WILL YOU EVER RETURN TO ME? — journey's end

[iciclefang]

◇────────────【☆】★【☆】────────────◇​

XXXXXThere is no leader among the cats when they return home—the warriors who’d chosen to advance their journey pad side-by-side, the apprentices who have grown into warriors in all but name nearly matching step. The RiverClan cats who’d left had been loyal to one another, but those who return have a mutual respect that is fiercer than the tide that laps at the riverbank. Dew-streaked reeds leave trails of moisture on Iciclefang’s pelt as she slips through her beloved riverlands. The sun is higher now, though the air is gray and promises only enough warmth to melt the overnight frost coating the cattails.

XXXXXThey’d left their friends back at Highstones, and strangely, the closer Iciclefang gets to RiverClan’s camp, the surer she is about her decision to leave Stormpaw behind. The lungwort causes her tongue to feel dry—all of them carry their shares, now, ready to give them to Ravensong who they’ve since learned had fallen ill after they’d left. Her paws itch to return to camp—how do her Clanmates fare? How is Cicadastar, Smokethroat, her apprentice? Mudpelt and Steepsnout—she knows they’ll be excited to see her and Fernpaw return, to see how strong Fernpaw has grown.

XXXXXHer paws sink into the water circling their island, and she drops her bundle of lungwort at her paws. “We’ve returned,” she announces in a cool, loud voice. Pale eyes flick through the emerging cats, looking for a spindly black-and-white shadow, for the snow-flecked deputy. “And we’ve brought lungwort, enough for every cat.” She frowns—Cicadastar does not appear immediately, but she catches Smokethroat’s weary ember eye and dips her head. “Dovethroat remains behind. A ThunderClan apprentice was badly injured and he volunteered to help carry her home.” She flicks an ear, expressionless. “The rest of us are accounted for.”

XXXXXAfter a moment, she exhales, looking patiently around. “Can I take this to Ravensong? I want to check on Mudpelt and Steepsnout.” Her pelt tingles with anticipation.

─────────​

leader tag: @Smokethroat
journey tags: @hazecloud @Lakemoon . @FERNPAW @Mosspaw

anyone may post, but please wait for Smokethroat before double posting!!
​

 

[CICADAFLIGHT]

blood stains his paws. not visible anymore, long worn away, but he can feel its unwelcome presence regardless. his father's blood, cooling and congealed, clogging his veins with death. his own blood, finally cleaned off a scabby shoulder-wound, the taste of iron still in his mouth. a rogue's blood, nameless and lifeless, frantic heartbeats racing into silence as he and beepaw held them down.

since his father's death, he's been living a mentorless haze, waking and sleeping all cloaked in the same choking fog. moments of clarity are rare, striking when he has occasion to use his claws. he bears his first kill (if an assisted one) at all of four moons, but carries none of the expected bravado. cicadapaw is sullen and withdrawn, slinking in and out of sight in the chaos of succession. weariness clogs his chest and hollows out his eyes, leaves his curls rumpled and unwashed. it's no surprise that when he sees the group of cats, he wonders if he might be seeing things again.

"iciclefang?" he rasps in disbelief, regarding the mentor he doesn't really know. they have the lungwort, but at what cost? cicadapaw would give every miserable life in riverclan to have his father back. he knows it's wrong, and yet he isn't sorry for it. maybe if they'd all stayed home, cicadastar would be alive. would be here, with him and smokethroat and his siblings, where he belongs. not up with the cold and unfeeling stars. unwilling to break the news, he watches smokethroat nearby and waits for him to do it.

choking down resentment is like swallowing his father's beating heart, but he does it anyways. "i killed a rogue," he declares in a flat tone, correcting after a beat, "me and beepaw did." he watches iciclefang without meeting her eyes, wondering what she will think of him, of the home she's returned to—decimated and emptied.

appearing unsightly ✦ ( with devils inside me )

• 

• 

  cicadapaw ; apprentice of riverclan
  x. he/him ; 4 moons ; tags
  x. unsightly black-and-white tom with heterochromatic amber and blue eyes
  x. played by dejavu
  cicadapaw is the wayward son of cicadastar and smokethroat, veritable riverclan royalty who fails to live up to his legacy. veiled in a perpertual miasma of internal conflict and rage, he finds solace in his anger when he can find it nowhere else.

​

 

[Mosspool]

The sense of belonging that washed over Mosspaw as she felt the reeds trailed along her pelt as she pushed through them surprised her. Until now, she hadn't realized how much she missed this. Every little sensation, every inch of the territory, even the smell in the air; it all felt like home. This was where she was meant to be. She had always known that - of course - but now that she had been across the world and back she felt it more acutely than ever. Now she knew for a fact that there was nowhere else she would rather be.

