TO EARTH 〘 WC PATROL 〙ˊˎ﹤

[SUNNVAR]

The Thunderpath is somehow different than he had expected. Though familiarity had burned itself to the warrior's bones, the long travels from home had left him with a view of the world a stone's throw from truth. Perhaps it is the edges of this one, the hidden depths of a moor where he had once seen something much different. Or it could be the monsters that rumble past with greater frequency than he had seen before. Though they travel alongside it, never threatening to cross, they rustle the tom's thick fur and might threaten to billow away Wolfsong's smaller shape– were he not so stubbornly rooted, in any case.

Sunstride weaves himself along the pathways others before him have taken to. The moor-scent is tied to branch and stone, tangling amidst his fur with as much frequency as his own is left behind. There should be no trouble from those across the way. He has heard of them as friends, not strangers to be wary of. Not that there were many he was not wary of in this world. Though the moons had passed by easily, he could not say that there were not still adjustments to be made. "When we have made our mark here and turned towards home once more, perhaps you could tell us more of this ShadowClan. Their history and ideals." He murmurs the words to Badgermoon, brow lightly lifted, though he does not entirely turn to seek out the black and white tom. "The rest of you, be careful. We will fetch what we caught on the way home, and I will not be the voice to tell Sootstar of any lost limbs." Blue eyes sparkle with a bit of mirth.

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• ooc: @WOLFSONG @Badgermoon @Nutsprout
• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, uses he - him. thirty-four moons old. warrior of windclan and former rogue.
  —— cautious of clan life, but an apt learner. encourages close bonds between clanmates.
  —— loyalty uncertain, cares for those surrounding him. undoubtedly closest to wolfsong.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
• "speech"

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[Badgermoon]

Badgermoon was very disquieted by pretty much everything Twoleg thing, but perhaps his least favorite thing other than the hairless beasts themselves was their Thunderpath. That foul-smelling strip of darkness cutting through the land like a sickness, with its roaring monsters that brought death to noble warriors as easily as his tooth to a flea...it sent shivers down his spine if he thought too long about it. Thus he simply didn't think about it to the best of his ability, padding lightly along with his Clanmates and studiously ignoring the buffeting air which tore past, courtesy of the passing monsters. Yellow eyes cut over to Sunstride as the thick-coated tom spoke to him and Badgermoon let an easy smile appear on his muzzle. "Deal. I'll give you the whole scoop." he paused to rub his face against a rock, scraping the scent glands on his chin, cheeks, and forehead against the cool surface. "Though perhaps we'll meet a few today." you never knew when you'd meet another patrol, and in this case that wouldn't even be a bad thing - the ShadowClanners were their friends, by and large. A hunt on their way home, and an admonishment to be careful...all in a day's work, eh?​

 

[smogstar]

Diplomatically speaking, the alliance shared between ShadowClan and WindClan is alive and well.

In terms of actions, which tend to speak louder than words, the two clans' relationship is non-existent.

A season's worth of moons have risen and fallen since the feast along the border. The taste of hawk lingers on the tip of his tongue even to this day, and he would give anything to have prey of that size within his home's territory. Considering how desperate he is to keep his people fed, the reason why Pitchstar hasn't worked out some sort of deal with Sootstar completely evades Smogmaw. It would put this alliance to the test and allow for an evaluation into how seriously both parties coveted it, all the while putting an end to the starvation going on amongst the marsh cats. A win-win situation if he ever knew one.

Fortunately for the status quo, he is merely a powerless warrior. Perhaps this won't be the case someday, but for the time being, he'll have to act like everything is alright.

A patrol is occurring on ShadowClan's side of the border. It has been feeble thus far, much like every other hunting excursion to happen in recent days. As such, the tom's mood is on the sour end, even for Smogmaw's standards. So when the outlines of WindClan warriors emerge on the thunderpath's opposite end, he cannot muster the neighbourly persona which he usually adopted for these occasions.

"Hail," he calls, voice hollow and apathetic. He doesn't recognise these two, but seeing how this is the first interaction with their ally since the gathering, keeping things cordial lies in his best interest. "I trust that your lot is faring well in this difficult season. We're somehow pulling through, even with our juvenile medicine cat and empty bellies." ​

 

[FLICKERFIRE]

( : ̗̀➛ ) Flickerfire has always been thinly built, lean even in the warm seasons when her belly is fuller. But the dark tortoiseshell appears a misaligned shadow as she materializes behind Smogmaw. Her once-sharp fiery eyes are dull with hunger, with pain, with misdirected anger, and she rakes her gaze over the WindClan patrol scathingly.

Their friends, their allies. But even though ShadowClan is withering away, each of them looks relatively well-fed. She wants a taste of the rabbits that energize them so, and yet all they have is crunching rat bones from the Carrionplace.

She turns to @Siltcloud. , her expression dark. "Our friends, Siltpaw. Say hello, why don't'cha." She pads closer to Smogmaw, raising her voice so it will carry across the Thunderpath: "Well, if it isn't the rabbit-chasers! If you find any over there, toss a few our way." The she-cat is beyond begging at this point. Pride means nothing when you're withering away from hunger.​

( WELL I WON'T EVER CHANGE MY WAYS ; AND I CAN'T BE STRONG )

 

[Tornadopaw]

If you don't like me, that's your problem

Tornadopaw stalks through the shadows, head lifting a bit as she tosses Flickerfire a brief glance. Her tone is scathing, and the girl could not tell if those were notes of jealously, hatred, or both laced within the lead warrior's voice. Regardless, she glances towards the windclan patrol, ears flicking once before giving them a shallow nod of her head in greeting. She brushes her pelt against the bark of a dormant tree before pausing to actually speak. "I've never tried rabbit before. What's it like?" Tornado questioned with a genuinely curious tilt of her head. ​

When I let it bother me, that's my problem​

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[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 "Then I will tell her," Wolfsong says boldly as he weathers the thundering force of a nearby silver-beast. His eye glints, not unlike the flash of a monster's glowing stare, and he turns his head toward Sunstride with his patented mischievous grin. "You would be too loudly mourning your newly three-legged ego." He does not say it, but he, too, is curious and eager for information about their neighbors. Do they all walk in shadow? Are they dark of fur or character?

