camp Tomorrow is another day [cold snap, sharing tongues]

The wind screamed over the rolling grassland, bringing with it a fine, stinging powder of snow and air that felt almost Arctic in its intense cold. Badgermoon had left camp in an attempt to find prey, only to return a few minutes later with his fur fluffed out as if he had been electrocuted. In a way, he had been - the freezing temperatures outside their camp were a shock in their own right, and he could feel the crusted moisture around his eyes and nose. It was, he decided, simply too cold to do anything but remain in camp - leaving the protection of the hollow would be a fool's errand. With this determination made, the broad-shouldered tomcat found a few NPC warriors curled together and inquired if he could join them.

"Be our guest." laughed one of them, a dark-furred she-cat with round eyes. "Too cold for much else, right?"

Badgermoon huffed in agreement and lay down with his Clanmates, pressing his coat against theirs and feeling their warmth begin to creep over his frosty frame. With a deep sigh of relief and of contentment, he began rasping his tongue over the nearest cat's coat, listening with interest as conversation began to unravel around him. He hoped idly that some others would join him, that they could use the fact that it would be unwise to attempt to perform their usual duties to rest and connect. Sometimes it felt as if, in the harshness of the season and the cruelty of other Clans, it was easy to forget what really mattered - being here, together, under the wide-open sky and on this fine land. StarClan help me remember to not forget it. prayed the bicolor tom, closing his eyes tight as he did so.

[ inspired by the weather where i am currently, which is -18° (or -40° with wind)! ]
 
Weaselclaw, with his thin fur and lean body, is dramatically affected by the below freezing temperatures. He tends to sequester himself inside Sootstar's den to share her nest, the warmth from her thick pelt and rounded belly providing him an ember of heat to curl around. But his mate, even pregnant, likes to stray out under the stars. "So our kits can be close to StarClan," or so her reasoning is. He doesn't know enough about StarClan or kits to argue, but he does miss her warmth and the comfort of her den.

The tabby is huddled amongst Clanmates, all of them sharing what body heat they could with one another. An NPC asks Weaselclaw about Sootstar, about the kits, and he purrs despite the chills racking his body. "They'll be here soon, the medicine cat says," he says, tail swishing with excitement. "Don't know how many yet, but by the size of her... probably a lot." It's said warmly; truly, he finds Sootstar as beautiful as ever.

He lifts his head in greeting as their deputy approaches, clearly intending to sink into the easy conversation, the warmth of their Clanmates. "Badgermoon." His greeting is formal, but his eyes narrow thoughtfully in his striped face. "I guess even you aren't patrolling in this weather, huh?"

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]
 
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—————————coalfoot | windclan | male————————
It was a little bit more than cold, as far as Coalfoot was concerned. More than freezing, on that note. It was downright horrid. The air pierced right through him and bit at anything it could reach. Come nightfall, he was sure he would be as frozen as the snow and ice around them.

Thankfully... he had no pressing concerns to handle at the moment. Many others seemed to be hiding out in camp and away from the wind as well. Maybe Badgermoon had taken pity on them and was waiting until the wind died down a little to send out patrols.

In the meantime, the bicolor tom had taken to cozying up with a few Clanmates, sharing precious warmth and devolving into lighthearted conversation about kits and gripes about the weather. Speaking of Badgermoon...

The marbled tom perked up when his voice flitted through his ears, head turning in time for someone to welcome him to the group and shift around so he could join in the warmth. Coalfoot offered a smile of his own, a purr quickly erupting in his throat when the deputy began to rasp his tongue over his pelt. It wasn't long before he returned the favor, allowing himself to get lost in the rhythmic motions.

He only broke off to add his own contribution with a small giggle. "I know I'm not. Sorry, but I value my life as... not-ice. Maybe when the wind isn't threatening to rip off my pelt I'll be able to go catch something nice. Anyone out there is nuts if they think the prey isn't hiding too." Even still, he would respect the tenacity.

Coalfoot shifted a little closer to the others, wishing he could bury himself beneath them all. "Who do you think would be crazy enough to go hunt and patrol in this kind of cold?" he thought aloud, gaze traveling over the rest of their lingering Clanmates in camp. "My bet's on... Coldsnap."

[penned by its_oliverr].
 
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It would seem that this season carries with it as many comforting familiarities as it does disservices. Though he has no love for the hardened dirt or quietly melting snow, this chill is a delicious sting upon his tongue with each open-mouthed inhale. The heat of his lungs wars with the chill, and Sunstride's eyes are gleaming with the cloudy exhale of his breath. He has just returned from his own brief foray into their moorland– one that went poorly, of course, but left his heart joyous. And with the familiar cold, a familiar reprieve from it: the warrior returns to camp and does not hesitate to join the pile, his broad shoulders a shield for the smaller of the group as he takes a position on the outside. Like the others, he falls easily to conversation, this time with a bark of laughter.

