camp SHE AIN'T NO HUMAN BEING | intro

[SALAMANDERPAW]

RiverClan had been rung through the ringer, there was no denying that. Raid after raid, loss after loss, Sally had felt the tension in camp reach palpable levels, as if everyone was preparing for another attack at any moment. 'Maybe it'll be ShadowClan next', she heard one voice say. 'SkyClan didn't help us! What if they're working with the enemy?', another one would chime in. She realised quickly that they never asked for her opinion, she was but a young thing, how could she have any knowledge of what was what? It was an assumption that left her fur looking messier than a perch feast though - she didn't doubt she'd fought just as much as the warriors who'd grown lazy and fat on fish, they just had more training was all. The flame point lingered where such a conversation was taking place, on the edge of it, a frown plastered on her faintly striped muzzle and her eyes feigning disinterest as they hovered towards the medicine den. Still, there was no one who wanted to speak to her about it, she was but a shadow in the crowd, and though she could've helped herself by speaking first, Salamanderpaw found herself hesitating the wronger and wronger she found their opinions to be.

With a 'hmph', she moved away, flicking her tail to dismiss a conversation she hadn't even been a part of. There was little for the apprentice to do at the moment save for nap and try and avoid den cleaning duties, but with too much energy for the former and too little time for the latter, she began to pace uneasily instead. Around-and-around in circles the point feline went, lost in her own little world. That was, until, something bumped right into her side. Ears flat against her skull, she leaped into the air, landing with an arched back just a few short lengths away from the perpetrator. She didn't give herself time to assess who it was before she began to question why they'd done such a thing. Were they trying to bully her? Tease her? Well, she'd show them! "Oi! Wotch it fins-for-feet." She hissed, batting a paw at the stranger to create some distance. "Wots the big idea, gettin' all up in my face? I ain't dun nothin' to yers." It didn't occur to her that, in that moment, it could've just been an accident.

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[CLAYFUR]

He feels like he’s been slipping away, drifting off down the river. Floating above his body, detached from it all. His life has been turned upside down, capsized entirely, in the span of less than a month. The chocolate-furred tom isn’t sure how he’ll go back to normal—whatever normal can ever be, without his mate by his side. Clearsight was the… the one good thing. It’s hard not to spiral, really.

Clay is in the middle of said spiraling, paying less attention to the world around him than he should—it’s looking through fogged-up glass, moving about the camp. Grief paints his every movement, an ache not in his body but in his soul. His pawsteps across the camp don’t even register in his head, until he collides with something solid and… oh. Something that leaps into the air in shock when he bumps into it, and when he blinks and looks up its Salamanderpaw. "I’m—" He’d cut off by the apprentice’s hissed words, stumbling back a few steps in an attempt to avoid the paw that she swings at him. His shoulders droop, ears pinned back against his head. "I didn’t… I’m sorry. Are you okay?" He isn’t sure what kind of conclusion the apprentice is drawing, but it probably isn’t a good one.
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[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]​

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[FERNGILL]

He didn't normally like napping in the middle of camp- the much nicer alternative was being in his nest, cradled by his trove of pebbles (even if the hoard had been significantly reduced after the flood). But- lately he'd just been training so hard, and it was beginning to file his flesh down to his bones... metaphorically. He struggled daily against his natural aversion to success, trying a thousand times as hard as he might... because at this rate, he'd never be a warrior at the same time as all of his siblings. As optimistic as he was, Fernpaw wasn't stupid... wasn't entirely stupid, at least.

A harsh voice jolted him from his slumber, however- Salamanderpaw, berating his uncle for bumping into her as if he'd been trying to break her legs. Immediately his eyes shot wide with shock, and the red tabby tom leapt to his feet and scrambled over, almost falling over himself. "Hey, don't- fight!" A feeble plea, but it was all his rushed-awake mind could thing to cobble together. What had Salamanderpaw so on edge, anyways...?​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[Petalnose]

