border THE SUMMER'S GONE ╱ LONER?

[HOUNDSTRIDE.]

His paw strikes down to frost-blood water; the splashback alone is enough to send him shivering, but it's well worth the fish he hauls just past RiverClan's border. The clans've been a distant memory for moons– something he could never quite touch, teetering right on the edge'f something better or something worse. Aching wounds knit themselves up until they were tight and tugging; it took him even longer to lug himself back here. There's nervousness. Taut. Thrumming beneath his paws like the fish that flops weakly against the snow. A whole pile of it, right up to the scars still visible against the short fur of his limbs. Leafbare's left his trail written clearly behind him. From further away from clan territory, back to the depths of twolegplace. It'd been his home for some moons before he came to the marsh.

Felt like two whole lifetimes ago now.

One had ended then, trodding into the shade. Another when he was torn away from these very banks he's come to rest on just now, glancing nauseously to the borders he used to so rigorously patrol. Bein' back here...it seemed wrong in a way. Like tryin' to fit himself somewhere he didn't quite belong. But not being in a clan was– well, it sure's anything felt wrong too. Hound's not quite sure what he's here for. If this place he's claimed to sit down right by the border is his attempt at closure or some sort'f plea. But he'd better figure it out right quick. The overwhelming scent of a patrol comes trodding close. Despite everything in him eagerly yearning to reach out, his body does nothing but tense. Like a coiled up spring, Hound crouches down into himself. His catch rests in front of his chest as his belly hits the snow, lime eyes wide as midday suns.

Would they even recognize him? A grimace yanks at the fresh territory of scars 'cross his face, and he can't even blame 'em if they don't.

𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐋𝐄𝐓: 𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊.  ╱ ( 𝑬𝑿𝑰𝑻 𝑯𝑨𝑴𝑳𝑬𝑻 ) 〚 01.03.2024 〛 𓆟༝ ˚ ｡ ⋆｡˚ ༝ • .𓆝

• OOC. hound's a former riverclan warrior that vanished at the end of july! if your cat was around then, they would recognize him. but if they joined or were born after, they would not.
• 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄. HE - HIM - HIS. LONER ╱ FORMER WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. ——— mauled by a fox moons ago and has plenty of scars to prove it. though his wounds are healed, nothing can rid him of that pain.  ╱ PENNED BY REVELATIONS
  
  a lean chocolate tabby with lime green eyes. the scars that had once been limited to the bridge of his nose now shatter and expand across that entire side of his face, up to a ripped ear and down to his shoulder and front right leg. it is somewhat difficult for him to put his weight on that paw at odd angles, and he gets grumpy after a long while of walking, but it does not inhibit him terribly.

• "speech"

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[CICADAFLIGHT]

The scent of a nonclanner instantly has the riot of curls along Cicadapaw's thin back bristling up into an angry ridge. Dark lips draw back to bare still - gapped teeth and, with a half - requesting, half - demanding glance to @iciclefang, he darts forwards on too - skinny limbs to confront the potential intruder. Cicadapaw narrowly avoids overbalancing and stops, kinked tail lashing slowly behind him, predatory. The stranger is lean, though not quite so bony as the apprentice himself, brown - furred and definitively unfamiliar, as opposed to Boneripple's unwelcome arrival. The scars star - bursting across his face and leg do nothing to eke sympathy and the gaze Cicadapaw levels is simultaneously hollowed and aggressive.

"Who are you?" he demands sharply, pulling his lips taut to reveal jutting fangs. The presence of a—what is this cat? loner, rogue? One of them?—stranger is enough to curdle his monotone; every unfamiliar face is a potential scapegoat. After all, it was not a fox or a badger who ripped away three of Cicadastar's lives—it had been a beast of another sort entirely. Black claws, magpie - curved, sink into the sandy earth and the apprentice assesses the subservient pose of the cat. It's not enough. "This is RiverClan territory. Get out."

something holy wants to get out ✦ ( but you can't let it )

• 

• 

  cicadapaw ; apprentice of riverclan
  x. he/him ; 6 moons ; tags
  x. unsightly black-and-white tom with heterochromatic amber and blue eyes
  x. played by dejavu
  x. son of smokestar and cicadastar ; brother to beepaw and starlightpaw. apprenticed to iciclefang.

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[Moonbeam]

It was a lifetime ago for Moonpaw that Houndstride went missing, her name changed twice and her occupation changed just as many times. She was a kit the last time he'd been seen, small-legged and all too small for the world and now as she stood at so close to her full height near Cicadapaw where the younger apprentice looked towards the former RiverClanner with hostility Moonpaw's was with confusion, the swirling notions of recognition dancing in her eyes before they widened. "Houndstride?" She asked quietly, ears pinning back for a moment as she turned to look for the other cats that were with them, the ones older than her that would surely recognize a former clanmate that they'd spent time with longer than Moonpaw had been alive.

