camp RED DEAD SEA 𓇼 EXPLORING?

[shellpaw]

the leafbare chill is harsher on lily soft lungs, bruised purple and white nestled deep within her ribcage. shellkit was, technically, not supposed to step paw from the feather - down comforts of riverclan’s nursery, but as her world widened, she finds herself nosing further at the twine entrance. that’s how she finds herself today : standing at the sliver of reed leading way into the clearing where big cats roamed. she can see their legs move, can see.. snow. haze cloud had told her all about snow ; it was cold and dangerous and.. she runs out of descriptors. already the girl doesn’t remember that time not so long ago, frosting stiff beneath her littermates. the crunch of snow under paw was still foreign to her, more used to the moss - soft lining of their nursery floor than any hardships past.

so when she teeters curiously from hazecloud’s sight ( for only a moment, a brief moment ) and into the light, she is stunned by the sudden, frigid wind. she was born into illness, birdboned thing that she is set poorly for the oncoming leafbare. she’d been introduced at its mantle and looked it, trembling limbs too thin beneath ivory tipped kitten fluff. her whiskers, minnow vein thin droop quick as they saturate, the sky gracing her with dustings of powder white. leafbare kicks, rustling her fur and.. oh. oh. it was cold out here. her fur parts wildly with each tugging whip of strong, howling wind, short ears pinning back and thornlike claws coming to sink into the snow that was too deep for her to truly grip.

a single snowflake lands on her nose.

it’s a large snowflake. not to anyone else, mind, but to her. it seemed to cover the entirety of her wind - whipped skin and tickled the short furs at her lip. a funny, familiar feeling starts in her face.

” hah — “ a great, gasping gulp, “ — CHOO! “

and perhaps she would be aware enough to know that she was sneezing on someone, if the force of it hadn’t sent her tumbling back onto her tail like an overturned turtle. despite her hardships, the snow continues to fall, unperturbed, onto her belly, ” guhhhh.. “ she says, grossly — sniffling a loud, wet sound into the open air. a big shadow casts over her all too quickly and, damp - faced, shellkit sucks in a wheezing breath to speak her best, ” guhhhh. i, ah.. sneed. “ sneezed. maybe, if they felt bad enough for her, they’d ignore the fact that she was approximately two baby steps from the nursery she wasn’t supposed to leave.

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𓇼 𝙎𝙊 𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙎𝙊 𝘾𝙊𝙇𝘿

• i.
  
  
• 
  
  
• 
  
  SHELLKIT 𓆉 SHE / HER, KITTEN OF RIVERCLAN. KINDLING xx UNKNOWN, NIECE TO SMOKESTAR. 2 MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. PENNED BY ANTLERS.
  delicate lilac - striped molly with sugarplum eyes 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.
  
  currently exhibiting symptoms of whitecough. this includes a running nose, wheezing, sluggishness, and labored breathing. please keep contagion in mind.
  
  

​

 

[Bounceheart]

bounceheart ✧ she/her ✧ riverclan warrior (=˃ᆺ˂=)

Time was blurring together. There was too much to fret about, and they chose to focus on one for now: keep feeding the clan. It was proving to be a tireless and never-ending task. So many deserved to eat before her; kits, elders, queens, apprentices, and even the leads and beyond should get their fill. Maybe it was not really a rule, but it was just another one she gave herself. Another sacrifice she could make, because she cared.

Bounceheart was returning to camp from her sixth fishing trip of the day. Some preferred to bury their catches while they searched for another - efficiency, they would say. It was more enjoyable for whoever would be eating it, to receive it fresh.. as warm as possible.
Flurries still spotted her coat as she ducked into camp. To the nursery. Since Hazecloud's becoming a queen and the new (sickly) kittens, most of her prey went straight there.
That was when she nearly pranced right into Shellkit - she was so dainty, and her coat nearly blended right into the snow at some points. Halting just before her, she gasped and inhaled what was thought to be snow, or condensation from the fish.
Only, it was her sneeze.
"EUgh-" the minnow fell from their mouth and plopped into the snow. Bounce lifted a paw to swipe it across her maw: a futile attempt to rid herself of whatever icky kid germs she had spewed. "Nice aim, kid." ​

 

[hazecloud]

Since the surprise arrival of three kittens, added to a litter she had yet to even bare, Hazecloud quickly came to learn the demands of rearing. They were loud, achingly onerous and never-ending; the wails and cries and hunger and affection but- but- there wasn't a single moment Hazecloud didn't enjoy. She had watched these frozen forms, heartbreaking parcels from their border, recover and grow.

