camp RAIN'S GONNA WASH AWAY [ patrol 𓆝 return ]

[claythorn]

Her eyes were narrowed as she passed through the territory. She hadn't stopped to see if Midnightpaw, Frecklepaw, and Ospreypaw had followed her back. She did not need their company to tell camp what had happened, but the more she walked, the more she realized two things. One: There was surely to be some cats that did not like her still, given her blood, and may distrust her word. Which, she thought was maybe a little insane of them, but to each their own- she was going to continue to prove them wrong.

Two: Saying this in camp would incite panic. She didn't want to do that, but if she had to, she would. Vision was pinned forward as she made it into camp on fleet paws, her hackles raised. She wasn't bothered easily, but the thieving of cats that lived in the same camp, slept in the same den? It was unnerving, to say the least. Who would be next? Who would she fail to see and find before they were ripped from their clan, continuously weakening their forces and destroying families?

Her mouth split open as she searched for their pointed leader- "Lichenstar. I'm looking for Lichentstar." She called.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"
  
  tagging those on the patrol @MIDNIGHTPAW @Frecklepaw. @Ospreypaw
  tagging @lichenstar (but no need to wait on any of the tagged)
  continuation of this thread! ; before moonbeam's capture
  congrats, have a crappie thread
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, eleven moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ no current love interest / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[Frecklepaw.]

WATCHING YOUR
PRETTY SMILE SO WARM​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

frecklepaw & 08 moons & trans. fem & she/they/it & riverclan apprentice ​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Somehow, some part of Frecklepaw still vainly hopes that she is dreaming - that this awful day is nought but a nightmare she's yet to awake from. But really, she knows it isnt - her mind could never play such cruel tricks upon her. She's deathly silent as they return, slipping even further into herself than before - the life all but drained from her by yet another loss. She wants to beleive Troutsnout will come home, that she wont be alone... but her parents hadnt. Eyes search the crowd for her littermates, not paying any attention to what Claythorn says. She wants her siblings - want to tuck freckled face into Magpiepaws shoulder and pretend the rest of the world doesnt exist.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I ━ L O S E ━ M Y ━ C O O L , ━ W H E N ━ I ━ G E T ━ E M O T I O N A L

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

[Magpiepaᴡ]

They want to believe its not true, they want to believe that Troutsnout would be home safe and sound. There wasnt going to be another loss surely? The world couldnt be that cruel to take all of the parental figures they’ve ever had in their short life away- right? Magpiepaw hoped so as they sat outside of the apprentices’ den, watching the entrance with unwavering mismatched eyes. Hoping, praying, for the best and yet it seemed like the world only answered with the worst possible options.

The black and white cat looked up with round eyes and then swallowed thickly, before the bushes of the entrance rustled and out came Claythorn. They ask for Lichenstar but they have no answer as to where the leader may be. They then spot the familiar pelts of both Midnightpaw and their sibling- Frecklepaw. They look distraught they thought quietly and felt this sinking feeling run through their body.

No-dont say it- please.

Then they got up from their spot by the den and quickly trotted their way over to Frecklepaw, their mismatched blue and yellow hues round before they brushed their littlermates shoulder with its muzzle. Please, please be okay, Trout. ​

"Speech"​

---

Of A Monster​

​

 

[shellpaw]

she is settled aside the freshkill pile when they return, taking her fill before heading into the meadowlands for a brief training session, a small, half - gnawed minnow sitting open and splayed between lilac crested paws. claythorn’s push through the sedge marking their camp boundaries goes relatively unnoticed until she speaks, drawing ears to a forward angle and ruddy eyes to an upward drag, pink tongue coming to swipe her maw just as frecklepaw files in behind. she needs lichenstar, claythorn says, though the apprentice only seems to tuck into itself — silent. the warrior is not forthcoming, but frecklepaw bears its worry more enough for the both of them. shellpaw stares for a beat, prey growing forgotten beneath her in lieu of a small, coiling ball of dread that fills her belly instead.

she comes to a stand, watches as magpiepaw tacks themself to their sibling’s side and something tells her to mourn ; something tells her to prepare, to toughen her spine and brace for inevitability. her throat clicks, ” theyll be out.. soon.. “ they were supposed to head out in a moment, after all. she is hollow - breathed, worried enough in the brief lilt of her voice that when saccharine eyes flit between the two returned patrolmembers, trying to read the story they had yet to offer in the lines of their face, an embittered frown ghosts her still maw. there is little luck to be found, ” is everything.. okay? “ claythorn was bristling, hackles high ; had twolegs trashed their lands further? had someone gotten hurt, as pinekit had in the shallows of camp? pearlescent fangs come to press against her bottom lip, dovey tail held low and close to gently bent limbs. brace yourself.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ° 𓇼 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

• i.
  