Mouth hung open for a moment before head shook and she looked to the other once more, the ghost of a clanmate returning so long after going missing. It was like Robinpaw all over again, a cat that she assumed dead or gone forever to come back though this time instead of just a collar around neck as Robinpaw had this was scars and face so different that he was unrecognizable at first. "What happened?" It was all she could muster, all she could think of while she hoped that her questions and recognition helped Cicadapaw calm down.

I WISH PLANT LIFE ꕥ WOULD GROW ALL AROUND ME

• 

• MOONPAW formerly Ratpaw || NPC x NPC || sister to Rowanpaw || apprentice to Ravensong.
  -- She/Her || 8 moons old, ages every 17th
  -- smaller than average, small rounded ears. SH white masking cinnamon torbie with orange eyes.
  -- soft-spoken, often found humming, tries to comfort others by smiling

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[BEEFANG]

FIGHT SO DIRTY BUT YOU LOVE SO SWEET — The rising of Cicadapaw's hackles are enough to make Beepaw glance over in the direction of Houndstride and her own snout briefly wrinkles at the sight of him, she does not recognize him nor does she make the effort to meet him. A feathery tail sweeps behind her calmly watching as her younger littermate demands who he is and she catches the sight of snowy fur from the corner of her eye watching as Moonpaw approaches. Houndstride. It seemed that more and more cats kept going missing and returned ten times more awful especially Boneripple with that mangy collar of hers. She remembers when Robinpaw had one but she dismisses the memory away focusing on the tabby tom with both of her ears pricked forward to listen to what exactly had happened to him. The scars that he bore were not pretty yet she finds herself only a touch curious by his marred appearance. Unlike her brother, she keeps her claws sheathed and remains silent even if her gaze is locked onto the tabby that had curled into himself.

She turns her attention to her own mentor, @SMOKESTAR , and awaits his response to this once lost Riverclanner that returns to them today.

TALK SO PRETTY ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳˚❥ BUT YOUR HEART GOT TEETH

• 

• 
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ shorthaired black smoke molly w/low white and mismatched eyes
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ 6 moons old; ages the 10th every month
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ sexuality unknown/too young
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ currently being mentored by smokestar
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ daughter of cicadastar and smokestar
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ sister of cicadapaw & starlightpaw
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ peaceful powerplay allowed

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[SMOKESTAR]

—————————————————————⊰★⊱————————————————————
He sees ghosts often, in the corner of his eye and in shadows that dance across his den walls. The spirits are often hauntingly beautiful, long limbed and spotted like speckled river stones lapped with the froth of the waters. Smokestar has learned to ignore them for the most part, but its not often they appear in any other form than ebony and ivory curls dusted with granite. Today the ghost is the color of warm earth, sun touched ground, streaked clay and gnarled root-like scars.

He is a shadow behind his daughter, following along after her on their patrol and then perhaps a brief break to sunbath if the clouds would permit it, its only luck that they even happen upon this spot as it wasn't the usual path taken; he'd been wary around borders now since the incident with the former colony cats - now exiled and cast aside. When would they return with vengeneance purring in hungry throats, claws aching to open his neck into a wide red smile once more. He wants to shudder, but he's so tired the very idea of being worried is nothing more than a dull throb of a reminder in his head.
The dark tom pauses in alarm as he raises his head to both unfamiliar and familiar sent, single orange eye widening as he takes in the sight before them that has his kits so defensive. He can't blame them, they had never met the ragged and scruffy tabby before them - he had been lost to them before, he had never gotten to know the kits of his former leader and friend and he would return to find strangers grown and their father gone.

"Houndstride..." His voice is heavy, burdened with realization and wistfulness of days long gone; they had gotten along in the same manner that branches locked from opposite trees had - constantly battling to snap the other but clutching still for support and unwilling to let go. Friends, strangers, rivals, they were many things to one another in so many different ways that he was not sure if his relationship with the tom even had a proper name.
"...you're alive." It was a stupid, obvious observation but he found himself at a loss for words. There was so much to say, he didn't have the breath nor energy for it all just yet.

✘ I've got a reputation and a name to uphold. ✘ Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.

• OOC can go here.
• 
  
  
  Smokestar
  —⊰⋅ Leader of RiverClan
  —⊰⋅ He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ Black tom w/vitiligo & one orange eye.
  

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[lichenstar]

⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ​

In a way, he is alike his father... with a temper so short it would make an ant jealous. His attitude is not entirely misplaced, in this case, to bear witness to someone unfamiliar after all he's witnessed from strangers and demand them to leave. But his age betrays him.. and soon, anyone old enough to remember the dark clumps of river-dweller that signaled a great loss, had swarmed at the chance to reunite with a ghost.

He was meant to be dead.

Assumed to be... for two entire seasons now.

Smokestar says his name first and it serves as a relief that she is not absolutely insane. A smile difficult to find spreads across tired features, glancing towards Brookpaw as if to confirm it's real just one more time. She'd been the tiniest little scrap back then... Did she remember him?

"We thought you'd died," she offers after their leader numbly summarizes that he breathes in front of them. Where had he been? Her eyes wander of his coat, searching for a collar, a missing leg.. he had not been claimed a kittypet right? Bore no huge change in physique like Boneripple had... that much was a relief.

