pafp the chill must itch in my soul | snow fort

[GLOOMPAW]

Gloompaw cursed under her breath as a pawstep went astray, snowslush scattering and chilling her paw to the bone. She'd been daydreaming of days spent in the warmth of their old home, when things felt more secure and less up in the air. There would've been more guilt in her imagination had it not been so miserably cold at dawn and dusk; the warriors and apprentices working to weave their new camp were doing an excellent job. But would the river rise to wash it all away again? Was this going to be a cycle?

She shook her paw out, feeling the damp fur begin to freeze. Peering at Pine over the wall of their snow fort, she was hoping it'd stay when the sun rose higher. "We could add all kinds of rock to it! And twigs. I bet it'll help it not fall down."

Settling the twigs down on a small, forming pile, she admired their work. It was skewed to the side, more like a cave, and the roof was one second from falling, but to her it was perfect. She and Pine would become renowned builders!

// wait for @Pinepaw to post pls!​

 

[Pinepaw]

"nothing but pain on the edge of a knife"​

Pine hadn’t known what to think when the medicine cat’s apprentice had dragged him into building a snow fort.

What he knew now was that this was the most fun he’d had in a while.

The tom used his dripping paws to push another pile of snow into the wall. ”The sticks would help the roof stay up!” he huffed, shaking out his fur and sending a spray of water across the side he’d been working on. ”Come on!” he squealed, paws racing towards a pile of sticks and rocks on the edge of camp. He shoved as many as he could into his little mouth and proudly walked back to their fort.

It was obvious to everyone who saw the tabby that this was the happiest he’d ever been, pressing snow and sticks together to form a lopsided structure with a new friend.
​

✦ ★ ✦​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

Playing in the snow baffled him. Perhaps if he was younger he might see the appeal, the first snow was often something mystical and alluring to kits and apprentices but as it continued it only became a plight upon them. Now when he saw snow he saw empty freshkill piles, starving cats, cold cats, shaking and tremling cats, sick cats...
Sometimes he wished he'd gotten the chance to be a kitten, to be an apprentice experiencing new things. He'd been forced to grow up quickly in two-leg place, didn't get to enjoy playing among others his age or enjoying the simple things in life like a warm sunray or a fun thing to bat around between ones paws. It had always been a fight for survival and even when he came to the marshes with Moss it had continued to be such though food was easier to find in the forest than that stone monstrosity the upwalkers dwelled in.

Smokethroat watches the two, their newest little member and their medicine cat who spent most of her time causing mischief. A more troublesome duo he would never be able to imagine. They were constructing some kind of den from snow, not the most sturdy of structures and he grimaced as he watched some of it slough of slightly but surprisingly it seemed to be standing on its own. Well, regardless they were having fun and while fun and Smokethroat did not go paw in paw he was more than happy to watch it happen if it meant the apprentices were not miserable in this temporary camp like he expected they might be. Rising to stand he turned, grabbed a nearby stick between his teeth to carry over and place as an offering on their pile of materials.
"Try not to let it collapse on you, will be very cold I imagine."
​

 

[► Fluffykins.]

YOU CAN BE YOU - I CAN BE ME
oddkit | 03 months | agender | they/them/it/its | physically easy | mentally medium | attack in bold #ffdb58

---

As the bundle of fire and ice watches, golden gaze wide and round and utterly unblinking, it comes to the conclusion that whatever pinepaw and gloompaw are doing must be very important - very important indeed! The rather round child slowly begins to shuffle about, searching for an offering of his own to feed to the gaping mouth of the snow monster, for certainly that's what the lopsided slushy thing must e it thinks, before spotting their prize. With the rather to-large stick clamped tightly between sharp teeth, pink tongue lolling out through the slight gap, the kitten high-steps right on over in its usual unusual way. Dropping it with a thunk, round gaze stares unnervingly at the two, slowly switching back and forth. "Oddkit is help. Brought food," it says childishly, head tipping to the side as it nudges the stick forwards once more.

​

​

​

​

 

[WASPRATTLE.]

