- Nov 14, 2022
- 260
- 54
- 28
They came in a cloud of darkness, shrouding the sun and blocking the sky; a blanket spread and settled over the marshland with the sound of a thousand wings beating a symphony.
"Hello." He chirped upward to the tree cloaked in more feathers than leaves, to the cawing masses overheard of blue sheens and black plumes; rustling in unison like one great avian mass writhing within the branches above. Magpiepaw stood under it, his dark form small and his paws steady and not a carrion bird above took notice of him as they screeched their unholy songs into the wind; cawing and crying of their return. "Welcome back." The apprentice said, head tilted all the way up to expose his white throat, blue-violet eyes shining in delight. His friends were back, they had all mostly gone say for a few stragglers left behind to pick at what the earth had to offer but not the snow had melted and the earth soft and pliant for their beaks to pierce, to dig up worms and whatever bodies had fallen in leafbare and been buried under sleek white. Thankfully, he knew Pitchstar was deeper than they could dig and his effigy would protect him. The birds didn't know, and he wouldn't tell them. His own little guarded secret.
Magpiepaw trilled, clicking his tongue in a rapid click of a noise to mimic the bird cry, his tail stood straight up and trembling as he did so and the crows fell silent in response before screaming back in unison in what he could only determine was a greeting; he smiled, teeth white against his black maw. Good to see you, good to see you once again. Through wire cages he remembered them, circling above, constantly present, in desolute depravity he huddled cramped in horror in the place he was born where cats died as quickly as they were born and each breath labored and longing for release. Seeing them here in ShadowClan, wings spread, free as the birds they were, made him wonder if they guided him here long ago; for it was watching them through wire mesh that brightened his kithood days before the clan, before the forest.
"Earth and worms~" He sang, turning to stomp the ground, "Earth and worms! Dig them up with sharp, sharp beaks! Flap your wings-flap your wings-when dusk comes its time to sing!" The black and white apprentice let out a shrill warble of a sound, a mimicry of bird cry that somehow did not send the flock above him scattering.
[Ooc]
Migration Prompt: Return of birds more heavily to the area.