camp so here’s to you sir poor december || nest making & pilfering

[betonyfrost]

Betonyfrost feels her time nearing in the same slow crawl of the sun to the horizon. She doesn't have long now, a thought that has been recurrent for the past half moon, but which has taken a new meaning over the last day. Betonyfrost doesn't have long now: she knows this in the same bone deep way she had known she was pregnant— instinct, or something near enough to be confused as such. It's a strange thing, Betonyfrost's body is anxious while her mind is gentle, pacing and shifting thoughtless, she has been unable to still.

It's just that her nest isn't good enough. Betonyfrost has already fussed about needing more moss. There has already been a gaggle of apprentices sent out on her behalf, but her paws cannot be idle at the moment. Betonyfrost cannot wait for the apprentices to return with her moss, promised to be soft and thorn free and dry under her pressuring. Her nest isn't good enough — could she really be expected to wait under these circumstances?

In her roving, Betonyfrost has found herself in the warrior's den. It's empty of cats besides herself and comfortably shaded. The ground is as it is usually: laden with nests of various quality. Betonyfrost glances over her shoulder, a thought forming, and finds there to be no eyes on her. Back to the nests: Betonyfrost doesn't need to trust an apprentice's best judgment on the quality, they are right here at her paws. And it isn't as if Betonyfrost is planning on stealing a nest in its entirety, surely no one would mind if she borrowed a few feathers out of this nest or a bit of the springy yellow moss out of that nest.

—​

When Betonyfrost exits the warrior's den, it's with a mouth brimming with more feathers and moss than she thought herself capable of carrying, and the thought that she needs these far more than her clanmates do at the moment.​

shadowclan queen | blue mackerel tabby | 19 moons | tags​

 

[S A B L E T U F T]

can we leave it behind? — There were far many things Sabletuft would rather do than fuel the fire to a queens wrath. Though when it came to Betonyfrost, her quickness to strike was a risk no matter her physical state. Having a history of attacking several of her Clanmates, the old warrior was hardly interested in interacting with her more than he had to. For the safety of his own hide as well as hers.

It struck him peculiar though when watching her leave the den he shared with the other warriors. More importantly, leaving with things that obviously weren't hers. The dark tom poked his head into the warriors den as she was leaving to check over his own nest, and after confirming it was left untouched, joined the queen outside. "Would you like me to help carry that for you?" He offered quietly, not looking to ignite an argument if he could avoid it.— tags​

 

[smogstar]

Smogmaw's long-standing knowledge on tizzies has kept him well away from Betonyfrost's berth. She had rocks in her head even before her belly became infested with kits, and if there's anything he was more wary of than an aloof she-cat, it's a pregnant one. With a mate of his own in the early stages of pre-motherhood, the tom finds himself especially cautious around Betonyfrost. His last priority is sourcing drama with the queen Halfshade would soon be bunking with.

In the days since the attack, Smogmaw has found that his conduct has faded to borderline lethargy. Numbed eyes comb through camp's coming-and-going faces, training on the sooty outline of Sabletuft for but a fleeting moment before he glimpses the expecting queen. Clenched in her jaws, an array of nesting material, and given her velocity, trajectory, and acceleration, it was ever clear that she was on a mission. A sabotage mission. Cripes, he really doesn't want to deal with this.

He shuffles over, tail upended and his gait unsteady. "Where'd you find those?" asks the deputy, though his tone gave no indication of punitive motives. A sigh breaks from his throat, and a nominal shake of the head comes afterward. Stealing moss and feathers from clanmates' bedding isn't necessarily prohibited, simply poor etiquette—and for etiquette, Betonyfrost always came up short. "Long as you put 'em back at the end of your tenure, it's not a problem," Smogmaw meows, before giving Sabletuft a sidelong glance. "Could help her apply it," he finally proposes with a shrug. Whatever she's up to, he isn't having any part of it. ​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

---

there is a certain feeling of anxiousness that gripes within the leader's belly. they don't know what's causing it. is it the idea that some poor feline had sired kits for betonyfrost? is it her pregnancy in general? or is it the idea of betonyfrost having to mother kittens? the little bundles of life that she carried within her swollen womb– they didn't stand a chance... did they? if starclan had any mercy, they wouldn't completely ruin them, right? one could hope. chilledstar hoped. their tail twitched as they moved to stand next to their deputy, eyes narrowed for a moment before a breath leaves their mouth, in almost defeat.

"betonyfrost. i will find you better bedding... but stealing from your clanmates isn't in your best interest. here. give it. i'll get you something more comfortable."

smogmaw had the right idea telling her to put it back but knowing her... they only close their eyes for a moment, stepping forward.

"do you mind if i take it? i promise to find something better."

anything to keep her happy and stress free for now... even if they got the chills from being too close to the obsessive feline.
​