SURF GOTH ↺ [ recovery ]

[MOORBLOSSOM]

One-by-one had the sickly squatters left the badger set in their dust, the keys to their salvation coming in the form of fuzzy-stemmed flowers—all the while Moorpaw carried on withering away, coughing, wheezing, and not getting any good sleep neither. Wolfsong's medicine only served to numb her gums and make her drool all over the white paws curled meekly into her chest.

Continuing to decline as her clanmates healed, the profane seeds sown by her mother began to bear a bitter fruit. Did StarClan truly not want her to recover? Was she fated to a disgusting, disease-ridden end, synonymous to her father's? The only companions she kept in quarantine were these thoughts, like gunk in the corners of her skull, and in all their repulsive glory, she'd found it increasingly troublesome to scrub them out.

But when the sun kissed the horizon this morning and seeped into the den's dim recesses, Moorpaw stirred with a vitality that'd been dormant for moons. She's revived and alive, and the untamed energy flooding through her muscles brought her to all fours within her first waking moments.

As of today, the air passageways inside her chest are slime-free. Like, officially! Officially, officially! Stars, how excited she is to return to camp and claim the warrior name that she's rightfully owed. She'll run circles around them all!

The war-worn medicine cat needn't reach the badger set on his daily outing—Wolfsong's cerulean gaze would settle upon an apprentice, one waist-high in the moorgrass, and fiercely demanding that he bring her home.

⁂​

"Hey, hey, heyyyyyy!" hollers Moorpaw, lips curved generously in a beaming smile. Having breached through the gorse wall, her hungry eyes now sweep over the sand-swept expanse. "I'm not dying anymore! Three cheers for me!" Reflecting on the passed time since she's last stood in camp widens her grin tremendously. Like, crap, she'd given the ShadowClan slimeballs a visit before seeing her home again.

Batting her baby greens, she cants her head, patiently awaiting some offhanded quip from Snakehiss or something or other. ​

 

[BLUEFROST]

Bluepaw’s father had withered away to a hissing, wheezing demon, curled up and thin to the point of decimation in the badgerset. She had fully expected to lose a littermate in the same fashion. Mintshade rises, as do the others, slowly letting the life flood their limbs, the life the sacred lungwort had breathed back into their bodies, but Moorpaw had not seemed to improve. Bluepaw had all but written her sister off for dead—to hear her voice ring out above the ear-height grasses, to hear her proclaim her health, startles the young tunneler as though she’s looking at a phantom.

She might as well be, she realizes. Moorpaw has never looked more like Weaselclaw—angular, thin, tabby fur unkempt from two moons’ stay beneath the earth, away from prying eyes and healthy lungs. But there’s clarity returned to Moorpaw’s green gaze, a clarity their father had lost for good.

Bluepaw’s lips tremble at the corners. Graciously, she bows to her sister. “Welcome back. It is good to see you looking so much better.” It is the warmest Bluepaw has treated Moorpaw since the two of them were nursery-mates.

, ”​

​

 

[PINKSHINE]

Pinkpaw has like, no idea who this is, but she's super good at following directions ( DON'T get Sootstar or Scorchstreak to fact - check this ), and when cats tell her to cheer, she's gonna cheer! Bonus, plus, she knows dying is super bad, so she should cheer when dying isn't happening anymore! " Hip - hip, hooray! Hip - hip, hooray! Hip - hip, hooray! " she cheers, following mystery - not - dying - cat's word perfectly. And Bluepaw seems kind of sad, considering this cat wasn't dying anymore. She dips her head to her, which, like, is not what the cat said to do. " Cheer, Bluepaw! " she encourages, as she would do any other cats that approach.

And now that she thinks about, um, dying... death, and stuff, she thinks about ThunderClan's medicine cat, and her very important questions. " Hey, what's dying like? " she asks innocently.

staring at the mirror gotta smile, smile 🌸🌷🦄🦩 don't be late, we got plans!

