VULTURES FROM THE PAST ↷ [ ShC Search Patrol ]

[smogstar]

Smogmaw looks like shit. Crusty-eyed, rheumy, weatherworn shit. His movements fall short of what little grace they'd once held, claws sieving clumsily through the miry terrain, and his thickset skull jostling aside the cattails and bulrushes in his path. With a head like a crowded camp, every bitter thought a clanmate clamouring for attention, it's a wretched effort to invest his mental energy on a lone focus point. He's a snail robbed of its shell, inching forward idiotically and nakedly without a place to hide in.

"...so you're sayin' all four of 'em were clustered around the Sycamore?" the deputy asks of a patrolmate as the group puts the territory's boggier parts behind them. He is, obviously, referring to the lodging arrangements Chilledstar had established for their clan's surprise visitors. Four clans cordoned off to a single area. Divided by the greatest conflict of all, the Great Battle, and yet reunified by such a measly threat. "How horrific," he muses, coaxing a single chuckle from his otherwise dry throat. "Embarrassing too, losin' your homes to folks who don't have one."

The thunderpath border creeps into view, and with it, a reminder of what's expected from them. While the other patrol negotiated a safe passage through ThunderClan's forest, it lay in his responsibility to establish a rapport with their less desirable neighbours. Several speculative scenarios were proposed to rationalise Halfkit and Tanglekit's disappearances. Smogmaw leaned towards them being kept in one of the outlying clans, be it by malice or mistake, more so than the rogue argument that others championed. They're kits at the end of the day, and a kit can only wander so far on their pathetically stubby legs.

Amber pools flit towards the cats in their periphery. Siltcloud. Frostbite. Caterpillarpaw. Sharppaw, as well. Air streams out in a sigh of lingering discontent, before he plods onwards to the slanted earth at the territorial margin, scaling it, paws finding purchase amongst the loose pebbles and sharp stones.

There they all stand for an indeterminate duration. Upon the first sign of activity on the moorlands' side, Smogmaw raises his voice. "We're lookin' for kits!" declares the deputy, tone uncharacteristically stilted. "My kits, two of 'em! Disappeared the day before us journeyin' cats reached home. Have you seen 'em?" One might deem it unwise to anticipate support from WindClan, whose ethical standards leave quite a bit to be desired. Smogmaw would concur with that notion, but his clan is clawing at shadows here. Nowhere in their own lands could the kits be found—seeking their fates elsewhere is the next, and last, practical course of action.

//
ShC Patrol Members: @Siltcloud. @Frostbite @CATERPILLARPAW. @SHARPPAW. ​

 

[BLUEFROST]

The tunnels near ShadowClan require repair—Bluepaw looks dismally at the state of the narrow one she's squeezed herself into. It crumbles from the ceiling, and the sticks shoring the ceiling up look frail and withered. "It has been too long," she says quietly to whichever warrior is with her. Sootstar is more herself again, certainly… but Bluepaw finds herself tagging along with other tunnelers now that she is nearing her eleventh moon. Her mother could be nearby, or she could be closer to the heartland of their moors; she scents only dust and dirt now, and the troubling marshy stench of a ShadowClan patrol.

She abandons her work briefly, hearing Smogmaw's voice. She knows it well, from Gatherings. Bluepaw stiffens, hearing him mention kits. Orphan kits you don't care about? Reluctantly, she squirms her way to the surface, blinking dirt from her eyelashes as she leaves the sanctity of the underground.

Bluepaw gives her luscious pelt a shake, sending grit flying. There's a collection of them across the Thunderpath, and indeed, it is Smogmaw himself who leads the search party. She greets him coolly. "Hello, Smogmaw. ShadowClan." She dips her head in a brief gesture of respect before tilting it to one side. "Kits? All the way out here?" After a heartbeat, Bluepaw gently shakes her head. "I have not seen any, though I've been underground all day."

