YOU'RE A FISH [ intro ] I'M A SHARK

[sanguinerush.]

The battles recently pinged around in her mind. The tunneler was doing her job- navigating the lengths, her cinnamon fur blurred with the dirty she crept past. But the thoughts in her mind were thick, justified by the injuries the patrol returned with. The news they had carried had sated it, just a bit. But oh, how she wished she could have been there. She rounded a corner in the tunnel, her eye staring down the tunnel at the poor, unfortunate piece of prey that had decided to explore it. The mouse was a bit scrappy by terms of feeding larger individuals, but an apprentice or another tunneler would do well with it.

Precision honed in as she rushed forward, expertly striking at the prey beneath her paws. She didn't get her name from nothing- her speed was blinding sometimes, or maybe she was just full of herself. Who knows? Sanguinerush expertly bunched herself up, turning around in the tunnel and heading back to camp.

Her eyebrows were drawn, lips pressed into a frown, despite the piece of prey she carried in her jaws. She shook her fur out as she padded into camp, moving towards the freshkill pile and tossing the mouse onto it. She stared at the pile for a long moment, before casting a glance towards the medicine cat's nests, the poor souls who were shored up there. A snort left her finally, and words left her mouth, probably to whatever soul was listening at this point. "What the fuck." She didn't really know what she meant by that- it wasn't a question, more of a statement. She moved to sit aside, grooming dirt out of her white 'mane'. It was itchy, you know? ​

​

"speech"​

 

[WOLFSONG]

── .∘°°∘. ── There is a purpose to medicine cat that runs counter to the life Wolfsong knew before. Until Vulturemask began to slowly enlighten him, he had inflicted wounds on opponents without knowing the true extent of the recovery they would require. Now, he does not believe he will ever look upon an injury without automatically tallying herbs and estimating the length of time spent in the medicine den. It presents a unique opportunity for greater ferocity and precision, though Wolfsong knows that it is unlikely he should join Sunstride in combat again.

Exhaling and dipping into a deep stretch, Wolfsong turns his gaze toward the sky for a moment. The medicine cat den, while safe and secluded, has more in common with the tunnels than the moors. Perhaps one day he will be accustomed to it, but not yet. Today, he desires fresh air and a meal. Perhaps some conversation.

Sanguinerush's exclamation while he neared the freshkill pile is...not quite that. Blinking, he attempts to ascertain the cause, but she turns to grooming herself and baffling him further. "What troubles you?" He asks finally in his usual rasp.
​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 36 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge. — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know— he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel." — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you. — ☆☆☆☆☆ KITTING: He doesn't remember what it was like to be born. Coincidentally, that is the extent of his familiarity with kitting. At least he won't leave you without moral support.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you. — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​

 

[Bluepool]

"SPEECH"
Bluepool does not like being forced into inactivity, though she knows it is what is best. The herbs sting but moving stings more and so she settles for the lesser of two evils, though her pelt itches from having to stay still for so long. Her heart yearns for the open moors, the feeling of freedom racing across the hillside granted her. Stuck in camp, that was her sentence for now. A long sigh escapes her lips, at least she could spend her imprisonment in her own nest and was not stuck within the confines of the medicine cats den. She could not stand that stuffy place. She needed open-air, freedom.

Her eyes shift as Wolfsong emerges out of the aforementioned den, seeming to take a break from it. Her whiskers twitch in amusement, perhaps it was still taking some getting used to for him. She does not understand how the medicine cats before him had stayed cooped up for such long periods of time. Perhaps that is why their brains had been so addled. She will say a prayer for him tonight. May the stars protect him from the mad medicine cat disease! When Sanguinerush makes her uttarance her eyes would find the tunnelers dusty pelt, though Wolfsong had already asked what was up before she could so she says nothing and simply awaits the answer.

​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

Much like Bluepool, Rattleheart loathed being forced away from the tunnels he had become so familiar after moons of living within Windclan. While not quite as injured as some of the others that had been part of the battle patrol, the tunneler's shoulder and jaw still throbbed and ached with every movement, a keen reminder of why he wasn't exactly running around at the moment. That and the wet feeling of the poultice that Wolfsong had applied, neatly covered in cobwebs. It certainly seemed to be helping with his healing, but it was specifically what was keeping him from being down in the tunnels, not wanting to rub it off on any of the cramped walls. As at home as he felt down there, even he knew how tight the quarters could be.

It was because of all this that he had taken to lounging in camp, outside of the medicine den but not wholly away from the group that had returned victorious. Battered, but victorious - at least according to Sootstar's account. The thought of their leader's satisfied call had been enough to make him snort, rolling onto his uninjured side just as Sanguine's question split the air. Or... maybe not a question, her tone didn't exactly make it seem like she was expecting an answer of any kind. Frustration was his next guess, but hadn't she just come back from a successful hunt?

