- Dec 25, 2022
- 132
- 24
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TAGS — She's been spending more time underground than usual as of late — which is saying something, considering her pre-existing inclination toward the labyrinthine tunnels. Icepaw takes a healthy amount of pride in her job, or job-in-training (not just anyone is capable of it, after all) and as such she always pours herself into it, but these days she's particularly drawn to their depths for their quietude, their distance from everything — and almost everyone — else. Better to keep away from the heart of the sickness that's been plaguing WindClan as much as she can; that's the answer she's prepared for anyone who might care enough to ask about her almost obsessive increase in productivity. And it's true, to be fair. This blackcough is quite literally a killer (just the thought makes her stomach sink, poor Wisteriapaw...), and if she comes down with it she'll be stuck quarantined by camp, closer to and unable to distract herself from the biggest source of her anxieties — all the tension. You could slice through it with a claw, or at least that's how it feels to the admittedly nervy feline. The exile, the very blatant concerns of disloyalty... she'd pledged herself to Sootstar upon request, and she'd genuinely meant it. WindClan is everything to her; it's all she's ever known. Or, all she remembers knowing, at least, since she was just a kitten when the moorland group was properly formed. It's all they ever want to know, too, and the thought of living anywhere else is anxiety-inducing. Sootstar's abrasive (and maybe even a little scary), but Icepaw looks up to her nonetheless; she's strong and assertive, like Icepaw aspires to be but knows she'll probably never achieve. She offers protection, firm direction. Icepaw works her tail off to impress her and live up to the expectations she imagines their leader has — no one can question her dedication. She hopes. It's a stressful thought.
So she quells it this evening by working harder. It's time to stop for now, though. An earthy scent clings to her as she trots through the moors, fresh out of the tunnels with dirt-stained fur to show for it, although their pace is starting to slow as weariness settles in. A chilly wind stirs their short pelt, illuminated by the moonlight. Maybe she should hunt on the way back, or check an above-ground border. No, certainly not the latter — not by herself, at least. She pauses for a moment, halfheartedly sniffing the air and shuffling her paws. The thin layer of snow coating the ground shifts and crunches beneath her, drawing her naturally wide gaze downward with twitching ears. After nudging some of it into a small pile, she raises a forepaw and then smacks it down, flattening the lump with a smile before scooping some more up and propelling it into the air.
So she quells it this evening by working harder. It's time to stop for now, though. An earthy scent clings to her as she trots through the moors, fresh out of the tunnels with dirt-stained fur to show for it, although their pace is starting to slow as weariness settles in. A chilly wind stirs their short pelt, illuminated by the moonlight. Maybe she should hunt on the way back, or check an above-ground border. No, certainly not the latter — not by herself, at least. She pauses for a moment, halfheartedly sniffing the air and shuffling her paws. The thin layer of snow coating the ground shifts and crunches beneath her, drawing her naturally wide gaze downward with twitching ears. After nudging some of it into a small pile, she raises a forepaw and then smacks it down, flattening the lump with a smile before scooping some more up and propelling it into the air.
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