camp THE SOUND OF SUNNY DAYS || SEARCHING

[Thriftfeather]

For as permanent as the feeling seems, Thriftpaw waits patiently for it to find its end. Someday he will wake and he will not need to remind himself of the normalcy of all of this. He will not feel worry storm in his chest, the rabbit kick of his heart as it runs against his ribs. Thriftpaw will not need to smile against the urge to slink somewhere low and hide. He will learn how to be grateful to live in the greatest clan in the world. Someday, soon, (soon, he thinks like a prayer, soon!) Thriftpaw will remember without being told that this is where he is meant to be.

Today is a slink-and-hide day. Today memories bite at Thriftpaw, sudden as a snake from grass, and he just wants to curl in his (exposed to the sky — exposed to the world; not safe!) nest and breath until he doesn't need to hold back the anxious tremors in his ears. It's a familiar motion. Thriftpaw circles like a dog before he lays, kneads worn out moss as if he is softening it instead of shredding it, and then his paw shifts to find —

Something is missing from his nest.

Thriftpaw jolts gracelessly to his paws, which haven't stopped pushing through the moss even as he had stood. Periwinklebreeze had given Thriftpaw a feather to make him feel better — and it had made him feel better! — and Thriftpaw had kept it, even when the softer down had gone ragged and the rachis had bent out of shape. He'd kept it because it was a gift and he liked it and it was supposed to make him feel better. His head snaps left, right, hopeful that wind had simply grabbed it and placed it somewhere else in camp, but it isn't anywhere.

"Someone touched my nest," Thriftpaw says it more like a revelation than an accusation, even if it feels like such. His feather wasn't exactly a secret — Thriftpaw's eyes dart, left, right, until the burn forces him to blink, "Somebody — I'm supposed to... I'm supposed to have a feather and it isn't here and, and... has someone seen it? Anyone?"​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 4 MOONS​

 

[WOLFSONG]

── .∘°°∘. ── Wolfsong notices the apprentice's onset of erratic behavior. He watches him spring from his nest as though an adder had made itself home there, though he quickly ascertains that, fortunately, no such beast has found itself within camp. It does not provide an answer for Thriftpaw's demeanor, and the pale feline blinks his sole eye while the younger's head shifts in a frenzy. Searching for something, then. Many WindClanners keep trinkets, but I have not known there to be a thief before.

His suspicions are confirmed when his floundering speech commences. A feather. Ah. Such an easy item to misplace, especially in their open territory where the sky exhales easily across their heads. Telling him as much is unlikely to soothe him, though; Wolfsong worries he may work himself into a proper panic at this rate. "What does this feather look like?" He asks in his usual rasp. "I may have only the one eye, but you may use it— and three are better than two." ​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN ROGUE TURNED LEAD WARRIOR (MEDICINE CAT IN TRAINING). 35 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC PARENTS. BIO, 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: He doesn't remember what it was like to be born. Coincidentally, that is the extent of his familiarity with kitting. At least he won't leave you without moral support.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ 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.

​

 

[Creekpaw]

Creekpaw had kept to herself ever since Owlpaw's betrayal had become apparent. It had been a while since she had spoken with him, as well, even though their mentors had tried to get them to train together Creekpaw had been reluctant to do so and eventually her mentor stopped training with Owlpaw's mentor. Now, though, she was lounging in her nest, a veritable ball of nerves while other apprentices came in and out and mentors looked for their wayward apprentices. Thriftpaw's realization that his feather is gone from his nest had her on edge, even farther teetering over the edge of an anxiety attack than before considering she could be seen as the perpetrator and disciplined.

It was this train of thought that held her low as she approached, ears back and an upturn of her brows. "I can help, uhm, if-if you would like... what does it look like? I-I've been in here all-all day so I might have seen? Something?" She hadn't been out with her mentor today because they were going night hunting to watch the borders for anything shifty. With all of the large animals popping up across the clans she couldn't help but be nervous about it.
​

penned by helly​

 

[HEAVY SNOW]

Green-leaf was by no means his favorite season. No. His coat was much more better suited to the cold and the snow. He definitely was able to hunt more freely in leaf-bare that was for sure. Luckily though, he had developed some tricks to hunting on the moors in the seasons where there wasn't a blanket of white that obscured his brightly colored pelt. He is getting ready to head out now, but his ears twitch as he hears some apprentice claiming to have lost a feather. The tone of their voice is what makes him pause. This feather sounded important, and young Thriftpaw sounded so distraught... Perhaps it would not hurt to stick around for a little bit and help in the search.

