The sun bore down upon TreeClan's camp, its ascent in mid-swing as the morning marched on toward sunhigh. Ice blue eyes were narrowed intensely at the sharp lighting from where a silver warrioress stood in the entrance to the warrior's den. Flinching at the combination of light and shrieking birds, Feathercloud hissed under her breath. She wanted nothing more than to curl back up in her nest with her feathery tail draped over her eyes. But something, something, warrior duties. Or whatever. How was it that, despite being nowhere near the catastrophic attack that had occurred but a few days ago, Feathercloud felt as though she had been used as Demon's personal mossball.
Unsteady paws that ached with each step plodded toward the freshkill pile as she lazily observed its contents. Lowering herself to a sit, she stared at the birds and mice that made up its entirety. On one paw, she was ravenous. Like she could eat half the forest's weight and still remain unsatisfied. On the other paw, she didn't want to eat birds or mice. I'd kill for a rabbit right now. Came the sudden thought. Before she even realized her breathing had changed, disbelieving laughter bubbled from her throat.
What am I, some mangy LightningClanner? She thought to herself, shoulders shaking as she ducked her head to stifle the noise. But seriously. A rabbit would be so good right now. Ooooh or a squirrel. Vole? Nah... Her inner monologue was briefly interrupted by a snort as she rose to her paws and turned away from the freshkill pile. "Next thing you know I'll want myself a fish." She rasped to the world around her, ear flicking in a smidgen of alarm at the sound of her voice. Great, I sound like I just fell out of the Great Maple.
StarClan, what is wrong with me? She groaned inwardly, stopping to glare at her leaden paws. Lifting one forepaw and giving it a shake, and repeating the motion with the second as though it would magically cure the awkward feeling enveloping her, the silver warrioress plopped her rump back down on the ground. Staring down in defeat at the paws that had betrayed her, Feathercloud squeezed her eyes shut against the continued onslaught of light. Peeking from beneath one eyelid, she squinted in a desperate attempt to find Sprucefur. Maybe he'll let me sleep on his back while we pretend to patrol or something.
Post by Fawntastic on Aug 13, 2019 12:21:33 GMT -5
82 Moons || Senior Warrior || Tom
there's a light that you give me when I'm in shadow
TreeClan cats didn't fish. The idea of deliberately sticking one's paw in the water to scoop out some slimy, wriggling thing didn't seem very appealing to the woodland Clan. Sprucefur didn't care much for the taste, but with the brook so swollen and a passing thought of Moonfeather's fishing technique in his head, he'd seized the opportunity that floated his way.
"What is that?" Molepaw gawked at the trout dangling from Sprucefur's jaws as he squeezed his way through a thick cluster of ferns. The apprentice leaned in as though to scent it, but apprehension over the strange so-called 'prey' kept Molepaw from getting too close. Sprucefur's tail flicked, all the amusement he could show when his mouth was full of trout.
Fortunately, another of their hunting expedition set down their soggy brace of mice to answer. "It's probably a trout," said Bramblevine, flicking her apprentice on the ear for Molepaw's unnecessary cowardice. "Something you'd find in a river, not a brook. Must have been flushed down here by the flood."
Molepaw wrinkled his nose. "It stinks! Will I stink if I eat it?"
Sprucefur left Bramblevine to answer that question, instead leaving the trout beside the fresh kill pile. Molepaw was right, the fish did smell, but not in a way that couldn't be tolerated. It was freshly caught. Just a different scent than they were used to. Sprucefur's nose twitched, finding a welcome palate clense as Feathercloud's distinct scent wreathed around him like mist after a rainstorm. He smiled, seeing her eyes upon him as he crossed TreeClan's camp to be by her side.
"Good morning, did you sleep ... enough?" The tough of concern in his words couldn't fully be masked. This was the third day in a row that his mate had chosen to sleep in rather than join him on a dawn patrol or a brief hunt before the heat of the day set in. Her appetite, he'd noticed, had changed also. When he'd brought it up with Appleshade in passing, his littermate had giggled so much he'd worried the heat had gotten to her.
But Appleshade merely giggled that girlish little giggle of hers and told her to wait and see.
Sprucefur had sighed. Like all advice his sister gave him, how useful it actually was tended to vary.
"If the heat's bothering you, we'll find a way to keep you cool." The pale warrior promised, thinking of his mate's thicker coat and feathery tail. Her exuberance was sorely missed, Sprucefur realized, though his love for Feathercloud was most definitely not dependant upon how bright-eyed and bushy-tailed she was each day. We're both getting older, he turned his attention inward. It's a natural process of aging, to slow down a little.
Yet Feathercloud was a few moons younger than he was.
