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Post by Deleted on May 14, 2017 11:00:22 GMT -5
  RainClan - Senior Warrior - Tom - 45 Moons
Today had been mildly irritating. Adderstrike had been sitting by the river all day, until he had accumulated a reasonable, yet unimpressive, amount of fish. He tried being patient, he really did, but the tom had a problem sitting and waiting for something to happen, especially when his pelt was on fire and every other cat he met throughout the day had incredible success. That's my luck. He almost grumbled out loud.
Although it was really peaceful by the river, the entire day had been hot. Daylight had parched the territory since sunrise, and Adderstrike had been a victim of the heat from the moment he stepped out of the warrior's den. At least I didn't get eaten by a fox today. He mused, reflecting on the leaf-bare hunt that left him mangled for several weeks. I still have scars down my flanks from that. Adderstrike continued mulling around the shore in his odd gait, wondering what he would do with the rest of the afternoon. I don't want to go back to camp and hear about how amazing everyone's day was. I'd rather just stay away from all of that right now. He decided, ashamed of his day's work.
Adderstrike stopped to sit down, grooming his brown tabby pelt, listening to the world around him. Birdsong reined the canopies, and the sun beat down heavily, parching everything but the fluid, rushing river. Everything from plant to stone was coated in a hot, evening glow, including the lone tom's amber pelt and the fish flashing beneath the water's surface.
Adderstrike really didn't know what he wanted to do, but he itched to get off of the pebbly shore, whether that led him into the water or away from it. I might as well swim and cool off for a bit. He thought, stretching. The brown tabby moved towards the river's edge, watching the flowing water run blue and pure.
It's quite beautiful. He said to himself, wetting his paws.
Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs.
Notes: Poor Adderstrike had a bad day!
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Post by Fawn on May 14, 2017 18:58:42 GMT -5
33 Moons. RainClan. She-Cat. Adderstrike wasn't the only one suffering from the heat. Bitternwing's mother had been from StoneClan, and with those traits added to the gene pool of her father's water-resistent, long dark coat, it was no wonder that she got stuck with a semi-long, insulated coat in shades of brown and cream.
Greenleaf weather was a misery for her more than leafbare ever was; panting softly, Bitternwing hid in the shade, trying not to look too closely at the water. It was a blessing that the shadow from the tree just behind her was enough to obscure her own shadow over the river's edge, but it also made it difficult to spot the fish.
After a fifth spoiled attempt at catching something, Bitternwing shook a bit of wet leaves off her claws that she had unintentionally snagged instead. This is hopeless. I'll have to wait until evening to try this again. She felt bad, being unable to provide for her Clan in what was likely no problem for so many other cats. Even Gullswoop and Crowblaze had caught something, and they were all just as long-coated as she.
Deciding to turn in for the morning, Bitternwing accepted defeat and began a slow trek back to camp. Something however, caught her eye further up the bank. It was a stocky tom with a distinctive marbled coat; standing with his front paws in the river, he looked like a jaguar warrior from the ancient Clans of legend.
Bitternwing hesitated, not wanting to ruin his fishing if that's what he was doing--but then Adderstrike slid into the water, clarifying this as a moment of leisure, not work. Why didn't I think of that? Bitternwing looked at the river more closely, judging the strength of the currents. Moving closer, she stood on the bank and put on a softer smile, trying not to think about the time she and Rushwhisker had gone swimming in the willow stream.
"May I join you, Adderstrike? The sun is really brutal today..."
Hopefully he could hear her soft-spoken voice above the noisy rush of water.
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Post by Deleted on May 20, 2017 21:28:25 GMT -5
RainClan - Senior Warrior - Tom - 45 Moons
Adderstrike jumped a little. He didn't even notice that a cat had approached until he heard her soft, kind voice. Bitternwing had caught him unaware and internally absorbed. I'm a mousebrain! Why'd I jump like a scared rabbit? He hissed to himself. The brown tabby turned towards the fluffy, light brown she-cat briskly. He was embarrassed, though the tom didn't let that from delaying a response.
