- Aug 1, 2022
- 214
- 46
- 28
He stands on the shore, the entrance to their makeshift camp that's slowly come together into a real one. His back to the river, his amber eyes gold in the sun and flicking from clanmate to clanmate, from den to den-- the nursery that Icesparkle and Mudpelt had built, sweet Lily at their side, tireless paws ensuring newborn kits would keep warm-- the medicine den, where he'd find a growing stock of herbs and the tired smile of a cinnamon tabby-- the River Rock, as it must be named now, where Cicadastar calls on fallen kin, grants names, sharpens borders.
Cats riverborn and not. Many, like Clearsight, with moons upon moons having weathered this land, and just as many new to its dangers. They're all RiverClan now.
Some of them just need time to catch up-- and a little guidance to get there.
"I'm taking a fishing patrol," he calls to his clanmates, blue tabby tail flicking behind him. "A little ways past camp, some of the calmer shallows. It's a good practice opportunity, especially for anyone who's still learning."
He ran it by Cicadastar, of course. A part of him is almost childishly excited at the chance to lead some fishing lessons. He just... he loves his clan, okay? And he's got a soft spot for the joiners who have thrown themselves into this life, the newbies who aren't naturals but don't let it stop them.
A few cats perk up, some padding to join him, and Clearsight leads the little patrol to the calm spot of shore-- reeds and pebbles and sand, calm blue water. Rocks and tree roots to perch on.
Clearsight leaps onto one such rock, then glances back at the cats who've followed. "If any of you all want help, just ask," he assures.
They've all been through so much lately. His heart aches thinking of the pain that's ripped through his clanmates these last weeks. They lost Wolf, and nearly Pumpkin too-- Poppy brutally attacked by her own family-- and before all that, the disaster of the WindClan patrol. And he's seen the way cats like Clayfur and Chamomile have stumbled, struggling to adapt, morale starting to falter.
Hard to keep your head up through all of that. But RiverClan's managing. Clearsight tries for an encouraging smile and sends up a little prayer to StarClan-- let this go well, please.
These cats could use a goddamn break.
Cats riverborn and not. Many, like Clearsight, with moons upon moons having weathered this land, and just as many new to its dangers. They're all RiverClan now.
Some of them just need time to catch up-- and a little guidance to get there.
"I'm taking a fishing patrol," he calls to his clanmates, blue tabby tail flicking behind him. "A little ways past camp, some of the calmer shallows. It's a good practice opportunity, especially for anyone who's still learning."
He ran it by Cicadastar, of course. A part of him is almost childishly excited at the chance to lead some fishing lessons. He just... he loves his clan, okay? And he's got a soft spot for the joiners who have thrown themselves into this life, the newbies who aren't naturals but don't let it stop them.
A few cats perk up, some padding to join him, and Clearsight leads the little patrol to the calm spot of shore-- reeds and pebbles and sand, calm blue water. Rocks and tree roots to perch on.
Clearsight leaps onto one such rock, then glances back at the cats who've followed. "If any of you all want help, just ask," he assures.
They've all been through so much lately. His heart aches thinking of the pain that's ripped through his clanmates these last weeks. They lost Wolf, and nearly Pumpkin too-- Poppy brutally attacked by her own family-- and before all that, the disaster of the WindClan patrol. And he's seen the way cats like Clayfur and Chamomile have stumbled, struggling to adapt, morale starting to falter.
Hard to keep your head up through all of that. But RiverClan's managing. Clearsight tries for an encouraging smile and sends up a little prayer to StarClan-- let this go well, please.
These cats could use a goddamn break.