The relief was instant and evident as icy eyes settled upon the form of her mate as he padded toward her. She leaned forward slightly, as though she were going to rise to her paws to help him close the distance between them, except that her rump refused to move from where she'd plopped it down moments before. Still, she felt his pull on her until he was finally close enough that she could resolutely butt his chest fur with her forehead and lean into his comforting presence. A quiet purr rumbled in her throat as she rubbed her head against him, ears barely catching his concerned voice.
A drawn out groan escaped her as she funnelled what seemed like every ounce of her energy into heaving her head up off of him so she could meet his gaze. "I don't think I've slept enough in days." She rasped with a sigh, her voice still hoarse with sleep. It was a touch on the embarrassing side, if she was honest. She certainly wasn't the last to go to sleep at night, and was most certainly not the first to wake up either. Today had proved it, since she'd been one of the few remaining warriors in the den when she'd dragged herself from her nest.
Her earlier question ricocheted in her mind, a brief swell of worry building in her chest. Perhaps she should see Falconstorm about it? But that was the last thing she wanted; medical attention would be admitting there was something wrong. Surely it was just a passing feeling? She'd return to normal soon, right? Gaze flicking down to her paws briefly, she shifted uncomfortably. "I... Don't know. Maybe? It all feels very... Stuffy. There are just so many others around." She continued, doing what she could to voice what it was she was feeling within her.
She did feel a little trapped, as though everything was just too close. "I'm tired beyond words, but I don't think more sleep is going to do anything but give me a headache. Maybe... Maybe I should try and get out of camp?" She suggested, looking up at him almost sheepishly. "I know you just came back but... Would you mind going for a walk with me? I... Don't really feel up to seeing anyone else right now." She admitted, her feathery tail twitching with her discomfort.
Feathercloud had never been one to be self-conscious. But right now, she felt as though all eyes were on her. The silver she-cat felt distinctly aware of everyone nearby, and worried they were listening to her, judging her even. After all, what had she demonstrated recently, save for the characteristics of a lazy warrior? The elders had accomplished more than she had over the last few days, and it was wounding to her pride. Yet at the same time, she could barely sort out how to put one paw in front of the other. Her hope was that some time away from prying eyes would help her shake off this strangeness. She had to try something.
Though, sleeping on Spucefur's back was extremely tempting just now.
Post by Fawntastic on Sept 3, 2019 22:52:04 GMT -5
82 Moons || Senior Warrior || Tom
there's a light that you give me when I'm in shadow
"Always," Sprucefur answered with his heart, and he pressed his pelt against her as an act of comfort, the lush silver tabby fur of his mate mingling with his own pale coat. Sprucefur guided Feathercloud through the camp exit, saving the conversation until they were able to gain some privacy. Already he appreciated her suggestion for a walk; hunting could be a solo affair, but it didn't offer the same opportunities for conversation, for connection, that a walk did.
Even as he moved, however, Sprucefur noticed Feathercloud's slower pace. One ear flicked in concern, the emotion visible on his face for a few heartbeats - but he pushed it down, down where he knew that concern couldn't morph into an intenser kind of worry. To distract them both, Sprucefur spoke of how his day had gone, and the latest happenings as related to their immediate kin.
"Appleshade tells me Asterkit, Birchkit and Snowkit are big enough to move to the apprentices' den." Sprucefur slowed near his namesake, the rich woodsy scents of bark and fresh, wet earth. Dappled light illuminated patches of the semi-longhaired tom. "I think she wants them to stay kits for another season, NightClan has her worried."
Appleshade had a habit of blowing things out of proportion, seeing the world in shades of drama that few cats could sensibly relate to. But she had very real reason to be concerned about their neighbors; tensions were high, and whatever line was keeping them from ripping each other apart seemed thin, fragile at best. A familiar voice filled his thoughts, triggering an ache in his chest. Let them come, Lichenfrost would say, they'll be limping home when I'm done with them. Her ferocity would have only doubled, if she'd been alive to meet her niece and nephews.
Sprucefur looked up. Time passed both achingly slow and mercilessly fast. Over 50 moons, he'd had his littermates in his life. Now, Appleshade was a mother of three rambunctious kits, and she was already speaking to Skyfall in hushed, giddy whispers about retiring after their apprenticeship. Lichenfrost had died defending the she-cat she loved.
And what about us? Nagged a little voice in Sprucefur's mind. He looked at Feathercloud, a question pooling on his tongue like dew, sitting there until nerves and second thoughts would evaporate it. Do we retire quietly to the elders' den, or is there another step for us? Could there be more to the lives they were living right now?
StarClan, he wanted there to be. It startled him how much he wanted it.