In the center of the clearing lays a long furred tabby, sprawling languidly with her short limbs outstretched. Her filthy claws were unsheathed and grasping the warm substrate as she stretched, her stocky head pulling back in a massive yawn that exposes her yellow canines and dark gums. As Oakrumble closes her maw with a clack she relaxes her legs, sheathing her claws in the process. Her back is pressed against the infamous tree stump, clumps of her fur clumped on the rotting bark. She swipes her tongue around her chops and huffs, her amber eyes narrowing in boredom. Oakrumble was dissatisfied with something but couldn’t quite put her claw onto why, but she had her suspicions. Her first suspect was the flea burrowing in the small of her back, right outside of reach. She had been attempting to squash it by rubbing against the stump, but did not succeed in this task, plopping down into the dirt in frustration.
Her second suspicion involved sabotage. Oakrumble often sleeps through the night uninterrupted, rising before dawn to groom, relieve herself and stretch for whatever the day may bring. But something has been… off. She has been struggling to sleep comfortably within her nest for around a moon now, waking up throughout the night in a fury. If she were the kind to feel pity for such a situation, she would be pitiful for her clanmates’ ears as they were flooded with every explicative she knew. She has ripped apart her nests, tossing stray pieces of lining as she attempts to find something in there which may cause her discomfort and lack of sleep, spreading it amongst the den without much care… Either way her counterparts get more nesting material, why would she care for the stray material which may attack them?
It was this morning after a slight tantrum that she discovered a pebble hidden underneath her third nest of the week. She has it now, tucked beneath her chest. Oakrumble intends to get to the bottom of who would plant it so that it perfectly affected her rest, and will keep it, her little quarter-sized piece of evidence. She intends to get to the bottom of this and put them on trial.
Chickbloom was no stranger to restlessness nights. An hour here, a half-hour there, interspersed with amber eyes opening to darkness and a long wait for sleep to take him once more. At this point, it was practically routine. Perpetually worried as he was, it proved difficult for any time the whelp was left alone with his thoughts to be peaceful.
He was used to it now, after all these moons. So much so that the warrior looked with no small confusion at the she-cat occupying the end of his gaze, clearly angry about something (and from the fit she’d thrown earlier that day, Chickbloom didn’t have to think too hard about what). The whelp was a doormat, seldom willing to stand against any living cat, let alone a concept like insomnia. It seemed Oakrumble was more of a fighter than he was.
Amber eyes softened with pity as yolk-splashed paws willed the baby bird to stand. Sure, Chickbloom didn’t know her well, but he was a full Skyclanner now. If Orangestar trusted him enough to give him a new name, surely he had the ability to talk to an irritable stranger? The coward quickly hardened his paper towel-like will as he padded forwards.
“H-Hey - uh - Oakrumble, right? Uh - I saw how, y’know, you’ve been sleeping and e-everything. If you want, I can g-give you some advice that helps me sleep?”
With a stretch Owlheart returns to the camp from a patrol she had been attending, mouse in her maw she gingerly walks across the clearing towards the fresh kill pile to deposit the result from her hunt. The sight of Oakrumble and Chickbloom give her pause, she hadn’t seen the two talk before. Not that they couldn’t talk with one another but she just hadn’t thought about the pairing before, leaving the mouse on the pile she decides to wander back to the stump where Oakrumble lay. Curiosity drawing her to the scene, mostly. She perches on pale paws next to them, tail curling beside her as she sits down.
Ah, so they were discussing what happened last night. She was a light sleeper so that uproar that the she-cat had caused had called her half awake attention immediately. Even sitting here now she fights the urge to yawn, golden eyes looking between her two denmates instead in an attempt to keep her brain occupied. “Was there something wrong with your nest last night, Oakrumble? Did you fall asleep again?” Concern laced her tone as she tilted her head. She had ended up falling asleep before being able to see what happened after the part that she was awake for. Her face furrows as she considers the concept of giving advice on how to fall asleep, she never really thought about that kind of thing but she wanted to help. “I try to walk around the camp if I’m not tired, maybe that might help?” she wasn’t sure if that was good advice but maybe Chickbloom had a better idea.
don't raise your voice . improve your argument .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
Duskpool observed Chickbloom and Owlheart offerin’ advice to help the warrior sleep easier, thoughtful most times if Oakrumble didn’t look ready to maul the next livin’ being that crossed her path, causin’ the obsidian male to heavy himself onto paws. His joints fell stiff, walkin’ steadily toward the small gatherin’ near the tree stump, helm dippin’ in acknowledgment to their youngster warriors. “Doubt that’d help all that much.” He commented, timbre guttural.
