[Phoenix]

I WISH EVERYONE WAS LOVED TONIGHT

Faint but still audible, the sound of trickling water was always quieter whenever he stopped by for a small sip of water. Days turned to nights before becoming day again, and the relentless circle of time kept dragging them closer and closer to what was shaping up to be a rough leaf-bare, whether or not they were ready for it. He could measure this passage of time by the weakening sound of running water, and where a rushing stream had once stood, deep with flood water from last season, a silent layer of ice now rested. The stream was very nearly completely frozen. With the tips of his paws positioned on where the ice met the land, he considered the rather important landmark for a moment longer before raising a paw and bringing it down upon the frigid surface with a crack!.

Thin and not yet strengthened by the full might of leaf-bare, the ice gave way easily, and the young warrior lowered is head. A sandpaper tongue lapped at the surface as he drank his fill, shivering slightly at the uncomfortable feeling of freezing water traveling down his throat. The small, brown tabby did not often contemplate leaf-bare with any particular fondness. The cold always seemed to find a way to seep into his bones, and it refused to melt away until the heat of the green-leaf sun thawed the glacial air. Apart from the absence of his apprentice – she had become a warrior under his proud gaze not that many moons ago – this leaf-bare was shaping up to be no different than last year’s, and the change in season, of course, had the entirety of the warrior den and their apprentices scrambling to find every last piece of prey they could before the cold and the snow truly hit. But it had been quite a while since one of his hunting patrols returned with enough prey that to be what he genuinely considered a success.

Had the sun now hung in the sky instead of the moon, he would have returned to the lesser traveled areas of their territory in order to do what he could to add to the fresh-kill pile in the middle of camp. Thirst had roused him from a restful slumber and driven him into the cold for a drink of water. Raising his head, Gorsetail let out a quiet sigh. The chill in the air had chased away the last tendrils of sleep that had clung to his mind, and now he knew that it would be quite a while before they returned and he would be able to settle down again. The night was clear; he might as well enjoy it, sitting there by the side of the almost-silent stream. There was something to be said for the peaceful solitude of night.

Gorsetail | TreeClan | Warrior | Better Days - Goo Goo Dolls

A CHANCE THAT MAYBE WE'LL FIND BETTER DAYS

[Fawn]

Sprucefur
40 Moons || Tom || TreeClan || Warrior

It was unwise to hunt at night. With the temperatures getting as cold as they were, staying out till moonhigh proved to do more harm than good for most of the cats of TreeClan. Sprucefur did not boast a long coat like a few of his Clanmates, but he fared a little better than the others, and had stayed out later to attempt to contribute to TreeClan’s last minute preparations for leafbare. With a scrawny squirrel clutched between his jaws, the pale warrior dragged it through the snow, forced to raise his head higher than he would’ve liked to compensate for the dead rodent’s long body.

Gorsetail’s still out. Despite the thick scent of squirrel invading his senses, he could still pick out the faint familiar odors of his Clanmates; one was a younger tom whom he considered a friend, if not a fellow sympathetic soul. The other, he realized with a springy leap of his heart, was Feathercloud. Forever subdued in his affections (rather, he never seemed to work up the nerve) for the beautiful silvery she-cat, Sprucefur's pace didn't quicken, and he didn't rush over in her direction like some sort of lovesick bumblebee to a particularly potent flower.

He would play it cool. He would maintain his calm, place one paw in front of the other until he was back at camp, bringing the squirrel to the fresh kill pile where it belonged. He would—
With a muffled cry, Sprucefur's pale golden eyes widened as the ground gave way beneath him, and he was sent plunging tail over ears into an old badger sett. He struck a protruding rock on the way down, hard enough to gasp in pain as something in his flank seemed to fracture. The squirrel broke his fall somewhat.

Dazed, the warrior attempted to rise, but had to pause to catch his breath as thorns and bristles shot through his left side. Fox dung! Did I break a rib? He blinked in the darkness, looking to the shaft of moonlight spilling in the narrow opening of the badger sett. It had been dug at a steep angle, and it slowly dawned on the pale tom that if he did not get out soon, his chances of escaping before the temperatures dropped to fatal lows would disappear.
"Help!" Called Sprucefur in a voice as loud as he dared, his sides tight with pain when he drew breath. "Gorsetail! Feathercloud! Help!"

Sprucefur hated calling for help. He hated admitting he didn't have everything, himself included, under control.

But he knew what kind of price he could pay for his pride. He wasn't willing to die for the sake of stubbornness.

---

Word Count: 439 Words
Tags: Phoenix , BlooRey DVD

[BlooRey DVD]

~~~~~~~~~

Great StarClan, it was cold. And it had gotten dark far more quickly than she'd expected it to. Silver ears were rotated back, laying flat on her skull as the TreeClan warrioress skulked back towards camp. She did not envy those with pelts far thinner than hers; really she was impressed that they didn't turn into cat-cicles in the Leafbare moons. Pausing to give herself a shake, puffing out her fur as extra protection, Feathercloud turned her ice blue eyes on her path. She was so very close. Unfortunately, all she had to show for her expedition was a stupid mouse. She'd only barely managed to dig her claws into it when it tried to escape.

With a sigh, she dismissed her feeling of failure. Bringing back a mouse was better than bringing back nothing. The Clan needed all the prey they could get in these coming moons. She'd drop it on the fresh kill pile, and then scoot back to the warrior's den to warm up. Someone would be there, she was sure. It would be a good distraction, to have someone to talk to. Brokens- Er.... Silentsong was always a good listener. But she would probably be curled up with Zephyrfang.

Her blue eyes rolled slightly as the thought of the tabby tom. It was nearly impossible to think of a moment when he wasn't right by her side. He was like a lovesick apprentice. She couldn't stop the little smile that tweaked her lips. Despite his tendency to stay by her side, no one could deny just how much happier the tortoiseshell warrioress had become after Zephyrfang sauntered into her life. Shaking her head yet again, she placed one paw in front of the other. Oh well, it looks like Silentsong is out of the question. She could always go and find Spr-

Her head snapped up as a familiar voice called out for help. The mouse fell to the ground below, forgotten in a wash of panic. She was surprised by how quickly her body lurched into motion, despite the cold, despite the prick of hunger in her belly. "Sprucefur! Sprucefur?" Her head swung to and fro as she tried to figure out where his voice had come from. It was then that she felt the way the ground dipped just slightly. Quickly throwing her weight onto her hind legs, she scrabbled back from the entrance to a steeply sloped, abandoned badger's den. Her ears were glued to her skull once more, ice blue eyes wide as she stared down in the dark hole.

She could just see his pale fur down below. "Oh StarClan..." She whispered beneath her breath, her silver figure beginning to pace along side the badger sett. "Sprucefur, are you okay? How did you even... You have to be more careful!" She exclaimed suddenly, as though she were the older one between them. Her muscles were tired, her paws sore from wandering the territory. And yet, none of that mattered. "I'm going to get you out. I have to." Glancing over her shoulder, she put her own voice into the mix, remembering the other name she'd heard Sprucefur call out. "Gorsetail! Sprucefur's fallen into a badger's den." Without thinking, she began scraping at the earth, hoping that maybe she could lessen the steepness of the entrance to safely pull him out of there.

Fawn Phoenix