Dropping her own bundle of herbs at her paws, she surveyed the camp as Iciclefang explained everything. With each familiar face she saw she felt a touch of relief (and felt a touch of worry whenever she failed to find one). The camp seemed smaller to her now, she had grown in more than one way on the journey. Catching the eye of Smokethroat, she dipped her head in respect.

"May I do the same?" Mosspaw chimed in as Iciclefang asked if she could take her bundle straight to Ravensong. "I would like to check on Aspenhaze, and then spend time with my family" A small worry pricked at the back of her neck. She hoped against hope that none of her kin had fallen ill in her absence. Her paws shuffle beneath her, betraying her anxiousness to see them again.​

 

[Moonbeam]

In the few days they had been back in camp Moonpaw had been trying her best to keep busy. Camp didn't feel properly like home anymore, things clawed and moved where they weren't supposed to be, the waters of the river surrounding their island no longer feeling as safe as it once had. Every time the reeds parted a chill ran down the apprentice's spine and the fear that they were somehow back gripped her, so when the journeying cats had finally come home, parting through the reeds with unfamiliar scent coating their pelts at first Moonpaw jumped up and unsheathed her claws, ready to defend the home they had just taken back before familiar faces is what quickly met her.

Maw opened and closed for a moment, unsure of what she should - or could - say in the moment. "They need it." She quietly responded to their question of if they could take the herbs to Ravensong - the sick needed it, why would they wait for permission? The more the journeying cats began to filter in the quieter Moonpaw stayed, unsure how to speak of what had happened. Iciclefang wanted to check on Steepsnout, and how was Moonpaw supposed to tell her that she couldn't, that Steepsnout had died and hadn't even done so in her own territory, in her own nest?

☾₊ ⊹ give me a ghost of a smile

• 
  ⋆ ratkit - ratpaw - rat???
  ⋆ female - she/her - 6 moons
  ⋆ homosexual - not looking
  ⋆ apprentice of riverclan
  ⋆ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ⋆ attack - "speech" - thought
  ⋆ penned by tikki

​

 

[LAKEMOON]

LAKEMOON — me and the devil, walking side by side.
Exhaustion put a heavy weight on the silver tabby bones, her usually light-touched gait now almost sluggish, trudging along.
The grief Lakemoon felt for Little Wolf was still a looming shadow, but knowing her message would be passed to her Thunderclan kin and the hope that a comforting brindled pelt would be waiting for her back at home brought the warrior the comfort she needed to carry on.
A strange scent dwindles in the air when the small group finally comes stumbling upon their island. Lakemoon lets her swollen paws cool in the shallow water while Iciclefang speaks, eyes trained steadily on the warriors den. Lilybloom would appear any moment, and Lakemoon would truly be home.
Ciciadapaw appears, looking more like a full-grown warrior than a kit since sapphire optics had last seen him.
He’s killed a rogue, alongside his littermate. Lakemoon cant suppress the twitch of astonishment. A death at your claws was a heavy burden to bear, the laceration that sliced her face into two held the stoic she-cats own horror story.
"Im sure that’s a heavy tale that we’d very much like to listen to. Where are your fathers?" Her rasped voice finally speaks, the coolness of her tone smoothing out her rough-looking exterior.

"speech"

tags​

​

​

 

[LILYBLOOM.]

It felt good to be back in camp again. There was still much to be done after driving the rogues out but the peace and contentment that Lilybloom got from being here more than made up for it. It wasn't the first time RiverClan had temporarily lost their home, but at least they had been close to the water before, and not forced to hide in the marshy ShadowClan territory of all places.

When the unfamiliar scent of the mountains hits her nose, Lilybloom tenses momentarily, expecting some nefarious intruder to break out suddenly. She emits a sigh of relief when she sees it is only the journeying cats, and that they had returned with the lungwort. Lilybloom is glad to see they were successful but she acknowledges the lungwort with a pained expression, knowing it came a little too late for dear Steepsnout. Iciclefang explains that only Dovethroat was not with them, lingering back to help an injured apprentice.

Lilybloom's gaze finds Lakemoon's in the crowd and she longs to reach out and touch her but she hesitates upon hearing Iciclefang's request to take the herbs to Ravensong and the sick in their den, Mudpelt and Steepsnout included. Lilybloom debates telling Iciclefang and Fernpaw now but would rather they knew what they were walking into.

Lilybloom briefly brushes past Lakemoon, a loving look directed towards the silver she-cat she adored. "We'll speak later," She promises, before moving to find her returning siblings. "Iciclefang, Fernpaw, please wait," Lilybloom pleads, urging them to pause before they go in search of their kin. "There is something you must know. It's about Steepsnout."​

 

[DARKWHISKER]

ੈ♡˳ . ° ✦ RiverClan has returned to their rightful home, but it doesn't feel like home to Darkwhisker anymore. Cicadastar is dead. Smokethroat rises to take the throne, and Darkwhisker doesn't doubt his capabilities as the river's ruler, but he isn't Cicadastar. The only monarch that Darkwhisker has ever known. He'd never thought that he would see the end of Cicadastar's reign. How could RiverClan be Riverclan without him?