• 

• 

• ( IT'S TIME TO START A FUCKING RIOT, RIOT! ) PINKPAW APPRENTICE OF WINDCLAN. DAUGHTER TO BRIGHTSHINE & HEAVY SNOW. SISTER TO HEATHPAW, DOWNYPAW, & FINCHPAW.
  —— SHE / HER; UNOPPOSED TO THE USE OF OTHERS
  —— CURRENTLY 4 MOONS OLD. AGES EVERY 16TH
  
  A tiny, longhaired calico she - kit with yellow eyes, ringed blue around her pupils (sectoral heterochromia). While you can clearly see her flame markings on her face, the rest of her body is currently covered by a grey fever - coating. Though the whites of her are still very much visible. Pinkpaw bounces around WindClan without a care in the world! Her emotions are big, and she makes little effort to regulate them, resulting in both her usually cheerful disposition, as well as making her prone to sudden bouts of extreme anger or sadness. Rarely seen without a smile!
  

  HEAVY IC OPINIONS! Pinkpaw is a very irrational and childish character!​

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[Bluepool]

"Dying is a terrible yet beautiful thing Pinkpaw" she says as she comes to stand next to the much younger cat. One of Brightshine's, she remembers. There must be something that runs in that families blood that makes them into the most obnoxious cats alive. She shudders as she remembers Mallowlark - another of Brightshine's that she had been convinced was diseased. If SkyClan well and truly wanted that thing amongst them then they were more than welcome to him. Good riddance she thinks. If only they would take the rest of them too. Who knew though, perhaps this batch was yet to prove her wrong. Pinkpaw certainly wasn't helping their case though. "Your soul is ripped from your body and you'll never get to eat rabbit or feel the sun on your back again, but you do get to go and join the stars depending on the life you've lived so it's not all bad" Bluepool wonders if she herself would be deemed worthy enough to go to the stars, or perhaps they would take one look at the blood that stained her paws and they would send her to wherever the bad cats went. She has no idea where said place is but it certainly isn't StarClan.

"I'm also glad you're not dead Moorpaw, are you excited to get back to your training?" she would have to work twice as hard now if she wanted to catch up to Bluepaw and the rest of her family. How difficult it must be for her to fall so far behind, she thinks. If it were her she would not sleep for a week in her attempts to be caught up. She had never been the kind of cat to like getting left behind, after all.

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── He was relieved when Moorpaw presented herself hale before him; her recovery had taken longer than the others', and with Weaselclaw's death, Wolfsong had worried that she might join him and press Sootstar further beyond the precipice. For Cottonpaw to lose a sister and a father— that would be a grief beyond Wolfsong's understanding, as the sole child from his own parents. But fortunately, that will not come to pass, and Wolfsong greets his clanmates with a small smile from behind Moorpaw as she welcomes herself back to camp.

It is a small, partial family reunion; he's certain others will arrive soon, but for now, it is her sister and aunt present. Alongside the exuberant Pinkpaw, of course, who expresses her cheer noisily. Wolfsong would join her were he less weary. Gladdened as he is by Moorpaw's recovery, there is much that remains off-kilter.

He does not quite agree with Bluepool that death is beautiful. It is not a time to speak of such things, regardless, and he wishes Pinkpaw had not begun it. "You have a long journey ahead of you still, Moorpaw, but do not rush to claim it. Do not hesitate to come to me if you are feeling weak." ​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 38 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

Loudness. It bolstered the voices of everyone in WindClan, it seemd- everyone in every Clan. Really, logically... it was not everyone, certainly not. But the sheer volume some took meant they spoke for three or four cats alone. Featherpaw supposed, though, if there was anything to be so loud about it should be living. Yellowcough had dodged his family, luckily- but he had witnessed firsthand the shattering effects of a death. When Sootstar had announced the death of her mate, her words had crafted ice-sculptures out of the onlookers.

Moorpaw was alive, though- greeted by the pleased words of her sister. Pinkpaw was as obnoxious as ever, cheering so loud Featherpaw could have guessed she was competing with Moorpaw to see who could shatter the most eardrums in one day. It was Bluepool, her own mentor, that earned Featherpaw's ire most of all, though. What words Wolfsong had chosen not to express, Featherpaw made purchase upon rather confidently.

