camp ROAD HOUNDS [🌘] winter pelts

[SOOTSTAR]

A pink tongue runs through fur white fur, struggling to untangle it. Thick clumps matted with dirt and sand and some merely knotted from sleep. Grooming a tunneler’s fur was always hard, but Sootstar found it was more difficult to groom it out with each passing day. It was as if her fur had grown thicker- and maybe it was…? She looks up from her grooming as a breeze passes by camp, swooping into the hollow just enough to blow at her ear tufts.

She notes another cat grooming themselves nearby, they appear to struggle as well. ”It’s only just began to grow cold and I feel like I’ve taken on the pelt of a fox.” She complains with a hint of amusement, the vaguest sound of a chuckle rising from her throat.

☾ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Soot ․ Sootstar
  » WindClan Leader
  » She/her ․ Mate to Weaselclaw
  » Tiny blue smoke she-cat with green eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A high-stamina foe who can be difficult to hit.
  » Excels in quick, short moves.
  » Fights to kill and maim
  » Fatal attack of choice is an underbelly dive.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

The chill that has descended upon the moors with the turning of the seasons is starkly different from the scorching heat of summertime. Where once Gravelsnap had relished in staying cool while others suffered in the heat, now they wish more than anything that they were offered the same thick-pelted protection. Or at the very least, they wish that they were offered a coat like Sootstar’s, which seems to have grown even thicker recently. The leader complains about her fox-pelt, and the imagery truly does fit. She looks like something scruffy and winter-bound, as do a notable few of their clanmates.

"I wish my fur grew like yours. It’s cold," they mutter, shoulders slumping as they watch her struggle to groom herself. There is a thought in their mind that they could offer to aid her, but such a thought sounds truly awful. To put their tongue upon another’s pelt sounds like the most uncomfortable activity they could find.​

[ you put the fun into dysfunction ]​

​

 

[rivewhisper]

—————————————————————⊰⋅ ☽ ⋅⊱—————————————————————​

Rivepaw felt... similar, to say the least. Born in the gather of heat they called a season around here, Rivepaw had struggled with the mane that coated her neck for most of her life. The easing cool of the world was something that she was grateful for, but didn't understand. Only a pawful of moons old, she didn't know the seasons changed. Of course she had witnessed some of the gorse turn brittle with the death of the season, but she didn't know why.

So when Sootstar mentioned something about her pelt being awful, Rivepaw's head turned from where she was changing moss out. ... What does the pelt of a fox feel like? Her thoughts wandered for a moment, briefly, before her head was shaking and rooting her back in the present. She set the moss down where she needed it, padding towards Sootstar with a tilted head. "Grow cold? Fox?" Rivepaw repeated.

She really didn't have too much of an idea. After all, her pelt was thick enough. Was it going to grow thicker? Questions attacked her as she looked on towards Sootstar, and now Gravelsnap. Her vision shifted between the two of them, putting together that maybe not everyone grew pelts like foxes. Still a concerning thought.

"text"
thoughts​

 

[HEAVY SNOW]

When the weather changes, of course he notices. His thick pelt makes new-leaf difficult at times and green-leaf is nearly unbearable. He does thank the stars that his fur is a light color, that at least it is not dark and does not soak up the sun like some cats but it does make him feel exposed on the wide open hillsides of the moors. He sticks out like a sore thumb in every other season but leaf-bare, and that is when he truly excels. He likes to think that he is instrumental in hunting during the cold moons as hes got a fortunate advantage when white blankets the earth.

He watches Sootstar groom herself, listens to her complain about the thickness of it, but like Gravelsnap he makes no move to help. A huff of amusement does escape his nostrils though "To only have to deal with it for one season though must be nice" he says, whiskers twitching while he thinks about how his own pelt was only going to get thicker as it got colder out.

Mismatched eyes find Rivepaw as the apprentice speaks, and of course she does not know that it was about to be cold out, does not know what a fox is. "A fox is a creature I hope you never have to meet young one, they are red and black, they kind of look like a cat but bigger with long noses. Nasty creatures. It is best to stay away or, if you ever see one, to let someone know." Stars forbid she ever try to take one on herself. He has known many a cat who has died attempting to accomplish such a feat, whether it be on purpose or not.

​

 

[sparkspirit]

Sparkspirit is staring at the dirt. An uncomfortable position, neck craned down, his breath starting to pool from his mouth as a hot cloud in cool air. Not yet enough of a difference to glimmer like a cloud, but still he can feel it. His own fur thickening up. A new density around his throat and shoulders, more weight along his spine. It brings back memories that he never knew to confront. "I was born in leafbare," he speaks out, voice abrupt yet quiet. "It was...stranger to lose my winter pelt than to have one." Except when this season had last been around, Sparkkit spent it skating around camp with his sister, paws sliding across the glassy ice atop packed snow. They ran in circles and slid beneath warriors' paws. His mom had such dense fur. Thick and long and pretty. His own varied across his body but never became quite as pretty as hers.