Steepsnout is dead, too. He feels her absence more sharply. When he walks into the medicine den to check on his father every morning, he still expects to see Steepsnout's black-and-white fur curled up beside Mudpelt. But the spot where she'd once rested remains empty, and Darkwhisker finds himself watching the rise and fall of Mudpelt's flanks closer than he had before.

Everything is different. Everything is wrong. Sometimes, Darkwhisker thinks that this is just a nightmare. That he'll wake up any moment now, Cicadastar and Steepsnout will be alive, the journeying cats will return with the lungwort, and everything will be right. But he never wakes up.

His world has never seemed darker. Yet, the moment he hears Iciclefang's voice… It is as if the storm clouds have parted, allowing a sliver of light from the sun to shine through. The journeying cats have returned, and at their paws lay bundles of what he could only assume is lungwort.

Darkwhisker drops the fish he'd been taking to the queens and runs to them, ignoring the sting of the healing claw marks on his shoulder. All that matters to him now is that his siblings and clanmates are here— except for Dovethroat, but Iciclefang assures them that he's only been held up by a ThunderClan apprentice. "Icy! Fern! You're home!" He buries his face into Iciclefang's neck once he reaches her. For the first time since they'd buried Steepsnout, his smile is genuine.

But the relief is only momentary. When Steepsnout's name leaves Iciclefang's mouth, his smile dissipates. All of his grief comes crashing back down onto him, pulling him under once more before he could properly fill his lungs with air.

They didn't know. Of course they didn't.

Stars, how could he even begin to explain…?

Darkwhisker backs away from Iciclefang, looking at his sister now with sorrow. His ears droop, his tail brushing the ground… And his eyes dropped to the lungwort that had come too late. He swallows around the moss ball that's suddenly lodged itself in his throat. He couldn't. He couldn't tell them- he couldn't bring himself to say that Steepsnout is dead.

Lilybloom comes just in time to save him. He presses himself against Lilybloom, unable to meet Iciclefang or Fernpaw's gaze. He didn't want to watch the grief drag them under, too.

✧　°　.　✶　.　°　✧​

ooc information

• —
• 

  DARKWHISKER — HE/HIM ･ 17 MOONS ･ RIVERCLAN WARRIOR ･ PENNED BY NICO

  tall, lithe dusky brown tom with splashes of white. a cheerful tom who tries to put a smile on the face of everyone he talks to, darkwhisker's life is devoted to spreading positivity in a world full of negativity. though his words may be fanciful— and coated in the sugar of white lies, at times— he is a well-intentioned, albeit overly idealistic, young warrior.

​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

—————————————————————⊰★⊱————————————————————

The dread and heavy grief that clouded over him disperses for but a moment when he hears a cat call out and his head turns to the river. Suddenly the weight bearing down on his shoulders is gone, he feels light and his thoughts spin in a frenzy as they struggle to grasp at an emotion he can recognize, one he can understand. Relief. Overwhelming relief floods him like the river once did their camp, overtaking everything else in its rush of cold waters; refreshing and numbing all at the same time. Smokethroat heads towards the cats emerging from the water with purpose, his movements quick and his expression warm and for a second he can pretend that everything is right with the world - for a second his mind skips with his heartbeat, the journey cats had returned with the cure, everyone would be saved, he should fetch Cicadastar right now and...

A black maw twists, teeth flashing briefly in an uneasy show of teeth before he catches himself and his blood pounds a merciless staccato of noise inside his skull. Iciclefang explains Dovethroat's absence, his single eye scans the crowd of them from Fernpaw's scruffy orange coat to Hazecloud's stone-colored one; his shoulders tense, Lakemoon and Lilybloom speak in a hushed whisper and he catches his former apprentice's question as if she had ask him something obscene. Smokethroat stares at her, stares at her older sibling warning of her of news to share and inhales deeply to hold the chilling air in his chest - lets it expand his lungs to almost bursting before he sighs.

The tom distracts himself briefly to turn and nudge Cicadapaw with a gentle push of his muzzle to his son's enthusiastic declarations of battle before righting his posture and speaking in a tone smooth as he can steady it.
"...welcome home...I'm glad you're all..." Not dead, here, he didn't know - but he was glad. "...a lot has happened. We were attacked, all the clans were, by rogues. They drove us out, we got back not too long ago. We....there's been..."
White fur sings through his teeth like wires, he blinks and the river is red, the shadows of the returned cats cast into long looming shades forward to dance around him, Smokethroat swears he sees ice forming in the ripples of dripping water that slough off every pelt before him. He closes his eye, opens it, everything is fine - except it wasn't. It never would be again.
"...we've lost several cats..." The wound was already open, let it bleed clean, "...Stalkingpaw, Reedflower, Riverwhisker....Steepsnout..." Mudpelt was still here but what little solace that brought would not be enough, he knew, "...Cicadastar." He croaks out at last, forcing it - a dark stare flickers across his face but he softens once again as he dips his head. "Please deliver the lungwort, Moonpaw and Cicadapaw will help you...then take the time you need....see your families. Rest."

