camp with a spirit running wild || intro

[silverpaw]

— to hold your head up high and plunge foreward

---

petalkit purrs as she walks. little thing, brown tabby, white-spotted; she nearly dances across the camp, with high-pitched chirps, sing-song to herself. she is in her own world.

she does not know many of her clanmates. she has been a very sickly thing, this last moon, has found herself tucked into downy nests in the nursery or the medicine den or wherever is warm. snailcurl is a good mother, watchful and attentive, keeps the little whimsy-child ensconced in warmth and safety.

but the snow has begun to melt, the sun come out, and petalkit finds herself without any cough or ague, no illness but that lingering malaise that never seems to leave her.

so she can play.

she walks; she dances. she bumps into a clanmate, now. "oof." tiny voice from a tiny chest, hoarse. very soft. she is so young and barely growing, small body so wracked by sickness, born into this brutal season.

she blinks down at her white-socked paws, then up at the clanmate.

"owie," she adds, because she feels a little ache on her forehead. she pauses, quite thoughtful, eyes narrowing ever so slowly. "you... are tall," she deduces. "do you say hello to the stars when you stand up ... ?"

she has a sister in those stars. her mama snailcurl says so. petalkit does not know what this means. ​

 

[FLICKERFIRE]

One of the little kits has left the nursery, and despite the gloom ShadowClan's camp is perpetually draped in now, the little thing purrs, chirps, and skips as though there's prey in their fresh-kill pile, as though there's warmth to be gleaned from the pale winter sun. One of the sickly ones, Flickerfire thinks, but she can't remember her name. Snailcurl must be raising this one too. Is it one of her's?

The tortoiseshell feels the slight bump of Petalkit hitting her foreleg, and she tilts her face down to stare at the she-kit. "Owie." "Couldn't've hurt too bad, 'cause you're not crying," she says in a flat voice. She's glad the little scrap isn't crying; she never seems to know what to do.

"You... are tall. Do you say hello to the stars when you stand up?"

The stars? When's the last time Flickerfire had thought of StarClan, other than to curse their name as pangs of hunger gripped her like a vise?

Since she'd seen Moth in all of her silver glory, standing with forgiveness in her eyes amongst a broken battlefield?

Since Briarstar had saved her kits from the monster, then had all nine lives pummeled out of her in a spectacular show of brutality?

Flickerfire opens her mouth, then closes it with a snap. She's only a kit, the lead warrior reminds herself. She says, "You can say hello to the stars, too. They can still see you even when you're small." It's a strange thing for her to say, and she feels awkward saying it. Is it even true? Had StarClan existed when she were a kit, orphaned and terrified, would they have guided her to safety?

No. It was my grit. My strength. My survival skills. Stars had nothing to do with where she was now. Nothing at all.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[heavybranch]

➳ ➳ Heavybranch watches with some quiet amusement as a little one moves about camp, where she eventually and inevitably collides with Flickerfire. Bad luck, that, but Flickerfire tempers herself and Heavybranch decides to give her some relief. He stands with visible effort and chokes on a cough somewhere high in his throat, then pads over to Flickerfire and the kit.

❝What she says is true,❞ Heavybranch nods, ❝Even when the sky is covered by clouds or the sun is out. Ya have someone to say hello to up there?❞

Death was an understandably uncomfortable topic for most. The elder had come to learn that kits often did not have the same trepidations as their older peers, some of whom even thought best to not mention death near him for fear of reminding him of his age. Heavybranch never did much see the point in it, and was glad to get the perspective of someone so young.

✘​

​

 

[FERNDANCE]

"I don't speak to the stars." It was a strange admittance from the ticked tabby, wrapped in half-truths masqueraded behind a level, gentle tone. During the questioning, she had slinked closer to the group, standing close to the elder. She believed, it was hard not to after the Great Battle, but who was there for her to talk to up there? As far as Ferndance knew, everyone she loved was still alive, they'd only scattered to lands unexplored to do what her family did best - sow chaos and mischief wherever their paws touched. If there was wisdom to be found by wishing upon the night sky, she wasn't the one who needed it. The feline was happy with where she was, and with who she was, and it did not sit right with her to have strangers attempt to change that to fit a code. There was a smile on her maw as she gawked down at Petalkit, the she-cats pelt littered with dead leaves and twigs from a restless night. Flickerfire and Heavybranch had spoken enough of StarClan, both lacking a reverence for the place that she had been expecting. It was a little surprising, but not unwelcome.

She reclined gently onto her haunches, pointing towards the earth with a dusty nose. "I speak to the bugs. They're very clever." Some seemed to have clans like theirs, she'd seen ants bring food back to their camps and bees flock to defend their own from predators. It was a beautiful thing to consider that cats were not alone in making colonies, conveniently, she forgot the joy of it when she batted insects too hard during playtime. "Some even live on me. They're very itchy, so I might get rid of them soon. I guess speaking to the stars is like an itch that you get, regardless of height or age, and I don't have that itch, I just... have... the bug itch..." Confusion briefly flashed in the feline's emerald eyes as she processed her own words. StarClan didn't feel like fleas, at least, not yet. There were plenty of them and they were probably annoying to some, but at least the dead didn't bite or cause problems for the living. Threatening to be caught in a loop of justifications, the ticked tabby just smiled and shook her head. "I have no clue what that means... sorry, what was your name little one?"




​

 

[Ratshadow]

CALLED TO DEVIL AND THE DEVIL DID COME ✧​

Ratshadow had been a rather playful kit. Which was probably hard to imagine for those who didn’t know her till now. The senior warrior was stone-faced, harshed when needed, and scarred from seasons of harshness. She wouldn’t consider herself to be mean, but she knew she could be. Looking at Petalkit brought her back to the days she played with her littermates. They hadn’t made it past their first leaf-bare.

Her chocolate hues watched from a couple tails length away. Petalkit seemed to be just fine after that bump. It was Ferndance that needed to be looked at. Talking to bugs? She sighs at the thought of all the young warriors being so strange. Ratshadow’s attention goes back to the kit. She felt it was important that they learn about the stars. It was the cats above that looked after them and guided them. Even when the living couldn’t see them.

“It’s true. Anyone can say hello to the stars.” She looks up towards the sky as if saying hello then and there. “You may not get a reply anytime soon.” Her eyes look back to the sickly feline. Or maybe, you’ll get a reply too soon. The small black cat wondered if her siblings and mother were in the stars. She didn’t plan on saying hello to them anytime soon. ​

 

[✧ Mothpaw.]

I'VE TASTED BLOOD AND IT IS SWEET
mothkit | 03 months | male | he/him | physically easy | mentally easy | attack in bold #6f4e37

---

Plodding over on unsteady paws with an uneven gait, the bigger boy is quick to tumble over to his sister. Snailcurl says he's to be careful with her - careful with [all his siblings really. They're fragile, she says. He plays to rough, she says. Mothkit tries to listen, he really does, and yet he can't help but give into the urge to try and headbutt her affectionately (and a bit harder than he meant to, honest) a rumbling purr in his chest. "Mama says that's where Sproutkit is," he says, in his best 'grown-up' voice. He's good at speaking, good with words - he's eloquent he thinks is what that one warrior had said, though he's not sure what that means. Most of the group gathered are near strangers to him - he's never paid much attention to the warriors honestly, but he shoots ferndance a cheeky grin. She's fun.
​

​

​

​