  
• 
• 
  
  SHELLPAW 𓆉 SHE / HER. SEVEN MOONS OLD, APPRENTICE OF RIVERCLAN, MENTORED BY LICHENTAIL ; SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. HAZECLOUD xx LICHENTAIL, NIECE TO SMOKESTAR. PENNED BY ANTLERS ----------------- ° ❀ ⋆
  frail alabaster molly with lilac striping and watery amber eyes.
  
  she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of dovey lilac curls, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore and plush enough to conceal the juts of malnutrition beneath. tufted 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 rheumy, rosen amber. the anemic cold pink - purple at tender paws and nose tell a lifetime of sickness, further made obvious by the feathering weakness in half - whispered tones.
  

  CHRONICALLY ILL ; prone to wheezing, nose at a constant drip from longterm illness - induced nasal polyps. not contagious.

  
  

​

 

[DIZZYPAW]

"FATE IS A SUNDRESS" ˚୭ .ೃ⁀➷ tags ── A DECENT BIT's worth of practice had tired out Dizzypaw enough to justify drying her coat in the sun. She envies in the little joys that one can nab each day; the sun is such a warm and delightful thing to bask in. That, surely, rises too far in the sky and cannot be taken and trashed by Twolegs. She contemplates joining Shellpaw for a bite to eat when her plans come crashing to a halt - Claythorn's patrol is back. But something is wrong.

Solemnity settles into the faces of those padding into camp - oh, poor Frecklepaw and Magpiepaw look miserable. Her instinct echoes that of the other apprentice, so Dizzypaw rises to her paws and tries to make herself look empathetic without being pitying. The thought that something is wrong runs through her mind like a wave laps the shore: repeated and undoubted. Unlike that wave, there is no placidity to be found in watching these events partake.

Dizzypaw blinks hazel eyes to Shellpaw as she professes that Lichenstar will be out soon, now - time feels slow and thick. Dizzypaw feels as though she's swallowed too big of a bite. She doesn't want to overstep, and isn't sure that she is, so she turns to offer a little "I could go find them?" to someone. Shellpaw? Claythorn? Herself?​

​

 

[lichenstar]

✦　˚ 　✧ ˚　.˚　✦ 　✦

CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY ✧

• There is a release to be found in normalcy... and as hard as she searches for it, it seems equally intent on evading her every move. Sending off Shellpaw to get something to eat before they continued their day was more so a bet at having a moment alone to calm her shaking nerves (everything still felt distinctly and uniquely wrong). But the clan does not rest when it is convenient... and she is responsible for it at all moments of all hours now. It was inscribed in the star-lit runes that wrote of her nine blessings that demanded it; duty meant putting your clan before yourself.
  
  Drawing in another breath to slowly exhale and rest the anxiously standing furs down her spine, the blue lynx stands and returns to the hustle and bustle of the camp, pale eyes searching for her bubble-breathed daughter near the fresh-kill pile as she works towards a filling meal before her paws would be put to good use. But... it lays abandoned there... forgotten in favor of sepia stare upon flame-dappled fur.
  
  "It's alright Dizzypaw," she meows, reed-legged strides taking her to stand beside the apprentice with a gentle touch of crooked tail at her back. Claythorn looks... less than satisfied... to say the least. "What's... going on?"
• about
  speech hex code ✧ #6368A5
  ooc notes ✦
  tagging ✶
  penned by tieirlys
• ˚　　★⋆. ࿐࿔　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 .
  　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　 　　　　 ੈ✧˳·˖✶ ✦　　˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔
  　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦　　​

​

 

[Ospreypaw]

TAGS — Ospreypaw coasts at Frecklepaw's side, hoping to provide some semblance of support for the poor girl as the patrol returns to camp. There's a grim weight on all of their shoulders now. Troutsnout is missing.

When Magpiepaw moves to their sister, Ospreypaw detaches herself from her side. Lemon-lime eyes rake the small crowd that has gathered. Shellpaw, Dizzypaw... Lichenstar. It's Shellpaw's question that rouses an answer from the blue-laced girl, despite Claythorn's best efforts to keep the Clan's worries under wraps: "Troutsnout is gone." She speaks it plainly, with little cushion for the peer she had just supported on their way home. And though she speaks with such candor, it does not mean her heart doesn't ache for the caramel warrior who has been snatched from their midst. "Claythorn thinks twolegs got her, but there was a WindClan scent there, too."