, "​

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── Tansy grows along the Thunderpath, and after the onslaught of yellowcough, Wolfsong desires to be prepared for any illness. The odds of finding any are slim given the cooling air, but he scours for the yellow herb nonetheless. His mind is divided, however; the kits Sootstar has presented, formerly of ShadowClan, preoccupy most of his thoughts. He had seen them in the nursery while they were all within ShadowClan's borders, and he knows his own kits played with them— and others, of course. He had not thought them to be mistreated, though some ills are well-hidden, and perhaps behavior improved while such scrutiny was nearby.

His gaze slides across the Thunderpath, drawn by the approaching ShadowClanners. The deputy asks after missing kits. Ouzelkit and Larkkit...the deputy's children? Troubling, if so— and Wolfsong has no reason to believe they are some other ShadowClanner's kits, rescued by Sootspot. Unless ShadowClan has a veritable epidemic of missing children.

"The rogues' stink lingers," he begins, moving to stand beside Bluepaw. Mistreated, she said. If it is a lie, I cannot afford to be wrong; the kits would surely pay for it. "So we have been righting the camp and our borders. If your kits did wander across the Thunderpath, we would have surely found them by now."​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 38 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, 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: Thanks to Starlingheart, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ 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.

​

 

[CATERPILLARFUZZ.]

BLINDED BY THE LIGHTS​

---

caterpillarpaw opts to stay quiet, sticking closer to her mentor as she travels across the territory, to the border of windclan. the scent of windclan was a rather interesting one, and it certainly stuck with her. she is confused, though, because she swears that just for a moment, she's smelled it before. she has. on hunting patrols. the scent around the border is always paranoid and strong. she wonders why.

"m-maybe we should have br-brought birdkit... th-they'd know what the kits look like then..."

her opinion is quiet, and spoken to no one before she just shakes her head, worriedly furrowing her brows. if they're not here... then they could be anywhere. that was scary. she remembers how it felt to be a kit that was lost, scared, and alone. spectermask was the one who found her, and sometimes she still feels like that. she doesn't want to imagine how much worse the kits felt around strangers... even rogues, if they'd been taken by them.

"th-they haven't? oh... no. wh-what do we do now, siltcloud?"

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

It was rare that you saw Chilledstar be so thorough with anything. To search all four clans... Or at least, as many as they would be permitted too, it's more effort than Sharppaw thought she may ever see them put into a single thing. Perhaps they too, were disquieted by the way it had shaken Smogmaw. Blithe, obtuse Smogmaw, shaken into the guise of a model family man when his loved ones are in danger. More than in danger, for some of them.

If he's quite honest with himself, he thinks its far more likely that the kits had already died, rather than wandered over a normal territory and have them now brought back already. If, by the stars, they had ended up hear, not been crushed by the Thunderpath, and into WindClan territory, those bunch may as well have eaten them themselves.

Or maybe, that wasn't fair to think. He'd met kind WindClanners, now. Or at least alright ones.

Sharppaw shares his disbelief. ShadowClan's territory was not even enough for them. How in the world could it harbor an additional four clans? Verification of that fact would be left up to the others on the patrol. Sharppaw remains quiet, though her ears would swivel toward any cat with an answer.

He is surprised, that Smogmaw still has it in him to laugh. At the same time, it is a bit relieving for whatever reason.

It's surreal, seeing a tiny WindClanner seemingly rise from the very ground. Sharppaw gives them a grimacing look, fighting the urge to shy away as dirt is flung every which way— as if they were close enough for it to possibly reach her. Smogmaw gets to the point at once. Sharppaw watches WindClan with twitching whiskers. Kits? All the way out here? He would agree, it's as unbelievable as she makes it sound. WindClan's Medicine Cat comes to insist that they would have found them by now, if so. Sharppaw's gaze flickers to the side. He sees no reason not to believe them.

" Maybe they've been crawling through the dirt like you, " he offers in something like a joke. Or was it an inappropriate one to make? He didn't know. " Frostbite knows, doesn't he? " he'd say to Caterpillarpaw. They were probably clones of their mother like the rest, anyways. What do we do now, Siltcloud. A twitch of the face betrays his annoyance. What else was there to do?" All we can do is wait to hear from the others. "

ooc ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ look, see, isn't it interesting? no, you're not even listening...

