pafp SENSE OF DREAD — reinforcing gorse wall

[SCORCHSTAR]

The idea of not one, but two clans staging an attack on WindClan is nearly absurd, nearly laughable to Scorchstreak. To attack a clan on their own territory—in their own camp, nonetheless—is a doomed failure no matter how many cats are attacking. WindClan knows this land, knows their tunnels, better than anyone else within the clans. That’s not to say that Sootstar doesn’t have a point, though; WindClan does have one pesky problem: their exiles.

Would Coldsnap, Dandelionwish, or any of the others who survived give information to ShadowClan? Would Hyacinthbreath lend RiverClan her knowledge? That is the only variable that gives the calico pause, that causes her to remain vigilant. Sootstar believes that WindClan is at risk, and Scorchstreak understands that perfectly. And the last time Sootstar had believed that WindClan was at risk, Dandelionwish and his misguided defenders had broken straight through the protective gorse wall and left many loyal warriors injured.

Which is how she finds herself helping to patch up the gorse wall alongside Venomthroat and a few other clanmates. The black-furred warrior is one who she hasn’t spoken much with, but they are a sibling of Tigerfrost—so they sit a bit above the other clanmates who Scorchstreak doesn’t share any sort of closeness with. They work in silence for a while, before she eventually grows restless and turns blazing eyes upon the black cat. "So, Venomthroat. How likely do you think it is that ShadowClan grows a spine and attempts to attack us?" She wants to know how much faith the inky black cat has in their clan. But she’s also simply curious about them, and the simplest conversation starter is the current threat, the reason their paws are covered in gorse prickles.


// pls wait for @Venomthroat.
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[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

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[✧ Venomthroat.]

I REALLY COULDN'T CARE LESS

venomthroat | 27 months | non-binary | they/them | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold black

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The black furred feline is very much not happy with this situation. Normally, time spent within camp s theirs and theirs alone - a time in which for them to indulge a bit, to laze about after all is said and done but now, with the confinement and lingering fear of an all out assault, they are forced to do chores. How irritating. Ink stained paws are unsurprisingly quick and deft as they do their work ever so dillegently, remaining dead silent until scorchstreak seems to finally take things upon herself and speak first - dragging him into the conversation. Dark eyes glint as they flit to look at her frame for a moment, pausing to really think before they answer. "... depends, I suppose. back in the marsh colony days... perhaps. but now? hm..." are there any faces from back then? will they meet on the battle field some day? they don't know - though, do they really care either? ... perhaps not. Settling on that for their answer, they simply shrug, giving a quiet and non-committal grunt as they turn back to their work. The sooner they finish, the sooner the can nap after all.

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[Mintshade]

"Gyeh heh heh heh!"
Her laugh announces her, cackling and bold; unlike her pelt streaked black and subtly blending into the shadows beneath her very paws. The gorsewall was their first line of defense against attacks, the last line was they themselves and she preferred to focus on honing her own claws rather than building up the defenses because frankly: she wanted a good fight. If they made the walls TOO good, they wouldn't get to maul any would-be attackers! It would be so disappointing to her.
"ShadowClan used to be somethin', but the second Briarstar died it went downhill. Weird sad freak of nature leader followed by this idiot who doesn't know how politics work and whose deputy is bold-faced lying to their face! We'd be lucky to get a decent fight, they'll prolly be killed by one of their own cats first, gyeh heh hehe..."
She was marsh colony born, just like her sisters and most of WindClan but there was no denying the greatness died along with the once proud dark leader; now it was just a clowder of starving cats with no understanding of true loyalty who had mooched off of WindClan's good graces long enough. She was thrilled to be done with the alliance, it had been a waste of time in her opinion.
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[SCORCHSTAR]

The calico is amused, for a moment, glancing between the two nearly identical cats who respond to her question in totally opposite ways. Venomthroat seems as though they truly couldn’t care less, going back to the task at hand without much comment. Mintshade, however, approaches with a harsh cackle and biting words, uncaring for subtlety.

"The marsh colony, huh. ShadowClan’s sure fallen since those times," she murmurs, thoughtful. She doesn’t know too much about the marsh colony of cats, but she understands that the group’s prowess was much greater before the clans each split off from it. But she is familiar with ShadowClan, and she can agree with Mintshade’s remarks. Briarstar had made her clan a force to be reckoned with, had made what remained of the marsh colony respectable, at least. It’s too bad she ended up smeared across pavement darker than her own pelt.