"Dying is not buh... buh... b-beautiful, mousebrain." It was scary. It made everyone miserable and horrified, and meant eternal separation from what you loved most, no matter what. Featherpaw was irritated by the mere insinuation it could ever be anything but upsetting. StarClan might be wonderful, might be omnipotent, but she preferred what was here, thenk-you-very-much. Broiling eyes turned to Moorpaw. "You're lucky to have dodged it."

It was a poor way of saying I'm glad you're alive.​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[MOORBLOSSOM]

Cobalt tassels float into Moorpaw's visual field, and within a heartbeat's worth of time, the toothy smile strapped to her face distends far into her eyes. Voice like a catastrophic thunderclap, "BLUEPAW!" ripples out from the girl's strained throat, and sandy clouds kick up around her paws as she hurtles to meet her favourite sister. Head-on. Warmth flushes through her cheeks, driving her left into Bluepaw's as deep as physics would allow her to. "I missed you! Oh, I missed you!" she says, rearing back. "Look at you, almost a warrior! Wha'ya think your name's gonna be?" Rib-shaped contours line the silky furs along her belly, caught in an erratic rhythm of rising-and-falling. She breathes fast to speak fast. Always has, and always will.

Ample amounts of clanmates gradually pool around the camp's brambly entrance. First to seize her focus is a rather messy hodgepodge of colours. Looking like someone had dragged a pelt through a mud puddle and given it a name, the younger molly heeds her words and dispenses a cheerful trifecta, much to Moorpaw's triumph. "Yeah! Hooray for life!" Playful eyes briefly peruse her sister, then. "She doesn't cheer that much, and that's okay!"

Another voice pierces through the riffraff, and Moorpaw identifies it right from the first syllable. "Hi, Bluepool!" she exclaims, scarcely stifling the urge to rub against her next. Were her impulses given a tad more leeway, the entire clan would carry her smell before sundown. Somewhat jarred by her aunt's narrative on death, her noggin tilts a smidgeon.

"Nuh-uh, dying is not beautiful," professes the apprentice, nodding in solidarity with Featherpaw's analysis. "Should'a seen dad. He was all like, talking to people who weren't there... said he wanted to kill whoever he saw... not very pretty, but that's just my opinion!" Boy, was she glad that Weaselclaw (may he rest in eternal peace) hadn't succeeded—especially on the off-chance that he'd been directing his grumblings to her.

"Of course, Wolfsong! My throat still hurts, kinda. Should've stopped for a swig at the sun-warmed pool!" Her emerald gaze befalls the scruffed-up healer, forever thankful for the herbs. For all she cares, the side effects she might endure are out of sight and out of mind, but his medical know-how is just a little bit better than hers. ​

 

[Bluepool]

Weaselclaw's death was not something that she had been around to see, and honestly, she is glad she had not been there. To see a cat she had once thought so strong be reduced to the thing that Moorpaw had described then maybe it would be enough to convince her her opinion was wrong but as it stood... "Well, you are both entitled to your opinion but I disagree" she says with an indignant huff "Death is a part of life, it happens to us all whether you like it or not, and if you choose not to see beauty in the end then that's fine but allow me the opportunity to look at death how I wish to look at it and I will do the same for you" her scrap of a tail flicks behind her while she speaks, eyes narrowing in mild annoyance. "Oh and Featherpaw? Call me a mouse brain again and I'll be having you pick ticks from the elders pelts every day for a moon. Capiche?" she didn't give a mouse's ass that the kids father was right there, Featherpaw was her apprentice and if he had a problem with her disciplining her he could take it up with Sootstar herself.

"I'm glad you're okay too kiddo" she says, her voice much softer than it had been previously. And it was true, she was glad that n=they had not lost the black and white she-cat. Moorpaw had always been a little bit of a spit-fire, and she had always liked the small scrap of monochrome fur. "It'll be nice to have you back around the camp" Mintshade too. She had misses her family that had been isolated in the badgers den when the sickness had hit. "Featherpaw and I could fetch you a water-soaked moss ball if you would like" she offers, of course volunteering her apprentice and herself for the task.

