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INVENTORY
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Advent
Jan 18, 2019 22:16:49 GMT -5
Post by nimble on Jan 18, 2019 22:16:49 GMT -5
Anticipation clung to Featherstep's pelt like winter fog on frozen branches. It choked her into silence, leaving only the sound of her pawsteps falling softly on the snow. The air was chilled, but the wind was merely a whisper. It was nothing like the suffocating cold of the mountains. It seemed to cut through her thick fur as if it was nothing. If she turned into the wind, it felt as if it would steal her very breath. But here, in the valley where she was bred and born, the winters were more forgiving.
The bare, charred trunks of the Black Woods towered overhead, doing little to obscure the pastel sunrise that painted the sky. Her heartbeat was slightly quickened, and her belly seemed to be tying itself into knots. Featherstep had crossed over the scent border some time ago, and was feeling rather torn in two. She was gripped by dread, but still a flame of relief flickered deep within her. So many seasons had passed, yet she was, at last, returning. Though she made no attempts to conceal her presence, following the routine paths of any NightClan warrior, it did not escape her that she may be treated as an intruder. But, alas, this was home, and, just now, she could not shake the apathy from her bones.
The she-cat padded through the young growth, guided by old memories and intrinsic knowledge of the forest territory that was hers by blood. She was close, now, to the treeline. Just beyond, the maw to the cave NightClan had made their camp lay sheltered between boulders. Even as she felt hobbled by trepidation, she did not allow her steps to falter as she left the edge of the forest.
Pale green eyes found a black tom that stood sentinel at the camp's entrance. An ache spread through her heart even as he charged forward, alarm obvious in his pale blue eyes. Mending wounds lay scattered over his body, evidence that he'd been victim, too, to the foxes. Suddenly feeling very tired, she raised her paw as the tom leapt into her path, bristling. She laid it upon his forehead, mewing sternly, but not unkindly, “Step aside, Coyotekit.”
The gray she-cat strode past the bewildered warrior to enter the cavernous camp. words; 380 tags; @poptart Fawn
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Advent
Jan 30, 2019 21:29:07 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2019 21:29:07 GMT -5
"Step aside, Coyotekit." The mysterious she-cat commanded the tom with authority. It was more than fair to say Coyoteheart was bewildered, and hearing a name he hadn't been called in far too many moons left him speechless as the intruder strode past him with confidence. Having failed to prevent the invasion of their camp the black coated tom quickly shot after the she-cat as he began to bristle. "What do you think you are doing!?" Even whilst trying his hardest Coyoteheart wasn't the most intimidating of cats, his stance proving his confidence had been shaken. It was lucky however that Smokefur emerged from her den with Shadowchaser at her side, both were clearly interested in the commotion emanating from the camps entrance. After seeing that Featherstep was at the center of the trouble Smokefur spoke up freezing Coyoteheart in place piece. "Leave her be, she lives here." A statement which wasn't unnecessarily untrue.
Word Count: 153 Tags: nimble Fawn Notes:
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Advent
Feb 6, 2019 8:30:45 GMT -5
Post by Fawn on Feb 6, 2019 8:30:45 GMT -5
curiosity is not a sin... ...but we should exercise caution with our curiosity Shadowchaser 'Leave her be, she lives here.'
There was no further clarifying statement from Smokefur, and Shadowchaser was left an observer, discomforted by the reality that he was out of the loop. Who is she? He could have sworn he'd heard her address Coyoteheart as Coyotekit. An old NightClan cat. She must have been. Friend, not foe, or else the rest of the camp would have shredded her upon arrival. Shadowchaser's tail swirled in slow, puzzled motions near the cavern floor.
Ever studious, ever trying to solve any riddle presented to him, Shadowchaser paid closer attention to their new arrival's features. Her frame was slender, with her tail, neck and belly feathered in cream-white fur, beige-gray tabby stripes looking pronounced on her pale base coat. She was older than he was, but younger than Echobreeze, a look of maturity placing her closer to Briarthroat's age.
Shadowchaser wasn't the only one confused; there were murmurs and whispers coming from the gathered cats. Shadowchaser's left ear twitched, swiveling quickly to catch a few words.
"Is that Featherpaw?" The voice seemed to belong to Hollystorm, Coyoteheart's littermate.
Shadowchaser straightened, feeling a strange pang of recognition. Why was that name so familiar? Featherpaw... Featherpaw...
