OVER THE FENCE ☼ HORSEPLACE PATROL

[dimmingsun]

"Little lost lamb," Dimmingsun coos and appears to resemble more fox than cat. His tail swishes behind him and ruffles any patches of dry moor-grass, right where he's suggested for the patrol to stand by while they assess possible dangers. The Horseplace has been quite the point of interest the past few moons — though he does not speak of it willingly, anyone who bothers to ask where he's received the newest batch of scratches would get an easy answer. His resentment towards DuskClan is not a secret.

Scorchstreak's order for him to lead a patrol here had given him mixed feelings despite his eagerness to fight. The latest fiasco was his decision alone; if Thriftfeather is planning an ambush in retaliation, then the assigned cats beside him would get their blood spilled because of him. A sense of déjà vu is not lost on him.

No matter; for the time being, the place appears calm... minus the ruckus one little lamb makes, bleating like no tomorrow. "Separated from the herd... how ironic, considerin' where we are." Dimmingsun cannot miss the opportunity to tie that to something bitter.

@CELANDINEPAW @GRAVELSNAP @SHEEPPAW @SCORCHSTORM @Quietcrow

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[CELANDINEPAW]

"A lamb!" Celandinepaw gasped in surprise, as she trampled through the spindled wildgrasses, as though her mere presence did not cosset the stray blades of verdancy as her peers would. She had always been a little too clumsy, a little too heavy upon her feet, just like the lamb that splayed upon the moors. The former barncat would have never expected a lamb, of all animals from the workfolk, to be cast away outside of the protection of the barm. The lost child bleated pitifully for something, with its cries cut short by their own succession like an apocope flattening whatever edge it would have, continual cry that fought to get out of its system. The yellow tabby blinked as she stared upon its beady eyes, reflecting an image of her that trembled and frayed at the edges. [i[It's lost... and not hurt, I hope.[/i] She figured it must have been from the workfolk's herd, like its smaller frame would hardly carve a decrement to the shepherds, a fragile shard to break away from the glass. She knew it would not survive long here, that the wilds would surely gobble it up as if it were no more than a scrap of fleece...

"We need to herd it back to the workfolk. If we managed to guide it to the other sheep, it should be fine. But we need to watch out for the dogs... They're usually quite friendly, though I can't tell you how they'd behave with newcomers." Celandinepaw immediately instructed, turning wheat-tinged gaze towards the stretches of fences before them, though they had fallen into destitution and disarray. Letting out a breath, pinkish nose twitched as she searched around for any sign of her former kin. Will the dogs recognize me if I showed my face to them? Pangs of nostalgia, interbridled with a reckoning of fear, besieged the spotted molly. She immediately began to pad over to the lamb's hind, pawing at the childish creature and goading it to move forwards, like she aimed to save it from a mind lost in abstraction. Making sure to keep her distance, the apprentice knew how hard the hooved animals could bray and kick. Even a lamb had the potential to kick, and even a scared child had the potential to hurt.

𝘗𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘖𝘕𝘐𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕𝘚 𝘚𝘔𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 .° ✿ °. 𝘐 𝘊𝘈𝘕 𝘚𝘌𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘚𝘛𝘖𝘙𝘠 𝘐𝘚 𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘛𝘖 𝘈𝘙𝘊

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• ( NOTE: Reference is a placeholder until a drawn reference can be supplied. Credit HERE )​
  
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  —— CELANDINEPAW / She/They/He / 11 Moons
  —— Moor Runner Apprentice of Windclan / Mentored by Dimmingsun
  —— A shorthaired golden spotted tabby with yellowish-green eyes. Somewhat pudgy, though lean and able to hold her ground in the wild.
  —— Extroverted and unafraid to speak their mind, she is a friendly and affable face in Windclan. Though ditzy and somewhat cowardly, she tries her best to help her clan.
  —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.

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