pafp THE LIGHT OF A DISTANT STAR ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ FALSE OMEN

[Swansong]

Mist creeps in along the edges of ShadowClan's camp, rising from the pools of swampy water. It crawls along gnarled roots and buds of gasping Newleaf flowers. It moves in time with the soft thud of rain, a gentle drizzle whose pattering beats marked the transition from day to night. The smell of wet earth permeates the air. The marshes are quiet.

The moon climbs away from its zenith just as a patrol departs, the leader among them. She has been working herself ragged in the face of famine; they all have. They will not be back until the sun is begins to peek through the willows.

She will not have long to make this work.

Two pale eyes peer through the tangles of brambles, snagging on that silvery form. As soon as she is out of sight, they make their slow rise. The camp is empty tonight, but for a lone gaurd. Too many are out seeking a solution to their hunger; the night makes perfect cover for the desperation that this plague brings. Few want to remain anymore, with the scent of rot still lingering. It suits her fine. Less comforting is the absence of her stargazing companions; a pang at the thought of Caterpillarfuzz is quickly set aside. She must move forward, rather than dwell upon the past.

A hole in the warrior's den opens up to the dirtplace, and she squeezes through with ease. From there, a quick trek to a nearby tree.

A single swan feather rests in its hollow, protected from the rain.

The one tucked in her nest would not do, an old and tattered gift from her sister. She needed something untraceable, something perfect, and so she had stalked the ponds at the edges of ShadowClan's territory. She knew that StarClan would being her their marker eventually, and her faith was rewarded.

She grabs it with all the delicacy her teeth can manage, and tucks her head down to keep it as pristine. The next few moments are quick and calculated. Back into the warrior's den, steps swift. She does not pause at the light stirring of a companion in a nearby nest; her nighttime wanderings should raise no alarm. Before the warrior can blink blearily at her, she is gone from the den. A beeline for the leader's hollow, ducking just barely into the entrance. Her heart pounds in her chest, and for once she feels alive.

The feather is placed, carefully, just beyond the spot where the roots open to the world.

She turns from the leader's den, gives a smile and a nod to her confidant. Standing guard at the mouth of camp is Sneezeduck, duty bounding them together. This is StarClan's will, even if it is Swansong's paws that must carry it out.

By the time that dawn rises and Ternstar returns, the only scent left in camp is that of muddy earthen rain. Swansong sleeps soundly in her nest, chest rising and falling with the rhythm of the rain. Mist spills into the hollow, pillowing around the downy swan's feather. The wind brushes against it, but the stagnancy of the air keeps it from being torn away.

Light cuts through the mist, and the pale feather reveals itself to all.



// please wait for @Ternstar.
( optional plot tags for @sneezeduck and @Haretooth )

⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆

SWANSONGㅤ BIOGRAPHY ㅤ/ ㅤTOYHOU.SE
★ demigirl ( she / they ) ㅤ& lesbian, mate to poppyglow (npc'd)
★ㅤ 24 moons old & ages realistically, every 17th of the month
★ㅤ warrior of shadowclan for 12 moons
★ ㅤhalfshade x smogstar ㅤ& littermate to applejaw, ashenfall, garlicheart
★ㅤ ㅤmentored agaterain, swallowflutter & mentored by skunktail, sabletuft
★ㅤ penned by saturnid & ㅤmessage saturnids on discord for plots!

"SPEECH"

 

[Ternstar.]

SCORPION STING,
I DON'T WANNA BLEED​

---

ternstar & 27 moons & female & she/her & leader of shadowclan

---

★★★★★★★★★

—— ─ ─ Each day that passes feels like another failure. Sickness clings to her frame like the fur on her pelt - ragged and mussed by her weary state. She eats less then she has in a long time - her usual hunger and selfishness tempered by the feeling of despondence that never quite leaves her. It is not as though she can die anyways - not really. She's sure it will be a bitter death, but at least it will not be permanent. Not like any of her clanmates who's bellies she'd be taking from.

Still, she pushes inwards - continuing her routine as though belly does not ache and cramp at every turn, as though she has not lost so much of her weight. She steadfastly avoids Marbleleafs den, stubbron in her righteousness - Shadowclan does not need a council that does nothing but bicker. She does not regret her choice - Sharpshadow was illsuited to his position when he bore it like a curse.