The ice thawed from their lungs but there was one in particular that couldn't shake the snow that had clumped into their kitten fluffed fur on arrival. Shellkit, named by her uncle, had come in the worst shape out of the trio and Hazecloud wouldn't deny that the next few mornings after, seeing Shellkit still alive and breathing had been a miraculous surprise.

Hazecolud doesn't immediately notice the absence of lilac creased fur. Her attention had been taken by the request of one of her siblings watching a new game they had made, but the sneeze from just outside their den was easily recognizable.

"Shellkit?" She called from inside, giving the she-kit the moment to decide her decision on her own if she would come back in the nursery. Bouncehearts begrudging words gave her a good idea on just exactly where Shellkit had sneezed. "Remember what we learned when we sneeze on our Clanmates?" She had tried quickly to implement some manners, if only because hearing a squeaky I'm sorry from a kit was hard to reject forgiveness.​

 

[lichenstar]

⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ​

It was a simple enough game to play... it hadn't really started off as one either. Sliding into camp as easily as the chilly, snow-dappled breeze did, Lichentail held a less-than filling water vole in her jaws. Her eyes scan the camp to see who'd already made it back from patrols, to take a small count of the fresh-kill pile... but a rib-thin, snotty girl lingers just hairs outside of the nursery and she practically shakes- a fearful, subconscious thing. Too frail and of brittle-phlegm- she practically chokes on her own sharp inhale.

Prey all but forgotten, the shadow decorated molly rushes to the tiny girl, looking to Hazecloud worriedly, dropping the water-drenched vole- an accusation remains hidden behind berry-blue eyes, Why is she out here? A deft, rough-padded paw touches at the kitten with a firm, guiding touch, "It is too chilly for you today, fledgling."

Bounceheart seems an unfortunate victim of the cold-addled child... adorned in slimy snot from a poorly aimed, hardly restrained sneeze. She gives the warrior a passing look of apology- if they're lucky, it'll stop at just being a gross accident. "Here, take this inside to your brothers..." A distraction, a bribe.. anything to get her out of the snow.

---

WELL IF YOU WANT MY BLOOD I'LL MAKE SO MUCH BLOOD

THAT YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING DROWN​

​

​

 

[CICADAFLIGHT]

Leafbare pervades rumpled curls, always half-damp from a bracing dive into the parts of the river not glossy with ice. When numbness burrows into the hanging wings of his ears or icy drops slick his jutting spine, they're accompanied by a faint awareness that he risks his health with each plunge. He can't find reason to care, the delicious bite of frost too jeweled to give up, cloudy opaline pain.

He gives little thought to his own health, but when he spots Shellkit's downy, lilac-ribboned form soldiering her way forth in the snow, he's obligated to lurch forward. Cicadapaw makes himself scarce around his young kin, unsettled by the fragility of their little bodies and their tenuous tie to his father. That, and perhaps Shellkit's crusted nose; memories of mucus-streaked earth and unfamiliar camps are laced with hurt.

Everyone is already crowding around her sniffling form, cooing and clucking, and liquid fire drips off his ribs. Bile rises in his throat, acidic disgust at the sudden hate clutching his chest; she's so small, so innocent, so breakable. He can't hate his kin. He can't hate this little kit. He can't. Cicadapaw inhales sharply, breathes a plume of cloudy air as he stands over Shellkit's disease-clotted form and listens to Lichentail's words until the back of his throat burns.

Where was all this when he was small? Where was the babying and the cuddling and the oh-you're-so-delicate? Kithood is Pikesplash's chiding and the screams of a name that hurts too much to say. Youth is strange places and bloody spittle, cloudy blue eyes and new names. "She'll be fine," he says flatly.

something holy wants to get out ✦ ( but you can't let it )

• 

• 

  cicadapaw ; apprentice of riverclan
  x. he/him ; 6 moons ; tags
  x. unsightly black-and-white tom with heterochromatic amber and blue eyes
  x. played by dejavu
  x. son of smokestar and cicadastar ; brother to beepaw and starlightpaw. apprenticed to iciclefang.

​