Shadowchaser's pelt prickled. Smokefur's apprentice, Featherpaw. medicine cat of nightclan @tagged | jk rowling | background image | table by phoenix
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https://youtu.be/dpw5_Y1RUOc |
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INVENTORY
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Advent
Feb 6, 2019 21:28:38 GMT -5
Post by nimble on Feb 6, 2019 21:28:38 GMT -5
Featherstep merely flicked her ear at Coyotekit's protest, her focus trained on the medicine cat den. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched a familiar gray shape emerge. Smokefur. She felt a pang of sorrow. The time that had passed since last Featherstep had been home manifested before her in the apparent aging of her mentor's body, and it felt like thorns twisting in her belly. She swallowed it down as her eyes met Smokefur's. “Leave her be, she lives here.”
The whispers of NightClan swirled around her, confusion washing over the younger cats while those old enough to know her were gripped by disbelief. “Is that Featherpaw?” Her pale green gaze found the she-cat who'd made the query. She recognized her as Hollykit, and had to stop herself from searching for the third sibling, Bonekit. They were the last kits she'd delivered before StarClan had called her away, and her curiosity was stifling.
Instead, she answered, to all, with a stillness in her voice that did not betray the turmoil turning within her, “Featherstep.” She wondered, in that moment, what her mentor would think of the name she'd been given by Stoneteller in a faux ceremony. Though StarClan themselves had called her by the name, without the sanction of Smokefur, it felt utterly false. Her heart began to pound in her ears, but she forced the anxiety down as she approached.
She recognized the black tom that stood beside her mentor from the half-moon, ages ago, when she'd first intended to return. It was his presence that had prevented her then, and she was no less conflicted by him now. I am not needed here. The thought clawed frantically at her mind. She blinked calmly at the tom, doing her best to silence the insidious voice in her head.
Now, Featherstep stood before Smokefur, the tip of her tail twitching slowly. “I'm back,” she mewed simply, then winced, already anticipating her mentor's next words. Obviously. word count; 327 tag; Fawn @poptart
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Advent
May 29, 2019 22:43:42 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on May 29, 2019 22:43:42 GMT -5
Smokefur had her suspicions that her former apprentice still inhabited the land of the living for some time, after all if she had perished the medicine cat would have expected a visit long before now. It would only have been the polite thing to do after all and Featherpaw knew this as well. Smokefur looked to Shadowchaser and took a moment to study her current apprentice. He had never struck her as the most secure of cats and Smokefur searched for any telling signs that would indicate his level of discomfort. Clearly some of the aforementioned discomfort was present, and Smokefur made a mental note to address any concerns Shadowchaser may have next time they found themselves alone. For now it was time to catch up with her former apprentice, nearly referring to her as Featherpaw before correcting herself. "So it seems Featherstep." Smokefur replied before quickly turning to disappear into her den while speaking. "Come, we have much to discuss."
Fawn nimble
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Advent
Jun 4, 2019 21:53:08 GMT -5
Post by Fawn on Jun 4, 2019 21:53:08 GMT -5
curiosity is not a sin... ...but we should exercise caution with our curiosity Shadowchaser Featherstep. The announcement of her name sent ripples of confusion through Shadowchaser's mind. She had left on a StarClan-given mission, but she'd still been an apprentice when Smokefur had last laid eyes on the slender she-cat. Where had that full name come from? Had StarClan given it to her? Featherstep blinked at him slowly, and Shadowchaser returned the look with a few uneasy blinks of his own, feeling as if a ravine separated the two of them.
He couldn't begin to know what her life had been like for the past twenty-odd moons, or what StarClan's plans for her had been. Their starry-pelted ancestors had been silent on the subject - then again, he'd never asked. It had never crossed his mind that Smokefur's old apprentice may one day return.
Even with more questions than answers ruling Shadowchaser's thoughts, the slender chestnut tom approached with a courteous dip of his head. "I am Shadowchaser. I can wait outside, if you or Smokefur would prefer." Though he spoke with a soft certainty, it was closer to farce than truth. He didn't know what he was feeling right now; it was too much of a shapeless amalgamation of things to stick a label on. He wasn't happy to be excluded from the discussion Smokefur promised, nor was he confident that his presence during the conversation would be all that welcome or needed.