And yet, none of this changes anything - her clan still starves. The prey they find still smells... off, and she finds herself letting it slip her grasp unharmed. By the time she returns to camp, she is empty pawed - soaked through with rain and morning dew, damp pelt clinging to her frame as she trudges along.

But in the plae glow of dawns light, something odd catches her eye - a flash of white, like snow.

Prestine and untouched, as though heavens sent, sits a single white feather, and she stops where she stands, blue eyes blown wide. She stares, frozen, until someone from her payrol speaks. Questions are asked, voices are raised, and yet she ignores all of it — her voice booming over the slowly rising din.

" Who- Who left this here? "

Head whips around, looking for yhe slightest glean of an answer. She finds none, only confusion, and for the first time since Sharpshadows demotion she turns to her medicine cat. " Marleleaf... is it- do you think-? " she is nearly scared to voice the thought, but it must be, right?

How else would a swan feather make it this far into camp, perfectly unblemished and unseen, left like a message for all to see. Starclan has surely spoken once more.

" Swansong, " barely a breath, barely a whisper, and yet the name is spoken with near reverence. For who else could it mean?

─ actions & " speech " & 'thoughts / qoutes'​

---

( TELL ME THAT I'M NOT LOST )

---

. ݁₊ ⊹ Ternstar is a massive blue-silver tabby she-cat with an all white head and striking vibrant blue eyes. She is far from the kindest of cats, often cold and aloof - with a notable soft-spot for kits, and a rather dark streak for mischief. She is supposedly mates with Wormwatcher, and is parent to Rainbowpaw, Cornflowerpaw, and Ivorypaw. She is gifted in battle, and still maintains all nine of her star-given lives. ​

// @MARBLELEAF but no need to wait! This is now open!

 

[Haretooth]

"INDELIBLE IS WHAT I NEED TO SPREAD THE WORD."​

Heavy bones and eyes find their solace in his nest for the night, a long hunt met with nothing but seemingly spoiled prey. It was a doomed venture from the start but he is nothing if not compliant in desire, following orders dutifully without a spare thought. It should be one long rest, something uninterrupted and an afforded peace, the most vulnerable state for any warrior of camp regardless of status. Destiny calls for him now he supposes, well that and a poorly placed paw in a swift attempt to leave the den. Blinking blearily he barely catches a glimpse of Swansong in all her ethereal glory. Haretooth is barely afforded the opportunity to stir away from his state of somnolence before she departs, never once stopping to look at him. Though why should she when it appears that she's determined to do stars knows what at this hour. They've always been a weird one, not that this was a particularly harsh judgement since he greatly considered her to be a friend. Thinking nothing of it he finds the throws of a demanding slumber take hold of his very spirit, this strange behaviour is written off in favour of rest.

In the dawn he is lethargic in his movements as he eventually trudges out of the den to see if they could be so fortunate to not have spoiled prey greet the clan today. Instead he catches sight of something far more peculiar, a small gathering including his leader seem to be beguiled by something in front of the leaders den. Her booming voice is awfully intense, it sparks curiosity and inspires his paws to move forward to the den. Sharp blue gaze falls on that singular white feather, the morning haze is washed away in a sobering realization. He vaguely recalls something was different about the downy she-cat last night in his moonlit half awoken state, was she holding something or had she just jutted her jaw differently?

Haretooth doesn't think to bring it up. Calculating gaze ceases its dissection of the feather to then glance at Ternstar, someone who he had considered a friend but someone he grew distant from since she was with kits. A self induced exile in a way, he doubts she would humour his ramblings of conspiracy, maybe deem him mad. The next victim of the marsh's hysteria. Lip curls into a sneer at the thought and stark white tail sweeps at the floor as he turns to return to the warriors den, out of curiosity to see if Swansong was awake or just as a desire to get away from something that should be deemed to implausible.

// out
​

✯☽✯​

 

[Halfsun]

Halfsun's paws squelched against the mud as she trudged into camp, the wet earth clinging stubbornly to her fur. Her breath fogged faintly in the cool morning air, but she didn't feel the chill. She barely felt anything at all. Her patrol had found nothing. No birdsong. No fresh scent. Just the thick rot of a territory slowly spoiling beneath their feet. She didn't speak as she entered the hollow. No one did. But something stopped her in her tracks.

