- Nov 30, 2022
- 639
- 358
- 63
Orangestar spends far too long staring at the shifting shadows of moonlight that dapple her den. Sleep evades her; it doesn't often, thankfully usually too tired to do much against the onslaught of unconsciousness, but that means that when she suffers at the whims of a racing mind there isn't much Orangestar can do except wait. At least it's a touch cooler now, blazing sun drowned far beyond the mountains.
Despite the vivid memory of the sun dipping below an endless lake painting the back of her eyelids awash with late evening's glow, her mind is filled with thoughts much closer to home. The murders that had plagued SkyClan in the last few moons are far from normal. It doesn't make sense. Is it coincidence that their daylight warriors remain untouched? Orangestar is glad for that, but at the same time, the common theme of fulltime SkyClanners being attacked and losing their lives troubles her. Even now, though she is not the only one who had been lost, Orangestar wishes for Applefrost's guidance. She'd say something cheerful and vague, and then she would purr, and Orangestar would have no idea what she meant until the time was right. Was this the right time? Orangestar would never know. The guidance of SkyClan's council couldn't tell her, either.
She isn't content, Orangestar realises in the wake of some sleepy sigh. She had inherited most of her council from Blazestar; in a way, they are not her council at all, are they? Even Slate, whose soft snores from a tail-length away provide a grounding sort of consistency right now, had been chosen by her predecessor. Her council consists of Dogbite and Figfeather, and precious little else. Even Cherryblossom concerns her, of late: had adding Ricepaw to her load taken away her daughter's capacity to be an effective deputy? Is there something else Orangestar is missing? At least Twitchbolt seems more assured in recent moons ... The SkyClan council are good cats, but maybe it's time to start from scratch.
Orangestar rolls over in her nest, gaze unfocusing against the elderberry-and-gorse of the camp wall. Her medicine cats, at least, would remain a constant. As much as Dawnglare irritates her, incessant and holier-than-thou, his knowledge is central to SkyClan. Fireflyglow, however, has earned his name: a medicine cat in his own right, the chosen link to StarClan, two prophecies in. Her tail twitches. She had only recalled the second during the Gathering, of old foes and creeping shadows (she thinks, but doesn't recall the wording). Are the murders connected to that, prophecy unacted upon and SkyClan paying the price? Are the rogues responsible tied to the ones who had attacked Howlfire's brood? None else have been such a thorn in SkyClan's side: even WindClan has kept to themselves on the far side of the forest after deposing of the Mad Queen of the Moors.
Finally, finally, with the resolution to ask Fireflyglow about it again in the morning settling in her mind like a feather atop a precipice, she drifts off to sleep.
Despite the vivid memory of the sun dipping below an endless lake painting the back of her eyelids awash with late evening's glow, her mind is filled with thoughts much closer to home. The murders that had plagued SkyClan in the last few moons are far from normal. It doesn't make sense. Is it coincidence that their daylight warriors remain untouched? Orangestar is glad for that, but at the same time, the common theme of fulltime SkyClanners being attacked and losing their lives troubles her. Even now, though she is not the only one who had been lost, Orangestar wishes for Applefrost's guidance. She'd say something cheerful and vague, and then she would purr, and Orangestar would have no idea what she meant until the time was right. Was this the right time? Orangestar would never know. The guidance of SkyClan's council couldn't tell her, either.
She isn't content, Orangestar realises in the wake of some sleepy sigh. She had inherited most of her council from Blazestar; in a way, they are not her council at all, are they? Even Slate, whose soft snores from a tail-length away provide a grounding sort of consistency right now, had been chosen by her predecessor. Her council consists of Dogbite and Figfeather, and precious little else. Even Cherryblossom concerns her, of late: had adding Ricepaw to her load taken away her daughter's capacity to be an effective deputy? Is there something else Orangestar is missing? At least Twitchbolt seems more assured in recent moons ... The SkyClan council are good cats, but maybe it's time to start from scratch.
Orangestar rolls over in her nest, gaze unfocusing against the elderberry-and-gorse of the camp wall. Her medicine cats, at least, would remain a constant. As much as Dawnglare irritates her, incessant and holier-than-thou, his knowledge is central to SkyClan. Fireflyglow, however, has earned his name: a medicine cat in his own right, the chosen link to StarClan, two prophecies in. Her tail twitches. She had only recalled the second during the Gathering, of old foes and creeping shadows (she thinks, but doesn't recall the wording). Are the murders connected to that, prophecy unacted upon and SkyClan paying the price? Are the rogues responsible tied to the ones who had attacked Howlfire's brood? None else have been such a thorn in SkyClan's side: even WindClan has kept to themselves on the far side of the forest after deposing of the Mad Queen of the Moors.
Finally, finally, with the resolution to ask Fireflyglow about it again in the morning settling in her mind like a feather atop a precipice, she drifts off to sleep.
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[ art by pin ] -
ORANGESTAR ✧ she/her, leader of skyclan | eight lives
— "a scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes."
— single ; mentoring springpaw & ashpaw
— speech is in #F18C47
— tags | penned by mercibun, contact on discord for plots.
