SO WHATEVER, COME HANG [ windclan patrol ]

[cedarbark.]

❝ I DON'T WANNA HURT EM' ✧°.☀ ————————————
A patrol to Shadowclan. Despite being still wounded, covered in cobwebs from the scuffle with Skyclan, he was healing well enough to lead the patrol out. His eyebrows twitched. Pain in his left hind leg was twinging every time he moved, this longer walk to the Shadowclan border giving him some level of difficult. He uttered a curse- perhaps out of relief- as the border finally came up into range. His voice carried to the two on his flank, @sparkspirit and @SILVERTHORN. "Try to avoid confrontation. Let's get this done." Cedarbark warned.

It wasn't like they couldn't handle a fight right now, but he was worried about what would happen to the three of them against a clan, or to the herbs that were in their camp. He didn't want to have to eat up any more of that supply then they had to, you know? He set about marking the border, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the bog just beyond the markers here.

// no need to wait for them to post!

"speech"

[penned by dallas - ☀]

———————————— ☀.°✧ BUT I DID, I'M IN A FIT OF RAGE ❞ ​

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[GRANITEPELT]

His paw pad still throbs when he thinks of that dark night beneath a strange moon, where he’d pledged fealty to the mad moorland queen. Even the scent of rabbit and heather brings him back to his discovery about his heritage. Sootstar had mothered kits by his father—and as he edges the Thunderpath, his green eyes scores the patrol, hoping to pick out a gray and white pelt.

She is not present. Disappointment surges through him, though his expression remains the same. His Clanmates are spitting mad about WindClan still, but their leader’s blood has mingled with his. He looks at the unknown cats now with only a little more ire than he does his own Clanmates. Still, Granitepelt holds his tongue, marking the border with an indifferent brush of his cheek against reeds.

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — granitekit . granitepaw . granitepelt
  — he/him ; warrior of shadowclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Starlingheart
  — short-haired gray tom with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Meg

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[loampelt]

The border patrol is small. Not unusually so, not suspiciously so, and yet Loampelt watches them with a certain level of wariness. Were they hoping to go by without notice, or to appear nonthreatening? Was it simply just a smaller patrol? He chances a look at Granitepelt, not seeking Granitepelt's quiet opinion but trying to convey with his eyes alone that he's about to try and talk with WindClan.

"This a new w-wuh-wuh-way t-tuh-to catch flies?" Loampelt asks conversely while making a vague gesture towards Cedarbark, "Or duh-did you lose a f-fuh-fight?" ​

tags ∘ shadowclan warrior ∘ solid black with hazel eyes ∘ curled front foot ∘ 13 moons​

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[✧ Siltcloud.]

THERE'S A HOLE IN MY SOUL ( CAN YOU FILL IT ? )
siltcloud | 14 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #905d5d

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Unaware of all that has transpired, granitepelts silence is met with siltclouds suspicion and surprise - is he sick, is he unwell? Usually her brother is not one to withhold his opinions, and yet it is loampelt who speaks first - quickly drawing the girls attention instead and pushing her worries o the back of her mind. She likes to think of herself as a neutral party - uncaring and uninvolved in the petty squabbles her clanmates start unless order into action by her leader - or at least, one of the higher powers. But dull green eyes glitter amusedly from where she peers down at the ground beneath her paw, flitting up only briefly to glance about the other patrol, and she bites back a grin that threatens to show. "When do they ever win," she says, voice soft and hushed, barely more than a whisper, but there is something cruel in not just her words but hidden deep beneath her tone - a venomous thing, bitter and deadly. Shadowclan seems starclan cursed these days - but certainly, so must windcan, with all the war they wage and battles they have lost.

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[cedarbark.]

❝ I DON'T WANNA HURT EM' ✧°.☀ ————————————
Cedarbark's head picked up, ears twitching and eyes narrowing. One warrior appeared, then a number more. The first was quiet, holding an incredibly neutral gaze towards Windclan, marking their border- not unlike what Cedarbark was doing. But Loampelt's word's came next. Cedarbark twitched his ears. Unlike some of the other spitfires in his clan, he wasn't about to justify that with an answer. Cedarbark huffed quietly, brushing his pelt against another piece of green.

Another cat slinked in the shadows of Shadowclan- hah, very funny- but he didn't pay them much mind. He knew that if they were really going to try something, they would have already. He turned his head away as he continued at his job.

"speech"

[penned by dallas - ☀]

———————————— ☀.°✧ BUT I DID, I'M IN A FIT OF RAGE ❞ ​

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