 MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE PLANT ROT & MUD. PENNED BY ANTLERS.
  lanky black tom with ghost rosettes and blood orange eyes. a preening thing, he is named for an ever - present, needle tooth smile, smarmy and just short of elegant ; a nonchalant slouch to angled shoulders, slim bodied with a flouncy sort of grace to long, dark - ribboned limbs. a spiking plush of raven and white mane cushions his thin neck down to midspine, leading to a lengthy, snaking tail — unusually elongated and quirked at the end in an old, unset break. serpentgrin holds himself with a dreamy confidence ; a tittering, easy - going thing, sly as a shadowclanner should be, always standing with a flourish to the tail and a sway in long, bounding strides.
  
  

​

 

[scalejaw]

—————————————————【 she/her | menacing 】————————————————

【◈】 It is at the behest of Smogmaw's first litter of kits that she is summoned. Ahead of her deputy and leader, both of which were promised to arrive soon, her inked paws found their way to the border. The sight of Skunktail and Serpentgrin taunting Sunstride gave her some level of satisfaction, but the seniority in her kicked in. Well- Skunktails words were something akin to what she would have said, but still.

Her face grew cold and vision stark against the dark swamps of Shadowclan, her lips slowly pulling back to reveal teeth in some kind of fucked up, cruel grin. "Sunstride." She bit out, vision bright with desire to leap, but she restrained herself with a very, very cautious greeting. Her eye turned, carefully keeping track of her apprentice if he appeared, and the rest of her attention split to the Windclanner across the border.

@FLINTPAW app tag!

"yuh"

[penned by dallas].

​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

---

something isn't right. windclan had never truly trusted shadowclan, even when there was an alliance between the two. though, if they were being honest, that alliance was held together by the lost hopes and insane dreams of pitchstar and sootstar. it would have never lasted, even if chilledstar didn't take the first step to rid themself of it, anyways. so the mention of sunstride, alone, at the boarder makes them feel sick. their eye twitches at garlicpaw's very loud and boisterous voice, before they simply grunt, and stand up.

"thanks for the word, but do not yell like that again. there are plenty of cats sleeping and resting that don't need to be disturbed. let's go. screechpaw! you, too."

it was one cat. he would be fine. the leader made their way back to the border with the two apprentice behind them, slinking out of the shadows and pressing against scalejaw in a quick greeting before their frigid gaze landed upon the deputy. he truly did have some nerve. that show at the gathering was enough to warrant a bravado of claws and teeth. he was lucky a gathering was to be a peaceful place, even if windclan constantly threatened that.

"hmph. demanding me at my border, hm? this better had been important."

they had every single right to be cross. windclan had never done anything for them, except with some ulterior motive. and chilledstar hardly trusted any clan, right now.
​

 

[smogstar]

At the risk of his internal monologue sounding blasphemous, it felt as though StarClan conspired against them whenever they visited this span of the thunderpath. More specifically, the stars aligned for the absurd to unfold, and today, the absurdity hailed from their side of the border. Very, very much to his chagrin.

Smogmaw discovers a natural fluency in the queenly persuasion in one sweeping moment. His young ones call - no, bawl out his name like milk-needy kits, and a cringe trespasses freely across his features. Ashenpaw's voice grates on the ears like claws against stone. Innocently ignorant to how annoying her brother was, Garlicpaw joins the wailing choir. They scream loud enough to scramble a hawk's senses. Eyelids plunge to halfway point, the amber pools beneath gravitating towards one another, and he lets go a disgruntled sigh. Halfshade's ability to withstand this treatment was a puzzle he neither envies nor wishes to decipher.

"Enough. Probably woke the owls with your caterwaulin'." Little heed is given towards the WindClan deputy, save for a dismissive once-over, on his approach to their territorial line. Joints crackle like the fallen leaves underpaw as he scales the small incline, leaving a tiny, pebbly avalanche in his wake. "He the only one?" he asks his leader, whiskers atwitch in dubiety. Diplomatic strategy came as a foreign language to Sootstar—blockading off a holy site sanctified by all clans, at a time when most already had reason to view her clan with hostility, was evidence enough. Now, she's taken to one-cat patrols? Surely her sanity lapsed.