Wolfsong watches Badgermoon lower his face to stone, and wonders whether WindClan's territory is so imperiled that a neighboring group would interpret a faded scent as permission to trespass. The moorland's smell won't repel attackers. Would it not be better to keep a warrior or two as sentries for each border? Sootstar welcomed enough rogues and wanderers to spare the bodies.

He spies the unfamiliar felines quickly given his disinterest in marking every upturned stone. Even at a distance, Wolfsong takes note of their frames, small from hunger, the loose draping of their pelts an echo of former strength. ShadowClan. Not all dark as pitch, but aptly named— they are shadows of themselves. I doubt they foresaw this when they chose their title.

"The sun rises and sets and most of us have lived to see it. I have no complaints. I will ask Sootstar if we can spare any hares for you, but it will not be enough." Whatever they could give, be it anything or nothing at all, wouldn't sustain an entire clan. He doesn't lack empathy for them, but short of raising a little army of rabbits, there is little he can do for them.

His single-eyed gaze drifts down to the smallest among them. A child, he assumes. "It tastes like running," he calls back. "Especially if you've made the kill after a long chase."
​

 

[Nutsprout]

The patrol had gotten to the border just before sunrise and they were instantly met with that of a couple of Shadowclan cats. Nutsprout didn't know any of them as he was still rather new to the clan from the rogues joining and he had yet to interact with that of the other clans. Pale sage green eyes watched from the border as cats bantered back and forth, a child asking a question and something about loosing a limb. Though it came to conclusion that Windclan would spare any prey it could for Shadowclan, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Sootstar would surely have their heads if she found out they were giving prey to another clan right? Espesically with how many were sick now in camp and how little food they had themselves- this didn't seem like a good idea. Though the tom didn't speak up on it or anything like that, he didn't want to cause a scuffle or an arguement about it, and padded up to join the rest of the group.

The Scottish cat gave a small smirk as he added onto Wolfsongs' words for the young cat, "They taste like freedom really," He agreed to the running part of the answer. Rabbits were delicious and lean, hardly any fat, and he wished he could enjoy them for often.​

​

"speech"​

 

[SUNNVAR]

The warmth of their banter is quick to fade. Beneath the oppressive weight of ShadowClan's suffering, not even the glow within Sunstride's chest may survive. He can do nothing but watch them closely, with unblinking eyes from across this border as they meld from the dark. They are hungry from their claws to their attention– even so far from the marsh, he feels as if they're looking for a taste of more than rabbit. The thought comes with a barren amusement that he can share with none but Wolfsong, ducking low to the shorter tom's ear to mutter a joke of WindClan and their rabbits.

"It seems this is a season for troubles," he shares aloud, and there is solidarity in that, though he offers nothing more. Wolfsong has spoken as aptly as any of them could– none within this patrol hold any authority above another, and certainly not over Sootstar herself. They may ask, and nothing may come of it, and these shadow cats may starve– faster or slower, it seems not to matter. "Do you fare better in health than you do in hunting?"

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• ooc: —
• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, uses he - him. thirty-four moons old. warrior of windclan and former rogue.
  —— cautious of clan life, but an apt learner. encourages close bonds between clanmates.
  —— loyalty uncertain, cares for those surrounding him. undoubtedly closest to wolfsong.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
• "speech"

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

† Sharppaw didn't know what to think about Windclan. Their allies, supposedly, but she found any allyship with Sootstar... strained, at best. The face she put on for Pitchstar was so much different, than those for any others. Even from the very beginning, when Pitchstar's lives were fresh and Sootstar had dropped a hare at their paws. It seems Windclan only came in two flavors. Scary, and strange.

She doesn't expect it, but Smogmaw is the first to make conversation. Maybe she should have, with the way he's always willing to put his frustrations on display. She puffs a breath at Flickerfire's words. Some of Windclan looked as skinny as they did. One of them claims they will ask, but Sharppaw doubts it will go anywhere.

The answers they give to Tornadopaw's question, are annoyingly, and pretentiously abstract. Maybe the question hadn't been so grand in the first place, but oh, like running, like freedom. Weren't they so very happy to be able to say that? Carrionplace's rats tasted like grime. "W-what are you even saying?" she asks with a frown. Scrunched nose, pinched brows. A group of poets, weren't they?

Maybe, it was truly the only way they could explain it. Flavor was not an easy thing to describe, she guesses... They could've said that, though. If they weren't pretentious, they were stupid. Sharppaw watches as the sun-spotted time murmurs to his clanmate.

The subject abruptly changes, then. Maybe they had realized their comments were... weird. Though, they don't get much better. "Maybe," unhelpfully, Sharppaw says. Your health could only be so good without good food. And by good, in this case, not very. Nearly, he shares this with the Windclanners, but he keeps his mouth shut, in case it's wrong.​