Glancin’ at Oakrumble, molten hues narrowin’, Duskpool settled with a slow sweep of his tail curlin’ loosely around achin’ paw pads. “Why don’t ya take my nest for a few days?” Timbre not once fluctuatin’ but remain a steady deadpan drone despite the flicker of mangled ears, brow creasin’ in thought. “Might have some luck gettin’ a full night’s sleep.” Not that he used his nest much with his insomnia keepin’ him up most nights. The warrior didn’t doubt the younger folk haven’t caught a wisp of the warrior sleepin’ if it weren’t for Palemoon draggin’ him into her orbit.
Tearin’ his gaze away from the molly, instead watchin’ the warrior’s den with a rumbled hum, wooly plumage twitchin’ languidly. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out somethin’ was wrong with the nest if anythin’ were to go by Oakrumble goin’ through three ( now four ) nests and flyin’ up in a fury causin’ a ruckus. Tone a low rumble, Duskpool mused, “Find whatever it was causin’ ya grief?”
ᯓ✧ Oakrumble is aghast when Chickbloom approaches, it was not as though she would not mind some company as she mourned her persistent loss of sleep… but Chickbloom? He would have to know that Oakrumble was not the most friendly with sleep, but to approach without it? Her fur begins to bristle at the unwelcomed coward, but decides to let it be. Oakrumble would have to admit to herself that he had to be plucky to do this and decided she would suck up the irritability which radiates from herself and not take it out on the young tom. Oakrumble sighs, quirking the corner of her lip up in a greeting, a scary juxtaposition from the anger gleaming in her bright eyes. When Chickbloom suggests that he may be able to give her some advice about how to sleep her smile falters for a moment before she reminds herself to be polite, her eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to appear flattered that Chickbloom will bestow his advice upon a weak she-cat such as herself. “Ouh! So kind,” Oakrumble begrudgingly rises up into a sitting position, sliding the pebble she will keep as a souvenir under a large forepaw. “Come, sit with me. What is your advice?”
Without ripping her gaze away from Chickbloom, she replies to Owlheart who has apparently decided to join in as another sleep therapist. “Never caught little more than a wink of sleep.” Oakrumble mews with a undertone of harshness, which she remedies by turning her amber gaze to Owlheart and nodding politely at her. “A walk… never thought of that before…” Oakrumble gives a brief grin as she attempts to rein in the annoyance that threatens to seriously ruin this little shindig. Of course I have thought of going on a walk! I’ve been alive longer than this… this bird brain! Oakrumble is no stranger to not sleeping, but this situation was different. This was a planned attack on her (or so she thought.) She gives Chickbloom a wink, as if they were in on some scheme against Owlheart. She tries to convince herself to have faith that he wouldn’t have given her as stupid advice as going on a walk.
As Oakrumble internally decides that she will not make Chickbloom’s life any harder and in just moments has found herself quite fond of him, quickly promising himself that she will keep an eye on the brittle tom. She is pulled away from her polite attempt at half-listening as Duskpool meanders up and speaks what she has been biting back from saying. “Well, does not hurt to try. Maybe some more walks will do be good,” Oakrumble murmurs this half heartedly, her eyes flashing towards Duskpool as if inviting him to crash this conversation and save her from it. “Ah, only if I get to snuggle up with you.” Oakrumble flashes a toothy grin at Duskpool, knowing he will understand she was not trying to make an advancement on him. ”You can hold my paw while I sleep?”
When questioned about what may be causing her insomnia, her round face brightens as it may have never before, excited to be sharing her theories. She dramatically swipes her paw away from the suspect and flicks the pebble between Owlheart, Chickbloom and Duskpool. “It was planted” She bellows, before revising her statement quickly with earnest flick of her ear. “Or it was just there. But either way something is seriously the matter.”
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