"I'll help too" he rumbles in his deep voice as he draws closer to the group of cats. fluffy white tail flicking behind him. "With this many eyes looking it will be impossible to miss. Perhaps you could describe it to us Thriftpaw?" It is his hope that some well-meaning apprentice had not destroyed it while cleaning their sleeping area earlier today.

​

 

[VENOMSTRIKE]

( ) Much like Heavy Snow, Venomstrike had intentions of going out for a hunt and catching some prey though the distressed sound of Thriftpaw was enough to stop him in his tracks. A frown forming itself on his maw deciding that he would go investigate and see what the issue was all about, the dark felines eyes focusing onto the small group that was around the apprentices sleeping area. It seemed that the apprentice had lost a feather that was an important item to Thriftpaw and everyone else there offering a helping paw, he started to wonder if he offered to standby and help would be overkill. No, if he had lost something a friend or someone dear had gifted to him... He would be pretty upset himself.

With a slow nod of his head, the moor runner would clear his throat and spoke up in a quiet voice "I'd be willing to help too." He offered a small smile before glancing around though he'd wait for Thriftpaw to tell them what the feather looked like since it would be much easier to find that way.​

( ME GUSTA LA MAÑANA; ME GUSTAS TÚ )

 

[BLUEFROST]

Uncharitably, Bluepaw looks at Thriftpaw—and outsider kit, one of many—and thinks to herself, Perhaps you should not have left a feather exposed to winds, harebrain. She does not speak this aloud, mainly because Wolfsong is nearby, and the one-eyed lead warrior never misses a chance to rebuke her when she says what others are too afraid to say. She has a single trinket of her own—a precious blue flower, meticulously dried and pressed and woven into the sanctity of her nest so it will not be blown away. Perhaps if the feather were so important, Thriftpaw would have taken better care of it.

The warriors are quick to offer to help Thriftpaw find his feather. Bluepaw watches them with half-lidded eyes. Don’t they have better things to do? Her face is blank, free from expression, and when she speaks, it’s carefully flat. “Perhaps the wind blew it away and it’s gone forever,” she says. She licks a snowy forepaw and begins to groom the thick locks of cheek fluff on either side of her face. “Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — bluekit . bluepaw
  — she/her, apprentice of windclan
  — bisexual ; single
  — long-haired blue she-cat with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — art by Meg

​

 

[GHOSTWAIL]

Wouldn't that be a shame indeed. The child was right, in a way, the gift (oh, how loosely that word could be used in this situation) would not be found, no matter how many warriors searched for it. The phantom had rightfully disposed of the accursed item (a burden from a traitor's son, what a foul thing to keep around) without much fuss. She had figured that her ward would have simply moved on from the thing but lo...

"Such a fragile object, if it has been missing for a time, it will not be found now." In her monotone, nothing sounds like comfort - it is not meant to sound like comfort. The child should be stronger by now, more tightly patched by the moral fiber that WindClan wove into all of its best warriors. Clearly, Gravelsnap had not yet imparted that association with those tinged by disloyal blood was something to be avoided at all costs. She would have to step in.

But she does not admit involvement. Her face is emotionless, as blank as it always is in the company of her clan-mates. Her burning gaze is trained solely on the child, her ward. Her project. "We will find you another feather. You will keep better track of your possessions now, yes?" @Thriftpaw​

- you call for peace when it suits you​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

Unlike Ghostwail, the unsure frown on Rattleheart's face as they approach is not motivated by a lack of comfort or caring. Instead, doubt showed on the tunneler's face for practical reasons. Cruelly as she had put it, there was no reason to believe that Bluepaw wasn't right. Sometimes the winds could be as vicious as they were kind to the clan as a whole, and it wouldn't have been unheard of for the breeze to grab Thriftpaw's feather and just continue moving along. They couldn't blame the apprentice for his panicking over something he clearly cared for, but keeping a bunch of warriors from hunting and patrolling didn't seem like a very good idea. Especially over something as small as a feather.