——✘ when does ripple become a tidal wave ———✘ when does a candle become a flame

• OOC can go here.
• 
  
  
  Smokethroat
  —⊰⋅ Deputy of RiverClan
  —⊰⋅ He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ Black tom w/vitiligo & one orange eye.
  —⊰⋅ penned by Rai
  

​

 

[FERNGILL]

Fernpaw did not know why he worried very much about being presentable. Flame-striped fur usually kept so well groomed was ruffled from travail as he stepped, but he grinned as if every inch of him was pristine and unbothered. They'd done it- they really, really had. It was near-impossible to believe, and he was sure Steepsnout and Mudpelt would find the tale utterly mystifying when he told them- but, side-by-side, he and Iciclefang and the other Riverclanners had lived to tell the tale. Each one of them.

A glimmer of pride and accomplishment caught his eye as he looked toward his sister- a flicker of a moment, soon swept away by the breeze pushed from an approaching throng. Their Clanmates. The breath that rushed from Fernpaw's lungs was cooling, like spring rain impossibly in leaf-fall. He'd learned through all the peril to believe in the impossible, though.

"Lilybloom! Darkwhisker! Hi!" Bright as greenleaf sun, his voice seemed to glow within him, a firefly from the throat. Warm, inviting, relieved- he looked at them, and noticed immediately the strange look in their eye. There was something buried within, a burrowing sanded that poked out from behind their irises. Immediately that kindling warmth in Fernpaw's heart dimmed, and he felt his face drop. Something was wrong.

Smokethroat, when he approached, was grave. Fernpaw's throat felt sand-dry, and he realised that he wasn't smiling anymore. Lost souls, the smoulder-eyed deputy spoke of. Terrible things that had leapt from the shadows in their absence. Rogues. More deaths from yellowcough- and Fernpaw had been oh-so-foolish to believe that the world might wait in stasis. That their speed would be enough for everyone. Friendly, foolish Fernpaw- a tom who had not considered fully what might wait for him here. All of what he'd loved had not remained.

The tears were already falling, like the creaking leak in the apprentice's den that had submerged his litter underwater. His litter- Steepsnout, she'd been one of them, hadn't she? Death-defying, but not anymore. "What?" Steepsnout. Disbelief coiled around his stomach, squeezing sickness up his throat. Steepsnout. But he'd wanted to hear her laugh. He'd wanted to hear her listen to his story- she'd wanted to know it all, so why hadn't she held on?

He remembered it all. Everything, like she'd wanted- but she'd never hear the story. A hulking monster had slammed into his emotional dam even before the final name- his sister was dead, dead. Dead, even though- "We- we did everything right, she can't be...." And it was stupid. It was foolish and he was foolish, because there was more- and more-

Cicadastar. Like severed butterfly-wings, the lungwort wove weakly to the ground. Fernpaw trembled with sobs, tottering on the spot. "Www-where's Mudpelt, he needs it, he needs it." Sun-blaze shoulders shook with sobs, and a flame-painted paw pushed the lungwort forward- Moonpaw, Cicadapaw, he didn't care as long as one of them took it, one of them hurried. He couldn't move, suddenly. Who would he tell his story to? And what leader would give him his warrior name? "Give it to him, please, I can't- what do you mean, how could she- how is he... he had lives!"

Nothing made sense anymore. Not out of his mouth or in his head- it all twisted together until it was some unfathomable storm, swirling, swelling clouds tumbling into knots. His body was cold, his face was hot- and through the blur of tears he creaked his eyes open, stumbling forward to scoop the lungwort he'd dropped. Precious, precious tincture that couldn't save everyone, no matter how hard they had tried. How hard he had tried. He would never quite be enough, would he? "Where's my dad," and Fernpaw's voice was rupturing with misery and wooziness, but he would make this final stretch. For Mudpelt, if he couldn't do it for Steepsnout. ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[BEEFANG]

₊· ͟͟͞͞➳˚❥ Beepaw follows right behind her brother and her ears flick when he mentions to Iciclefang that he had killed a rogue or rather they had killed a rogue, Beepaw having played her own part in the demise of the other feline. Suddenly, she feels like she's there again coated with the hot, unpleasant blood of her fallen enemy and the molly shakes her head briefly as if to force away the memory much like everything else that had happened. A brief flex of claws as they dig into the soil beneath her trying to anchor herself and once she brushes into the side of Cicadapaw, she feels better if only by a little bit. Her bicolored gaze flickering over to Moonpaw for a heartbeat before turning her gaze to the journey cats and Smokethroat has arrived before her already delivering the bad news.