Could he blame Yewberry for that? It never seemed quite right to. "You'll get used to it, Rivepaw." The warrior tries to smile, but it crosses his face glass-brittle and quaking. It quickly disappears. "The moons will get colder, and fur like yours will make it easy for you. Like Heavy Snow." He glances slyly at the warrior. It feels strange to joke with him, but he misses being young again. Misses talking to him and Brightshine. His mom. His great aunt and his uncle. "But you shouldn't talk about Foxglare like that. He's not that nasty."

𝘛𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘓𝘌𝘋 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘋𝘚 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐  ･｡ﾟ  🗲  ╱╱ 10.15.2023 𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘚𝘈𝘠 ˊˎ＜

• OOC. joking about @FOXGLARE's name lol
• 🗲　　. 　 ˚　.  SPARKSPIRIT. HE - HIM - HIS. 12 MOON OLD MOOR RUNNER OF WINDCLAN. VERY LOYAL TO HIS CLAN. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  ————
  
  
  ——  a trim mock tortoiseshell tom with mostly black fur splashed with the occasional patch orange. he has a singular white mark on the back of his neck shaped similarly to a lightning strike, and a small scar across the bridge of his nose. his eyes are a shocking electric blue.
  

  ✦ ECHOLIGHT x ELMBREEZE. ADOPTED BY YEWBERRY. BRIGHTFAM, BUT SOMEWHAT ESTRANGED DUE TO HIS LOYALTY TO WINDCLAN. ————————

• "speech"

​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

Irritatingly, the cold nipped at Featherpaw's fur still. Kitten-fluff remained a part of some of his pelt, though he tried to hide it with outward maturity- in certain spots the frosty air gnawed. In other places, though- namely the mane she'd inherited from her parents- she was kept bundled, and the heaviness of a pelt like that- how foxlike it was- it did not go unnoticed.

What also did not go unnoticed was the dull buzz of conversation near her, regarding the growing frigidity of the air, and who was better equipped. Her sister was among them, eyes alight with curiosity, twin pools of confusion. Family drew her close, as ever- she stayed close to what was known to her, drifting to Rivepaw's side. They were both blessed, it seemed. Cursed, too. With warmth and fox-pelts, because everything good had something dangerous lurking in it. That was a fact of the world that Featherpaw was beginning to have to accept.

The chill wound through the air like a whisper, and Featherpaw attempted to hide a shudder. "You lose your p-p... your peh... your fur...?" It hadn't come out right, really, but he'd know what she meant. A scrutinising scowl settled on the sky-blue gaze of Sparkspirit, thoughtful. He was born close to leaf bare- did it mean he would lose the thickness of his pelt, now? All of a sudden he felt a little more at-risk. ​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

From a young age, Rattleheart had been blessed with a fairly thick coat, a fact that had proven itself to be both a boon and a bane in equal measure. In the moons of leafbare it was excellent, protecting him from the rough chill that rained down over the moors and helping him blend in - at least partially - with the snow that often blanketed the ground. In greenleaf though, he found himself almost wishing that twolegs would snatch him up to shear away parts of his pelt like he had seen them do with kittypets before his time in Windclan. It was especially rough down in the tunnels, where the cramped walls only added to the oppressive heat and left clumps of dirt drying in the tangles of his pelt. Mud at the very least could be cooling, but it became nothing but a heavy weight once it dried.

He was once again becoming used to the heavier weight on his shoulders and around his neck as the air grew colder, and it seemed that he was far from the only one. If he were a more petty cat - or simply in a more petty mood at the moment - he would've felt some sense of satisfaction at Sootstar's struggles. Instead he could only sympathize, casting a weary glance at his own fur as he approached. The tunneler wasn't yet well enough to venture out again on patrols and for hunting purposes, but he knew it wouldn't be long until he was. Which meant it wouldn't be long until he too was fussing over how difficult grooming had become.

His own worries were forgotten about when the nearby Featherpaw spoke up, the new apprentice's question prompting a slightly hoarse chuckle from Rattleheart. "Don't worry, it doesn't all just fall out at once. Once leafbare is over, some of us have parts of our pelt fall out over time to ensure we don't become overheated. And it all comes growing back once leafbare comes around again." He flicked his long tail as if to prove his point, the usually meticulously groomed bands of black and white looking much more unruly thanks to recent growth.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[SPARROWBREEZE]

Coasting the previous leaf-bare in her birth, Sparrowpaw doesn't quite remember her fur being as thick as what it feels on her back now. Medium-lengthed fur had always been on the thick end, but it carries a weight to it that she's not quite used to now — an extra bit of warmth in the moor's chilling air. It's something she should feel grateful for, she thinks, but as she sits to groom her fur, she can't help the bit of frustration she feels in the extra effort it puts into the task.