"Of course." He rumbled, inviting her with a faint smile, the kindest greeting he could offer her after such a horrible day. "Just don't expect me to catch anything besides a cold. I don't know about you, but I've had a horrible day of fishing."
The brown tabby had no intention of hiding his failures, and in all honesty, he thought that his day's work was obviously less than ideal; saying so would be a generous statement. He made mistakes all day, and Adderstrike accepted the fact that he'd have to make up for them tomorrow. And probably the day after that. He thought. Despite his downfalls, Bitternwing didn't quite seem like the bitter, snobby, judgmental type.
Adderstrike let the current lick at his belly fur as he edged closer into the waters. The river was icy cold. He was never the cat who could take their time wading into the blue; the most he could tolerate is wetting his paws on the shore. In a couple heartbeats, the tom had completely submerged himself in the river, breaking the surface a few moments later with a content sigh. He looked over towards Bitternwing, treading water steadily against the current.
"So, how was your day? You look...hot." The tom knew Bitternwing must have a tough time in the warmer seasons.
Okay captain obvious, are you going to tell her that she looks light brown and fluffy too? He thought, irritated. Adderstrike wasn't sure why he was so daft and useless today, but he thought it best not to speak any more. I don't need to make a fool out of myself: again.
Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs.
Notes: Poor Adderstrike had a bad day!
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Post by Fawn on May 20, 2017 23:04:01 GMT -5
33 Moons. RainClan. She-Cat. Granted the permission she'd been after, Bitternwing slid into the water, sighing with relief as the river quickly soaked through both dense layers of her plush, brown-and-white coat. "It's days like these where I'm so glad we live in RainClan." 'We' being anyone who suffered from the heat like she did. 'We' being her family, friends. Bitternwing smiled back at him, slowly easing into a conversation with a tom she hadn't said much to in the full span of her warrior days thus far.
Widened eyes were the response he got when he mentioned his poor time of fishing, and Bitternwing found herself nodding sympathetically. "It was just as bad for me. I tried to fish in the shade, but it was just too difficult to get a good view of my targets so..."
Downy ears flattened sideways, the warrioress a bit embarrassed to say she had nothing to show for a full morning's labor. "I suppose I shouldn't complain, though. It's better to miss fish than spend the day coughing in the medicine cat's den." Bitternwing's heart went out to their sick Clanmates. Stay well, Gullswoop, Crowblaze, Hawkfall, Heronstrike. She whispered a prayer to StarClan to watch over her kin, and moved gingerly over the river stones so she wouldn't have to shout above the water.
White claws scraped a thin layer of river scum off the largest rocks, Bitternwing trying not to let the current carry her away. Flicking muck from her paws, Bitternwing swam within a fox length of Adderstrike, whiskers twitching in surprise at how difficult it was. The river was strong today, that was for sure. "Do you... maybe want to try hunting land prey, after we've cooled off? Together, we might be able to catch something." Optimism was how she got through the toughest times.
Sometimes that optimism fell short... like her relationship with Rushwhisker. But that was no excuse to give up entirely. Pessimism made a hot day like this feel unbearable.
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Post by Deleted on May 26, 2017 12:07:42 GMT -5
RainClan - Senior Warrior - Tom - 45 Moons
When Bitternwing hinted strongly at the sick cats, Adderstrike wanted to let the river wash him away. The strongest bond he had ever had with any cat died with his brother, Blackkit, when greencough stole him from reality for good. Adderstrike hadn't seen him since their intense outing as kits, which left them lost and cold in a blizzard. Sure, it was Adderstrike's idea, but how was he supposed to know Blackkit would get sick? I could have gotten sick too, but I didn't. We were both the same age and he was bigger than me even. Adderstrike tried to defend himself, but his thoughts, like his heart, were just empty. It's not my fault. At each attempt at defending himself, Adderstrike felt his throat get sore with...sadness? Guilt? Perhaps there was a little remorse buried very, very deep, but he wasn't about to confess to anyone: he never would.