Each name stings and hurts but not as badly as Cicadastar, she let's out a shaky breath as her gaze grows dark for a few seconds and her excitement is overwhelmed by the brief she feels. Fernpaw does not take the news well, no one would over lost kin, this she knows herself and she can't help but feel a sadness run through her for him. How a part of her wants to offer him comfort but there's cats that needed the lungwort, this is what they had been waiting for and she turns her gaze to her father before speaking up with a slow nod "I'll help them too," Her bottlebrush tail sweeping behind her and unable to meet the gaze of Fernpaw, how she wishes that everything could be alright and nobody having died to rogues or yellowcough.

𓆟. ° .• . WHEN DOES A RIPPLE BECOME A TIDAL WAVE?

• 
  ❥ 4 moons old
  ❥ riverclan apprentice
  ❥ sexuality unknown; single
  ❥ daughter of cicadastar and smokethroat
  ❥ sister of cicadapaw & starlightpaw
  ❥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ easy; still learning how to fight
  ❥ peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[Moonbeam]

Like a fish maw opened and closed once more as more came in, as Lakemoon asked Cicadapaw about his parents - plural - and before she could break down at last over everything Smokethroat found his way over and he shared what had happened, ripped the mat out and finally said what those who were here already had dread to speak of - the death of some of the clanmates the cats had left to save. She watched as Fernpaw dropped the plant they needed and ears pinned to her head as she looked away for a moment as the older apprentice shook and wailed. She didn't like this, it was wrong and Ratpaw didn't want to deal with it anymore.

She quietly moved forward to grab the lungwort from near Fernpaw, turning for a moment before tail rest on the other's shoulder for a small moment the only thing Rat could think to do. She felt horrible that Steepsnout had died, and although she didn't know the pain that Fernpaw was feeling in that moment from losing a littermate, she knew her own pain she had felt when she had found out she had lost another clanmate, and could only imagine that Fernpaw's own was multiplied tenfold.

Quickly however she moved afterwards, attempting to brush against Beepaw and Cicadapaw as she ushered them, too, to move. They didn't need to hear this, didn't need to relive the pain they too were feeling about their own father, and before she slipped away to Ravensong's den she cast a small glance to Smokethroat before practically running away to make sure Ravensong did whatever he needed to with the herbs to make himself - and the rest of the clan - better.

☾₊ ⊹ give me a ghost of a smile

• // out!
• 
  ⋆ ratkit - ratpaw - moonpaw - moon???
  ⋆ female - she/her - 6 moons
  ⋆ homosexual - not looking
  ⋆ apprentice of riverclan
  ⋆ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ⋆ attack - "speech" - thought
  ⋆ penned by tikki

​

 

[hazecloud]

A whirlwind made its home in the mollys chest. It was hard to pick out just one emotion that felt more overpowering than the other as they left behind over a moons worth of travels. Sights seen by eyes that would never take a glance again. Memories wrapped in rejoice, dread, grief, comfort. Thoughts that would never find a voice, words shared in the cold that would never be heard again.

The salt-laced scent of RiverClans home is a hearth that beckoned her to its safety. She wanted to curl within the borders of her hearts home and never leave it again. Abandon the blasphemous wishes to have stayed among the permafrost with the cats that kept her alive.

Her pelt brushed against the others as they breached through the reeds into camp. She is sure their scents were odd, carrying a mix of the lingering cold and ice along with the Clans they were mingled with. But just as theirs, RiverClan's camp did not have its own usual serene aroma. Underneath she could scent spilled blood, more than a simple cut or thorny prodding. Debris had been piled up in preparation to remove and it must have held enough moss to fill several dens.

"What..." Happened?? Hazecloud shook her head as her eyes looked into the dark maw of Ravensongs den. He must be within its depths, she had to see him. "Is Rookfang okay? Lichentail?" The words are softened to a murmur, scared to ask too loud.

Smokethroat is the first to approach them, oddly enough. She expected Cicadastar to come bounding forward from the willow den singing to the stars. The Deputy doesn't wait before diving into their struggles. Each breath spoke a different tragedy- they were destroyed by rogues, all of them. The losses they endured.

"... Cicadastar." Hazecloud swallowed what felt like cobwebs in her throat.

See your families. Rest. Just like that?

"We did our best." She tried to reassure Fernpaw but felt it was dull against the sharpened blade of Cicadatstars death. She doesn't want to be here anymore, she wanted to find her friends. Her loved ones. Stars she wanted to run to every corner of the plains and sleep through every moon for the next season.

"I... I need to go. I need to find..." Hazecloud pushed her portion of the lungwort toward the pile and tore away from her Clanmates, feeling breathless.