"If a few of you were as crazy as him, perhaps we might even stay warm through it!" His tongue rasps between the dark molly's ears, fluffing up her head fur and being met with a playful swat of her tail. "I suppose we'd best hope the tunnelers have better luck beneath the dirt. I would even say we should join them– then again, some of us," he looks to Badger and Weasel, "would do little more than block the entrance."
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  • 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"
 
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It was cold. Still, he tried, marching through the snow and ice as the wind blasted his fur with stinging frost. A fool's errand, perhaps. If there were any hares on the moor that day, Tigerfrost is unable to see or smell them. Eventually, he trudges back to camp upon numbed paws, clumps of ice clinging to his spiky fur. If such a monster existed, some might assume him to be the indomitable snow-cat! He does manage to slide back into camp, covered in snow and ice as he was, eyes burning with a fire that glowed beyond the white clumps clinging stubbornly to dusty hued fur. Shaking his fur free of debris and flicking ice from his paws, he sights the small group gathering for warmth nearby and decides to join them.

"Good idea." He huffs, breath like frigid mist as he strides closer. "Don't go out there." Tigerfrost advises, entirely unaware that Coalfoot was making bets on whatever mouse-brain would be crazy enough to try and hunt through such a mess. The chimera plops down beside the group, curls up to hide his nose beneath his tail with a tired huff of breath.
 
──⇌•〘 INFO As much as Wolfsong delights in the barest moons of WindClan that remind him of the white-pelted hills of his birthplace, there are days when he would much rather be warm. His lungs wear those long fangs of ice, sharpened by every inhale of bitter air, and so the mass of multi-colored furs is a tempting solace Wolf can't resist.

Sunstride is among them, and he wonders if he remembers the long nights they spent sharing warmth. He's cleaning one of the mollies, conversing playfully, and he watches him with a silent intensity for a few moments. When Wolfsong does move closer, he leans in just enough to briefly latch his jaws around that flaming tail, not enough to break skin— just a short-lived sting before he's settling down next to Tigerfrost.

He brackets him as much as he can with their size difference, though it isn't as difficult as it is with Sunstride. After a moment, gauging the darker tom's reaction, he starts to clean the ruff of his neck where snow has clumped. "Spoken like a cat who has, in fact, gone out there," he laughs between strokes. "A better bet would be how many WindClanners thought to face the clawed gales. Two of them are here now."
 
"BUT I STILL HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR"
A wind chill that was as sharp as razor tipped claws tore at her short fur, biting at her skin while sending chills down her spine. Sedgerunner shivers violently, her jaws clattering together as she tries to face the fierce winds. She wanted desperately go get out of camp, to bask in tne presence of open moorland no matter the weather conditions, but she isn't that stupid. Her lean frame prohibited her from such a task. Perhaps if she bore a coat as thick as some of her clan mates, maybe she'd be even more tempted to.
Tigerfrost, as skilled of a hunter he was, even turned up empty-handed himself. Clumps of snow and ice clung harshly to his pelt, cloaking his dark tabby fur. A large bundle of different colors of coats and clan mates huddled together, sharing their own body warmth through sharing tongues. Usually Sedgerunner would shy away from these types of things, nervous of the side-ways glances she'd get. But, it was much too cold for her to really think about it. She moves with haste, approaching them all with a shy smile. "Is it okay if I join you?" The young molly speaks out to anyone willing to answer her, asking for permission instead of just plopping down in someone's space. The last thing she wanted was someone who didn't want her company.
She catches the tail end of the conversation between them all, acknowledging the fact Tigerfrost had still tried to go out into the snowy moorland, battling against the ice and wind. Her anguled maw etched with a smile that seemed to grow more, "I can't lie—I also wanted to try to go out. But I can't bear the wind, it's much too cold. The hares are definitely cozied up in their own burrows."
/SIZE]
✦ ★ ✦
 

"Brrrrrrrrrr" Snailpaw's exaggerated shivering was rowdy, not even their thick fur was enough to shelter them from the worst of WindClan's gale. They'd usually be out of camp by now, conveniently missing before anyone could expect anything from them and surviving on miscommunication between clanmates, but they had no such luck again today. Blue eyes looked nervous for a moment as they flittered over the warriors, noticing the snow-clumped pelts of those that they hadn't parted on the best of terms with. They doubted the cold would cheer them up, but the tabby prayed to StarClan that it would save them from the worst of their ire as well. With a wiggle of narrow haunches, he bound over to the pile of WindClanners, clambering over the others to get to Badgermoon's side, personal space doubly forsaken in the harsh weather. Snailpaw could be content for the day, knowing that nothing was expected of him and the role of hunting fell to the tunnelers in such a foul atmosphere. Briefly, he remembered how close he was to becoming one of the underground apprentices - they weren't sure if it was relief or grief they felt in their heart when it wasn't meant to be.

Wiggling to try and get comfortable, the classic tabby smiled lazily at the fur and bodies pressed against their own, a vestige of comfort that they hadn't felt for a long time. "Well rabbits are out of the question but you guys sure did bring back some nice snowflakes! Hehe~" Next to Badgermoon, they felt comfortable making light-hearted jokes. The Deputy hadn't appreciated his sister's taunting a while back, this time, it was different. There was no malice, only an attempt to pass the time and fill the air with something other than the same old boring conversations about hunting and fighting. They wanted to know who was dating who, and what embarrassing thing their serious clanmate had done, they wanted real gossip and were adamant about shifting the conversation to reflect that. "Speaking of rabbits... did you hear that Vulturemask tripped over a rabbit warren the other day? He just fell right on in! Stars, that must've been quite a shock for all of them!" They exclaimed giddily. It was a total lie, of course, but they wanted to get the ball rolling and hear some more authentic stories that were floating around camp.