• 
  
  

• 

• ( IS THAT NOT BRAVE ENOUGH FOR YOU? ) SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 15 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Recently, she has realized it can still function, though she has wholly believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  — Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this.
  heavy ic opinions! he sucks.

​

 

[Frostbite]

Frostbite looks like he needs a nap but here he is, marching along on his quest to find these missing kits. He is glad Smogmaw is here, because the deputy might be the only one able to hold him back from mauling someone.

And boy is he ready to!

But he keeps it together. He needs to nitpick every word spoken at this border. If Windclan stole Halfkit and Tanglekit, they aren't going to admit it. Same with the other clans, but Frostbite was given the pleasure of heading to Windclan.

"They sure were. It was a little entertaining, listening to everyone complain about the marsh." He says. "They could only hunt in the carrionplace."

When they reach the border, it isn't long before someone scuttles into view and Smogmaw asks about his missing kits. His frigid gaze bores into Blue paw and studies her every movement, every expression. Wolfsong joins her shortly, and is given the same scrutinizing gaze.

"I see, I see..." He muses. "Good to hear your efforts are going well." He speaks cordially.

He takes a breath to remind himself that he needs to be civil, that he's been doing well so far and not to let it slip. He doesn't trust Windclan, if anyone has a motive to lie to them about anything, its Windclan. He'll never shake this bias, but also, considering Sootstar got mauled by rats, he wouldn't put it past her to take some form of revenge even if it was her fault for not being careful, and the fault of most of the patrol for not helping her even though he understands completely.

"It's not safe to take kits out of the camp, I will not put Birdkit in danger." He says, though not harshly to Caterpillarpaw.

Sharppaw brings up a good point, though. What if they were lost underground in a tunnel??? But she is correct, he does know what the kits look like. "You are correct, I helped raise them while I was still in the nursery. I'd know them anywhere." He says. Perhaps he should have STAYED in the nursery...Then this wouldn't have happened.​

 

[◇ Siltcloud.]

" I'M AN ANGEL " ?
TELL ME WHAT YOU MEAN BY THAT​

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siltcloud ♕ 17 moons ♖ female ♘ she/her ♙ shadowclan warrior ​

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Fuck.

That is all siltcloud can think as she is called to patrol, green eyes kept to the ground same as ever - hiding the irritation that slips past herwalls. Granitepelt is foolish - she's known it since the day she'd had to step up, fish him from his own mess with fake sobs and pleads, lying bold faced to her clanmates and friends alike. Had he really expected nobody to notice - to care? And though it was a pity smogmaw had returned alive, well - she's not surprised.

The dust-hued feline sticks close to her apprentices side, as withdrawn and passive as ever, though she remains attentive. It is not catterpillarpaw's fault she's been dragged into this after all. "It was just a suggestion," she snaps at frostbite - cold gaze finally leaving the dirt as teeth are bared. It matters little that the warrior is gentle in his chastisement - that's her apprentice, not his. It's over as quick as it happens, the outburst of emotion simmering down as shoulders slump and crooked tail flicks out to touch the tortoishells shoulder gently. "It's true though - best not risk it - the marshlands are dangerous even for us remember," she murmurs quietly.

Not even the camp is safe after all.

The patrol is good at lying at least - unless it was sootspot who'd been lying. Maybe the kits weren't to be raised in windclan - for all she knows they've become crowfood. She doesn't care either way really - not her problem. Speak of tunnels has shoulders tensing up, though voice remains even as she speaks - loud enough to hopefully catch the rest of the patrols attention. "We will simply have to look elsewhere... though.... maybe it was not those awful rogues who took them after all - if they never made it across the thunderpath, perhaps twolegs have started their troubles again," she remembers it being an issue in the past - skyclan and riverclan speaking of cats being trapped. It's as good an excuse as any, at least.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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I ' M - A - N I G H T M A R E ?━ I - K N O W - W H A T - Y O U - M E A N - B Y - T H A T

