- Jan 26, 2024
- 241
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The storm has come and gone, and with it, leafbare has settled over their mire with silvery calm. Marblepaw's feet quietly crunch into the snow the blizzard had left behind; her head is just clearing up from the catmint Starlingheart had found in her storage, and she knows the rest of those who'd sickened during the cold snap will soon be up with her. She'd rested as long as she could, but her paws itched with impatience. There were herbs to be collected; just because ShadowClan had won their spat with ThunderClan did not mean peace lay ahead of them, and now she has sicknesses to worry about, too.
Especially with Mirestar gone. Patrols had searched the snow-blanketed territory, but their paws had come up empty. Their leader had disappeared without a trace, just as Smogstar had only moons ago. Marblepaw has now seen more leaders in her lifetime than she's cared to; she is almost numb to the grief that accompanies that loss. What can they do, as a Clan, but carry on as StarClan intends? Must intend for them?
Her jaws are laden with sprigs of precious marigold, rare and tender — she'd been so, so fortunate to find a cluster south of the Carrionplace's entrance, and she is careful not to bite into the delicate stems placed between her teeth. Wounds are a fact of life in ShadowClan, whether they are earned at the claws of an enemy or at the teeth of some savage predator. Her Clanmates would need every precious drop of the nectar she'd harvested.
And four sprigs really isn't enough, she thinks, casting a forlorn glance behind her. Starlingheart has paused to study something — perhaps something is regrowing, or perhaps she's found some valuable herb Marblepaw doesn't know about yet. She's about to shout through her mouthful of marigold when something startles her.
Wings flutter, shift, churn the air. A bird pure as the snow lights on a twisted pine bough. Marblepaw stares at it for a moment, her mouth watering. The fresh-kill pile had been abysmal when she'd left this morning, but she's not much of a climber, and she fears even one step further will send the creature back into the sky. It isn't a bird she sees often — it's skull, in stark contrast to the rest of its pale body, is ebony. She rummages through her brain for a moment before producing the name of the bird: Tern. What is it doing here, in ShadowClan's territory? Hadn't they all fled the forest for warmer skies?
The longer she stares, the more perplexed she grows. Her eyes fall from the tern to the set of stilted footprints it had left behind in the snow. Only...
Those are pawprints. Marblepaw's eyes round with disbelief. The bird had taken flight from the snowy trail she's facing — and those pawprints are fresh, newly-made in the frost. The pale apprentice's jaws part; the marigold falls to her paws in a fluttering pile.
As she prepares to call for Starlingheart, the tern turns and looks at her. Its shadowy gaze is piercing. She wants to call out to it — isn't that absurd, to want to talk to a bird! — but she does, and she can't explain why. Something about the bird is different, and the prints —
It takes flight in a ruffled hurry. Marblepaw, herbs forgotten, takes off after it, her flanks heaving. "Wait! Don't go!" She stops only when she sees where the arched silhouette is headed.
The peaks of Highstones.
Marblepaw exhales a cloud of smoke. "StarClan...?" What else could this be, but a sign?
Especially with Mirestar gone. Patrols had searched the snow-blanketed territory, but their paws had come up empty. Their leader had disappeared without a trace, just as Smogstar had only moons ago. Marblepaw has now seen more leaders in her lifetime than she's cared to; she is almost numb to the grief that accompanies that loss. What can they do, as a Clan, but carry on as StarClan intends? Must intend for them?
Her jaws are laden with sprigs of precious marigold, rare and tender — she'd been so, so fortunate to find a cluster south of the Carrionplace's entrance, and she is careful not to bite into the delicate stems placed between her teeth. Wounds are a fact of life in ShadowClan, whether they are earned at the claws of an enemy or at the teeth of some savage predator. Her Clanmates would need every precious drop of the nectar she'd harvested.
And four sprigs really isn't enough, she thinks, casting a forlorn glance behind her. Starlingheart has paused to study something — perhaps something is regrowing, or perhaps she's found some valuable herb Marblepaw doesn't know about yet. She's about to shout through her mouthful of marigold when something startles her.
Wings flutter, shift, churn the air. A bird pure as the snow lights on a twisted pine bough. Marblepaw stares at it for a moment, her mouth watering. The fresh-kill pile had been abysmal when she'd left this morning, but she's not much of a climber, and she fears even one step further will send the creature back into the sky. It isn't a bird she sees often — it's skull, in stark contrast to the rest of its pale body, is ebony. She rummages through her brain for a moment before producing the name of the bird: Tern. What is it doing here, in ShadowClan's territory? Hadn't they all fled the forest for warmer skies?
The longer she stares, the more perplexed she grows. Her eyes fall from the tern to the set of stilted footprints it had left behind in the snow. Only...
Those are pawprints. Marblepaw's eyes round with disbelief. The bird had taken flight from the snowy trail she's facing — and those pawprints are fresh, newly-made in the frost. The pale apprentice's jaws part; the marigold falls to her paws in a fluttering pile.
As she prepares to call for Starlingheart, the tern turns and looks at her. Its shadowy gaze is piercing. She wants to call out to it — isn't that absurd, to want to talk to a bird! — but she does, and she can't explain why. Something about the bird is different, and the prints —
It takes flight in a ruffled hurry. Marblepaw, herbs forgotten, takes off after it, her flanks heaving. "Wait! Don't go!" She stops only when she sees where the arched silhouette is headed.
The peaks of Highstones.
Marblepaw exhales a cloud of smoke. "StarClan...?" What else could this be, but a sign?
- ooc: mentioning @Starlingheart but no need to post :]
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Marblekit. Marblepaw, she/they w/ feminine and non-gendered terms.
— "speech", thoughts, attack
— 11 moons old, ages realistically on the 1st.
— mentored by Starlingheart ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a
— shadowclan medicine cat apprentice, formerly a rogue.siltcloudx lilacfur, gen 3.
— currently mated to n/a.
— penned by Marquette.
sh fawn tabby with dull green eyes. courageous, curious, introspective, observant, judgmental, snarky.