Yet Venomstrike was there, offering his own assistance to the cause, and Rattleheart found it difficult to question their friend's kindness. A boon and a curse - much like the wind, in a way.

Joining the slowly growing crowd, they glanced briefly between Ghostwail and Venomstrike before their light green gaze finally settled on Thirftpaw. "Maybe... maybe Ghostwail is right. Whether someone took it or the wind blew it away, I'm not sure even a whole patrol would be able to find it. I'm sure we could find another feather for your nest instead... maybe one you could weave into it to make sure it stays?" It was the best thing they could think of to suggest, although they had to admit to wondering what exactly had happened to the feather itself. They didn't see any reason for one of Thriftpaw's clanmates to snatch it away from him, and no one had ever given them the impression that there were thieves among Windclan. Not even among the most unnerving members of the clan, like Cygnetstare.

Though... that did scratch a certain itch in their brain, tail curling around their paws as they piped up once more. "Or maybe whoever gave it to you decided to take it back?" That seemed as likely as any of the other options, provided Thriftpaw hadn't gone and found the feather himself. They didn't even consider how hurtful such a statement could really be, blissfully unaware that the feather had been given to Thriftpaw as a caring gesture from Periwinklebreeze.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[Thriftfeather]

It's a surprise that so many are willing to help Thriftpaw. He feels, at least momentarily, a part of WindClan without needing to remind himself. They don't care about the feather, they care about him, and it is a thought that is nearly enough to thaw the worry from Thriftpaw's chest. Wolfsong and Creekpaw and Heavy Snow and Venomstrike — they want to help him.

"Right..." Thriftpaw starts, visibly taken aback, "It's a pigeon feather like, it's like one of the feathers off a wing. But I've had it for a while so it's a little..." He doesn't grimace, the expression that takes his face isn't nearly so dramatic, but it's the shadow of such, "It doesn't look so nice anymore, like it used to, but I still — I still really like it, and I would really like it back."

Bluepaw voices her doubts, and as much as Thriftpaw wants to argue that his feather isn't gone because it can't be gone, whatever arguments he'd been preparing die on his tongue when Ghostwail makes her appearance. He doesn't need to be told; Thriftpaw straightens the worry from his posture. Best behavior his mother's voice whispers in his ears, and Thriftpaw understands without being told what happened. He knows.

She offers another feather, and Thriftpaw shifts. His feather is gone. Ghostwail wants to get him a new one, and Thriftpaw doesn't have the time to think this over. It could be a trap. It's certainly a trap. Thriftpaw just can't see where the teeth are yet. He should have kept his mouth shut. Whatever Ghostwail gives him won't be the same. He already knows it won't have the same comfort.

"Thank you," The change in tone is just as abrupt as his change in posture. Grateful. Best behavior, his voice doesn't waver despite the way his heart beats fast enough that it feels as though it is trembling, "I'll be sure to not lose this one."

He doesn't argue with Rattleheart — his feather had been secure, he knew it was! — and instead he nods slowly. Ghostwail was right, or Thriftpaw knows how to keep her secrets. Both, somehow. "Yeah, you're right," Thriftpaw agrees as if it is the simplest thing, then looks to those that were prepared to help him, "Bluepaw and Ghostwail were right — are right. There doesn't need to be any fuss, Ghostwail's... she'll get me a new feather, and it'll be nicer than my old one."​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 4 MOONS​

 

[milkthorn.]

"It was sentimental to you."

The comment was passed off, and a shrug of the white boys rosetted shoulders. But it almost came off as a question, as if reconfirming the emotion Thriftpaw had.

He had no valuable items. Nothing given to him by anyone, no items that would have any worry if it was stolen or not. But if he did, he would tear the whole camp up looking for it. But the way Thriftpaw seemed to try to brush it off made him cock a brown eyebrow.

"It would be easy to get a new one. But perhaps we keep an eye out for the old one as well. Did anyone change your nest?" He asked. He wasn't one to investigate, but he was simply trying to help.