// out!!​

 

[iciclefang]

◇────────────【☆】★【☆】────────────◇​

XXXXXThe first cat to stir, to come to greet the journeying cats, is white-streaked Cicadapaw. Iciclefang surveys her apprentice, eyeing the length of his limbs, the slight thickening of his chest and shoulders. He has grown—and grown thinner, too, she can see hardship on his body where his ribs push against ebony fur. He’ll feel the pinprick of her eyes over him, but it’s warmth that tugs at her heart, at least initially. “Cicadapaw.” She flicks the snowy tip of her tail, her smile receding just slightly. “I killed a rogue,” Cicadapaw tells the group loudly, his tone flat as the earth beneath their paws. “Me and Beepaw did.” So she’s at least in part received the answer to her long-sought question—what had he been doing in her absence?

XXXXXKilling. She shifts, her gaze unblinking. “Interesting. We will discuss that later.” Her immediate thought is how, and then shortly following at its heels is why, where, but there will be time to learn that, to learn Cicadapaw himself. She’s antsy to start his training anew, but the lungwort must be delivered first—and after she makes her report, cats begin to flock, their expressions tense.

XXXXXHer Clanmates are littered with fresh wounds, licked dry and clean but their rawness speaks of novelty. Iciclefang’s eyes skip from Ratpaw’s quiet expression to Lilybloom, who comes to greet her mate with brief affection before turning her single green-eyed gaze on her siblings. “Please wait,” she tells them. “There is something you must know. It’s about Steepsnout.” She opens her mouth, dread flooding it like riverwater, but Darkwhisker’s face buried into the soft fur at her throat causes her to stop. Relief floods her—her older sister and their littermate are safe, but for a few nicks from battles Iciclefang had not been able to fight.

XXXXXIciclefang nuzzles her brother, his scent so achingly familiar it sends a thrill shooting through her. Confirmation, again, that she’s home, that’s she’s where she belongs. For the first time in a moon and a half, the ThunderClan girl is far from her mind, and she takes solace in that distance she’s been able to create. She’s still a loyal RiverClan warrior—she’s still the Iciclefang who’d left their Clan to seek the lungwort.

XXXXXBut her brother withdraws from Fernpaw and Iciclefang, and the looks on their faces—it’s miserable, despairing. Smokethroat’s words are spoken near-hesitantly, his voice flat as his son’s. “Welcome home,” he tells them, but there’s moons of pent-up exhaustion clotted like blood in his throat. His voice is worn thin, shoulders weighted with grief. “Attacked,” Iciclefang repeats, but it makes sense. Rogues had swarmed the territories in her absence, stolen prey, mauled their warriors. “StarClan hasn’t let up,” she mutters.

XXXXXBut then, her breath catches in her throat like a bit of prey bone. His eulogy is brief, more of a list, and it contains more cats than she’d ever dared to imagine. Cats she’d lost, that all of them had lost. Stalkingpaw. Reedflower. Riverwhisker. Steepsnout. Cicadastar himself…

XXXXXFernpaw begins to wail beside her, his emotions explosive, but Iciclefang withdraws, blinking back sorrow she dares not let escape lest it overwhelm her. Her expression fades to blankness. So much lost, and—and what had it been that had stalled them? The rockslide, the river? Their scaling of the mountain side, the trek through the forest, the onslaught of hounds? She trembles, seeks to press her flank to Fernpaw’s side, and thinks of the day Steepsnout and she had sparred in the river.

XXXXXI’ll never hear that laugh again.

XXXXXTo hear Cicadastar is dead, too—she cannot comprehend it now, but Smokethroat’s tired stoicism influences her more than she knows. Iciclefang does not betray herself, not the way Fernpaw does, the way her other siblings do—she draws herself up, her mouth tightening until she feels her clenched teeth will shatter like ice in her mouth.

XXXXX“I want to visit her grave,” she says, her voice brittle and cold as her namesake. “But first, Fernpaw and I would like to see our father.” She closes her eyes, her breath quickening, chest tight, but she lets Ratpaw and Beepaw take shares of the herb. She hardly registers Hazecloud’s misery, nor her brief, unsettling words of comfort. We did our best.

XXXXXAfter a heartbeat, she watches the gray warrior leave, and she murmurs to no one in particular, “…Our best wasn’t enough.”

─────────​

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[Nettlepaw-]

NETTLEPAW ♂
RIVERCLAN
APPRENTICE
THREE MOONS
BLIND IN BOTH EYES
BIOGRAPHY AND TAGS
APPRENTICED TO PIKESPLASH
PLAYED BY SHEOGORATH​

---

The journey cats had returned, and with plenty of lungwort it seems. Too late, Nettlepaw thinks bitterly. The ice in his veins surges past his heart, fills his eyes with a glimmer of frost. The apprentice says nothing, merely stares sightlessly toward the reunion from where he sits outside the apprentice's den, silent in his brooding. An ear flicks as they are greeted, as he hears his mother's name fall from Smokethroat's jaws in remembrance. Nettlepaw turns away.