They had a history together that did not include Shadowchaser, and even in the midst of his own budding fears, Shadowchaser would never openly disrespect the unique relationship between a cat and their apprentice - even if that cat had gone on to be his own mentor. medicine cat of nightclan nimble @poptart | jk rowling | background image | table by phoenix
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INVENTORY
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Advent
Jun 6, 2019 23:57:47 GMT -5
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Post by nimble on Jun 6, 2019 23:57:47 GMT -5
The stone floor felt cool against the pads of Featherstep's paws. It was a feeling of home that the earth outside just couldn't compare to. It struck her, not for the first time that NightClan's cavernous camp and the Tribe's hidden home were much alike. It was a chilling thought. She glanced nervously up at the solid rock ceiling, the memory of the devastating collapse of the waterfall cave sending a shudder down her spine. For a moment, the terrible images flashed before her eyes – the bodies of the Tribe cats, her friends, crushed beneath the massive boulders. She felt the churn of her belly, bile rising in her throat as she remembered Night.
Featherstep had rushed into the cave, scrambling over piles of rubble. It was the horrible wheezing that had alerted her, and she'd leapt around the mound that obscured the body of Rumble's mate from view. The dark mottled she-cat was alive, but her abdomen was completely crushed by the rockfall. The tortoiseshell lay beneath a wall of collapsed stone, clawing uselessly at the floor. Her eyes were glazed over in pain, feral with terror. In those eyes, the medicine cat could not find Night of Shining Stars. At once, Featherstep had strode forward on trembling paws, stricken by the senselessness before her. She knew what she must do. Quickly, numbly, she unsheathed her claws – and struck true. Night's body had slumped as the blood drained from the slice in her throat. It was swift, and it was merciful. She had watched as the she-cat's shivering slowed and then stopped, her friend's blood spilling across the stone and pooling around her paws.
She'd bent to lick some of the dust from Night's fur when she'd heard others entering the cave. She'd whirled around, rushing to intercept the cats. The huge ginger tabby had been heading towards the mound. No, she'd thought, feeling as if lighting was coursing over her pelt. He cannot know. It would be his undoing. She'd stood before the patrol, feeling like a mouse before lions when she hissed her order, “Get out – it isn't safe.” They'd paused briefly before obeying, turning back. Last to turn was Rumble himself, horror burning in his amber eyes. She'd felt what relief was possible when he'd stepped away, following the others out of the cave.
Featherstep blinked away the memory. “So it seems, Featherstep. Come, we have much to discuss.” She nodded, an emotion she couldn't name washing over her at Smokefur's acknowledgment of her name. “We do,” she agreed. The silver tabby had been about to follow her old mentor into the den when the other cat had spoken. Shadowchaser. She could hear the uneasiness in the younger tom's voice, and felt her heart soften a bit. Laying her feathered tail across the tom's shoulder's she gently mewed, “Come.”
Inside the den, the silver-furred she-cat sat across from Smokefur, taking care to leave space for young Shadowchaser to join their circle. She looked on, staying silent out of an uncertain mixture of respect and loss-for-words.
words; 512 tags; @poptart Fawn Taxx
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Advent
Jun 16, 2019 12:54:01 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jun 16, 2019 12:54:01 GMT -5
It didn't take much of a keen eye to tell that Shadowchaser was out of his element, the return of his predecessor clearly dominated his thoughts. If Smokefur had to make an educated guess the young tom was likely allowing the turn of events to take him to a dark place, and in this place the little voices in his head worked to destabilize his sense of belonging in Nightclan. After offering to wait outside at either her or Featherstep's request Smokefur analyzed Shadowchaser's willingness to do so in an attempt to deduce whether it was kindness or self deprecation that caused it. It wasn't to be however as Featherstep quickly informed Shadowchaser that he would be joining them as well. After entering the medicine cat den and waiting for her two companions to settle Smokefur began with the most obvious question while attempting to keep a level tone. "Where have you been Featherstep?"Fawn nimble
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Advent
Jun 18, 2019 18:18:24 GMT -5
Post by Fawn on Jun 18, 2019 18:18:24 GMT -5
curiosity is not a sin... ...but we should exercise caution with our curiosity Shadowchaser Even with Featherstep's gentle invitation, Shadowchaser still felt out of place. Despite the lingering sensation of being a fish out of water, it occurred to the tom that Featherstep must have felt even stranger.