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[SOOTSPOT]

He stood before a cat that had lost everything except for the invisible crown upon his head, standing before Smogmaw when he was partway responsible for it was not easy. Sootspot was all too quick to search for accusation, wondering if the two ShadowClanners had ratted, but as he moved towards the border, all he could witness was a desperate group in search of their lost kittens. Lost kittens, not stolen kittens. Mud caked his paws and he quickly began to scrape it off with his tongue, ears pricked for any signs of dissension within his mother's ranks, tail tip twitching in surprise when even their medic tried to keep up appearances. Whether the kittens had truly been mistreated by their home made no difference; they were away from an enemy, that was all that counted. "WindClan has not forgotten the grace shown to us by ShadowClan in our darkest moon." Sootspot bowed low, smile as wide as a scheming weasel's. Concern seemed to stick within it like bits of food caught in one's teeth, unsightly for a cat of his stature. Concern for the kittens, he would tell the world it was, but then bright eyes settled upon a stranger in the crowd who spoke of looking elsewhere.

Sootspot did not like her silence, she and the other cat were predators in wait, hunting for an opportunity to make themselves the heroes by 'finding out' where these kittens were. There had been no conversations past the exchanging of kittens, no reason to believe that they were anything but social climbers who had somehow found their way into his mother's good graces - no reason to believe that they wouldn't betray her like the rest of the world seemed to do. His smile faltered into that of a stalwart frown and his eyes widened as he looked toward Smogmaw. "I'm sure WindClan would be happy to return the favour and search the moors for your lost little ones. A fool's task though, I am sure you understand, any kitten would be easily spotted from our high ground." An ear twitched, he did not have the authority to demand a pointless search party from his clan, but they were covering for him just as much as they were covering for his mother; he hoped he could at least guide them into a peaceful solution with the confused clan. Especially before someone realised he had been lying about their orphaned state.
​

 

[PRAIRIECRY]

prairiecry takes pride in his duties, regardless of how grimy they may be—though never as steeped in filth as those of the tunnelers. regrettably, he is far too tall (by windclan standards) and broad of shoulder to follow sootstar into the tunnels, as some of his clanmates due. still, he will serve her (surely imbued with cornflower's spirit, sure as the sun in the sky) in any way that he can, and that includes his self-imposed task of scouring every last corner of their territory for even a single blade of moor-grass bearing fresh rogue scent.

he also takes pride in the pitiful state of smogmaw—every inch of the grace a leader or future leader should hold, like sootstar's impeccable elegance, is gone. the tabby tom's weathered eyes are crusted with some kind of shadowclan gunk, rheumy with well-deserved loss. his gait is clumsy and his heavily set frame appearing more thickly idiotic than ever, as though not even the gleaming rays of the moon could penetrate such a dense skull, one which is paradoxically empty.

the shadowclanner is asking the frankly simple-minded question of his kits' location; simple-minded, because the answer was somewhere better. prairiecry would not, in his deepest slumber, dream of revealing their new home, which is truthfully an improvement. it brings him a vicious satisfaction to see that his clanmates, gathered at this border for a patchwork variety of reasons, immediately take up the correct course of action and similarly conceal the fate of the sad sack of flesh waiting across the border. bluepaw, wolfsong, sootspot...they all deny knowledge, and a murmur begins in the unhappy clump of marshers across the way.

"nor have i, and i've been aboveground all day," he declares in lieu of the greeting bluepaw has already dispensed with, moving to stand alongside his fellow windclanners in a show of support. "indeed, i've been scouring every whisker-length of the territory for stray rogues, and even i haven't seen a trace of any kits." prairiecry shakes his head at this faux tragedy, nodding in agreement with sootspot. "we can certainly keep an eye out, but i'm inclined to agree with sootspot. the open moors are no place for shadowclan kits."

a blessed heart is safe 🌾 ( you cannot take the chance )