Pitchstar had been a different beast entirely. Paranoid, volatile—not that Scorchstreak herself does not share these traits, but the key difference is that she is not a leader driving her clan into the dirt. And of course, there’s Chilledstar. But what is there to say about Chilledstar that the leader hasn’t already made clear about themself? They are a hypocrite and a fool, and they will be lucky to last another season in their position. "I wouldn’t put it past their own deputy to kill them, if he’s so comfortable lying to their face," she says, raising a brow at the other she-cat.
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[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

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[Cloudedsky]

( ♬ ) Burying herself in tactical work, she had remained silent whilst helping to reinforce the gorse wall. She hardly winces as prickles stab into her newly calloused knuckles, pricking at dusty pink pads that now began to harden into a dull gray. Her mother's vigilant and keen tendencies remained clear in her head: We will act defensively. I want the walls reinforced and smaller more frequent patrols to the borders. It is her mother's will and she will obey without hesitance. Being secluded to camp was a bit, ironically, claustrophobic in a way to her. She longed to be out within the territory, either running along the moors or patrolling within the tunnels—that bit didn't matter to her. She always relished to be under the open sky, to run and feel the sun warm her frame. She also loved the thrill of the tunnels and the exploration of new ones. It was like another world down there and it was a secret to other clans—a special skill only WindClan knew how to do.
But, she would listen to Sootstar without complaint. If being within the camp walls is where she was needed for now, then she'd oblige without a moment's notice. With clans itching for retaliation, Cloudedsky shared her family's fierce loyalty to WindClan. She'd soon rather die than let RiverClan or ShadowClan waltz up within their home without a fight. She listens quietly as Scorchstreak had broken their empty silence, shooting a question towards Venomthroat about the topic of the hour. Her brow arches at the mention of how different the marsh colony was back then, curiosity seeping into her sunburst gaze as she idly watched and listened with utmost interest. The unmistakable cackle of her aunt brings her out of her focus, blue ears twitching as she listens to Mintshade's own opinion and tilts her helm ever so slightly. "What was the marsh colony like? Sootstar doesn't really talk about it. Though, I've personally never asked her either." Cloudedsky knew how the clans formed, but with Sootstar pregnant at the time and giving birth within the sanctity of the moor, the blue smoke and white molly never experienced it. She was grateful for it, though. The moors and winding tunnels were something she'd never not want to experience. At the mention of Chilledstar and more importantly, their deputy, the young warrior snorts. That Smogmaw, how dare he make such lies. "Never have I heard of a cat more backhanded. It's no wonder StarClan refuses them." She hisses, plumed tail lashing. "Just as bad as RiverClan, I suppose, with how they lie, too." She adds with a dramatic sigh, tending back to her weaving finally.

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( You should see me in a crown ; I'm gonna run this nothing town )

 

[SNAILSTRIDE]

The newest warrior had not been tasked with reinforcing the gorse wall, as far as they were aware, but they lingered all the same. Splayed out on their back, they looked more like a mountain of ashen fur than a cat, the only giveaway of their existence being the occasional stretch of three-toned legs. They were in-between consciousness and slumber, feeling able to commit to either depending on where the warriors' conversations went. Until Mintshade's cackle threatened to rupture their eardrums, they were certain it would've been the latter. With no power, politics was as interesting as hearing an elder's complaints. They'd rather watch the clouds go by and ponder a great many things than pay attention to who believed what, but that in itself seemed to be a vice in the grand scheme of things. He was dreadfully out of the loop. The marsh colony was mentioned and they blinked in a faraway recognition of the place. It's no wonder StarClan refuses them. The statement gave the classic tabby pause, a paw once pedaling in the air now ridding itself of all motion. The throne of the Gods had been empty for him, a refusal without outright saying as such, but a refusal of what, Snailstride hadn't decided. Power? Importance? Approval?

They watched their own toes flex and relax, a quiet snort escaping them. They supposed a few good moons wouldn't overlook the bad ones, and with those months carefully crafted for the sake of their own life instead of their clan's, perhaps their act was transparent to those who watched their every move. 'Wait... do they watch me pee?' Snailstride tilted their head upwards to the sky in search of an answer, and upon finding it to be as empty as the moonstone, they focused on their clanmates instead. "I guess he's not that good of a liar if he gets caught." They rolled their shoulders as they addressed cats they were wildly uncomfortable with, a sheep in wolf's clothing, trying their best not to bleet anything that would get them caught too - it wasn't like they had a wildly gullible leader to bail them out of trouble. "It sucks it doesn't matter though. You just tell a weak cat what they wanna hear and all of a sudden it's the truth and nothing but." They tried not to think too much about Firefang's betrayal as they spoke.

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