His chest tufts tended to by swift licks, he then directs his scrutiny to the lone feline on the other side. "Out with it, whatever it is," demands the tom. There's a comfortable command woven into his words. "What're you blocking us from now?"​

 

[SUNNVAR]

In kinder times, the shouting of ShadowClan's young might have been enough to draw a smile across his mouth. He had always enjoyed the company of those at the age to take joy in learning. They had not yet been made to carry the full extent of this world's cruelties. Or even if they had, there was a lack of comprehension. They did not have the depth of suffering that an adult could have. (That he lived in a world where innocence was measured in how much bloodshed one had seen or partaken in– he's far from fond of this realization.) He does not acknowledge them but with a flickering of his eyes across their forms. Their mentors (he assumes, at least, from their stances, but he could not know) get a similar treatment. Though hate and pain both well up within his veins, neither will escape him.

There is a bitter urge to turn from them, to leave the kits on a border without coordination, so they might hear the tale from their tongues alone. Perhaps they would trust it better then, but he does not wish to leave them so poorly guarded. Not where monsters run past, and patrols of either side may wander. They had come through the tunnels. Could he find one so capable as to guide them back through? He does not even know where it begins to exit. Does it lie deep within their territory? Does ShadowClan know of it at all? He does not wish to reveal it to them, even if few do claim awareness. Their voices alone are enough to make him think of hate, and death to those undeserving. They do not know his clan. They are uninterested in learning. That is no fault of anyone's (except he knows just where his blame lies).

A deep breath, cooling his unease and his rage together. "I am not here with WindClan, but as Sunstride alone. At great risk to myself, and those who cover for my absence." He thinks of Wolfsong in the warm burrow, and his kittens, newly named, beneath the stars. Should Sootstar see guilt in him, there is no question that his bloodline would earn the same dishonor that his clan had seen times over now. Cats run out to the moors and beyond, never to return. He had not seen them since, and at times questioned if their lives had truly been freed from her grip, or if their bodies would simply rot past a border. "It is why I ask for only the two of you– we need not leave from your clanmates' line of sight, but what I say must be for your ears alone."

𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓  ╱╱ 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 〚 11.22.2023 〛 —————«

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.

• "speech"

​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

---

the leader's ears swiveled back and forth, giving a brief glance to their deputy before making the decision. they nodded their head, flicking their tail, briefly turning back to the other cats within the patrol.

"you can stay, but we will be talking over there."

they move, gesturing to sunstride to follow, out of ear shot of the other shadowclanners, tongue drawing over their fangs as the paused in step. they fully faced the deputy, exhausted eyes landing upon the other tired form. they wondered, some days, if he felt the same way they did as a deputy. it was not easy having an insane leader, and sootstar was as insane as they got.

"don't keep us in suspense any longer. we truly have much to do."
​

 

[SUNNVAR]

He had expected more of an argument, but it is good not to face one. His shoulders relax in a moment of brief surprise, all of his anger startled straight from his chest in a huff of breath. Their clanmates linger far too close for comfort. Any word from the pair, and it is certain that Sunstride would be chased from their border. Perhaps into the waiting maw of a monster, or worse– still, with a wary glance each way, the warrior darts across and closer towards them both. Only so far as they had demanded. Acrid air burns his lungs across the thunderpath, and the damp scent of the marsh is no comfort even once his paws are on softer ground. It puts him in danger, he knows, yet still Sunstride cannot help but turn his gaze from the grim warriors and to the horizon behind him. Home. There are no shadows there. Not yet.

"You spoke at the gathering, of kits that were missing. Who had a family in need of their return." Glacial eyes flicker between the two of them once more. "I worry that I know where they are. Sootstar had spoken of them as orphans, mistreated within your clan; she said that one of our warriors had led them away, and that we were not to speak of it to your clan, or any other." To say it feels vile. An admission of all that had gone wrong within their clan, an acknowledgement of the rot that grew and spread within them. No longer can he pretend that there is anything in Sootstar to be saved. No more was she the feline that had welcomed him to WindClan and given him a name– she is the one that he had shied from as he gave his oaths, and she had always been thus.

