Tell the world, I’m comin’ home / camp check patrol

[LAKEMOON]

LAKEMOON — me and the devil, walking side by side.
Flood, otters, a storm of wind and thunder, screaming, savagery, grief.
The sequence plays behind narrowed blue eyes like a broken record as she picks her way through the terrain that had begun to slope slightly downwards, flanked by Hyacinthbreath, Dovepaw, and Crappiepaw.
Riverclan had once seemed as though it was a paradise, a island surrounded by russet reeds and abundant in rich foods. It had been, now that Lakemoon thought about it, once the initial home sickness had worn off, it had become her paradise.
Yet, it’d be foolish to truly think that it would last, not in the forest. A ivory splashed paw squishes against thick mud, dragging the silent warrior away from her dim thoughts. She looks down to see what had once only been damp dirt was now water-logged, most likely where inches of water had recently covered it. "We’re close, watch your step and don’t get stuck." She both observes and instructs, looking towards the two apprentices for at least a silent acknowledgment from them.
From there, her pawsteps are calculated, careful to avoid any particular spots where earth-laced water still pooled from.
Hope prickled in her chest, anticipation rises along her spine fur. Would the river’s swell had shrunk? Their home free to be theirs once more?
Once silver and white limbs are freckled with mud by the time the patrol would reach the river bank, but Lakemoon was too eager to find out the state of their camp to care as she normally would.
She holds a feathered tail high, signaling for the three others to pause while sapphire optics flicker downstream and upstream. She is almost rejoiced to see that the rivers surface only merely lapped a whisker-length below the slope of the bank, fully receded.
"We’ll be able to get across, but let’s find the stepping stones, just to be safe" she suggests, relief evident in her tone as turns her head, eyes flickering from each face of her clanmate to the next.

@dovepaw. @CRAPPIEPAW @hyacinthbreath

// the river has fully receded so they will be able to safely cross and reach camp! Although it will be in shambles of course.
"speech"

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[hyacinthbreath]

Uneasy paws slip through the mud as silvery fur makes its way through the territory. Hyacinthbreath makes sure to stay close to Lakemoon's rear, ears swiveling and listening out for any intruders. Lakemoon's pace speeds up, as if she caught sight of something- and Hyacinthbreath grunts with effort as she pries muddy, squelching paws from the ground. With how small and light she was, she seemingly sank right into the mud with every step, though muscles tense as she pries her paws to freedom once more. "Is that the camp?" She asks, in awe of Lakemoon's ability to trek through all of this mud. Nonetheless, she makes sure the two apprentices have walked in front of her before she herself continues.

The stepping stones, she speaks of- Hyacinthbreath hadn't fully gotten accustomed to the camp before they had to move, having to have guards constantly. Being able to leave camp without one, trusted not to betray them.. Or at least to not run away. A small smile makes its way onto her face, though her eyes remain neutral. One day, she tells herself. One day she would be welcomed in as true and glorious as a RiverClanner. For now though, she would take what she could get.

Once they made it to the stepping stones, the molly admires them for a moment before she turns to the patrol. "The water has gone down significantly. Does that mean the Clan can return to here soon?" She asks Lakemoon, naive of their customs. Perhaps they would cover the camp in reeds, weave more nests of waterflowers and buds. Make it theirs once again, yes?​

❝ there are wounds inside me, gaping holes of disconnect.
can you drown inside your own body? can you suffocate within this mind? ❞

 

[CRAPPIEPATCH]

Crappiepaw is silent as they trudge along after Lakemoon, tired white paws flexing in the dirt and mud. They are silent throughout their trek, unease settling in with each step they take. The two she-cats are stoic, quiet for the most part, and it is unsettling. The only comfort comes with understanding that, if anything happens, Lakemoon and Hyacinthbreath have proven themselves to be capable warriors, and neither Crappiepaw nor Dovepaw should find themselves in any danger.

When the island comes into view, and Lakemoon states that they will be able to cross—just at the stepping stones, to be careful—the calico frowns.

