sensitive topics wish it wasn't true &. return

[QUIETSTREAM.]

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they don't even remember when they disappeared to be completely honest. it was all a blur, and she was terrified. they don't remember the real reason they left camp, but it was so long ago, that they weren't even sure if anyone thought of them to be alive. what if cicadastar had moved on? what of beesong, or willowroot? had poppysplash been distressed? ( unknown to her, they all had been. ) her stomach curled in the thought of being forgotten, limping their way back into the territory, both old and new blood caking within her fur. a scar across her throat, a missing tail, and smaller wounds all over their body. sticks and leaves mixed into their now messy fur, and the look in their eyes were filled with uncertainty and fear. they stopped just shy of the border, staring at the ground with confusion on her face. what if... they didn't want them here anymore?

the thought of being casted away makes them frown, shivering as they attempted to wrap their tail around, only wincing at the lack of one. their slightly torn ear flicked back, before their nose twitched at the familiar scent of cats nearby... riverclanners. she only hoped they would sense her too... despite smelling like loner lands and a rogue.

// @CICADASTAR @Snakeblink @GLOOMPAW @Smokethroat idk which one wolf wanted but !! here yall go !!! time to eat <3
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[ WISH YOU WERE GAY ]​

 

[Snakeblink]

Leaf-bare fast approaches, and never does Snakeblink feel it as acutely as when he is on patrol. The cold seeps through his thin pelt, the bare ground leaves his paws stiff and damp, and every gust of wind sends shivers up and down his back. Far from keeping him comfortably warm, what little exertion there is in surveilling their border only serves to tire him out. It makes him quite cranky, to be frank, which has left him quiet and withdrawn for much of the patrol.

He tries to distract himself from the physical discomfort and the faraway siren call of his warm den with overzealous vigilance. He watches his companions closely, running an enemy’s ruthless calculus in his mind: an ambush right there, aiming for the leader first, so he’s down long enough to deal with the rest— It keeps him busy, but it also stresses him out. He realizes more than ever how vulnerable they can be, out in the open like this. He stays close to the apprentice, scrutinizing her every movement as well as their surroundings. If anyone attacks, she must be the first one to make a run for it, keep herself safe and alert the clan: he’ll make sure of it.

His anxious attentiveness has him immediately attuning to the faint smell of blood. Fresh, and not so fresh; and underneath, something familiar but not known. A cat he’s seen before, but not from very close, which only makes the scent of the loner lands clinging to them stranger. Snakeblink hardly knows any loner anymore. A former marsh group cat, maybe? No — the smell nags at his memory. It feels closer than that, somehow.

Step slowling nearly to a stop, he tilts his head back and sniffs again, trying to pinpoint the origin as well as the proprietor of the scent. “Do you smell that?” He asks the rest of the patrol, on edge.
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ooc. information.

• 
  
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 34 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

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[SMOKESTAR]

The chill in the air is ignored on his part, the cold had never really been much of an issue for him befre and he didn't expect it to bother him this leaf-bare either until he stopped to realize this would be his first without Moss. She and him had shared a nest through most of the cold moons, while he had grown accustomed to sleeping alone after her passing this was really the first time he had realized what it entailed; though he warranted Cicadastar was far worse off than they were-having his own den and own nest away from the others. With less warmth flooding the area from other heated bodies it would surely be a trying time for the leader and he mused over that fact in his idleness as dark paws carried him over pebbled stones and twisted roots with a grace far exceeding his bulky form. It was brown striped tom whose voice finally cut through his thoughtless stupor and he stopped walking.
"Smell what?" Smokethroat paused, glanced behind him as Snakeblink lifted his hed in a direction and seemed uneasy over something. The dark tom narrowed his eyes, but at first detected nothing until he had stepped back alongside the other warrior. His pupils drew into thin slits in alarm, fur bristling at what was the unmistakeable scent of blood and it took only a fraction of a second before he was moving in its direction with exuberance.
Blood meant many things, he remembered how many apprentices had been lost and left to drift down the river with scars indicating their struggle, and it was this that sent him hurrying to check rather than showing the caution he knew was appropriate. Rogues be damned, he'd not permit another cat to be lost if he could help it and though the scent of two-leg place and outside the clans lingered in the area he continued moving forward with a swiftness until he spotted a form ambling through the treeline with a distinct limp.
Smokethroat sprang forward to cut them off and in a split second he realized who it was, "Quietpaw!" His surprise collided with relief before immediately spiraling into concern, she had vanished some time ago-Cicadastar was obviously distraught over it but never spoke of it in his usual quiet way. The same way he didn't speak of Pumpkinpaw when she died. To find the folded-eared apprentice in such a state. "Sit, sit for a second-rest."
His head turned back, raising his voice, "Snakeblink, bring the rest of the patrol here!"

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