I FIND COMFORT IN THE SOUND AND THE SHAPE OF THE HEART ⋆⁺₊⋆

Petalnose had watched the occurrence from afar as she had been grooming herself after a recent hunting trip, not grabbing any food due to the sadness and unease that swirled in her belly. Her brows furrowed from the apprentice’s attitude and seeing Clayfur apologize. Why would he apologize for such an attitude? She had noted Fernpaws plea, giving him a warm and reassuring nod. She knew she’d say something sharp right back to the youngster right there and then! And she had to decided to snap back for her fellow clan mate anyway, “There’s something called an accident, kit.” Meowed the tabby blotched she-cat, she slowly and tiredly made her way over beside Clayfur. The tall Molly looming over the apprentice with her eyes stern and mouth held in a frown. She was more snappy lately due to lack of sleep and the anger and grief that swirled over her. “Got a thorn in your paw?” She raised a brow, challenging for the younger Molly to challenge her. If Clayfur wasn’t going to stick up for himself, she was. Even if it was just a small occurrence. “A handful of you apprentices need an attitude change, if I was your mentors I’d have you be cleaning the elders den until some respect is show for your older clan mates.” She scolded, lashing the tip of her tail in slight agitation. “What’s your name, kit?” Her tone seemed to soften now and her gaze less hard, more of a curious and questioning expression. She was more welcoming this time but it wouldn’t last if the apprentice offered her anything she didn’t appreciate.

//So sorry, even the littlest things are setting her off! ;-; I love your character!!

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

"She did not mean it."

Rarely did he feel the need to defend his peers. They could handle it themselves and if they couldn't, then good-riddance to them. It was not worth putting himself in squabbles that he did not belong in. However, the night-pelted cat was driven by an ulterior motive and it was his barely-hidden rivalry with Petalnose. Before the warrior was only a source of bemused confusion for him with her memory loss but now all he could remember was her teeth showing at the border. He hoped he had shocked her by turning his claws against his own father. He hoped they all did.

"Come on, Salamanderpaw." He grunted, moving closer to the other apprentice as if he was really all that familiar with her—he wasn't—but being called a kit was almost as much as an insult of being called drypaw. "Save it for WindClan pelt." Or ThunderClan. Clayfur, in this state, was not a fun target.

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[CICADASTAR]

it’s the sound of squabbling at draws him near, tired eyes and lowered ears indicating his less than pleased demeanor before the king says so much as a word. ravenpaw is standing to salamanderpaw’s defense, clayfur to her front, looking both confused and viscerally upset, ears pinned to the slope of his head. the leader clears his throat, strides slow alongside the brown tabby, stands tall at his side to look down the curve of his arched muzzle. it was rare for the tom to speak on another’s behalf, aside from the loner that had stumbled upon his border, happening to find his lost son beyond its scent lines — it would be sweet, should suspicion not gleam in the pale depths of his eyes, " regardless of whether she meant it.. salamanderpaw, you will not speak to a warrior like that — ever. " his gaze finds the little molly, feels his tail lash at his heels and.. it's growing up, he figures. he recalls the all - encompassing anger, the angst of a child who spent too much time alone.

but she had batted at him, arched and spit. cicadastar would not have that behavior running rampant within his camp, the sting of combat and hissed insults were still too fresh in his mind. in - fighting? absolutely not — not an apprentice, not a warrior. stars, even his leads would be cuffed over the ear for insolence, skies forbid they ever need it. ” petalnose is right. expect tick duty until we can learn our manners. “ she had the right idea, sentiments shared — but he did not have to be her mentor. no one did, truly ; they worked together, ever community driven. it took a colony, as they said. discipline never did come without correction. the river phantom sighs, feels his chest deflate with it. pale eyes flick towards the chocolate tom at his side, attempts to brush the briefest curve of his tail against his flank, a silent how’re you? but he knows, ” and i believe you owe clayfur an apology. “

˗ˏˋ 𓆩  OOC ✟ VISUAL 𓆪 ´ˎ˗

• i.
  
• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  
  
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, mated to smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 43 moons, ages every 50 posts.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• 
  
  
  
• "speech"
  

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[BEESONG]

squabbling erupts in the midst of the temporary camp. beesong breathes heavily through his nose, heavy-lidded eyes lifting to watch— salamanderpaw berates clayfur, her thick accent distorting her voice to the point that beesong couldn't make out what she says to him from this distance, but it's clear that it isn't anything pleasant. arched back bristling, ears pinned against her head, she looks as if she'd come face-to-face with a windclanner rather than a clanmate. salamanderpaw shoots out a paw to bat at clayfur, and beesong can't see if her claws are unsheathed or not, but his own hackles rise at the aggressive display nonetheless. riverclan has suffered enough the past few moons, they don't need to turn on each other as well.

beesong damn sure doesn't need another patient, scored by the claws of a clanmate, to worry over.

their stubby tail twitches, singular curled ear held low. beesong stays where they are, an observer on the outside; cicadastar would handle this situation. it's his responsibility, as the leader, and they don't want to impose on his authority in any way. but the look they send to salamanderpaw, eyes narrowed and jaw set, speaks loud enough of their displeasure with the young she-cat. tick duty and an apology to clayfur—who's had far too much grief the past moon to have a bratty child degrading him over something stupid— seems fair enough.​