splish splash i was takin' a bath ✼ intro

[Duckpaw]

Duck, cause as a kitten her tail was a little stub that wiggled as she waddled along; shaking like a duck tail. Duck-kit had been adventerous, prone to wandering and quick to mischief, but she had calmed down thankfully before being made an apprentice. Her early apprentice time was uneventful-the usual things like learning the borders and getting to see the territory finally; very exciting the first time but not so much the next several times. The world, strangely, lost its appeal when she finally got to see it. The images she had made in her mind were far more interesting than the dreary reality of trees and rivers. A shame, really, maybe if she had stayed a kit the whimsy would still be there but she was already bored of it all. Duckpaw made her way across the temporary camp, the place was quite the farcry from their original home and she missed not having to stumble over uneven ground and remembering which of the makeshift dens were what, but eventually she found the apprentice den once more; or rather their hovel because it was so decrepit they might as well just sleep out in the open like freak WindClanners did.
"Hey, do any of you wanna go make mud sculptures with me? It rained last night so there are puddles EVERYWHERE."
Her chores were done so she could play, they might not be done up to the standards some of the more strict warriors would have preferred but she'd already done dawn patrol and she wanted to relax for the rest of the day and what better way to do it than to splash around in the mud!
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[RUSHPOUNCE]

⎋ — Soon, they would be leaving the temporary camp behind to return to their original spot, and Rushpounce finds himself almost sentimental over the fact. This might not quite be home, but it's served them well as their temporary getaway, and it is at least familiar in the sense that it is RiverClan territory. Had they not been lucky enough to find a liveable but sheltered area- well, he doesn't even want to think about what they'd have done. Sleeping out in the open sounds nice in theory, but Rushpounce thinks he'd just feel too exposed and vulnerable.

Whatever the case might be, Rushpounce has dedicated the day to some clean-up around the place. Only after returning from a little hunt, of course - filling bellies would always be more important. It's not like their living space was dirty, but he thinks it's only fair if he gets rid of debris here and there before Cicadastar announces their way back home. Giving respects to the land that shelters them, something along those lines.

He catches the sound of Duckpaw by the apprentices' den, and he's curious enough to approach even if he feels a bit out of place amongst the younger cats.

"Mud sculptures? Wouldn't it just crumble under itself?"​

❝ NEVER WANTED ANYTHING FROM YOU — EXCEPT EVERYTHING YOU HAD ❞​

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[CRAPPIEPATCH]

Crappiepaw cannot wait to leave this stupid, stupid camp. The beech trees are nice for collecting bark and leaves, but the temporary camp seems… more than temporary, at this point. They have spent far too long here, and although they dread having to move their new hoard of objects back to the island camp, the calico is ready to leave.

They are stirred from their rest by a voice from nearby, and Crappiepaw trudges to the entrance of the apprentices’ den with a harsh sniffle. Duckpaw invites some clanmates to make mud sculptures, and Rushpounce seems confused. Crappiepaw is similarly confused for a moment, wondering why the younger apprentice would want to do such an activity. "Mud sculptures? That sounds messy." They look down at their own paws, as though expecting to see the pristine white fur stained and matted in brown.

They blink once, slowly, glancing up from their paws to look at the other calico. Forming the likeness of a clanmate out of mud sounds interesting, at the very least. "I will join you," they say, determination in their voice. They may not enjoy the feeling of mud crusted between their toes—they recall the patrol that they had gone on to check on the island camp, where they had been splashed up to their shoulders in mud—but they can always wash off in the river, right?
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[ my my, cold hearted child ]​

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[>Honeystone]

— The lilac tabby was milling around the fresh-kill pile, the unfortunate thing about newleaf is with the heat comes the quicker spoil time for their fish. She was shifting through the more smelly fish and pulling them to the side. As she was doing so she'd perk her ears at the young voice of an apprentice asking for some companionship. Honeystone was quick to pick her head up from her task, her grey-blue sights locating Duckpaw as the source of the request. Mud sculptures? These children were so creative! Glancing back at what she had been doing, she'd use her paw to push the smelly fish to the side so no one would get confused before making her way over excitedly.

To her delight, she'd see one of her own children curious as well of the activity. "Don't be so critical." She'd hush Rushpounce in a playful manner. Her sights would then turn to the knobbed-tailed apprentice. "I'd love to join in, Duckpaw." — tags​

 

[FERNGILL]

Fernpaw's ear twitched at the sound from the apprentice's den. He was not within, but he was outside depositing a single small fish in the fresh-kill pile from that morning's hunt- and Duckpaw's voice well and truly carried. The idea of mud sculptures seemed odd to the flame-drowned tom, being the sort that diligently kept himself perfectly-groomed with glistening fur and rippling sunset-red stripes. From his aversion to anyone with the sniffles to his tendency to eat alone, it was perhaps obvious in Fernpaw's behaviour that he was not font of being unclean.

"How will you get it off your paws?" he asked incredulously, the image of the quickly-assembling patrol of artists traipsing back to camp and somehow treading mud over all of his gigantic horde looming ominously in his mind. The river's blessing was its inherent cleanliness, of course... would they be washing up in there before stumbling into camp?​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[FOXKIT!!]

❪ TAGS ❫ — "Lemme come!" A youthful squeak comes from the fiery-hued pipsqueak. Nosy as ever and having been eavesdropping on the older kids, Foxkit immediately galloped over on hefty paws at the prospect of having fun with mud. It sounded like this excursion would be taking place outside of camp, but Foxkit wanted to try his luck anyway. He was bored and playing with his siblings wasn't enough to scratch the itch.

The red tabby held no concern about how the sculptures would be formed, nor about how he'd clean the mud out of his pelt. All he wanted to do was get dirty. "I wanna splash in puddles. I wanna go." Foxkit demands impatiently, his tail flicking back and forth out of anticipation. He hadn't even thought of asking his mother first; maybe she wouldn't even notice!​