• 

• 

  prairiecry ; warrior of windclan
  x. he/him ; 48 moons ; tags
  x. gaunt piebald black-and-brown tom with pale blue eyes and extra toes ; has a distinctive star-shaped scar on the bridge of his nose, and two throat scars
  x. played by dejavu

​

 

[RUMBLERAIN]

"Sorry to hear about your kits. We'll make sure they're safe if we come across them." Rumblepaw whispers as they appear at Prairiecry's side, wide blue eyes flickering between the marsh cats and their own Clanmates. Their white-tipped tail twitches, characteristically nervous over the approach of their bordering Clan, but their ears are flat to their skull nervously- as if these ShadowClanners are rogues themselves, ready to encroach on WindClan territory once more in search of Smogmaw's missing children.

Looking closer at the determination they carry, Rumblepaw wonders if they might; especially that deputy of theirs, desperate. They see Larkkit in the shape of his muzzle, little Ouzelkit in the set of his maw - but despite a nervous gulp that's lost within their general mannerism, there's little to betray what Rumblepaw knows as they hunch close to the dusky warrior's side.​

 

[Lilacstem]

After her little outburst towards Sootstar, Lilacstem had been keen to get her head down and get back to work. She saw no point in further arguing her fears and concerns knowing she would just be met with venomous stares and threatening words. There were cats who shared her concerns of course but they were the minority, at risk of getting maimed or chased off for daring to have some essence of morality.

Not a tunneler, she finds herself above ground marking her scent, gaze occasionally drifting to Wolfsong as he looks around for some herb. She busies herself with her duties, not wanting to draw any further unwanted attention upon herself. It is only after marking a shrub that she hears chatter from the other side of the Thunderpath. She pads to stand with her clanmates listening as the ShadowClan cats reveal they were looking for kits. "Your kits are missing?" Lilacstem can't help but blurt, looking across at Smogmaw.

A prickle of unease washes over her. Her expression betrays little of what she truly feels but inside a storm is brewing. A fiery anger inside of her being fanned by the casual lying of her clanmates, who claim to not have seen them, acting as though Sootstar hadn't saved them. "I'm sorry for your loss," Lilacstem dips her head, genuinely sorry for Smogmaw. "I hope you are reunited with them soon."

She longs to tell across at them, to tell Smogmaw his kits resided in their camp, that her clanmates were barefaced liars. But she won't - not here anyway. Lilacstem was smart enough to know that if she put a foot out line here she would possibly be attacked or have her clanmates claim she was the liar. "I'm going to continue marking over there," Lilacstem informs her clanmates, motioning to further down the Thunderpath on their side of the border. She can't stand to be around these cats...these liars and monsters. Bad enough that they had taken a ShadowClan queen's kits but it just had to be Smogmaw's kits. As she passes by Sootspot, a look is given to him in particular. A knowing look that seems to say I know you're lying. Clearly the apple did not fall far from the tree when it came to Sootstar and her kin.

Lilacstem feels vindicated that she was right to question Sootstar, right to doubt these kits were orphans and mistreated. But as she continues to mark her scent she can't help but feel paranoid, a new heavy burden placed upon her shoulders. She knew or at least thought she knew what the situation was now. But stars, at what cost?

/ Ic opinions!
And out!​

 

[smogstar]

Deliberation takes its first pawsteps between the opposing factions. It manifests as lukewarm anecdotes, retelling how nary a WindClan cat has lain their eyes on the misplaced kits, and each new speaker strews a thin layer to the overarching narrative. Slitted eyes, borderline colourless, tarry not on any moor dwellers for longer than need be. One must only have a withering grasp on history to know the room for folly in their claims. They admit to not seeing those abducted, and that much he will give credence to—but that may be a matter as simple as looking the other way.

Diplomatic acumen and excessive distrust (if there was even a difference between the two) guide Smogmaw's mental currents. Every second wasted means prolonged torment for his children, lest they've met a worse end already.

Coal-flecked ears draw rearwards when clanmates convey in reply, and their conspicuous obliviousness worsens the frown written in his jaws. Like mentor, like apprentice, Caterpillarpaw and Siltcloud prove all too eager to abandon their pursuit at the first obstacle. Trivial affirmations are put forward by Frostbite, which earn an impatient flick of the tail, while Sharppaw gambles with this exchange's lifespan by jeering at the other clan's medicine cat.

