SHINE &. BIRDS

[frogpaw]

Rarely did Frogpaw sleep in. The morning sun was met with the eager persistence of one who was ready to work the day away, and he would stay at it as long as his mentor allowed. In his happiest days, his paws were busy until the darkness threatened to swallow all of RiverClan, and he would move straight from his work to his rest, and then back again. Of course, things did not always happen as so. Snakeblink was a careful mentor, but not so horribly demanding as some may be. In fact, he was...genuinely understanding, and rather gentle, if as persistent as the apprentice himself. (It was a learned trait, after all? Wasn't it just?)

He had not expected to sleep in so long. RiverClan is quiet in the dark, though the apprentices around him shuffle and sigh in their sleep. It's a peaceful sort of background noise that fills up his whole chest with a sense of safety. But something shatters it, this morning. Even from this den he hears it. Bright, broken, separated but beautiful. Twittering. One curled ear flicks, and then the other. Slowly, Frogpaw stirs. His fur is comically flattened on one cheek as he pulls himself from the apprentice den, eyes hooded and bleary.

Birds. They're birds– he knows of birds, of course, but absurdly it occurs to him that this will be the first he's seen their return. Or, rather, heard it. Even out in the open, Frogpaw can't really see where they're flitting about. They must have learned to be wary of camp.

As beautiful and delicious as they are, he really can't blame them for that.

˗ˏˋ〚  OOC NOTES REFERENCE INFORMATION 〛´ˎ˗

• ooc: —
• 
• FROGPAW. APPRENTICE OF RIVERCLAN. EIGHT MONTHS OLD
  —— npc x npc, has several npc siblings. mentored by snakeblink.
  —— loyal to riverclan, but somewhat uncertain of his place there.
  —— unknown sexuality. single, not actively looking or interested.
  
  a lanky, slender black smoke with low white and soft blue eyes. his ears are gently curled, and each paw has at least one extra toe, making them seem broader and larger than a typical cat's.
• "speech"

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[BUCKGAIT.]

MY NAME IS BRUTUS AND MY NAME MEANS HEAVY ✧​

in the early mornings, buck finds peace. there are no warriors chattering in her ear or asking her questions. she does not need to worry about fawnpaw or her questions. the only worry is how she will slink away from lightningstone, and how long it will take for him to find her once more. but for now, she is calm and relaxed. head tilted heavenwards, eyes closed and breaths deep. the birds have made their return to the land, and buck greets them as she always had.

she had remembered when they had left and returned when she was much younger. overjoyed by this, she had sat and basked in their presence. when they weren't so flighty around something so small. her bobbed tail moved so quickly in those days, happy for the sense of normalcy they had brung. as she had matured, the space between her and the birds had to grow. now, she listens to their gentle birdsong. they must be hiding, talking about their long flight and how happy they are to return home.

an eye opens to catch fogpaw, and it must be his first time experiencing the return of the birds. he's young enough, she thinks. "nice that they're back, huh?" she calls to snakeblink's apprentice, quiet enough to not disturb their choir, but loud enough to catch his attention. she won't want to risk disrupting their gossip, but she's sure it would take more than her drawl to scare them off.
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[WASPRATTLE.]

There were some things you would not properly miss until they were gone, and back again. The chittering of birds rings throughout, and, despite the gnawing at his stomach– cold's effects not yet forgotten– he finds that he only wishes to listen. And it sounded all the same, practically a pattern, at times; the chittering of an early-rehearsed speech. Perhaps its that catching one is so hard to imagine in the first place, that he does not yearn to swipe it from the sky.

It is not aimed at him, but he is inclined to agree with the deputy's words. Leaf-bare could prove a wasteland, and the lack of song, certainly did wonders to aid it. Perhaps it would not be so hard to ignore any ache, when there was song all around you.