Just beyond the entrance to Ternstar's den, nestled delicately in the mossy earth like it had fallen from the sky itself, was a single white feather. Pristine. Dry. Untouched by the rain that had soaked the camp hours before. It didn't belong there.

Ternstar's voice rang out behind her, cutting through the hush like a claw: "Who—Who left this here?"

Halfsun turned her head just slightly, eyes narrowing. Around her, murmurs stirred like wind through reeds. Confusion. Curiosity. And then, almost reverently, her leader breathed the name:

"Swansong."

Of course. Her gaze lingered on the feather, blue eyes unreadable. She didn't argue—not out loud. But something knotted in her chest, sharp and unpleasant.

A sign. StarClan had given them a sign.

But not for the dying cats in Marbleleaf's den. Not for the prey that spoiled in their jaws. Not for the warriors wasting away on empty bellies and empty promises. Not for the sickness creeping steadily through them all like mist through the trees.

No—this sign was about the deputy. Her tail twitched once. Then again. Of course they cared more about who was going to lead next. Of course they'd offer a tidy little omen just in time to crown someone new when Ternstar inevitably kicked the bucket, while the rest of them clawed through rotting leaves hoping to find a mouse that hadn't already turned sour.

Her gaze flicked toward the warriors' den. The sister she'd barely known, whose name carried the weight of prophecy now. Her jaw clenched. She wasn't angry at her sister, not exactly. But she couldn't help the way her pelt itched, the way her claws pressed into the ground beneath her. She didn't like the way everyone suddenly looked to Swansong with starry eyes, as if they hadn't all been struggling through the same damp misery together. As if a feather fixed everything.

As if a feather fed anyone.

Her voice didn't rise. She didn't lash out. But she muttered low enough that only the earth might hear: "Glad to know the stars still have priorities. Too bad dinner isn't one of them." She didn't move. Just stared at that feather for a moment longer, letting the weight of it settle on her shoulders like a shroud. "Think I'll go hunting again" she grumbles before turning tail and heading straight back out the entrance she just came through, snow-capped tail flicking irritably behind her.

( ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ) smile for me when you set me free

• 
  
  
• 
  HALFSUN SHADOWCLAN WARRIOR; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO APPLEJAW, ASHENFALL, SWANSONG, GARLICHEART, AND LAURELGRIN ; MENTORING LAVENDERPAW
  

  A tall and well-toned she cat with a long half-and half pelt, one side being a dark blue tabby and the other a bright cream, split by a pool of white at her center and travelling up her face like flames she is fire and ice simultaneously swirling into one. Her eyes are a mismatched shade of blue, with one being bright like the daytime sky and the other dark like the depths of the river.

  ✦ Difficult in battle + a skilled fighter
  

 

[Snowlark.]

[ ༻❄༺ ] So it would seem that Starclan wished to show them signs of who their deputy and leader should be but couldn't help them with their bigger concern? Flicking his gray ear, yellow gaze lingered onto the pristine feather that laid at the maw of the leader's den, perfectly placed where Ternstar could have seen it. Narrowing his gaze a frown slip onto his lips.

Ternstar is barely helping in the situation that they were currently having, and had demoted Sharpshadow for what? Her apparent lack of concern when the former has done more for this clan and it's situation than the leader has? "Perhaps Starclan has gone mad" he remarked softly before moving to leave, could his friend even handle the pressure of such a rank? Apparently Sharpshadow couldn't, so could the soft-hearted, devotee to Starclan handle it? Was that truly what they wanted from them?

Many questions will be left unanswered in his mind before glancing to Halfsun who seemed only to sit and stare at the feather for some time until leaving to continue on her duties, it would seem he was not the only one who felt uncertain about this current situation.

❄

SnowlarkㅤBIOGRAPHYㅤ/ㅤTOYHOU.SE
✦ Trans FTM (he / him)ㅤ/ㅤBi-sexual/Demi-Romantic
✦ㅤ18 moons oldㅤ/ㅤAges on the 3rd
✦ㅤLead Warrior of Shadowclan for 5 moons
✦ㅤHailfreckle x Mudsplashㅤ/ㅤN/A
✦ㅤmentoring Frozenpawㅤ/ㅤmentored by Mirestar
✦ "Speak" ❄ Thoughts
✦ㅤpenned by Rynnarooㅤ/ㅤmessage Rinnaroo on discord for plots!