Apathy, awkward drivel, and petty teasing. All a glaring departure from the perceptiveness demanded of them.

The deputy sighs wearily (and phlegm-ily) as he recalibrates on the WindClan cats in their midst. Across the thunderpath stand weasels and hawks, he decides, not proponents of openness and honesty. It stands in their favour to keep their mouthes closed should they hold knowledge regarding Halfkit and Tanglekit's whereabouts. Perfect leverage material, and he does not put it past them to stoop so low.

Fortunately for him, glimpses of the whole truth sit peppered throughout their neutral declarations. He knows it, he feels it, and he must glean insight from the nuances to forge a more complete perspective to share with Chilledstar.

Or, contrarily, someone from the other side can do the heavy lifting for him.

A pastel-painted molly underscores his address with emboldened emphasis. 'Your kits are missing?' she'd espoused, tone taut with alarm and sincerity. "Yeah," he returns, brows pinched, "MY kits are missing. Halfkit and Tanglekit. Birthed by my late mate while I was on the journey. Didn't even know she was expecting."

The she-cat in question spares not a moment in making herself scarce, leaving only a dour implication in her wake; did she know? "Mind you all, I say 'missing', but we have good reason to believe they were abducted. Taken, when both parents were gone." Claws find purchase in the jagged ground as he speaks. That mien of misery he'd worn on the walk here began to fade. He has something to cling to now, an angle to work with—he does not think Lilacstem's surprise fictitious.

Smogmaw's words suspend heavily in the air as he looks towards the top-ranking cat in their midst. ShadowClan's deputy will say no more, it is decided. Rather, his gaze gnaws at Wolfsong's one and only baby blue, badgering him to be the next volunteer. ​

 

[hollowcreek]

Brown tabby stripes join close beside the scarred form of his fellow moor-runner. A patrol led by the very ghost of ShadowClans deputy came trudging along with the fruitless attempt to search for their young.

Hollowcreek was not so blind to the maneuver Sootstar was trying to pull over their neighbors. Kit-stealing was questionable no matter the circumstance, especially when they had their own remaining within their camp to attest if there was true neglect. He just wasn't hare-brained enough to openly protest the act (it was already done, anyhow). Now as he stood with Prairiecry and the others, listening to the murky tom describe the spawns as his own, it clicked.

The Deputy's young. Harbored within WindClan's camp right under their noses.

"...ShadowClan won't know we have the kits. The only way they will know is if someone tells them." Sootstar's words echoed as he watched Lilacstem squawk her surprise, forcing fur to lie flat.

She's too risky. Hurrying to leave, practically flee from the border. She might as well have painted coat in guilt. Stupid molly...

"WindClan has not seen hide nor hair of what you seek. Surely the marshland stench would be hard to miss." He is not as polite as Sootspot, maintaining WindClan's casual distaste toward the shadowland cats. "Regardless. The impossibly slim chance we find these kittens before any roaming hawk or fox, we'll throw them your way. WindClan has no need to contaminate its nursery with your kind." He looked the patrol up and down with a blank, unimpressed stare before parting from Prairiecry's side.

"Thank you for the visit, though! And welcome home, Deputy."​

​

"speech"​

 

[Frostbite]

Frostbite continues to study the Windclanners, letting them speak. They're...Oddly nice about the situation. He expected jeers about how Shadowclan cant keep track of their kits, the usual jeers about smell and their track record with leaders. But to his surprise, that wasnt happening. This was.... The first patrol to this border he's been on that nobody was ready to strangle each other.

Did the swamp water do something to them?????

Funny water or not, Frostbite doesn't trust them. After all, they lied about attacking Smogmaw and tried to paint themselves as the victim before. And even if they had seen Halfkit and Tanglekit, they probably wouldn't say so anyways. Hopefully, the two were elsewhere. But as he comes to the conclusion once again that Starclan would not be so kind, they're probably in the paws of an enemy, whether it be Windclan or the rogues they had just run off.