Chilledstar knows a leader's downward spiral. Perhaps they would understand this, in time.

"Many of my clanmates have fallen to her rhetoric. Those who have not are under constant threat. If they are yours, I will return them to you. But you must not punish WindClan for Sootstar's treachery. All I ask is that you keep your patience, and allow me to deal with my clan as I may." His voice has risen despite himself. Not with ire for the ShadowClanners as he had felt only moments before, but towards his clan and home. Fear and rage are closely intertwined. "To speak this alone is treason, and brings danger to us all. Yet she will not hold WindClan within her claws forever– I intend to do what must be done, and returning your kits is only the first step. I only ask that you do not interfere."

𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓  ╱╱ 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 〚 11.22.2023 〛 —————«

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.

• "speech"

​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

---

the confession should make them feel light. feel better. feel... something other than what they truly feel. stupid, perhaps. idiotic. how in the name of the stars did a windclanner manage to get in their camp, steal their kits without anyone seeing? without the queen tasked to watch them seeing? breathe, chilledstar. in, and out. count to ten. one. two.

their veins feel like they're on fire. they feel like the stupidest leader that the clan could ask for, in this very moment. they wonder if smogmaw feels the same, having been the one at the very border upon the time the kits first went missing. they were straight up told that there were no sign of them. three. four. five. what could they believe now?

sunstride was risking his life to tell them this. perhaps he's in good spirit. and perhaps windclan was not all bad... but a bad apple truly spoiled the bunch, chopped up and baked into the freshest and most sweet smelling pie. alluring, even, to the eyes of outsides who know not of the rot that sat dead in the center, ruining every piece cut. six. seven. eight. nine.

their paws are shaking. their claws knead into the ground, and their muzzle twitches as their lip pulls back in disdain. sootstar, and sootstar alone it seems, was responsible for this. along with one accomplice. two cats, causing so much destruction. and sunstride was trying to make it right, at the cost of his own life. he was either really brave, or really fucking stupid. perhaps a bit of both. ten.

"do you know the name of this warrior?"

they speak coldly, eyes not leaving the deputy for one moment.

"you are either an extremely brave cat, sunstride, or a really mousebrained one. bring us home our kits, safe and sound, and i will see to it that your own sacrifice in the manner is not forgotten. i do hope, for the sake of you and your clan, that you are not lying."

they pause in their words, teeth glinting as they pulled their lip back in the snarls.

"because if you are, when the sun finally sets, you will only be reminded of the shadows left behind. we do not mess around about our own."
​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

WindClan at the border. He’d half-expected to see Sootstar’s smoke-colored fur, the familiar gray tones her son Sootspot wears, but it’s neither. Sunstride’s rosetted form cuts a stark figure across the Thunderpath; his blue eyes are intense, beseeching. Granitepelt stands still beside Applepaw, dark green eyes narrowing shrewdly. One of the apprentices nearly trips over themselves, wailing across the territory for the ShadowClan leader and deputy. Other warriors begin to edge the border—Scalejaw, his son in tow, Skunktail, Serpentgrin. By the time Chilledstar and Smogmaw are present, there’s a crowd of ShadowClanners leering at the WindClan deputy.

“I am not here with WindClan, but as Sunstride alone,” the golden-maned warrior says. Granitepelt’s eyelids flinch away from the simmering surface of his eyes. Sunstride asks for Chilledstar and Smogmaw’s audience alone, away from the rest of the patrol. Granitepelt’s gaze follows them as they pad away from the others, and he wonders—he has to wonder—just what secret is Sunstride spilling? His jaw sets, but he remains cool as he can in the face of Sootstar’s deputy. “Is this treason of a different sort?” He murmurs to his apprentice, but only half-addressing her.

, ”​

​

 

[smogstar]

Smogmaw tends to his fur anew, channeling restless energy into assertive strokes. It is a defensive gesture, each motion charged with an adversary's scorn, for that is the role he wishes to reaffirm to his WindClan counterpart. Historical contexts will not be so easily erased. They remain enemies no matter the guise Sunstride casts upon this meeting, nor the imperiled air he wraps around his being.

