What a lady, what a night [open, snow]

[Finchfang]

Deep, dark dreams swirled through Finchfang's head as his body lay in stillness, curled tightly into his nest, his dark tail obscuring his face. Outside the protective brambles of the warrior's den, beyond the cups of moss and feathers which provided comfort to tired bodies, the sunrise was struggling against a thick mat of clouds. Heavy clouds, too - ones that seemed to be lumbering across the predawn sky, as if weighed down with the force of what they carried. And what they were carrying would shortly become clear, as fat, fluffy flakes of snow begin their descent onto SkyClan's territory. As the scattering of flakes started to become a dusting, Finchfang's inner clock ticked over to wakefulness and his hazel eyes snapped open. Cold, wintry light was creeping into the den, and the sharp, clean scent of fresh snow was coming in with it. Snow - the solace of leaf-bare, in his opinion. The prey was scarce, his body ached, the air stung his lungs: but at least there was snow. The snow was restorative, somehow: purifying. It can cover all our sorrows, at least for a moment. he thought melodramatically, as he stood and stretched, first arching his back and then stretching his hind legs, white muzzle splitting in two for a huge, silent yawn.

Then he trotted out into the storm, tipping his head back and allowing the flakes to spin down and land on his whiskers. "Good morning to you, too." meowed the tabby in a quiet voice, a little flash of amusement crossing his face. "Quite a way to start the day." it was still early, too: but it looked like SkyClan was in for a snow squall of some type, if not a full storm. Finchfang began to meander towards the elderberry bush which protected the fresh-kill pile, interested to see what was remaining and how much would need to be caught today. It was tricky to find prey while it was snowing, in his experience - most little critters hid themselves away in their nests, holes, and burrows. They're smarter than I am, I suppose. thought the long-legged warrior, pausing and shaking off the layer of snow which had already accumulated on his pelt.​

 

[TALLULAHWING]

( ┊͙ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈ ) There's a strange layer of guilt that lays over the torbie's thick pelt like frost when she enters SkyClan's camp this dawn. Her bones do not ache from the cold, like her Clanmates' must; she'd spent the night tucked sweetly before a space heater, and she'd started her day with mouthfuls of wet food that sits comfortably in her belly.

She watches Finchfang examine the fresh-kill pile with a pained expression. She isn't going to try and do what Pantherpelt did -- bring mouthfuls of her kibble for cats to feast on -- but she can put her extra energy to good use for her Clan. She pads close to the tabby, her eyes bright and glimmering. "Ain't much this morn, but don't you fret! Once you get somethin' in your stomach, we can go brave this snow."

She tilts her face, catching flakes in her whiskers. Her instinct tells her to go to the apprentice's den and round up Figpaw, but... Figpaw won't be joining them this morning. Not for a long time.​

( WAITING AT THESE CROSSROADS FOREVER AND A DAY , AND NO GUY TO BUY MY SOUL )

 

[Finchfang]

From behind him, Finchfang heard the patter of pawsteps and turned in surprise, not anticipating to encounter anyone else so early on such a chill morning. It made sense, though, as he registered the form of Tallulahwing, the delicate purple of her ribbon vibrant against the snow's thickening white coat. One of their daylight warriors, he knew; not a lifestyle which appealed to him, in truth, and not one which he fully understood. The idea of having a paw in two worlds was anxiety-inducing for him, and deep down he felt there was something a little dishonorable about residing with Twolegs while also claiming a warrior's life. But who was he to judge? Truly, who? he had no right to critique most anyone's judgement. Besides, there wasn't a bone in his body that wasn't grateful for anyone whose allegiance lay with SkyClan, even if it was a loyalty he didn't understand.

The striped tom felt a little smile appear on his face despite himself; there was something so infectiously genial about Tallulahwing, and her immediate inclusion of him in her plans. "Good morning, Tallulahwing. I assume you've eaten already?" he inquired, attempting to inject as much concern in his question as possible, instead of jealousy or anger. It made sense to him that the daylight warriors would eat before coming to camp, and he could smell the strange, tangy meat-smell of Twoleg food on her breath. The eating of Twoleg-provided food was, in fact, the least confusing part of the "half-and-half" lifestyle to Finchfang, particularly in leaf-bare. If those freakish, hairless monsters would give you strange, smashed-up prey that was safe to eat and apparently infinite, why not partake, especially if you were in their home already?