---

WELL IF YOU WANT MY BLOOD I'LL MAKE SO MUCH BLOOD

THAT YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING DROWN​

​

​

 

[HOUNDSTRIDE.]

The first to approach 'im looks so much like his father that something dies in the dark tabby's throat. Maybe he'd meant to be angry about it all. Maybe in another life, he would've joked. But in front of him is Cicada's spitting image, from the torn white across his face and that haunting blue eye. How old's the thing? Scrap of fur, grown enough to be an apprentice but far from a warrior the way he'd known them as. And there's someone behind him, whose face he can't quite make sense of. Doesn't matter. More follow him, and to hear his name from another's mouth after so many moons spears him through all over again. The little kit he'd known once, out on patrol. Another of the ones unmet, looking strikingly like Cicadastar, yes, but so too like —

Like Smokethroat.

Nausea. Hot and twisting in his throat as time confronts him head on. Not the way the kits'd done. That solemn amber eye's a kick that takes his breath away, a mirror straight to how things'd ben. He'd never known what to call the tom back then. It'd been odd to feel the carved-gut unease looking at him and Cicadastar. Not a feeling he could make sense of. Jealousy was something he knows he'd always carry around, but what it means to him is — well, stars if he knows. What exactly he'd wanted out of all this was never something he let himself think on. Maybe, in the end, all he'd ever wanted was to call this place his home. They say his name, Houndstride, and it's the first he's been that cat in many, many moons. It feels good. It feels terrible.

Those yearning hooks are back in place, tugging him to RiverClan, but so too does the obscene fear of being wrong tear at his flesh. What if he couldn't be Houndstride again? What'f things had changed so bad he wasn't who he wanted to be? Could never be again? His throat is painfully dry.

"Close enough to it," he finally chokes out. "Fox had me dreamin' with the stars even before I threw myself to the water." He'd left his blood and his heart on that bank, but what else was he to do? If he didn't try, it would've killed him without another thought. Would've gone after another patrol, or their prey at the very least. The kits he'd thought he was protecting– looks like they're all grown up, now. And more he wouldn't have expected. "Sure the damned thing dragged itself on up the bank after getting rid of me, but..." An absent paw lifts to rub the scars. Thick, knotted things that make his grimacing hurt. When he puts the paw back down to the snow, it brushes the fish. Houndstride stammers, "Caught somethin' while I was waiting. Figure it'll fill a few bellies, at least."

A stupid plea. A bargaining chip. "How're the rest? Cada? Beesong? Snake still kicking, or'd his tongue finally get the better of him?" His smile is weak and brittle, but trying.

𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐋𝐄𝐓: 𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊.  ╱ ( 𝑬𝑿𝑰𝑻 𝑯𝑨𝑴𝑳𝑬𝑻 ) 〚 01.03.2024 〛 𓆟༝ ˚ ｡ ⋆｡˚ ༝ • .𓆝

• OOC. —
• 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄. HE - HIM - HIS. LONER ╱ FORMER WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. ——— mauled by a fox moons ago and has plenty of scars to prove it. though his wounds are healed, nothing can rid him of that pain.  ╱ PENNED BY REVELATIONS
  
  a lean chocolate tabby with lime green eyes. the scars that had once been limited to the bridge of his nose now shatter and expand across that entire side of his face, up to a ripped ear and down to his shoulder and front right leg. it is somewhat difficult for him to put his weight on that paw at odd angles, and he gets grumpy after a long while of walking, but it does not inhibit him terribly.

• "speech"

​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

—————————————————————⊰★⊱————————————————————

He listens to the explaination, head pounding with realization of all that had happened since that day they found blood and claw marks at the river's edge, fox scent too powerful to be anything but a predator taking one of their own. Any and all delight he has at the tom's return is met with horror upon his questions, his queries for old friends and silent plea to know what had happened in his absence.
Every name uttered is a claw to his heart, a reminder of what's lost with the exception of Snakeblink who Houndstride jokingly remarks was the most likely to be gone given his penchant for getting into trouble. It was something he might have found amusing, laughed at even, before but now it left a sour taste in his mouth and a pit forming in his stomach.
"Cicadastar, Beesong...they're.." He hesitates but in his hesitation there is already an answer for the brown tabby and he knows there is no use in trying to soften the blow to come so he makes no attempts to spare Houndstride's heart, it was easier this way for all of them, "They're both dead. Beesong fell into the gorge-" Supposedly, his heart thunders at what he feels is a lie, "-some time ago. Cicadastar was...rogues attacked us. Attacked all the clans, they...I'm sorry. I'm sorry, you missed so much."
Yellowcough had burned through their clan, outsider claws had ripped it apart and still were as they spoke, in his absence the tabby knew peace but upon his return it was all lay bare before him. All that pain tightly bundled into one gift of agony.

✘ I've got a reputation and a name to uphold. ✘ Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.

• OOC can go here.
• 
  
  
  Smokestar
  —⊰⋅ Leader of RiverClan
  —⊰⋅ He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ Black tom w/vitiligo & one orange eye.
  

​