To his surprise, Siltcloud of all cats snaps at him and show her teeth. He does not reply to her, but he does cast a frigid glare her way and lets it linger. He holds back out of respect for Smogmaw. If he were not here, Frostbite would have snapped back. He does wonder though, why Siltcloud is so tense. He can easily attribute it to being near the thunderpath and there being so many Windclanners on the other side, but he doesn't know her quite well enough to make that judgement.

Sootspot's words almost make him snort though. His gaze goes back to the Windclanners

That is a LIE. Frostbite knows they must be SEETHING over there over what happened to Sootstar. There is no way they are just letting that go. But who knows? Maybe they're upset with the cats more directly responsible for turning Sootstar into rat bait. But that's the reasonable option, and Windclan isn't reasonable.

He listens to the other cats speak, saying the same thing as the others. None of them have anything useful to say, until one of them blurts out, surprised that its Smogmaws kits who are missing. She departs quickly, giving a look to Sootspot. He finds this interesting and stores this nugget of information away for later.

His eyes flick to Hollowcreek who behaves the way he EXPECTED everyone else to and finds himself smirking at him. He bites his tongue, knowing that if he were to let it go, he would start arguing and thats not what they need right now.

He takes a breath.

Behave.... We aren't here to fight....

He reminds himself repeatedly, almost like a mantra. Smogmaw is the authority. He will handle it. He continues to rake his gaze over the cats present.​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

For once, the scent of ShadowClan at the border sparks excitement in her paws. There are cats she knows from the bog-dwelling Clan; cats she'd like to see again. Though her journey with Sharppaw had drummed up all sorts of new fears, the molly who had guided her through the caves had been pleasant enough. And Smogmaw, and Magpiepaw, and Clearheart and Needledrift and Honeyjaw– though she winces to remember that Honeyjaw had disavowed his Clan life –all of them had proven pleasant enough company. It's only once she reaches the border that tension tampers her excitement.

Sidling up to their littermate, Scorchpaw dips her head to the opposing patrol, nerves alight, though she tries to be polite regardless. She would hope to be treated similarly, anyway, considering her own actions to assist the ShadowClan cats in getting home. It takes her a minute to really register the weight of the ShadowClanners' stares; the mock-polite WindClan excuses that shoulder that weight with spiteful ferocity. Something is wrong. Then it clicks.

Ouzelkit looks just like the tom across the border. Lark-kit, too, shares patches of his stony pelt; if they'd been ShadowClan kits before, they'd been Smogmaw's kits, and he all but confirms it. Halflark, Pinkpaw had called her. Scorchpaw's heart plummets to the acid in her stomach, where it melts away from her, leaving nothing but a numb hollow between her ribs. Smogmaw had gone on that journey for his mate. His late mate. And now WindClan had stolen his kits away, too?

She feels sick.

Uttering any sort of greeting now seems cruel– but it also seems dangerous. She's afraid that if she parts her jaws, the truth will come spilling out of them, and StarClan knew WindClan didn't need more traitors. She isn't a traitor; she's not like Badgermoon, she's not like Curlewnose, she's not like any of WindClan's previous deserters. But if being a WindClanner means abiding the stealing of kits from their fathers; fathers she knew and respected, then did she really want to be a WindClanner much longer? Still, fear tethers her to this place. Without WindClan, she'd have no family. She'd never see Luckypaw again unless she could convince him to run with her, but would he?

Scorchpaw exchanges a glance with Rumblepaw, her citrine gaze blazing with some emotion she cannot name. She wills her ears not to flatten; she wills her body to not give any indication to her feelings; she cannot be the whistleblower now, not after all she'd been through to prove her loyalty to her clan. But StarClan, does it feel wrong, like she needs to shed her skin and try again later. Maybe– maybe –she'd be able to tell Smogmaw in another way, at some other time, but she cannot see a way through now– not while remaining in the Clan she'd fought so hard for, anyway.