Bitternwing mentioned that maybe land prey would be a better way to spend the afternoon, and although Adderstrike really wanted to stay swimming in the river, letting it wash away his thoughts of past, he noticed Bitternwing having slight trouble with the strength of the current. Not everyone has the swimming experience you do. Adderstrike noted to himself, edging closer to Bitternwing.
"Yeah, I think we could both do with a hearty redemption." The tom offered, waiting for her to take initiative. He could swim day and night, no matter the strength of the water, but he acknowledged the importance of himself as a member of the clan. Being a senior warrior of Rainclan meant completing his duties to the fullest of his capabilities, especially with greencough going around. He did feel slightly guilty and selfish basking in the tributary, the water lapping strongly at his body and whiskers. Every warrior deserves a little break, He brought up, only to ridicule himself a moment later. but if I call my catch this morning a warrior's catch, then I'm a mouse. Adderstrike sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was go hunting. After such a dissatisfying morning? He hardly wanted to face failure again. He hardly wanted to face his clanmates again.
Ever since the sickness claimed its first life, Adderstrike had been...off. His hunting had become laughable, but his fighting skills had strengthened astoundingly. The tom's anger towards this enemy he couldn't fight had made him even more short tempered and curt, which some didn't think was even possible. Part of him wanted to reach out to the sick cats, but the more he saw them fall, the more he retreated into himself and turned away. It's really only when he's swimming that he's relaxed. The river had always given him an alternate way to vent and release his anger strategically: by channeling his aggravation into the effort and work of fighting water as opposed to an entity of flesh and bone; a body that could feel pain and bleed.
Why didn't he want to leave the river? He would not only confront the reality of death and sickness when he returned back to camp, but he'd also be mean again. He didn't like being his father's son, but his mood was one thing that wasn't easily controlled. I am who I am, and if Bitternwing doesn't like it, then she can leave. He thought, though there was a twinge of nervousness. She had been the only cat who had ever approached him this kindly, as if she wanted to be around him, not forced to be around him. Adderstrike liked it when people cared, a little. He hated it when cats doted on him, but knowing that he wasn't forgotten was satisfying. Recognition and respect is what he has always striven for, since the day he was born.
I'll go hunting with her. I'll try and be a good partner. I'll try. He told himself, but Adderstrike couldn't help feeling petty as he prepped himself for departing the river; the only one he could ever share his thoughts and feelings with openly.
Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs.
Notes: xxx
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Post by Fawn on May 26, 2017 21:37:26 GMT -5
33 Moons. RainClan. She-Cat. There was a familiarity to Adderstrike that made interacting with him easier. She knew it as soon as she saw his eyes; they were the opposite of Crowblaze's (her older brother's were orange) but the intensity and the depth was the same. Partially expecting a no, Bitternwing allowed herself the small pleasure of surprise at his agreement.
"I'm a little out of practice," Bitternwing confessed, climbing up onto the bank with a little bit of effort. "The last land animal I caught was a shrew. ... In leafbare." And that had been a lucky catch, really. Able to remember it clearly, it had been an old, slow shrew, but prey was prey and she had just been grateful to return to camp with something that would at least feed a kit.
When she turned to look at the light brown tabby departing the water after her, noticing the way his short pelt clung to his musculature in a way that didn't make him look ridiculous, it occurred to her how she must have looked. Bitternwing didn't need to step closer to her reflection in the river to see it; with her head and part of her neck dry, she must have appeared like a strange, hairy bird-rat. Fluffy and normal looking from the neck up, slender and with her dense fur plastered to her body like pine sap on a tree trunk.
Bitternwing sheepishly gave her pelt a good shake to fluffy it out, realizing a second after that she'd likely sprayed him with water. I'm making so many mistakes today! An apologetic look softening her features, her paw half-raised as though to wipe the water droplets off his whiskers, she tried not to visibly wince. "Sorry! It was an accident, really."