He should be happy that the journey cats had returned safe. Instead, he just feels cold.
​

​

 

[Petalnose]

Smiles turned to sorrow and then into tears shed. It was just what she had expected. Lungs pulled in and expanded slowly through an audible sigh, pulling at her ribcage. Thin from lack of food.. Thin from stress. Brows pursed forward upon battle scars, they stretched across her face as proof of their temporary loss. It showed through others as well, most were as thin as her and carried old and new wounds on battered bodies. Grief too held upon her clanmate's faces. So much loss and it wasn't even leafbare. So much loss within just a few moons. It all felt like a lifetime.

Silent the molly was, the news was already set forth.. the grief and worry were already piercing their hearts. She blinked sadly, letting her gaze fall upon the earth. This wasn't the welcome home they expected. This wasn't the welcome home anyone wanted. But they were grateful. They were happy to have them home. "Welcome home." the words spilled from her, tired and stale. However, she forced a sad smile to lift at her blackened lips.

Tags​

 

[Mosspool]

The reception was not what Mosspaw had imagined. She had expected to be welcomed home like a hero, celebrated and praised. After the battle with Windclan, she had been lauded for simply running all the way to camp and back. What then, she had wondered, would traveling all the way to the mountains and back get her?

Instead, the mood in the camp was more akin to dour, desperate relief. They were more all thinner and more haggard than she had expected them to be. Her worries about how bad the sickness had gotten deepened. Smokethroat most especially, his tone was more unsteady than she had ever heard it.

Her eyes narrowed as he mentioned they had been attacked. "Are they still a danger?" She asked sharply. The way he spoke of them made them sound like a past danger, but she could not be sure until he said as much explicitly. Though she was exhausted to her very bones, she was not so tired as to be unable to defend her clan, if it needed it.

Her stomach dropped as he told them that the clan had lost several cats. She set her jaw as he began to list them, attempting to prepare herself for the impact of each name. Even though she wanted to turn and search the camp for her family, to reassure herself that he was not about to say their names, she refused to flinch away; she would face the names of the cats they had failed head on. That much was her duty. She had known this might happen, she should have been ready for it; and yet each name sat on her shoulders like a ton of rocks. At Sneetsnout's name, she could not help but turn to glance at Iciclefang and Fernpaw - horrified - only to turn right back as she heard Cicadastar's name.

Mosspaw blinked. "What?" She asked no one in particular. That made no sense. Surely, Smokethroat only meant that their leader had lost a life, she thought. Yet, as he gaze drifted about the camp, she realized the truth written on their faces.

Cicadastar was... gone?

She could not believe it. Even had she returned to find the entire camp been ravaged by sickness and rogues, she would have expected him to survive. He was blessed by the stars, given nine lives to ensure that he could lead Riverclan until the end of time. She had feared for her family and for the whole clan really aside from him. Whatever happened, she had been certain that if she made it back, he would be there to meet her.

Mosspaw felt suddenly dizzy, as if the world had been shaken underneath her. She could only nod dully as Smokethroat dismissed her, told her to see her family and rest. She could not begin to think of rest anymore. There was so much to do. Still, she would listen to her new leader. Even if calling him that sat strangely in her thoughts. Her blank-eyed, silent grief contrasted sharply with Fernpaw's desperate sobs.

The sudden, idle thought occurred to her that she should be crying too. She had before, in the cave. Sharppaw's question rang in her mind.

"Would that momentary lapse in judgement happen again, you think?"

At the time she had insisted it would not, but she felt no joy at being proven right. Instead, she wondered if she had cried all her tears out back in the cave.

Her gaze found Iciclefang as the words that the best wasn't enough stabbed into her ears, sharp as claws. That could not be true, couldn't it? Time and time again she had spoken against delay, and each and every time they had find a way to avoid it. What more could they have done?​

 

[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

You carry a weight long enough, you start to forget it’s there -- and it’s only when the journeying cats step into camp and that weight drops off his back that Snakeblink realizes how heavy it was and how much of a relief it is to feel it gone. He lets out a long exhale, more gasp than sigh, and despite the previous days’ events finds his steps lighter as he approaches the journeying cats. Though everything else went wrong, this did not. Their sick will be healed -- their clan reunited, slightly smaller.

But Snakeblink was separated from no family during this journey except for the feeling of loss from the absence of clanmates, and he hangs awkwardly at the edge of the small group; only a witness to both grief and reunion. It’s not like he could comfort Smokethroat or Fernpaw: the former barely finds him bearable, and he doesn’t know the latter nearly enough to butt in that private moment. As if comfort would bridge the gap of death that suddenly yawned open at their paws, anyway.

There’s one thing he can do, at least.

Slinking forward, he oh-so-carefully grabs the lungwort dropped by Hazecloud between his teeth. ”Welcome home,” he murmurs to the returned cats. ”I will take this to Ravensong -- Mudpelt will be cured. They all will, thanks to you.” All those that are still left.​

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 46 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

​

​

 

[Hazewish]

TRAVELER, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED (AND NOW YOU MUST GO) ⋆⁺₊⋆

They’re home--

They’re home--

”They’re home!”