Cleanliness conveys confidence; posture conveys intent. Emphasising the order of personal appearance over that of his neighbouring clan, Smogmaw supplies his tufts a final sharp tug, before delivering his chest forward and arcing a stiff spine. His leader opts to abide by the neutral ruse, but the deputy doesn't mask his muzzle's curl or his pelt's bristle.

He tarries for a passing moment, clearing his throat whilst Chilledstar leads the moor-dweller away. "Skunktail, you're patrol lead now," he directs the remaining clanmates in his midst, head swung over shoulder, "use the remaining time to gather fresh-kill. 'Magine me 'n Chilledstar'll be border-bound for a while yet." Bidding farewell through a brief nod, eyes lingering on his offspring, the ashen tom awaits a heartbeat before commencing on his leader's tail.

Chilledstar equips themselves with a quiet urgency, which is met by an appreciative hum as he parks beside their flank. Paw pads amass winter-teased soil between digits, claws scraping to free grimy clumps. Unease is felt at a physical level. Its root is not quite clear. But, as Sunstride's words take flight, and the cause for his being here unveils itself, the discomfort loudens to a deafening point. Tanglekit and Halfkit are hostages to the moors, fusing the soft hum of suspicion into unassailable reality. Long subdued since Halfshade's passing, his heart threatens to burst free from its enclosure.

"Mistreated!" he echoes cruelly, shockwaves of incredulity jolting him in periodic quakes. He's hesitant to assign credence to the revelation, but just before he hits the cusp of disbelief, he's reminded to the shock worn in that one molly's expression. They all knew. Their medicine cat knew. Scathing ire bleeds through his expression, its full depth unsusceptible even to him. What compounds his fury is the other deputy's blindness to the obvious. "You've missed the mark on one thing." Yellowed fangs reveal in a snarl that echoes his leader's. "We would not be punishing WindClan for Sootstar's treachery, as you say—it would be a consequence of your willing participation in it. For even Wolfsong to give a barefaced lie..." He ends in a venomous hiss, and it takes every grain of strength available to regain his composure.

If he holds his knuckles so tense any longer, they may never release. A swift tail drag comes in tandem with a change in his focus. "This is a fragile matter, Chilledstar. Neither you or I know how WindClan infiltrated our camp, but we will have answers when the kits are returned." His eyes are like a sun cast over a snow-swept expanse—simultaneously ablaze and glacial. They linger on Sunstride, seeking purchase in his stare, demanding action. "We must keep tight lips about this until that happens."

He turns his head to the other deputy with unmistakable force. "Do not think we will sit so idly. Return them swiftly."​

 

[SUNNVAR]

There it is again, a low and stirring violence, a venom that surges from his chest like a tidal wave. He spits it out, uncaring of who might hear him, "You call us willing? To risk the lives of our kits, our clanmates?" Despite his rage, he finds that his voice comes out low between the three of them. "We have watched those around us exiled from our clan, or far worse, and you think that we stand here with joy in our hearts?" For all that he knows about what they have seen, what they feel, so too does he know what he feels in this moment. A terrible and terrifying pain for the weight that he has carried, unseen by all that now berate him. They would be right to blame him for this, but does that make him wrong to resent it? Does their pain mean that WindClan's own becomes meaningless?

"No. You will not speak of my mate's sacrifice until you know the threat that has been put upon our heads." In better times perhaps he will understand Smogmaw better, one father to another, but in this moment he can see the broad warrior as nothing but a threat. Just as he had always intended to make himself. The fire that has faded from him is not doused this time. Sunstride meets their gazes in equal turn, one and then another. "I need only a few nights to find a path for their return. And you are right. I do not trust Sootstar's word, yet know that she spoke of someone from ShadowClan who helped our warrior in this. Who told her of the kits' plight. If you speak true — if you do not mess around about your own — you will keep your eyes open in the days to come."

His gaze rises to face the parting patrol, unaware of those who linger. Trusted faces, it would seem, or Smogmaw's earlier litter. He knows nothing about them, and doubts that he ever will. "I will return in three nights. Please– bring only those that you trust." He steps backwards from the two of them until his paws hit the cooling asphalt, still startlingly warm beneath his touch. It is there that Sunstride turns and darts across, and back towards the temporary safety of moorland heather.

𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓  ╱╱ 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 〚 11.22.2023 〛 —————«

• OOC. out ! :D
• 

  SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.

• "speech"

​

 

[Garlicheart]

She is scolded for yelling so loud, but she just gives Chilledstar a big smile. "Okay!!"

She follows them all the way back to the border, eager to reunite with her family members and unwilling to leave them when Windclan was at the border. She doesn't trust them for a moment, even if Sunstride said he was alone. The walk back filled her with anxiety, fear for what might happen. Though when they reach the border, nothing terrible has. Everyone is fine and Sunstride is still on his side of the border. Relieved, she lets herself relax a little.

Until Sunstride says he wants to talk to Chilledstar and Smogmaw alone. She frowns, but her father and Chilledstar seem to go with it, so.... She remains planted where she is, scanning the grass for any signs of an ambush. She can't hear their conversation and thats mostly fine, but.... She wanted to know what was going on, too. Maybe Smogmaw will tell her later.

She looks up at the other warriors with her. She doesn't know what Granitepelt is talking about, so she looks at him, blinks as she tries to think... And then looks back to the three cats who were sharing Top Secret Information.​

 

[FLINTWISH]

Flintpaw is not long after his mentor and stands between her and his father, head bowed between his shoulders. He's never been one for standing tall, it seems — or if he had been as a kit, it'd been beaten out of him by unfortunate circumstance after unfortunate circumstance, until he walked low as he does now. Ashenpaw and Garlicpaw wail for their father, and then he arrives, and then Chilledstar and Smogmaw and Sunstride all request some semblance of privacy. Flintpaw is not particularly bothered by this, but only because he knows he would have been excluded from the conversation anyway. Nobody in ShadowClan would trust him with sensitive information; nobody would give him a precious secret. Well, maybe Poppypaw would — but she was strange, and they all knew it.

Granitepelt murmurs something as the deputies speak. Flintpaw doesn't catch it. Instead she glances to her fellow apprentices, unconvinced that any of them had a real idea of what was happening here or any real idea of how to conduct themselves in the face of it. Maybe Applepaw — but to give Applepaw credit for anything meant to acknowledge her as a cat who didn't hate Flintpaw's guts. Dual-toned eyes linger on the small party when Sunstride tears off.

"Weird," is all the apprentice offers, plumed tail flicking irritably.

𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 ✧ 𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

• 

• 
  
  — flintkit . flintpaw
  — he / they / she ; apprentice of shadowclan
  — short-haired solid blue tom with low white and blue/green heterochromatic eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — headshot by me, signature by dreamydoggo
  — penned by meghan

​

 

[scalejaw]

—————————————————【 she/her | menacing 】————————————————

【◈】 Her flank is pressed against, but she didn't react outwardly- perhaps a gentle lean back against Chilledstar as they passed. Chilled was one of the only cats in camp she allowed to do that, and it was rare it was done outside of camp. Couldn't exactly deny her own leader comfort, though, she supposed. Scalejaw fell silent as Sunstride demanded a meeting. Orange eyes glowed like coals as her leader and deputy agreed to a brief meeting to the side.

Vision pinned to them, she was aware of the other cats watching- those on the patrol with Smogmaw dismissed to finish the hunt. She inhaled sharply, but she didn't sit. No, something about this caused her fur to prickle uncomfortably. Probably that a Windclanner who decided that Highstones was there own, and own alone, standing on their border requesting a private meeting. This wasn't weird, it was strange and it didn't leave Scalejaw's mind that, you know. It was just that.

Flintpaw's words brushed her ears, and she inclined her head, the only reaction she had for Flintpaw's statement. Sunstride is backing away, then fleeing- so Scalejaw speaks finally to her apprentice, voice all near-growls and cold ice. "Stay with Granitepelt." She uttered, stepping towards Chilledstar and Smogmaw. Questioning eyes pierce the two of them. "What was that?" Scalejaw asked, voice quiet and ears pushed forward.

"yuh"

[penned by dallas].

​