- Aug 10, 2022
- 679
- 153
- 43
It’s been a full day now since Iciclefang and her traveling companions have left the forest territories, and from what she can see, relations between the cats have improved minimally or not at all. There is stilted conversation still, forced friendliness between the ThunderClanners and the other Clans, but many still wear sneers on their muzzles; many’s pelts still bristle with hostility when a cat perceived to be a rival brushes up against them on accident. The tortoiseshell herself has not made any efforts to make friends where she does not already have them… why should she?
The cats will be in the mountains and heading back before they know it. Making friendships we’ll have to break off is a waste of time, she and no doubt multitudes of other feline travelers think. Her loyalty is to her Clan and her family, above all else. She will not forget that in a hurry.
Highstones is well-behind them, and the sun creeps higher in the sky until it reaches it’s throne, pouring hot and golden onto a lush wooded area. Prey can be heard scuttling through the brush, but above that, Iciclefang hears a familiar rush. “A river,” she breathes to whoever is closest. They’d come across a few creekbeds, some puddles, but this is the first true river she’s seen since leaving her own territory.
She crests a hill, looking in awe at the glint of afternoon sunlight gilding the rapid-laced surface. The river is wide, too wide for a cat not RiverClan to swim across. She narrows her eyes, scanning the vicinity for some way for the other Clan cats to cross… she sees nothing, initially, until she nears the water’s edge. On the opposite bank, many foxlengths ahead, is the remains of a strange-looking Twoleg Bridge. The one in the forest is made of stone and sturdy, formidable, but this one is soaked and drifting upon the river’s surface. It’s wooden, the slate rippling with movement as it’s tugged with the water’s current.
“The bridge is broken,” she reports to the cats scrambling toward the riverbank beside her. “There’s no way to cross, unless…” Her snow-pale gaze flicks from the bridge to where her paws knead muddy red earth.
The cats will be in the mountains and heading back before they know it. Making friendships we’ll have to break off is a waste of time, she and no doubt multitudes of other feline travelers think. Her loyalty is to her Clan and her family, above all else. She will not forget that in a hurry.
Highstones is well-behind them, and the sun creeps higher in the sky until it reaches it’s throne, pouring hot and golden onto a lush wooded area. Prey can be heard scuttling through the brush, but above that, Iciclefang hears a familiar rush. “A river,” she breathes to whoever is closest. They’d come across a few creekbeds, some puddles, but this is the first true river she’s seen since leaving her own territory.
She crests a hill, looking in awe at the glint of afternoon sunlight gilding the rapid-laced surface. The river is wide, too wide for a cat not RiverClan to swim across. She narrows her eyes, scanning the vicinity for some way for the other Clan cats to cross… she sees nothing, initially, until she nears the water’s edge. On the opposite bank, many foxlengths ahead, is the remains of a strange-looking Twoleg Bridge. The one in the forest is made of stone and sturdy, formidable, but this one is soaked and drifting upon the river’s surface. It’s wooden, the slate rippling with movement as it’s tugged with the water’s current.
“The bridge is broken,” she reports to the cats scrambling toward the riverbank beside her. “There’s no way to cross, unless…” Her snow-pale gaze flicks from the bridge to where her paws knead muddy red earth.
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REMEMBER: this is RiverClan's event! The cats who will be ensuring the Clans get across are @hazecloud @Lakemoon . @iciclefang @Mosspaw @FERNPAW
if your non-RiverClan cat falls in, ensure you have a plan in place for them to be saved... swimming the river will not be possible for any non-RiverClanners! -
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iciclekit.iciclepaw. iciclefang
— she/her ; warrior of riverclan
— lesbian ; single
— short-haired tortoiseshell with white and ice-blue eyes
— “speech”, thoughts, attack
— penned by Marquette
— chibi by Pin