Adderstrike was already soaked, but that didn't mean anything. Nobody liked getting sprayed in the face or eyes with water.
 he should splash her back! And I hope my posts aren't too short. Sorry about that. |
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Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2017 12:02:18 GMT -5
RainClan - Senior Warrior - Tom - 45 Moons
Out of practice? He thought to himself, feeling the hardness of ground again as his paws rested on rounded pebbles. We'll chase away the prey from here to Starclan's Claws. The marbled tabby slipped from the water behind Bitternwing, only to feel another wave of water splash over him as the she-cat shook her fur. How lovely. He mused, a charming smile showing faintly on his face, his yellow-green eyes meeting hers. She apologized prematurely.
"Quite alright."
Adderstrike mentioned softly, water running off his brown pelt in streams. He gladly returned the favor, spraying everything within a few tail-lengths of him in a cold spray. He still honed an endearing grin, one rare from such a prickly and insensitive cat. The brown tom continued walking a few paces, his limp obvious in the way he shuffled forward with his unique gait. It was a constant reminder of the death of his mother, the reality of his past, but the fox attack turned out much more favorable than it could have been. I'm glad to be alive. Adderstrike thought to himself, glancing back at the new fur growing on his flanks from the more recent skirmish with his mortal enemy. The more recent of his injuries from the leafbare fox attack left him confined in camp for a few moons. He had never been one to brag about injuries. He should have died. Twice.
"How..." He choked emotionally, glancing emptily at the ground. It still hurt, thinking about his dead family; thinking about most of his dead family. Adderstrike recovered himself a heartbeat later, clearing his throat. "How about near the Stoneclan border?"
Maybe we could catch some mice or voles around the Stone Stream. He pondered.
Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs.
Notes: Sorry it took so long!
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Post by Fawn on Jun 8, 2017 21:06:11 GMT -5
33 Moons. RainClan. She-Cat. Bitternwing turned the other cheek to avoid getting water in her eyes, and she emitted a soft, grateful purr upon realizing he wasn't upset about earlier. He'd even smiled, and Bitternwing, in as long as she had known Adderstrike, hadn't seen him make that face before. The senior warrior limped forward, Bitternwing trailing after him a few heartbeats before she drew shoulder-to-shoulder with him.
It was hard not to stare at his scars. After Gullswoop's three scars across his face, Bitternwing hadn't really seen the after-effects of battle up close. She always reassured her littermate that they didn't impact his looks; if anything, Lotuswhisker seemed to like them. Bitternwing wasn't sure how she felt about scars... In battle, wasn't it bad enough that lives had been threatened, and almost lost? Why did they need physical reminders of old wounds?
"How about near the StoneClan border?"
Meeting his intense gaze with a soft one of her own, the pretty warrioress bobbed her head. "Good idea. I can catch water voles or mice, but birds are beyond me." StoneClan was known for its lizards and birds, wasn't it? But considering the stone stream was one of StoneClan's few water sources, there'd be plenty of prey showing up for water, right?
It was a shame she couldn't ask Hawkfall; her older brother had gone to StoneClan during his apprentice moons, shortly before she and Gullswoop had been born. Bitternwing always made an effort to talk to him at Gatherings, but the relationship she had with him was nowhere near what she wanted it to be.
As they approached the stone stream, their pace slow due to Adderstrike's limp (not that she minded, it gave her fur the chance to dry a little more), Bitternwing's thoughts were on her parents. "I never thought about it until now," the pale tabby gazed at the cool stream of water twisting lazily into StoneClan's territory. "My parents must have met here." Vultureback, the proud warrior of RainClan.
And Falconleap, the deputy of StoneClan.
Bitternwing privately wished she could have seen their first meeting. Gotten to know her mother. What had she been like? Falconleap must have been wonderful, to have moved her father's stoic heart so profoundly to break the Code like they had. Love could be a powerful, frightening thing. Bitternwing smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get off topic."
Keeping her jaws parted slightly, Bitternwing let the scents of the two territories flood in. Oh, I almost forgot. Bitternwing began to stretch, trying to limber up for what would inevitably be more physically demanding than fishing had been. StarClan I haven't pounced on anything in... A while. Her hopes were not high for this hunting session, but if they managed to catch something, then they could go home with their heads up.
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he should splash her back! And I hope my posts aren't too short. Sorry about that.