As soon as she delivers the big spot of news, though, Ospreypaw bitterly resigns herself from divulging anything else. If the WindClan scent present wasn't important enough to investigate, then she can just let Claythorn be the hero that she thinks she is. Then, when it came out that Troutsnout had been whisked away to the moors, she could resent the fact that Ospreypaw was right all along. She finds a seat near Midnightpaw, who returned with them all, and rasps her tongue over her pale chest.​

 

[claythorn]

The faces of plenty of cats peered at her- some finding their kin with fear in their eyes. Fear of a truth that she needed to present, fear of a truth that was too real to cushion. Ears twitched, and she didn't respond to those that prompted. Shellpaw's question caused her eyes to shift to that of the apprentice, of the many standing at her side, then back to Shellpaw. Her leveled stare, in her mind, made it obvious- no, everything is terribly wrong.

Mismatched golds found Lichenstar as she approached, but one of the apprentices- over-eager, words plain and unbeaten. Not that Claythorn would've done any different, but she speaks in stead of the warrior. Her face shows little reaction. No, now was not the time to push and pull at the hierarchy. The news was the only importance here. When she speaks, her vision, and thoughts, are far from the apprentice who thinks herself on a pedestal right now.

"The Windclan scent there only belonged to one cat. Twoleg was mixed with it all, and all scents were as strong as the next." Claythorn reported, her words even. They did not betray her opinion, as Ospreypaw had. "Blood was upon the ground. This was found at the bridge between our territories." Claythorn wasn't emotional about it- she was cut, clear, concise. She reported each detail that was important, but while her tone was even, her body still betrayed her. Bristled, off-centered. Angry.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, eleven moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ no current love interest / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[robinheart]

Most of the time Robinheart does not investigate the clamber of camp - she is working towards being better, more social… especially now with her children’s eyes opened and ever watchful of her. Most of the time she is happy enough spending her day in the nursery with the wobbly kittens, nosing them to their paws should they attempt to stand, catching them when legs give out. She finds excitement in this milestone, a weak flickering flame lighting her chest, and wants to share it with Troutsnout when the speckled molly returns (she has been gone an awful long time?)

It’s as if she knows something bad has happened. Claythorn’s voice draws the mottled queen from the nursery, leaving her kits under Apricotflower’s watchful gaze, and her stomach drops at the news.

Troutsnout is missing.

Citrine eyes, less red rimmed than they have been in days, scan the patrol before focusing on Lichenstar. What will they decide to do? There are… conflicting opinions at play. And guilt boils in the tortoiseshell’s gut over harboring knowledge of why Troutsnout may have been on the bridge with a WindClanner. I warned her… Did she not listen? Was her best friend so foolish she’d maintain a friendship with a moor resident?

And what of the blood? Whose blood was it?

“Did… Did they lead anywhere? Th-The scents?” Robinheart asks feebly, glancing back at Claythorn. Could Troutsnout have fled a twoleg by seeking refuge in WindClan? Or was it worst case scenario and the scents converged where twoleg was strongest? Was she lifted away as Robinheart had been as a new apprentice? “I-I mean… is it possible she fled into WindClan’s territory to escape a twoleg?” ​

[ penned by kerms ]​

 

[salmonshade]

A patrol returns with grave news, calling for Lichenstar... And as soon as the leaders arrive, they erupt in to explanation. Osperypaw claims Troutsnout was taken. Claythorn confirms this. But what Osperypaw said piques her curiosity... "Windclan scent..." her tone is bitter and angry. "Did it look like they were fighting? Is that why there was blood?" please, let this be it. And let them just have run away from a Twoleg. Don't be catnapped, please... Troutsnout is a dutiful warrior. There would be no way she was gallivanting with a Windclanner... And no way Windclan would entertain that. Sure, Riverclan helped their clan at one point, but the misdeeds Windclan had shown Riverclan in the past would not be so easily forgiven...

Troutsnout wouldn't do that. She had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"She couldn't have gotten far if she did, a Windclan patrol would likely escort her back... Especially if there was Windclan scent." she murmurs to Robinheart though shes sure that the queens comment was borne more of wishful thinking. Maybe Twolegs are encroaching on Windclan territory now as well, especially after the fire... Whatever this was, it seems that they need to take it seriously.

