you're the best x windclan patrol.


@BRIGHTSHINE! @Coldpaw | Coldkill @Dandelionpaw @honeytwist

;; tdlr. windclan patrol is patrolling the borders along the gorge.

"Try not to pick any fights. We're just marking our borders and gathering herbs. Same old, same old." She reminds the patrol behind her, tail flicking as she takes in the smell of water. Rivers weren't exactly her forte, neither was swimming- she was small, and that made her a prime victim for drowning if she lost her footing. She keeps an eye on the raging water as she walks, the Gorge taunting her with its danger. "Though, I doubt they'll be able to do much with the gorge between us."
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− ♱ ABOUT : they’d been out for a short while, snowy paws traversing the dew - studded grass with his tail low, curled fur hovering just over gently swaying blades. aside him is his apprentice — the calico kept close by subtle twitches of orbital ears, the tortoiseshell chimera all too aware of her presence and whenever it wavers . . and he ensures it does not waver. it was a simple hunting trip ; leaning to fish along the raging gorge, where water rushes and aquatic life fights. something to ease them into a routine while working past their recent events. their last time out had been traumatic ; they’d parted with a glance, clearsight tugging her bristling, shell-shocked form along. he worried now about bringing her out, even for such a quick lesson, but his time spent worrying over the thundering in the sky, over his clan had him lacking on her official lessons for too long to begin with, even if he’d not had his first life stripped so suddenly. roaring thunder of the nearby waterfall seems to perk him. his head lifts, casting a long glance towards the jagged stone lining the sudden drop as they stride past, “ we’re passing the falls, foxpaw, stick close. always be aware of your footing — mist from waterfalls will cause mud along the trail, never minding the slippery stone. a single misstep here is near certain death. “ he speaks, lowering his voice and casting icy eyes back, expression dire, “ it is very dangerous. but it also marks the beginning of our border with . .

windclan. the scent of hare and soil floods his senses, something heavy above the ever - present waft of tall grass. his sloped muzzle pokes curiously from the rustling reed, sloping his neck down so foxpaw can peek out as well, “ speaking of . . seems we have visitors.” accented vocals ring curious, though they seemed rather unassuming. two of them had been present at their border skirmish moons ago — apprentices. he glances to foxpaw, giving her curt nod, a silent ‘ come ‘ as he slinks from the tall flora, shaking sleek curls in the blinding midday sun. the patrol is sloped higher than them but he approaches still, a smile coming to dance upon his rubberblack maw, “guten tag! “ it’s a friendly call, easier to hear now further up the way, out of range from the raging falls, “ how is windclan faring? “ polite. cordial. he hopes the molly at his side takes suit, diplomacy curving the slope of his grinning maw. upon stepping closer, he notes a familiar cinnamon tabby. despite the blaze of shame that takes its way up his ribcage ( memories of her under his claws, muzzle up and throat bare — ), he lowers once more to foxpaw, speaking aside her ear, “ that cinnamon tabby. can you tell me who that is? what is her rank? “ she was present in the marshlands. she knew of honeytwist, in vague passing — but sootstar had boasted her at the gathering moons prior. would she remember?

  • tagging @Foxpaw as they’re on a hunting trip / lesson!
  • CICADASTAR ; he / him. roughly thirty seven months old, riverclan leader
    − handsome, lanky black smoke tortie chimera with curly fur and icy blue eyes
    − gay. speaks with a thick german accent, former marsh cat, penned by antlers

  • none.

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Had to admit, he was not very fond of being so close to the gorge. The steep and sudden dip where the earth ended just looked so unatural and scary and he was not fond of the idea of tumbling into it. It was one of the few instances he toned down on his enthusiastic skipping about for fear of ending up swallowed by the very ground itself. Dandelionpaw kept himself strictly tucked to Honeytwist's side, his head low but his eyes still wide in vested interest as he examined the RiverClan territory in the distance.

He glanced at Hyacinthbreath at the RiverClan leader's call and greeting, gold and green eyes noting how stiffly she held herself. Was she always so serious on patrols, he had been rather fond of the Hyacinthbreath who told star stories and brought eggs home for kittens.
"What's a goo tah?" The sepia point asked, brown tail lashing and he inched forward enough he could hold his head up so his voice carried enough for a greeting back, "Howdy RiverClan!" Who was the gray spotted tom? He looked kinda like how the leader of that clan was described? If so this was the cat Weaselclaw had told him he beat up. He was a lot taller than he expected based on the lead warriors story. There was another, smaller cat, next to him and he raised a paw up in a wave to the obviously apprentice age feline like himself.


When she had been picked to go with Hyacinth she had supressed an outward grumble, along with the fact that they were going to Riverclan, where mouse-brained Weasel had attacked Cicadastar on sight. To say shes stressing out about it would be a major understatement but she had only nodded her head and got going with her apprentice by her side. He sticks close to her and she does not mind it, she enjoys Dandy's presence, its one of the reasons why she picked him. However, if they had to go to Riverclan Honeytwist found herself hoping she'd meet Beesong at the border, introduce him to her new apprentice. Dandelion had become much like a son to her, pride and joy in each little herb she taught him. She's not close with the other medicine cat, but they both hailed from Skyclan, something they could potentially bond over.

