- Jan 12, 2023
- 163
- 57
- 28
it’s time to end this, smokestar had mumbled when she teetered after him in the wake of their most recent patrol’s incident. as lichentail settles down in ravensong’s den alongside poor moonpaw, the tiny lilac girl had decided much the same. fairness was still a virtue to someone as young as she was, and with each bleeding body drug back into camp, she began to form her own ideas — her own plans. shellkit could keep her clanmates safe. she was three moons old, and even iciclefang had started training at three moons — if she didn’t start now, she’d be nowhere near the level of a true riverclan warrior. shellkit wasnt scared, despite the tremble in stout limbs when she edges slowly, slowly around the many stones and sedge curtains that make up their camp. the ‘ no leaving camp ‘ rule was as dumb as blazestar’s new code — how else would they get them to leave? to stop hurting riverclanners?
all you needed was to be brave, and shellkit was far beyond it. since that day in the nursery when smokestar had come to announce that she wouldnt be an apprentice soon, the lilac girl had felt braver than she’d ever been. in fact — she wanted this, this call to adventure. if she found the ones being so hateful, she could talk some sense into them, or at least get a few swipes in.. it wasn’t because she was angry. it certainly wasn’t because the feeling of rejection still stings at her paws, snubbed and placated for what would be another three months yet — and even if it was, who had that sort of time? so in the briefest moments that hazecloud is distracted visiting her injured mate before bed, shellkit finds her way between two stones ; the slightest divot where patching twine had fallen through, tucked back well behind the nursery.
the river coaxes her forward, a soft hush-hush of frosted water moving over well - corroded rocks. the tall grass is dark and imposing on the other side, jutting from dark soil and sand to flutter far taller than shellkit herself, but she wriggles out anyway. to her left is a strip of damp sand, gentle ripples lapping over where the edges of their water source had frozen over. she’d heard once to follow water — she tried to picture herself as hazecloud, traveling into the unknown mountains to meet vicious, scary creatures she didn’t know. she hopes that, despite doing the exact opposite of what she’d been told, hazecloud would be proud of her for each tremulous step she takes further out onto the clear of the shore. the moon hangs heavy in the sky and as she trots forward into the unknown, she uses it to catch the gleam of shells and pebble that line their small beaches. for the first time, realizes that she had no idea what she’d say when she found them. really, her chest was starting to hurt already from walking alone. it was dark, and freezing cold, and there were lots of places a bad guy could hide in a big, plant - eaten place like this. suddenly, she doesn’t know if she should go any further.
because she is a child, scared and unsure, she begins instead to play. to collect the shiniest trinkets for her return, because if she couldn’t find her way back, someone would find her.
and someone does.
when the world stirs, all that will be found is a pile of half - stacked shells roughly ten fox lengths from camp, some knocked over and scattered against the shore below. her scent lingers heavy here, but so does that of rogue familiar only to the ones that had found her litter long ago — a deep, metallic odor fading fast over the riverside.
all you needed was to be brave, and shellkit was far beyond it. since that day in the nursery when smokestar had come to announce that she wouldnt be an apprentice soon, the lilac girl had felt braver than she’d ever been. in fact — she wanted this, this call to adventure. if she found the ones being so hateful, she could talk some sense into them, or at least get a few swipes in.. it wasn’t because she was angry. it certainly wasn’t because the feeling of rejection still stings at her paws, snubbed and placated for what would be another three months yet — and even if it was, who had that sort of time? so in the briefest moments that hazecloud is distracted visiting her injured mate before bed, shellkit finds her way between two stones ; the slightest divot where patching twine had fallen through, tucked back well behind the nursery.
the river coaxes her forward, a soft hush-hush of frosted water moving over well - corroded rocks. the tall grass is dark and imposing on the other side, jutting from dark soil and sand to flutter far taller than shellkit herself, but she wriggles out anyway. to her left is a strip of damp sand, gentle ripples lapping over where the edges of their water source had frozen over. she’d heard once to follow water — she tried to picture herself as hazecloud, traveling into the unknown mountains to meet vicious, scary creatures she didn’t know. she hopes that, despite doing the exact opposite of what she’d been told, hazecloud would be proud of her for each tremulous step she takes further out onto the clear of the shore. the moon hangs heavy in the sky and as she trots forward into the unknown, she uses it to catch the gleam of shells and pebble that line their small beaches. for the first time, realizes that she had no idea what she’d say when she found them. really, her chest was starting to hurt already from walking alone. it was dark, and freezing cold, and there were lots of places a bad guy could hide in a big, plant - eaten place like this. suddenly, she doesn’t know if she should go any further.
because she is a child, scared and unsure, she begins instead to play. to collect the shiniest trinkets for her return, because if she couldn’t find her way back, someone would find her.
and someone does.
when the world stirs, all that will be found is a pile of half - stacked shells roughly ten fox lengths from camp, some knocked over and scattered against the shore below. her scent lingers heavy here, but so does that of rogue familiar only to the ones that had found her litter long ago — a deep, metallic odor fading fast over the riverside.
-
i. she is GONE! her trail leads obviously out of camp while everyone is distracted and is taken by a rogue.. WHO could have done this..
-
-
delicate lilac - striped molly with sugarplum eyes.SHELLKIT 𓆉 SHE / HER, KITTEN OF RIVERCLAN. KINDLING xx UNKNOWN, NIECE TO SMOKESTAR. TWO MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. PENNED BY ANTLERS.she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of shell - touched cream, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore. feather breath and elderdown fur conceals a body worn fragile by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with baby fat in others. her face is short - muzzled, framed half mast by eyes coined warm, sugared amber
----------° ❀ ⋆