Of course, the birds were not so stubborn as they would. They stayed when convenient, left when not. Newly perched and newly preened, distantly, he wonders what they are chirping about. Was this home to them, too? He supposed... it's something the two of them did not have in common, just now. Slow bat of his eyes. The ears crowning his head angle toward them. "Are they just as excited as we are? "

ooc translations

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[FERNGILL]

Fernpaw, despite all his shortcomings, was a relatively early riser. He'd picked past the majority of the apprentices that morning, no easy feat with paws that always felt a little too big for your legs, beckoned by the birdsong woven in the wind. It was like the clouds themselves were singing- the sky was still heavy and overcast. But for once the beauty was not in sight- he could hear it, that harmony. They must be pretty smart, birds, to be able to make that sort of thing up.

Idly he wondered if cats could trill similarly. Sometimes his nose whistled when he breathed...

Transfixed, it took him a moment to realise that others had been coaxed out of their sleep by the noise- in fact, he didn't notice at all until Buckgait spoke, and his bulging eyes swept over Frogpaw and Wasprattle too. A small, shiny smile brightened his unsightly features, though there was a blankness about it as he pondered the latter's question. "Muh-must be nice for their feathers not to be- be freezin' anymore," he murmured, not much of an answer.​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[CLAYFUR]

The birds disappearing has always been among the saddest parts of winter. When mornings are filled with silence, rather than mind-numbing tweeting and chatter from the treetops, the world feels that much more empty. Lifeless. Not that it’s necessarily the worst part. Like, there’s ice and snow and cold and other awful things. Death. But the silence hangs up there, amongst the other terrible heralds of the cold months.

Now, there is no more silence, it seems; Frogpaw, exhaustion tugging at his expression, must have been awoken by the birds’ chatter. He understands—it’s difficult to get used to the absence of bird-sound, but then it’s just as difficult to get reacquainted with their songs when they return. Buck, for one, sounds pleased about it. Wasprattle seems the smallest bit bemused, wondering aloud if the birds are as excited as the cats are. Yeah, excited to be prey again. He’s missed the feeling of a fat bird beneath his paws, feathers in his mouth.

Fernpaw offers an answer, frozen feathers and all that. The brown tabby shoots his nephew a smile, a friendly flick of an ear, and then his gaze returns to the trees. "I missed them," he comments, ears angled toward the sounds. "I’m glad they’re back, even if they’re sorta loud." Hopefully the noise won’t disturb anyone else’s sleep.
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[ WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? ]​

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[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

Were he allowed to choose, Snakeblink would not be an early riser. He would sleep in; he’d have to be dragged out of his nest long past dawn and walk his first patrol bleary-eyed. Unfortunately, his brain seems more fit to the life of a mouse running through the fields than that of a cat, and it has him up and about at the first hint of sunlight on the horizon no matter how little sleep he may have gotten the night before. In Leafbare, when his body stirs even before first light, it’s a lonely experience — not to say frustrating, since he’d rather make the most out of scarce daylight than stumble like a fool in the dark. But in Newleaf, the solitude is more peaceful than anything: the return of life in the forest makes for a nice backdrop to his morning routine. Loud as they are, he enjoys the slow awakening of birds, the way their song fills the canopy and flits across the empty expanse above the river.

He tries to spare Frogpaw the worst of his schedule by not pulling him out of his nest at the crack of dawn, though it’s often a near thing: Snakeblink’s accursed brain does not abide idleness any more than it does proper sleep, and he feels obligated to bring his apprentice everywhere he goes. Long, exhausting hours of patrols and training are not made any easier by such an early start, but what can they do? There’s always work to be done.

He’s slinking around the apprentices’ den, wondering if he should do another circle around camp before rousing the adolescent, when he’s surprised to find Frogpaw already awake — albeit he looks like he has a paw in the realm of sleep still, with his eyes half-closed and his fur flattened by a night laying on his side. Snakeblink can’t help but smile at the sight.

Seeing him accompanied by a few of their clanmates despite the early hour, Snakeblink elects to join them, sitting quietly near his apprentice with a nod of greeting to the rest. To Wasprattle’s words he replies,

“Maybe they too are having territorial disputes as they return to these trees. It certainly sounds loud enough to be their own sort of Gathering.”
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——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 37 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

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