stay awhile [ thinking ]

[Flamestar]

Whenever there was something on her mind, her paws almost always brought her to the Great Sycamore. She wasn't sure why, but the base of the tree seemed to bring some level of comfort. The tabby was laying along the trunk, listening to the birds, and staring out into the distance. Lately she had been spending her free time inside the camp, but for the former loner, there were sometimes where simply being by herself was what she needed. Most days she was able to handle the crowdedness of the camp, but today it was a little overwhelming. The sky had let loose a small rainstorm that morning, so most of her clanmates were back at the camp sheltering. The rain was gone now, and the air was still nice and cool. This was probably the nicest the air had felt in the past few days.

The tip of her tail lightly tapped the ground. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about the conversation she had with Flycatcher recently. Maybe sometime soon they would have their own little troublemakers getting into the fresh kill pile, or begging to have flowers brought back to them by the warriors and apprentices who were allowed to leave the camp. They hadn't talked about names yet, but she already had a couple in mind. Lionkit. The recent thunderstorm had given her that idea. The roar of the thunder reminded her of the stories Little Wolf used to tell. A brave, strong name... Movement caught her eye, and she looks down at her paw. A small fly was crawling around on it...Bugkit...or maybe Flykit.. ​

 

[STORMFEATHER]

What she did not know did not hurt her. Besides that, Stormpaw could not well fathom the desire to have a second litter after her own. Falconpaw was her greatest friend, and she did not know at all her two sisters. It would be disingenuous to say she missed them. How could she, if she never knew? The relationship she had with her stillborn siblings was strained and Stormpaw wondered if it was healthy. They were simply abstract thoughts in which she found no form. She felt uncomfortable when they were brought up. Maybe, she hoped, one day she could grieve like the others.

Shaking her pelt from the humid air that was the gift of the rainstorm, she noticed her mother deep in thought. Her tail raised. Since their last conversation, she had felt awkward around the flame-colored Molly and by this point enough time had passed for her to get over it. "Hi," She greeted as she bounced over, attempting to butt her head into Flamewhisker's chest. "You seem occupied."

​

 

[freckleflame]

kits were never something freckleflame had ever expected to deal with herself. she could not carry, and that had never bothered her one bit ; the thought of being a queen queen was abysmal, a lifetime spent toiling away beyond the thistle of the nursery, herding a litter of sleepless little things. the woman had not the time nor responsibility — she still needed help grooming through the bulk of her fur more often than not. to put her in charge of a brood? frightening. but her siblings, however.. a litter of three ( four, now. her ear flicks, that familiar worry furling in her chest. ), she could handle. to kitsit would never bother her ; rainbowkit, emberkit, sunshinekit, and pigeonkit. they were small, playful and cute and.. not hers. thankfully. she could deposit them right back into her fathers nest whenever her aging ( twelve month old ) bones started to ache.

perhaps she would never have a litter, and that was alright. seaglass eyes watch as stormpaw approaches her mother, bumps her in the chest with his forehead and — her chest aches. not so much for kits, but for kithood. days spent tumbling in the nursery, sparring with her fellow apprentices. a set routine, guided by her mentor. the woman shakes her thick, vibrant fur ; the mornings rainstorm had frizzed her strands to the point of near unrecognition, a mass of fire and starless void. she places her vole haphazardly atop the freshkill pile on her way towards the two, trilling a ” sure do. “ as she rounds with a warm, easy grin stretching across fiery features.. but flamewhisker had always been ablaze, doused in shades of sunset. what had tampered her into dusk? “ ill catch ya a mouse for your thoughts. “

˗ˏˋ ⠀ SPEAKING ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ⋆ ☀︎ ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ⋆ AESTHETIC ⠀ ˎˊ˗

• i.
  
• FRECKLEFLAME ——————— of thunderclan ⠀ 𓍊𓋼 ⠀ . ׁ
  𖦹 . LESBIAN. SINGLE, CRUSHES EASILY. SMELLS LIKE SUN - WARMED OAK. ELEVEN MOONS. 8 / 3 / 2023 NAMED A WARRIOR. MENTORED BY WOLFWIND, PENNED BY ANTLERS.
  
  
  f. she / her, daughter of sunfreckle and rabbitnose. large, cream patched tortoiseshell she - cat with pale green eyes. fire - forged, smoldering ; shades of vibrant russet, dousing swathes of shadow and interwoven with ribbons pale cream come to drape like licks of flame over a well - toned form. in warriorhood she has grown to full, hulking height ; unspecified maine coon heritage born of sunfreckle's kittypet background shows itself in large, round paws and tufted, long - furred toes set upon thick, tabby - splotched limbs. freckleflame is broad shouldered and square - jawed, wild cheek fur like the blazing edges of a red sun — a hulking, thick - furred thunderclan warrior, forever blaze - kissed. a characteristic lack of personal space leads her to a slouching, touchy posture, often inclined to lean or bump against her peers, all while beating a lazy, heavy - eyed grin.
  
  
• 
  
  
  

​

 

[BERRYHEART]

Berryheart and Flecks unknowingly had quite a kinship regarding their opinions of kits. The tortoiseshell had never wanted his own- why he could not explain, but he made it no secret that having his own family was of very little interest to him. Perfectly content with being an uncle, being a face to turn to in troubled times or someone would could offer them wisdom, Berryheart was satisfied in his choice, and felt not as if he was missing out on anything.

Therefore, until Shady had a second litter he had not really considered the concept- despite the fact that he and his littermates were the youngest of three. He had been so content with his first surge of siblings that more was not a possibility- but oh, they were blessings once they did arrive. Beyond his own kin though, other families bloomed in the undergrowth- but here, beneath the Great Sycamore, there were scarcely any context clues that kits crossed Sunset's mind. The medicine cat had retired here to sunbathe, only to be faced with menagerie pelts of red and blue. A slightly bemused gaze lingered upon them, though his face remained as stony as ever- he settled into a seat upon a patch of sunlight, and it was clear from his angled ears that he was listening.​

PENNED BY PIN ☾​