She used to sleep in this den. Maybe even in the same spot I keep my own nest. The fact of the matter was that he had been taken under Smokefur's wing and seen his training through to the end. Featherstep had... disappeared, and had gained her name and her knowledge in a way that was unknown to them. It tickled Shadowchaser's curiosity so deeply, the tip of his tail would quiver, subtly alive with the energy of questions building on his tongue.
Smokefur asked the most important one, and Shadowchaser fixed large golden eyes on the slender middle-aged she-cat who smelled so much like the mountains. This may be a long story. That was fine by him; he would no doubt be retelling it later to Darkstorm, Thornscar and Cobrastrike, who would no doubt wonder just what in StarClan's name was going on. medicine cat of nightclan nimble @poptart | jk rowling | background image | table by phoenix
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https://youtu.be/dpw5_Y1RUOc |
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INVENTORY
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Advent
Jun 21, 2019 0:10:57 GMT -5
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Post by nimble on Jun 21, 2019 0:10:57 GMT -5
The den that the trio stood in felt equally as haunted as the main cavern, to Featherstep. She could scarcely remember the feeling of newness that she had once felt, when she'd been taken as the medicine cat apprentice. She'd spent mere moons in this den as her apprentice before Smokefur had left, pulled away on some errand by StarClan, leaving NightClan in her unwitting paws. She remembered how lost she'd felt, half-trained and alone within these very walls. Then, the very starry cats that had orchestrated her stranding had guided her to Snowheart, LightningClan's medicine cat, who had picked up her education where it had been dropped. She'd finally had her paws beneath her when, a season later, Smokefur had returned. Meager moons they'd been reunited before their ancestors saw to it again that they be separated.
“Where have you been, Featherstep?” It was, of course, the question she was expecting – the one she'd come here to answer. Still, she felt a bit overwhelmed by it. The gray tabby sat, drawing her tail across her paws. “Well, the...” She trailed off for a moment before heaving a breath that betrayed for the first time the storm turning within her.
“StarClan–” she began, bitterly. The word dripped with venom, with accusation, the likes of which would be jarring to any cat who'd known her as she'd been before the... the quest. Before she'd been led away from NightClan, Featherstep had never held that kind of hostility – and certainly not towards StarClan themselves. But now, within the stone she used to call home, it was easy to slip into resentment towards the force that had wreaked havoc on her life. The force that had not done enough. Featherstep stopped, vexation clear on her face as she closed her eyes, drawing a long, slow breath as she prepared to start over. As cruel as fate may have been to her and those she'd come to love, she'd been sent away for a reason. An important one. No matter her qualms with the methods employed by the spirits, that she could not deny.
“There were cats,” the she-cat mewed, her composure gracefully regained, if only for a moment, “in the mountains – far from our valley. The Tribe of Rushing Water. StarClan sent me to save them.” The word felt wrong, like some kind of macabre attempt at humor. Featherstep's voice began to quiver, her eyes filled with echoes of horror and guilt as they rose to meet the old medicine cat's. “I led them back to the valley, but – StarClan, Smokefur, I lost so many.” Here, before her old mentor – a cat with whom she'd shared a bond that remained unreplaced by any others, even by that which she'd shared with Stoneteller – Featherstep, for the first time since her journey had ended, fell apart. Her pale green eyes stayed locked on Smokefur's even as she began to sink towards the stone floor, wide with emotion as her soul pleaded silently, desperately, for forgiveness.
words; 506 tags; @poptart Fawn
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Advent
Jun 23, 2019 11:19:02 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jun 23, 2019 11:19:02 GMT -5
Smokefur watched as her former apprentice attempted to articulate her experiences during the many moons she had been away from Nightclan, and it was clear that Featherstep was more than a little haunted by these memories. The she-cat that stood before Smokefur was no longer the apprentice she had shared the very den where they stood with so many moons ago. Both cats had changed since their last encounter, and it seemed they had each discovered a newfound bitterness for their ancestors along the way. Smokefur feared that the home Featherstep had left no longer existed, due to the aforementioned changes as well as many others, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to try. Clearly the she-cat that stood before Smokefur was devastated and the last thing she needed was a former mentor who she had known as caring and affectionate providing no such support in her bitter old age. After closing her eyes and exhaling Smokefur suppressed the bitter feelings that had been plaguing her and attempted to comfort Featherstep. "It's okay, take all the time you need..."
Fawn nimble
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