He didn't bother truly moving, instead just shifting a little closer so he could hear Sanguinerush and Wolfsong more clearly. "Yeah, is something wrong?" The monochrome tom's tone was casual, maybe even nearing the edge of sleepy. Rattleheart truly couldn't help it, not when the sun was beating down on him and warming his dark pelt up in a way that made him feel comfortable, and secure.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[Badgermoon]

It was all well and good for tunnelers, he supposed, but he had not been having any luck with prey thus far today. Or, rather, he'd had much less luck than he would've hoped for - out of multiple chases in pursuit of plump rabbits, he was returning to camp sore-pawed and burdened only with an unexpectedly slimy lizard. Badgermoon deposited his scaly catch with a short huff of agitation and sat, preoccupied with getting the taste of lizard-blood out of his whiskers until he heard Sanguinerush's ... exclamation? Statement? Honestly, he couldn't be sure. Whatever it was, it caught the attention of Wolfsong, Bluepool, and Rattleheart, so the broad-shouldered tom edged closer with curiosity creasing his face. "That's how it goes sometimes?" he offered cautiously, unsure what to say and opting for the most neutral thing he could think of, waiting for the she-cat's reply.​

 

[LUCKYPAW]

In the wake of the skirmish, Luckykit feels more troubled than after the last two, but also lighter, in a way; the knowledge that WindClan has finally been able to show their true strength wars with the sight of cobweb-scattered pelts lurking around camp when they should be out and about. After all the contemplating he's done, blood-soaked fur flashing through his mind, the only conclusion he's been able to come to is that there must be a delicate line between victory and defeat, even if that doesn't seem to make sense. Clearly, there was some sort of metric to determine victory and loss - they had killed the leader of SkyClan, after all - but other than that, the only difference between their losses and their victory seemed to be the general attitude, though even that was tinged with restlessness. Maybe he's oversimplifying it, or maybe he's unable to grasp the complexities and nuances of the situation; either way, the truth of the matter is that Sootstar said they had won, said their victories outweighed their losses, and that thought alone is more than enough to both comfort and embolden. WindClan is strong again, everyone came back in one piece - those are things that really matter.

Thanks to the injured, camp is particularly crowded, though at this point his days of hiding away in the nursery are over - now, Luckykit sits out in the open, among his clanmates. Even with so many other cats around, nothing much seems to be going on; resting, mostly, which he supposes is probably a good thing. It makes sense not to run around and ruin all of Wolfsong's work, even if he doesn't particularly know what that work is going to do - would sticking plants on wounds really make them better? The thought is strange, but he has no reason to distrust the new medicine cat's work, as there's clearly a reason he had been chosen for the position. Small ears perk slightly in interest at the sound of cats entering into camp through the gorse tunnel. Though he doesn't rush to Badgermoon's side, not wanting to get underpaw in case his father is taking only a quick break before heading back to his duties, his presence is still a pleasure; Sanguinerush, on the other hand, only serves to confuse him, standing over the freshkill pile for seemingly no reason. Her sudden exclamation leaves him tilting his head, brows furrowing as he contemplates the strange word choice. "The fuck?" he repeats quizzically, looking from Sanguinerush to the other cats gathered - they seemed somewhat perplexed as well, though nobody had asked about that odd word yet.
​

[ PENNED BY HIJINKS ]​

 

[sanguinerush.]

Her exclamation caused cats to approach. Her ears twitched, head picking up to peer at each respectively. Sanguinerush blinked. After all, she hadn't expected three little words to garner attention like that. A snort finally left her, splitting her mouth in a long yawn. When she spoke again, amusement riddled her tone, despite the words she had just previously stated. Wolfsong and Rattleheart were regarded first, of course. "Oh, nothing's wrong." She said mildly.

Sanguinerush had just said all of that because she felt like it, after all. "Maybe the fact dirt exists. Or heat. It's too fucking hot." She was a curser, alright. Her gaze tipped towards the other Tunneler- Badgermoon. A grin touched her face, and she leaned in closer to him. "I saw that lizard. Guess that tasted nasty." Sanguinerush teased him, lightly so. It was in jest, and her voice made it easy to tell it so. After all, every single moor-runner or tunneler wouldn't be able to catch a prey day after day. There would be days where it was just a loss for some of them.

However, her ears twitched at a tiny voice repeating her words. Sanguine paused, staring at Luckykit for a long moment. The grin that spread on her mouth was lax and lazy, all kinds of horribly amused at how much she affected that kit in minutes. Oh, to be a parent, woefully listening to other's conversations to make sure their kit doesn't pick up bad habits. Speaking of.. she glanced sidelong at Badgermoon, then back towards Luckykit. "Hey, kiddo? Don't say that word. It's going to make you grow extra limbs if you keep saying it. Make you all.. weird lookin'." Sanguinerush was just trying to scare the kid of out saying it, really.