𝙼𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙴 𝙸𝚃𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 ଳ⋆｡˚ 𝙼𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙴 𝙸𝚃𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚁

• 
  ❥ salmon ,, salmonshade
  ❥ cis female ,, she/her ,, 39 months
  ❥ warrior of riverclan ,, mentoring riverpaw
  ❥ fluffy & dainty chocolate tortie smoke with white, blue eyes
  ❥ "speech, fd9367" ,, thoughts
  ❥ lesbian ,, single
  ❥ smells like warm flowers & freshly cut grass
  ❥ chibi by pin ,, penned by chuff

​

 

[lichenstar]

✦　˚ 　✧ ˚　.˚　✦ 　✦

CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY ✧

• A nervous paleness falls across her face to hear a report of Twoleg scent and WindClan lingering on RiverClan's side of the border. There are a plethora of theories that can be drawn from this and they do begin to spew uncontrollably from both those involved and onlookers worried about the news. Ospreypaw seems suspicious of the scent of their neighbors while Claythorn insists the Upwalker scent is far more pressing... While she wouldn't ignore that for some reason or another, there had been a trespasser on their territory, not even a WindClanner could always outrun those giant, selfish beasts.
  
  An ear flicks in idle though, muddling through the murky waters of her mind to try to sum up a solution... to figure out where to take this, what direction to point the end of her sword and charge towards. "We had issue with... Twolegs last new-leaf," she informs them with a tight-lipped frown... it seems history is doomed to repeat itself. "I'll take... a patrol and... search for traps..."
  
  Icy eyes land on Salmonshade with a small jerk of her head, as if summoning her to her side, "Stay near... I'll gather some others...." As far as what Claythorn's little group could do-
  
  "If the trail... ended. There's nothing... else to be done... We'll just have to... search."
• about
  speech hex code ✧ #6368A5
  ooc notes ✦
  tagging ✶
  penned by tieirlys
• ˚　　★⋆. ࿐࿔　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 .
  　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　 　　　　 ੈ✧˳·˖✶ ✦　　˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔
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​

 

[EVENINGPAW]

Shellpaw is elusive now that she's been whisked away into apprenticehood. Eveningkit had been one of the loudest voices when it was time to cheer that new name, and really, she is happy for her sister, but she still misses her constant presence. It's been a priority for Eveningkit, keeping watch on familiar shell-cracked face whenever a session is over and there's time to simply hang out. And... ever since Riverpaw has started to wane, the fear of Pebblepaw and Shellpaw doing the same sits in the first row of her worries.

That's precisely why she had joined Shellpaw at the fresh-kill pile, not particularly hungry but still finding any excuse to lay beside her. It's Claythorn who rouses them both from that peaceful moment and Eveningkit would be furious if the faces of the returning patrol weren't so damn concerned.

Eveningkit doesn't bother with questions. Claythorn and the apprentices are bombarded with inquires anyway, and with the way those orange eyes narrow, she doubts he will answer to anyone other than Lichenstar themself. She recounts the members of said patrol — watching them come and go proves to be useful yet again — and the lack of a Troutsnout is glaring...

Lichenstar arrives at last, but Eveningkit doubts the air of authority will quell whatever has happened outside of camp. Mom can do anything- but she cannot, much to her daughter's dismay, turn back time.

Claythorn speaks, and Eveningkit feels panic boiling inside her belly. She presses close to Shellpaw in hopes of comfort as her Clanmates mull over the WindClan scent... but her fear lies within the mention of Twolegs. "They'll take us all," she breathes, shaky, with certainty. It's only a matter of time.
​

 

[Graypaw]

If Graykit claimed he was not scared then it would be nothing more than a front. The truth was that the second he heard the word twoleg nowadays his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Taken. Another clanmate just gone and for what? Why in the stars name was this happening to them? It would not frighten him nearly as much if the adults weren't also afraid but the way Claythorn comes into camp demanding to see Lichenstar, the way everyone crowds in a worried chorus, it makes him realize the severity of what they were facing.

This has happened before Lichenstar says and his ears flatten to his skull. Would it happen every year? Was there nothing that they could do to put an end to it? He looks to the cats that he knows. Robinheart is speculating, asking if it's possible that she fled to WindClan but that doesn't make sense to him. Why would anyone ever want to leave RiverClan?

It is Eveningpaw's soft words that scare him the most and he turns to his bright-furred denmate, alarm in his murky green eyes. "You don't really think that do you?" He asks, tail flicking nervously behind him "The grown-ups would never let that happen" he says, trying to assure himself more than her. But then again, the logical part of his brain argues, what could they do about it when they themselves were being taken too?

( ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ) I can feel you leaving

• 
  
  
• 
  GRAYKIT RIVERCLAN KITTEN ; HE / HIM
  LILYBLOOM X LAKEMOON BROTHER TO SNOWKIT
  

  A plush coated kitten with a pelt marbled in varying shades of gray and white. He has dull green eyes and a tall stature. Most of his personality can be described as carefree though some also say that unmotivated is a more than apt term. His trust and love is easily won through praise but he will do little work to receive it.

  ✶ easy in battle + no formal training
  

​