Cicada's trill breaks through the air like a siren and she stares impolitely, almost forgetting her manners. "Ah, bonjour, mon ami. All is good in Windclan. How is Riverclan? Beesong settling in well?" she lies through her teeth with a smile. Lying had begun to come naturally to her. Windclan was always good, their leader was terrific, hasn't lose a single life and she cringes inwardly at the vision of the holes put through her. "That's Cicadastar. Beesong is their medicine cat, hopefully you'll get to meet him." she smiles downward towards Dandy, a gentle warmth replacing cold steel leaden in her chest.
she needed to get out more. they knew that. they knew it well. so they followed after foxpaw and cicadastar, and her own mentor, wanting to hunt too. quietpaw could hunt pretty well, but practice never hurt. they looked over at their mentor who gently nudged quiet closer to him, and they furrowed their brows together. taking in a deepened breath, she found herself looking at the two, nose twitching back and forth with a slight blink. oh... was that the smell of herbs? just like beesong. they'd been medicine cats. the apprentice waved their tail, tilting their head with curiosity. she wondered how much they enjoyed it. lives at their paws like that. but she was much too scared to ask.


Frostpaw still had a strong distaste for the Windclanners, but for now she would have to respect that they were at the border, making sure that they were refreshing whatever they had marked as theirs. Bi-colored eyes narrowed slightly at the windclanners but she let a soft sigh out. Cicadastar did not need any more trouble and she had only came along because of Smokethroat dragging her along with his other apprentice, who would of thought that Windclan would be out at this moment.

Bi-colored eyes narrowed slightly at the others but she dipped her head in greetings towards the others, Honeytwist was the first to ask a question and even shot a hopeful pike that they might see Beesong, asking how the other was settling in and her thought flashed back to the medicine cat, they seemed stress at the moment and she wondered herself how they were doing but shook their head a bit. "Doing the best we can, how is Windclan?" she asked warmly, pulling on a terrible attempt of a warm smile towards the windclan medicine cat and her apprentice. She still distaste them...and she could not help it, their leader was the worse.
She's cheerful, picking careful black and white paws along the jagged stone crop that separates them from the gorge. She feels almost normal, padding along the WindClan border with her mentor and leader, as though the Twoleg worries of the past several days has begun to secede from her mind. There are still concerning scents in the territory, still blasts of thunder that shake their sensitive ears, but Foxpaw wants to believe that things will return to normal soon - wants to manifest things into existing that way.

Cicadastar warns her in his accented vocals that a single misstep is certain death. Round amber eyes flick up, up toward his angular bicolored face, and she nods quickly, seeing the serious expression and noting it. "I'll be careful," she promises, red tail fluffed out behind her.

Cicadastar goes on to explain this marks their border with WindClan, and the unfamiliar scent of the moor cats hits her before he can finish. She moves her gaze to the small silver she-cat who leads the opposing Clan's patrol. Cicadastar calls out a greeting, tones relaxed. Foxpaw hadn't been present when Sootstar had brought the tom who'd attacked their leader to apologize, so this is her first time, besides the Gathering, seeing so many of the moorland runners up close.

"That cinnamon tabby. Can you tell me who that is? What is her rank?" Foxpaw's stomach drops, anxiety curling coldly in her guts like a serpent. She searches the WindClan patrol, finds the tall, graceful-looking she-cat with white and tabby fur. There's a sepia point tom beside her, and he waves to her, calls out to their patrol, as friendly as Cicadastar.

Foxpaw hesitantly waves back to him, smiling despite herself. The WindClan cats seem nice, at least. She angles her head back toward Cicadastar and says, uncertainty tinging her voice, "She, um... she's the medicine cat, isn't she? Something... sweet... Honey... something..." She narrows her eyes, determinedly racking her brain. "Twist?" She quickly looks at Cicadastar for confirmation.


"Riecht nach Fisch.." A murmured grumble beneath her breath, the shout of Cicadastar making her ears flatten back against her cranium. There's a twist of disgust in her gut at seeing the black and white tom, but she puts on a pleasant smile- awkward and very obviously not a good one. Dandelion's question is met with a snort of amusement, the woman leaning down to nose the tom's shoulder. "He said 'good day'." She meowed, turning sun-kissed violet eyes to the gathering crowd of RiverClanners as he then greeted them.

"We're doing just fine. You don't happen to have any less pollen down there, do you?" She asks with a joking tone, sniffling to herself. Sootstar didn't want them messing around. "We'll be marking the borders if you need anything, Honeytwist." She speaks over her shoulder at Honeytwist, knowing the molly would want to be left to her own devices while she gathered herbs. She ignores the suffocating accent of Cicadastar, the tom a reminder of her home colony with the way he spoke. She couldn't deal with it.

"Excuse us for a moment." Hyacinth announces, turning to her party- "Finish your work first, before you start babbling with RiverClan."

The dark tom comes to a silent stop alongside his apprentice, listening in to the leader's brief lesson and greeting to the cats across the gorge. When he first arrived on this territory he had considered leaping it once as a test of his skill; when he was young and foolish and thought himself immortal. It had been Moss who grabbed him by the scruff mid-jump, ripped him from the air to slam back into the ground with snarling teeth and harsh words. He had not made a second attempt, but he thought about it sometimes. Smokethroat imagined it would be like flying.

To say he was not overtly fond of WindClan was an understatement. If the laws of the clans and borders were not in place there would have been nothing stopping him from going for the throat of every hare-eating heathen he came across; especially the silver she-cat standing with her group across the way. His lips curled in a sneer of annoyance at spotting Hyacinthbreath but he turned his gaze away to watch Frostpaw call out in greeting, she was far more sociable than he was thankfully and it allowed him to remain quiet knowing he might say something that would cause problem. Smokethroat was, at least, self-aware of his own tempermental habits and kept them in check but it was agonizing not being able to sink his teeth in one of the moor runners after having watched Cicadastar limp back to camp and lose himself to brief paranoia.
"Careful of the edge, Frostpaw." He repeated the dappled leader's previous warning as he stepped along to the side, getting a better view of the cats present across them with narrowed orange eyes. Decent sized group, no sign of...well...what did it matter.