He gestured to the small heap of half-frozen carcasses. "I was just trying to see what we'll need to catch today. In my experience, the little beasts like to hide when it snows." he paused and shook himself again, fluffing out his coat against the heavily falling snow, adding, "Maybe they have the right idea."​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

The snow- it was one of those things that Twitchpaw did not hate, although everyone else seemed to feel rather negatively toward it. For a tom who usually had such a strong negative reaction to even the mildest of stimuli, snowfall was something that relaxed him in a way he couldn't explain. Especially when it was thick, veiling the dead of night as it fell in droves. It was the same when the world was misted by torrential rain, companion to the loudest thunder- Twitchpaw loved it in a way he just could not describe. And though the aftermath of snowfall was not as exciting, the creeping cold worrying him when he walked on numb pawpads, he still saw the beauty in it.

It seemed some others did not mind being out in the briskness of morning after a snowfall- and by the look of the skies, they were in for some more later as well. Ears angled toward their conversation- contemplation about going on a hunting patrol, tracking down the prey that evaded them so easily in the winter. He absolutely wanted to help- after Quillpaw's help and Daisyflight's endless patience with him he was turning out to be a pretty good hunter, and if there was some way he could help feed the Clan- and the Clan it would be, including his parents, as much as he wanted to make them go catch their own... food- he wanted to do it.

Still, he found it was difficult to just ask. What if they didn't want him there? Or if they just thought- thought he was some burden, thought he was just a bother? What if he messed up- sneezed in the snowfall and disturbed something, ruined a day's meal? So- a frayed voice made an unrelated comment. "At- at least the leaves'll look nice. All- frosted up and stuff."

Immediately he felt as if he wanted to punch himself in the brain, if such a thing was possible. Weird, weird, weird thing to say! And he did mean it, but it just sounded stupid now it had left his mouth. ​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[Ashenclaw]

[ ☾ ] Snow was something always watched from inside a warm house in a bed, or by a window, so this was just the first snowfall he got to expierence in his time in Skyclan. As month prior it was still leaf-fall and everything was wet with the cold beginning to seep through. Hailstone though loved the sight of snow, it was always so clean, so fresh and fluffy. It looked like a wonderland almost in Skyclan territory, like those stories he use to watch on the electric box.

Though there was something in his mind that told him that it would only get worse from here. A winter in his home was much different than the cold and rugged wilderness. Skyclan though was his partly his home now and he would be here everyday if he could to help out with hunting or something. Today he had been helping out patch holes in dens as fresh snow had fallen recently and weighed down the dens made of brambles and ferns.

Hailstone then noticed a group of cats gathered by the fresh-kill pile and he twitched an ear as he over heard their conversation from where he stood patching the nursery wall. Twitchpaw did have a point, the forest looked beautiful this time of year. Each thing covered in a whtie frost and the air seemed crisp almost like a crunchy leaf or bones of prey. The blue tabby finished up what he was doing to head over to the group of Tallulahwing, Finchfang and Twitchpaw with a slight chuckle rumbling in his chest, "Winter may be harsh, but it is beautiful," He agreed with the brown and cream apprentice.

speech

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[Finchfang]

Another daylight warrior and an apprentice were soon to join Finchfang and Tallulahwing, and he realized with a little start of surprise that this constituted a group. A group had formed around him. I don't like groups, but...it felt nice to have people gravitate towards him, even if they may have only been doing so because he was one of the only cats milling about this morning. Though, he supposed, he clearly wasn't the only early riser in the Clan, or at least not the only one up early this morning. Twitchpaw spoke first, and Finchfang's hazel eyes skimmed over the scruffy bicolor apprentice as he spoke, concern sparking there as he took in the wobbly voice. The leaves will look nice? I've never thought about that. He glanced up at the barren tree branches and frowned slightly. "The leaves...?" wasn't this season called leaf-bare for a reason? There are no leaves! Oh...unless...peering down, he noticed the delicate whorls of frost on the fallen leaves and tilted his head to one side. "Yes. They are. And the snow on the pines is...lovely."

Now that he was really surveying it all, there was something distinctly beautiful about the scenery, beyond the feeling of freshness it imparted, and Finchfang found himself standing a little straighter, bolstered by newfound appreciation for the territory SkyClan called its own. Hailstone echoed the general sentiment of the morning, and the tabby tom acknowledged his comment with a swish of his dark tail, mrowing, "Harsh and beautiful indeed. We have enough for a patrol, I'd say. Would anyone like to join me for a hunt? I was thinking of getting out early, before too much snow falls and everything hides itself away." he was hoping that both daylight warriors had eaten, and that Twitchpaw felt sturdy enough to leave camp. There was something just a little bit...fragile-seeming about the boy, but maybe that was just Finchfang's imagination.​