She paused, then spoke again to him, another thought touching her. "Also, yeah, the less you say it, the bigger you'll get! That's why I'm so tiny." Which, it caused her pain to say, but that's okay. ​

​

"speech"​

 

[LUCKYPAW]

It's not a real answer, but then again, he hadn't asked a real question, had he? Either way, Luckykit's eyes widen at Sanguinerush's claims - that just saying a simple word will make him grow extra limbs, or that it'll make him grow smaller. Neither of those things made much sense, especially the size, since he'd never heard of a cat reverse growing, and yet that one seemed the most plausible, the evidence right in front of him. Sanguinerush really is small, and already she's slung the word around numerous times just now. Growing extra limbs seems more concerning, though, and he tries to send a furtive glance at his own side - nothing new peeking out, right? How many times did he have to say...it for something to start happening to him? What if he thought it instead? As if on cue, the word drifts through his head entirely unbidden - fuck. Luckykit has to take a moment to calm himself before panic can set in. "What if I...think it? Not on purpose?" he asks, wide eyes now trained directly on Sanguinerush. Did that count as misbehaving? What if Thorn Claws came back to get him, and brought the wind back, too?

Badgermoon is huge, way bigger than many of the other cats he knows, and Luckykit's certain he's never heard his father say the word before. Then again, Scorchstreak is tiny, just like the rest of the tunnelers, and he hadn't ever heard her say it, either - unless they'd been safely tucked away in the tunnels. And, Sanguinerush doesn't seem to be growing any extra limbs, despite how she'd professed her use of the word. "But, how come you don't have any extra limbs?" he asks, confusion starting to color his features. And, he doesn't even want to be big in the first place - if he starts to grow up big, he won't be able to fit into the tunnels like Scorchstreak! The two ideas war within his skull - extra limbs in the tunnels, or normal ones on the moors? "What if I wanna be small, though?" he points out, though notably doesn't yet dare to give voice to his new vocabulary. The more Luckykit thinks about it, the more he's starting to become suspicious of Sanguinerush's claims, though if there's a chance they might come to fruition, who is he to risk it? Especially if it's as simple as not repeating the new word that he still doesn't quite understand; no harm in refraining from speaking it, except - fuck. Now it's stuck in his head.​

[ PENNED BY HIJINKS ]​

 

[Badgermoon]

Oh, this is a fine mess. The prodding at him for his scaly catch was fine - and well-deserved, in his opinion; lizards were a ShadowClanner's prey, not a moor-cat's - but the new word in Luckykit's vocabulary was enough to make Badgermoon wince a little. "Sprout," he began, shooting Sanguinerush a look of mingled amusement, exasperation, and appreciation for her attempt to nip this problem in the bud, "it's just a word. It's not going to make you grow extra limbs or shrink. It's just not a nice word...it's like hare-dung, or flea-brain. If you think it, nothing bad will happen, and if you say it, the worst thing that might happen is that someone will think you're rude." the yellow-eyed tom dipped his head and tried to deliver a few comforting licks to the top of his son's head. "Some cats use that word, and some don't. I don't, nor does your mother, but when you're a warrior you can choose to say whatever you want, okay?"

Returning his attention to the curser-in-chief, he huffed out a small sigh of agreement. "It is too hot. I think everything is hiding...hence the lizard."​

 

[Bluepool]

Kit's cursing was always a thing to behold, her whiskers twitch in obvious amusement and she lets a huff of air out through her nose, a wide grin settling on her face as she tries to suppress the kind of laugh where you throw your head back and cackle at the sky. Ultimately she fails and her laughter can be heard throughout the camp. "The kid can say fuck if he wants to!" she says from her spot in the shade, Sanguinerushe's explanation only making her irritated. What was the point in feeding kits lies and scaring them into not saying a certain word? Nothing bad would happen, after all. And if Scorchstreak was cool with it (for in Bluepool's mind hers is the only opinion that matters here) then why not let the kid say it?

She is unsatisfied, too, with the she cats explanation of why this had all started in the first place and she gives an annoyed flick of her tail. "Well unless it's an emergency, next time, keep your 'fuck' to yourself. Some of us are trying to get some peace and quiet around here" she says with a huff before returning her head to rest on her paws.

​

 

[MOORBLOSSOM]

Grown-ups had a habit of making absurd statements to throw younger ones off their trail. It's stupid, if not humiliating. How foolish must they think apprentices are? Even with all the battles, wounds, and haunting memories that they sustained in equal measure, the warriors construe themselves as a purer echelon in WindClan society. Some of them think, because they have more moons on their side, they're owed the chance to dismiss cats her age. It just feels unjust; after all, she knows full well how strongly they react when kept in the dark about apprentice affairs. Make it make sense!

At the very least, Badgemoon holds no reservations about telling it how it is. Good man. Good deputy.

From a hop, skip, and sprint off yonder, Moorpaw watches the dialogue unravel with sharp, olive eyes. Chin nestled on contrastingly-coloured paws, rump propped up by a tad, she lies in wait for an opportune moment to take the plunge and sabotage the grown-ups' silly charade. Such a moment comes when her aunt, Bluepool, indulges in a tender-footed apprentice's usage of bad language—clashing against Sanguinerush's reprimand. Within moments, she springs into action. Propelled into a scamper from where she'd been settled, Moorpaw comes to a skidding halt beside the Lead Warrior's flank.

"Saying 'fuck' makes yuh weird-looking?" echoes Sootstar's eldest, head atilt as she addresses the cinnamon tabby. A flick of the maw betrays her curious posture, a veiled taunting edge dancing in her voice. "That why yuh look like that, Sanguinerush? It's yer favourite word!" ​