SPARE THE SYMPATHY | reinforcing camp walls

[FERNDANCE]

When the rest of the clan had complained about the weather, Ferndance had realised that she felt numb to the blizzard. Even if it was cold and dangerous, bitingly so, it felt inconsequential; her health was nothing compared to what she had just lost. ThunderClan's territory was not a beast she yet felt ready to conquer, so instead, Ferndance remained in camp, lugging about pieces of bramble and pushing them against the walls of her once-prison. She could feel the wind whipping through gaps in the fortifications and, no matter how much she willed herself not to care about them, that they were nothing and would do no harm... thoughts of her children motivated her to do a better job at the defenses.

Over the howl of the blizzard, Ferndance couldn't hear her clanmates moving about, but she could see them in the corner of her eye, feel their looks as if they were words exchanged. She swallowed a lump in her throat, flinching at how rugged it felt going down. "Are you helping or just staring at me?" There was no humour, only the snappiness of someone who was confused, sick, someone who did not know how to get rid of the grief, if it was even possible.

​

 

[MAPLETUFT]

Mapletuft is easily distracted, sometimes, and she does not mean for her eyes to linger on Ferndances form; she had stopped nearby to just rest her paws for a second, to warm up, but Ferndance hadn't stopped moving since she had gotten back to camp. Her skin prickles a little uncomfortably, whether from guilt or the harsh biting winds that whirls around them is a different story. She'll be fine once we get her back, her own voice plays over and over in her head as she watches her work, dragging brambles and other materials around. She had lied. Needledrift was not okay. Needledrift hadn't been okay since the Thunderclan deputy had struck her down, since those claws had raised, since before they even slashed down. She swallows hard, feeling a familiar sense of dread begin to grip at her heart.

Are you helping or just staring at me?

Thankfully, its enough to bring her back in to reality, realizing that she had in fact been staring for no apparent reason. She shakes her head, padding closer. "No, no, i'm sorry... Just lost in thought, i'll help..." she murmurs gently, unphased by the snappiness that the warrior had given. She understands, in a way. She did not lose her mate to battle, did not watch him go down in glory, instead watched him go down in sickness that took him away from her, but she understands a common feeling shared between them. Grief was a fickle thing, each passing day it'd get worse, then better, then worse, and it varied by the hour, too...

She takes a chunk of bramble, one that Ferndance had laying around, placing herself at the walls and beginning to weave. The wind whipping about was roaring in her ears. Too loud... And much too cold. An omen, she had told Needledrift, had believed herself. How cruel of it to prove to be true... Could Shadowclan weather the storm out? Would there be anything of their camp left to take shelter in, in the next few days? Her lips turn to a frown. "At this rate, we'll all be cat-cicles." whether its a very poorly-timed joke or something she truly believes is up for interpretation as she works diligently at trying to patch the holes through the dread that continues to eat at her stomach.

𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖭 𝖳𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖬𝖮𝖮𝖭 𝖨𝖲 𝖡𝖨𝖦 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖡𝖱𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳 *•.🍁.•* 𝖨𝖳𝖲 𝖠 𝖲𝖴𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖭𝖠𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖠𝖫 𝖣𝖤𝖫𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳

• ❥ mapletuft ʚ♡ɞ cider
  ❥ cis female ʚ♡ɞ she/her ʚ♡ɞ 54 months
  ❥ shadowclan deputy ʚ♡ɞ mentoring lavenderpaw
  ❥ long-furred chocolate torbie/cinnamon tabby chimera ʚ♡ɞ elegant & flowy
  ❥ "speech, F17E23" ʚ♡ɞ thoughts
  ❥ widowed ʚ♡ɞ bisexual
  ❥ smells like spice & cool night air ʚ♡ɞ warm & crisp
  ❥ penned by chuff

 

[milkpaw]

× Milkpaw couldn't believe that it was just Ferndance and Mapletuft trying to keep the camp walls together. Honestly, the brown tabby was surprised there was anything left of it, thanks to this weather. He was also surprised that no one else had been guilted into helping patch this swiss-cheese of a wall.

"Looks like you two could use some more help," the apprentice stated obviously, eyes shifting back and forth between them and their project before padding in to assist. Honestly, he should have just gathered his own bundle of bramble, but instead, he follows suit of Mapletuft and snags a chunk from Ferndance's pile.

After taking a moment of attempting to pack the bramble bit into a nearby hole, a wind swiftly rolls through and instantly kicks his work to the ground. The long-furred apprentice grunts before shoving it back in, and then takes a few steps back to admire his work, only for it to happen again. It felt to him as if ShadowClan was being punished, though he did not really understand why.​

 

[PINEFANG.]

The camp was meant to be their shelter against the harsh cold. So, neither could Pinefang believe that there was such a small group of cats reinforcing the walls. And he was long-furred, he would not be able to believe what the short-furred cats would have to do to stay warm.

Pinefang approached the group, his blue fur and slightly loud steps giving him away. His ear flicked as he looked around for materials. He hears Ferndance's statement, though opts not to hold it against her. Grief is a powerful beast, one not easily defeated. He chuckled at Mapletuft's joke. "Let's try to avoid that, yeah?" He asked, before noting a couple brambles that had likely fallen off of one of the piles.

"Thanks for helping as well, Milkpaw," his voice was gentle. He quickly grabbed a bramble, avoiding the thorns as best as he could, placing it on a not-quite-yet-hole, but one that would become one. He turned his jaw, snapping it. He stood on his back paws, pushing the rest in to fortify it.

SHALL WE LOOK AT THE MOON ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ MY LITTLE LOON

• ooc: text
• 
• 

  Pinefang's body seems almost silvery, as a long-haired blue smoke. His eyes are pine green. This busybody is a ShadowClan Warrior, sitting at 26 moons. He tends to be very kind, but his bitterness can cause him to snap. ✦

​

 

[MORELPAW]

The air is as cold as the chill that rips through his body every time he remembers. Mama is gone. Mama is gone. Morelpaw hardly knows what to do with himself at the thought, other than keep close to his family when he can — to keep a watch on them, to make sure they don't leave his sight for too long, that they don't return to his line of sight in stilled crimson.

Which brings him to his remaining parent. Ever busy in the cold air, just how long has Ferndance been outside?

" You should take a break, " he pipes up in greeting, " You must be cold. I can take over for a bit while you warm up…? "

His short-haired form is near-frozen, he can't imagine how cold she must be. And Bloodwing, Bloodwing too. Worry churns at his stomach - he can't just let them become cat-cicles.​