A pale blue sepia lynx long-haired tom where the majority of his body is covered in white, pale yellow eyes that are normally unreadable by most. His sole blue ear was nicked from an accident that happened to him as an apprentice, something he carries with honor. Snowlark is considered strange by most due to his usual "stoic" tones underlined by his immaturity at times, be it pulling pranks on others, to making out-of-pocket jokes or moments of outbursts of anger, Snowlark is strange but isn't one afraid to be blunt and tell one how it is.

IC Opinions + Exit !! ))

 

[promisepaw]

The world is so, so quiet; and then suddenly, it wasn't. The rain had kept the slate grey tom soothed asleep, none-the-wiser to anything that transpired in camp. He only finds his eyes opening when chatter slowly takes over the hollow. It's not the normal, casual chatter of cats returning to their nests or waking for the day. It's uncertain, it's incredulous - it's concerned yet discontented. He parts from the apprentice's den to see what the commotion is about and spies what everyone else does. A clean, dry feather - white as snow, settled just before Ternstar's den.

She says his mentor's name. Others trouble over whether this is something that StarClan should truly worry over - Promisepaw instead grins with a new sense of glee. For of course StarClan would treasure his family once more - and who better than Swansong, a devotee to their cause? Ever since the young blue tom was born, he's only ever known his aunt to be a matron of the skies. It's perfect. For her, for their lineage, for ShadowClan. He thinks that whoever doesn't agree is someone who is simply hurt or unsettled.

StarClan is right here. This will fix things. Somehow, this will fix everything.​

 

[MARBLELEAF]

MARBLELEAF

SHE / THEY ◆ SHADOWCLAN MEDICINE CAT

Marbleleaf stumbles from the mouth of her den; her features, like her Clanmates, have been pared down to their skeletal essentials. She takes little of the prey the warriors return with, stolen or otherwise poached from other predators; everything is hoarded for the cats sequestered in her den, all of it is pushed into slack jaws, into tight, gagging throats, on a singsong plea to keep themselves alive. She looks hopefully at Ternstar, who has led the latest patrol back into camp—but their jaws are pitifully empty, and her expression dims.

She is prepared to sequester herself in the cave once more when the Clan leader pauses; when Marbleleaf turns to look at her, turquoise eyes are blown wide. The white-faced she-cat's words are wind-sharp. "Who left this here?" The medicine cat, bony and tired and dull, pads closer to Ternstar's discovery. She isn't sure what to expect—but the stark snow-pale feather lying just outside the leader's den stuns her, renders her speechless.

StarClan? You said nothing of this to me in dreams, but… She remembers the sign she'd received regarding Ternstar's ascension with startling clarity. The beat of the bird's wings, the pawprints left in the frostbitten mud, leading toward Highstones… that had been clearer, but this… well—who is she to say the stars had not spoken? Marbleleaf regards the swan feather with an entranced expression. "StarClan has spoken, and clearly," she murmurs. She lifts her gaze to Ternstar, her expression pallid. "But they left this sign for you. It's by your den. But I think…"

Ternstar says it, hushed: "Swansong." Marbleleaf holds the she-cat's gaze for a moment, and then nods once—an assent. "I think so," she says, quiet.

Is that a betrayal to Sharpshadow—to believe in the sign StarClan had left for them so openly? Marbleleaf hears Halfsun's disgruntled curse, sees Haretooth's aggressive exit, Snowlark's barely-veiled disdain for their ancestors—but she cannot agree with them. She speaks up, her mew muffled with awe. "Perhaps… there is a reason they have chosen Swansong to help guide us. Maybe StarClan believes she can help us in some way." She can see Promisepaw's excitement, and she leans into that—wonders if, somehow, StarClan has seen into the future in ways unreported.

ooc:

—

accordion

Marbleleaf is the ShadowClan medicine cat. She is thin, with a short fawn tabby pelt; the base color is a dull, almost-gray slate, and the whorling classic stripes are deeper shades of wet sand. She has white facial markings, chest, and paws, an angular face and build, and moss-colored eyes.

Lilacfur x Siltcloud / sibling to Sycamorebloom / mate to none / parent to none
mentored by Starlingheart / mentoring none
14 moons old as of 03/01/2025

penned by Marquette