With a concentrated frown starting to pull at her face as she tries to untangle bits of grass from her coat, she idly listens to the conversation around her. She's not the only one dealing with thicker fur it sounds like as descriptions of fox-like fur fill her ears — an explanation mostly placed on Rivepaw and Featherpaw, the youngest of the conversation's participants, though Sparrowpaw learns some from the lesson too.

"Where... Where does it all go after it falls out?" she finds herself asking, amber gaze lifting to look up at her clanmates as she imagines clouds of fur drifting around the moors come newleaf. It's a silly question, she knows, but she would've been in the nursery when all this was happening last time — her older clanmates' fur was going was the least of her worries, then, but now that it's to be her own, she can't help but wonder what the fate of such sudden thick fur would be.
​

 

[SEDGEPOUNCE]

Sedge's got a short pelt, mostly. Maybe not as scruffy as all the Gravelsnaps out there, but compared to some of the other WindClanners? "Don't sweat it too much, you two," Sedgepounce offers Rive and Featherpaw, stepping forward from the gorse thicket. These are cats he hasn't seen much of in moons—it's both refreshing and strange to share their company again. "Between your two dads, you're gonna have enough fur to last ten lifetimes." Wolfsong and Sunstride have the pelts of mountain cats, and now so do their children. Having experienced the wicked cold of the Highstones and beyond, Sedge knows firsthand what an astounding novelty that is.

As he sets to work on his own fur, Sparrowpaw pipes up in his periphery, nervous in the way young cats are worried about silly things. "I've heard that birds use it for nesting," Sedgepounce says, happy to divulge a bit of trivia. "But I'm sure the same goes for other prey creatures too, now that I think about it." And when he does think about it, Sedge realizes that it was a SkyClanner who first told him that. Bobbie, maybe.

Not that he would admit that out loud...of course not. But he remembers, anyway.​

 

[Azaleafrost]

Azaleafrost listens to the others chatter with little interest. She does spare them each a glance as she takes note of their coats coming in, then taking a look at her own pelt. She realizes that her fur has also started to grow, that she looks a little fluffier than before. Her tail impresses her the most, the silken fur that covers it spill onto the ground when its lowered and wave in the breeze when its raised. She's never taken the time to actually appraise herself before.

Despite all the blood and fighting that her pelt has been through, it looks soft with a gentle shine to it. It looks delicate almost, hiding the muscle underneath and giving the illusion that she is soft and weak. But everyone knows by now- or at least she hopes they do- that she is not. This soft, silken pelt belongs to a powerful predator who spills blood without a second thought.

But for once... She feels pride in how she looks. She doesn't let this show, though. She knows plenty of cats will jump at the chance to tear her down.

"The birds will have plenty of fur to collect...." She comments. She wonders if she'll find her own fur in a birds nest.​

 

[RUMBLERAIN]

"What if they take it to other territories? Other Clans might think we're hiding in their trees if our scent sticks." The thought is voiced with mild amusement as Rumblepaw approaches, pleased by the prospect of some unwitting SkyClanner looking for an enemy in a place where there was none. Maybe it'd send them in circles for half a day.

Though their eyes are far away with thought, the seal point seems spectacularly scruffy in their half-grown winter pelt. It feels thick, stifling but comfortable, kind of like Scorchstreak's embrace in their earliest memories. They think they'd be alright if it stayed like this, toeing the border of not too cold and not too hot. It feels like the distance between them only grows with every passing day— even Scorchpaw, who was to run the moors like Rumblepaw themself and their father before them (the mere impression of Badgermoon makes the space under their eyes sting and grow heavy), had embarked on the heroes' journey to bring lungwort home. Their mild expression softens into an introspective frown. They'd always taken after Badgermoon in pelt texture. They wish he was here to talk about it. He'd say something nice like don't worry, Raindrop, you'll still be able to move. But he was a traitor, and so was Curlewnose. Not for the first time, Rumblepaw turns their attention from their lineage back to the moment with an aura of vague discontent, and listens to their Clanmates once more.​

 

[Whisperwish]

Winter was certainly an interesting time for Whisperwish. She was not a stranger to growing in a winter coat, making her body appear larger than before. Snow also made it easier for her to blend into the environment; she was a fairly uncommon sight in WindClan cats when it comes to her pelt color, but it becoming white during the oncoming of leafbare made her fit right in. It was an odd change, but one she has always been welcoming towards. Anything to make her feel less odd.

The younger cats ask about what happens when your prior coat falls out, and the idea of birds using the loose hairs for their nest is brought up. With them slipping away in the wind, it’s not that out of the question to imagine it’s used for another purpose. When Rumblepaw asks if it would cause problems though, Whisperwish can’t help but let out an airy chuckle. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. The smell wouldn’t be strong enough, and surely it would be something you’ve heard about before this very moment?”​