The words bubble up Haze’s chest and spill out of their mouth unbidden, addressed to their mothers, their siblings, anyone nearby who will listen. The shock and relief is too great to smile: answering the silent urging of their heart, they instead throw themself forward and run straight at Mosspaw, nearly crashing into her side as they press their face against hers. A loud, stuttering purr kicks off in their throat, the tail-end of a sob catching on the sound.

No matter how boring and judgmental Mosspaw sometimes gets… stars above, Haze has missed her so much. The moons they’ve spent apart have been a confusing, exhausting, heartbreaking mess, and a part of them believe her straight-backed presence would have made things just that much easier to bear.

Thank the stars she’s home.

[⋆]​

​

 

[Aspenhaze]

Aspenhaze is mostly back up to par, as well as they can be. They have felt it harder to breathe since, but it’s nothing they can’t handle. Fighting the rogues was exhilarating either way; it felt like a fire was lit under them, making them feel more like their normal self. It was nice, even if temporary. That’s one thing they’re glad for…even if the cost was not worth it in the slightest.

When Mosspaw returns, Aspenhaze should be elated. They are, to be certain. But there’s still a heavy tension in the air from her and the other cats who journeyed not being able to know what had transpired since they left. They’re not surprised in the slightest when their apprentice does not take the news of her leader dying well, StarClan knows they didn’t. It was hard to come to terms that someone they looked up to so much is gone…and it surely will be for the returning party.

After Hazepaw greets their grieving sister, Aspenhaze goes over with a sad smile on their face. “Welcome back. I’m…sorry that you had to come back to such sad news.” They look away for a moment, not sure how to comfort her. They hope that them still being alive at least provides some comfort. “Thank you for your sacrifice, likewise. I know you went for me…and I really appreciate it. More than you know. I’m so happy you’re okay.” For once, tears start to well in their eyes. Even if the cure will not be used on them, they like to think Mosspaw also helped them make it out alive. Aspenhaze really has grown fond of their first apprentice…​

 

[BUMBLENOSE]

Word of the journeying cats' return to camp caused Bumblekit's heart to race with a mix of excitement and anticipation. Bolting from the nursery, she made haste barreling towards the growing crowd. Her tiny frame easily wove through multitudes of legs. Yellow gaze hungrily surveyed the sea of familiar faces, searching for the ones she held dear. Upon spotting the familiar tuft on her sibling Mosspaw and the stark orange pelt of the cat she looked up to, Fernpaw, her heart skipped a beat, and a radiant smile spread across her maw. They're home! For just a split second, all her troubles and worries melted away. Fond and faded past times trickled through her head like bits of fresh fish.

Bounding forward, Bumblepaw could no longer contain her enthusiasm. "MOSSPAW! FERNPAW!" She exclaimed, her voice filled with overwhelming joy. The journeying cat's return felt like a beacon of hope, dispelling the shadows that lingered over RiverClan in their dark times. Bumblekit rushed to Mosspaw's side, tail flicking with excitement. Ignoring the warning shouts that followed suit from her dash out of the nursery. With a rapturous purr, she aimed to bump her head against the other's shoulder, face alight with bliss. Finally, something good had come of it all and her heart felt more at ease. If having her family back together meant casting away the bad thoughts, then she would work harder than ever to do so.

"It's so good to have you home - I missed you." Bumblekit chirped as her tail fluffed twice its normal size. Next, she looked to Fernpaw, a purr nearly choking her as she chattered on. "Thank the stars you've come back!" She says, only then realizing the importance of the lungwort they've carried in. Observing the bundles made, her paws hummed to life. It's over. This is finally all over. Bouncing in place, the newly made apprentice tried hard to rein in the vibrating nerves in her gut. They hammered the enjoyable muses to a close as Fernpaw's wails split the air at the news. Her ears flattened and her chest tightened with a somewhat familiar ache.

As Iciclefang voices their return and the purpose of the lungwort, Bumblekit tunes in with a hope for a distraction. The relief in the atmosphere is palpable, but something tinged her happiness with the lingering traces of sadness. While she notices the oncoming struggle of every cat's grief. Cicadastar is gone. Too many have died. Her gaze liquefies as tears threaten to fall. Bumblekit had been one of the unfortunate few to see the leader in that state. Bumblepaw's giddiness dies away completely as she decidedly stays silent. While the rogues forcibly tore away his live's the echoing cries of battle had also filled her ears.

Their recent losses weighed heavily, and she hoped that the return of their clanmates would bring some solace. Sadly, she shook her head at their sibling's disbelief. He's gone. Now they had a key to save those who had fallen sickly. There was no point in leaning on 'what-ifs' for now. This was more than she could've asked for. Making her one of the very few lucky cats to come out of it unscathed physically.​