​

 

[PINKSHINE]

She supposes that it's okay, when the cat simply tells her that Bluepaw doesn't cheer that much. if it didn't bother her, than it didn't bother Pinkpaw.

Then Bluepool (Pinkpaw is just now realizing that their names are totally similar... She's on the edge of an epiphany right now) tells her death is a terrible yet beautiful thing, which, like, doesn't even make any sense because Pinkpaw's pretty sure those words mean like the opposite thing. Your soul is ripped from your body and you'll never get to eat rabbit or feel the sun on your back again. Pinkpaw gasps, because that sounds terrible! And this mystery cat was almost that! " No! " but you do get to go and join the stars depending on the life you've lived so it's not all bad. Umm, it sounded pretty bad to her. Pinkpaw looks unconvinced. "I don't wanna be a star. That's why I'm never dying, " she concludes.

Wolfsong says something about Moorpaw (Is that who this cat was?) having a long journey ahead of her, which is a lie because she's already at camp!

And Featherpaw is here, and Featherpaw calls Blueppol a mousebrain, Moorpaw seems to think so too, so maybe Bluepool really is a mousebrain. She says a bunch of stuff that Pinkpaw's not really listening to, but she does go, " Oooooh, " when Featherpaw gets in trouble. " Can I call you a mousebrain? " she asks very politely.

staring at the mirror gotta smile, smile 🌸🌷🦄🦩 don't be late, we got plans!

• 

• 

• ( IT'S TIME TO START A FUCKING RIOT, RIOT! ) PINKPAW APPRENTICE OF WINDCLAN. DAUGHTER TO BRIGHTSHINE & HEAVY SNOW. SISTER TO HEATHPAW, DOWNYPAW, & FINCHPAW.
  —— SHE / HER; UNOPPOSED TO THE USE OF OTHERS
  —— CURRENTLY 4 MOONS OLD. AGES EVERY 16TH
  
  A tiny, longhaired calico she - kit with yellow eyes, ringed blue around her pupils (sectoral heterochromia). While you can clearly see her flame markings on her face, the rest of her body is currently covered by a grey fever - coating. Though the whites of her are still very much visible. Pinkpaw bounces around WindClan without a care in the world! Her emotions are big, and she makes little effort to regulate them, resulting in both her usually cheerful disposition, as well as making her prone to sudden bouts of extreme anger or sadness. Rarely seen without a smile!
  

  HEAVY IC OPINIONS! Pinkpaw is a very irrational and childish character!​

​

 

[BLUEFROST]

Loud and uncouth as ever, Bluepaw’s youngest tunnelmate toddles over and begins to cheer emphatically. Hip, hip, hooray! She sounds like a little bird, Bluepaw muses to herself absently. A bird that refuses to clamp its beak shut, but a bird nonetheless. Pinkpaw turns and tells her to cheer; Bluepaw’s smile trembles away, back into a perfunctory scowl. “That would be most unbecoming, and you should not do it either,” she insists, sitting up straighter as Bluepool, Wolfsong, and little Featherpaw begin to draw closer.

She keeps her own thoughts on dying to herself as her aunt begins to ramble about becoming a star. She thinks of flesh between her claws, of a cat moaning for mercy beneath Thriftpaw’s grip. Had that been beautiful? Hardly. Beauty is an untainted feather, a smooth, polished stone, the flower Gravelsnap had given her. Beauty is the moor itself beneath a warm sun.

Beauty is not viscera and blood and screams, she tells herself.

Moorpaw thrusts her face into Bluepaw’s, banging their cheeks together in a way that almost dizzies her. She scowls, but for once, she does not reprimand her more unruly littermate. “You will be a warrior soon, too, but I do not presume to name myself,” she reminds her sister. Really, putting words in Sootstar’s mouth! She thinks some of her siblings will say just about anything that pops into their heads.

When she begins to talk about Weaselclaw, Bluepaw stiffens, her green eyes narrowing. “That is hardly an appropriate conversation,” she murmurs. Suddenly, she does not feel like celebrating, and she pushes herself to her paws. “Excuse me. I have a patrol to catch.”

, ”​

​