If the river has receded, that means RiverClan will be moving back into their island encampment. The dens that they had helped to re-weave after WindClan’s destructive raid will be rendered useless. And it pokes at their brain—what if Gloompaw tries to return, but goes to the wrong place? The complaint is on their tongue, dropping like a stone from their mouth, before they can clamp their jaw shut to stop it. "I just fixed the dens." Thin, mottled shoulders draw upward, shaking their head as they follow behind the silvered warrior to the stepping stones.
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[ dancing in the panic room ]​

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[dovethroat.]

Dovepaw had not been lying when he was saying (well, thinking) that he was not terribly excited about this patrol. Any patrol was a potential series of opportunities to completely ruin his reputation, and though he had not yet done that—who was to say that he wasn't going to be starting sometime soon? Like, right now?

He loved swimming, but he hated mud, and Dovepaw pulled up his light-colored paw with a visible grimace scarring an otherwise pleasant visage as he looked up to appear more attentive in the eyes of Lakemoon and her advice.

"S-Sorry," Dovepaw offers a meek, sympathetic whisper to the other apprentice who was along for the ride as he grew nearer to the stepping stones. Just barely subtle enough to appear innocent and unintentional, Dovepaw did not look over at Hyacinthbreath.

She scared him.

[⋆]​

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[LAKEMOON]

LAKEMOON — me and the devil, walking side by side.
Hyacinthbreaths first question is met with a curt nod, "Just past the river." The silvery tabby answered, despite her reluctance towards the heather tinted other, her tone does not betray that, keeping its short but clear norm.
"Not right away, I’m sure it’ll depend on the state of it." She answers once more after a pause, watching the warrior gaze upon the stepping stones with a glint of awe.
When Crappiepaw speaks, Lakemoon shoots them a sharp look at their complaining. "Then you’ll get the privilege of fixing more, surely you’ll be proud to help your clan no longer be homeless?" She chided with a quirk of her brow, Lakemoon was certain the apprentice’s weaving skills could use some fine-tuning, anyhow.
Dovepaw remains his soft-spoken demeanor and Lakemoon steps aside to let the others cross before herself, just in case the rocks slippery surface got the best of any of them- Lakemoon was not a strong swimmer like some of her other clanmates, but she’d be strong enough to drag one of them out, if need be.
Once everyone had made their way to the other side, Lakemoon would be close behind, lightly stepping from one rock to the next, her lanky legs giving her the advantage of having the shorter distance between each stone.
"Remember to watch your step and stay alert, we don’t know what to expect." Lakemoon advises once more before the group would continue on, sliding past broken reeds and dips in the ground, swamped with twig-filled water.
Silently, the molly readies herself to gaze upon the ruins of her home, she could only pray to sleeping stars that the damage would not be too devastating.
Slowly, group would trickle into the clearing, Lakemoons slanted gaze drifting from each corner of camp to the next.
"It’s a mess, but it’s fixable."

"speech"

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[CRAPPIEPATCH]

Dovepaw’s sympathetic apology is not lost on the calico; he shoots the other apprentice a glance, appreciative of his understanding. Lakemoon shoots him a glare though, reprimanding, and Crappiepaw huffs in response. The silvery she-cat is scary, especially when her cold gaze is directed at him. "Why would I fix more? We will bring them with us," they say, as though it should be obvious. Their work should not go to waste, and neither should anyone else’s.

They are struck with instant karma—their paws slip on the first stepping stone that they leap to, and the calico lets out an involuntary shriek as their paws touch water. They manage to right themself and keep from falling in entirely, and turn moon-round eyes over their shoulder to the cat directly behind them. Shakily, they take a deep breath and then make the leap to the next rock, then the next, until their mud-soiled paws land delicately onto the island that once was their home.

As Lakemoon says, it is a mess. The last time they had seen the camp, they had been leaving in a hurry, so they do not recall the initial damage. Now, though, they would be able to tell even without knowing that it had been devastated by floodwater. "Will we move back?" They turn to ask the older cats, their stumpy tail flicking back and forth.
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[ dancing in the panic room ]​

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