Like Smokethroat, he watches as the two work, and similarly, still, he sits baffled. Perhaps not for the same reasons. Snow's misfortunate curse has not weighed upon him quite yet. Uprooted as they may be– product of excessive snowmelt, or so he's been told– the connection is not quite there in full. City-dweller, street-grazing youth, the only snow he had truly known was an ugly, sloshing mess. Diluted slop that would swell atop rooftops and solidify into smog-locked icicles. Perhaps, a beautiful sight to a kit that knew no better, but nothing compared this. Fresh and pristinely white, for more than mere seconds. Able to be packed into something stable, even (A discovery which he has made only today!) It was molded with their very paws. Injenuity, at its finest, even if an unstable thing. And frigid, surely.

It's beauty was unmatched, but its physics, not quite so. Though they was less junk and jumble to inhibit it, he is not quite sure how effective sticks would be to stop its fall completely. But progress stopped for nobody, he supposed. With an eye on Smokethroat, he too, would pad forward, grasping the nearest stick within reach so that he may contribute, at least a bit. The stick in question ends up more akin to a twig, really; but he supposed (and hoped) that they could not be picky in such circumstances. Wasprattle makes his deposit with an agreeing hum, rolling his shoulders as he stretches to full height.

Oddkit, little thing, joins them with their own offering, and Wasprattle offers them (what he hopes is) a kind smile in response. Though his face falls, slightly, at the declaration. The tabby blinks. "Kleine, that is a stick," he says with a tilt of his head. To feed the beast– and the beast, the structure– he supposes, yes; but with certain habits present amongst the clan, he would rather be sure they would never be inclined to... extend this metaphor.

ooc translations

• you have alerted the wasp,,
  
• – little one :3
  

​

 

[BEESONG]

beesong sometimes finds himself watching the youth of the clan, running about and playing games. it isn't exactly jealousy that sits in his heart, but rather a heaviness that he couldn't explain. thinking that maybe, he hadn't been a responsible child, but instead a child who was forced to grow up too fast.

he watches gloompaw and pinepaw in a similar vein, building up a lopsided snow fort, sticks trying (and failing) to hold up a precarious roof dipping beneath the weight of gravity. one breath away from collapsing, beesong wagers, and smokethroat comments to the apprentices that they should be careful to not let it do so. seasons ago, beesong probably would've said nothing. live and let learn, and maybe he would've found amusement in the children being buried under a little bit of snow. but now, the burden of the clan's health rests upon his aching shoulders. duty comes first, and he must teach gloompaw this, as his successor. "smokethroat's right- you don't want to catch cold."

oddkit waddles over, a stick in tow, offering it as food. wasprattle points out the (what should be) obvious; that's a stick, not food. but beesong snorts, shoulders lifting and falling in a faux lighthearted shrug. "some cats might argue otherwise," comes the pointed response, referencing clayfur in a roundabout way. the fool has probably tried to eat a stick at least once.​

 

[GLOOMPAW]

She beamed at the idea, looking from the snow fort to the sticks. These would make great support for their cave! Scurrying after Pine, she noticed a few of the older RiverClanners setting branches down on the pile. She fought down the urge to grin happily at the silent encouragement, lodging a thin, long twig in-between the floor and roof of the structure. At Smokethroat and Beesong's warning, she nodded, more devoted to the preventation of the fort's collapse than anything else. If she caught cold, helping Beesong would become treacherously difficult -- but if Pine caught a cold? She'd never forgive herself!

Trotting to Oddkit, she smiled at them and their offering of food. The stick would be better fitted as a decoration (in her own opinion), but she wasn't about to let it think its gift was going to waste! Wasprattle had an easier time of stating what the stick really was, but Gloompaw couldn't help but take a piece of the bark in support, holding it between her teeth and pretending to chew. Well, sort of not pretend. She dipped her head to the side, hoping Oddkit wouldn't see her splutter as she accidentally swallowed the fake-prey. "Delicious," she said, barely managing to get out the compliment before she was biting back dry coughs. "Pine, you should try some!"​