The girl bows her head again to the opposite faction, feeling as though they could claw it off. "I hope you find them," Scorchpaw offers, because that much is certainly true. And then she slips away, following Lilacstem to mark their borders. She can't stand here any longer with the way fearful ants crawl beneath her pelt.

/ in & out!

𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐈 𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐆𝐄 ✧ 𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙇𝙊𝙊𝘿

• 

• 
  
  — scorchkit . scorchpaw
  — she/they ; apprentice of windclan
  — short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — signature by giinya, template art by ska-i
  — penned by meghan

 

[HARBINGERMOON]

☾ He hadn't been far from the Windclan patrol in fact he had just pulled himself from a hard days work out of the tunnels. Rounded ears swiveled forward as he tuned into the chatter. Shit. Well I better keep up appearances. Waltzing over with disinterest painted cleanly on his patched face the Tunneler feigned ignorance.

Something for us to know and you to never find out. Rather than joining in the conversation or displaying any genuine curiosity, the ebony cat opted for a different approach. It took everything in him not to grin at the thought instead he shook his head with an affirmed 'no'. Backing up his clanmates despite some of their... Lacking enthusiasm and guilty conscious.

Ignoring the exiting cats he gave the Deputy a pitiable glance. To some it would appear genuine but to those who knew him it was a blatant fallacy. Simply, a show to entertain the inquisitive border patrol and get them off their hides. Idly, he scooted in closer beside Hollowcreek. Bemused by the larger toms blunt and direct insults dappled with pretty ornate words to cover it.

Swaying his short tail, Harbingermoon joined the conversation, adding his own layer of apparent sincerity. "I've also been underground all day and have not heard a peep or found any new scents." He chimed in, his voice carrying an earnest tone. "If I do, I'll report it immediately and bring your little one's home." A well-practiced smile graced his fluffy maw, an act of theater to further convince the ShadowClanners of his authenticity.

But as the exchange continued, his smile dropped like a bird falling from the sky, and his expression reverted to its neutral state. Harbingermoon intended to keep a close eye on the ShadowClan patrol as they departed, ensuring that no stragglers decided to venture too far into WindClan territory. ☽​

 

[SOOTSPOT]

Abducted, Smogmaw said, the word like ice and burning like fire. That was what he had done, wasn't it? He felt Lilacstem's glare as she moved away but the tomcat stood tall, the only shift in body language being the swish of a tail and the twitch of tufted ears in apparent concern not for the hypothesis, but for the kittens themself. The silence was heavy, air as thick as the substance the Deputy was named after. A side-eyed glance to Frosbite was offered, then to Siltcloud once more, then finally to the mackerel tabby before him; thoughtful, contemplative, more like a scholar scouring through tomes of knowledge than a weasel trying to save its own skin. "I... do not know if it is my place to say, but I urged ShadowClan to reconsider allowing so many strangers into its camp. The medics were swamped, it would not have taken much for a cat to simply... pretend it was sick. We had young of our own I did not wish harm upon, it is... troubling that your leader did not agree with my caution. If it had been WindClan kits that were abducted, well... I doubt we'd be having such a civil chat."

A warning that placed the responsibility in ShadowClan's paws - if they did not want missing children, then they shouldn't have trusted the other clans (or made such stupid children, though it seemed impossible for any kitten to carry an owl's wisdom). Eyes momentarily lit up, as if remembering a key detail of the past. "It was ThunderClan who tried to convince us it was safe, whether they had ulterior motives I cannot be sure, they were... unusually aggressive last I spoke to them, as if they were on some sort of... urgent mission." Unusually aggressive towards him, they had accepted their lower standing and admonished those who dared give them any semblance of power within the marshlands. Their weakness would be his shield, it would not stop ShadowClan from discovering the truth in time, hopefully, the kittens would be too loyal to the Queen to go back to their old lives. 'To think that was to be my home, had WindClan not been made', he thought about the marshes, how suffocating they had been, how no creature worth knowing should live there. "Their territory is closest to yours, is it not? It may be worth searching there."


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