[♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟]

Leaf-bare 9 More freezing rain overnight has made the valley dangerously beautiful, covering the ground and encasing the trees with a thick layer of ice. Beware of falling branches.

Time and again boys are raised to be men This wasn't the first time he had stepped across the LightningClan border and vanished off on his own. He often wondered if his clanmates were aware of his wandering paws, if they knew what he was doing. That he was still looking, still searching. If they knew, would they intervene? Would Redstar and Owlmind sit him down and give him a little speech on Clan loyalty? He was nearly up to his belly in snow, wading precariously though the frost. This time, as cold wind nipped at his ears and the pine trees loomed oppressively above him, he was not looking for Pebblefang. His paws carried him through the snowy landscape on a different mission this time, one that he was unlikely to be able to explain to anyone else if he was caught. At least, when he was looking for Pebblefang, he could claim he was concerned for a former clanmate. This, this was probably not allowed. In his jaws he carried a rare splash of colour in this cold environment. A small purple pansy he had discovered growing on a frosty outcrop, a winter-blooming flower that he had rarely come across before. With that discovery came an idea he had been sitting on for awhile, and now here he was with that small flower gripped in his mouth along with a tiny, scrawny little rabbit. He curbed his guilt with the silent promise to himself that he would hunt prolifically later that evening, as he had been for the past season in an attempt to occupy his thoughts. He came to an icy slope, gripping his prize in his jaws, and took one tentative step forward. With a slight yelp, he found himself sliding down a rather dangerous ice-slide, his paws slipping on the smooth surface in a vain attempt to get a grip. The rabbit and the plant fell from his jaws and landed neatly among the snow at the bottom while he tumbled over his own feet in a clumsy heap. Letting out a small groan of annoyance, the silvery tom regained his footing and picked up the flower and the prey, which thankfully had not been damaged. Rememberingfeet to keep his eyes glancing up every now and then for the ominous silhouette of a hungry eagle, Birchspots made his way beneath the sheltering pine boughs, his nose keen for the scent of Tribe cat. Impatient they start and fearful they end words: 399 / tags: Hellion BIRCHSPOTS

[Hellion]

Grateful to be in good standing among his tribemates, Stag rarely earned the ire of those in his company. It helped that as he embraced adulthood, he became less reckless, careful than his youth.

Far from the tom that had fallen foolishly in love with a clan-cat, Stag found himself more confident than ever before. It was that ego that guides him on his solo-expeditions. Trips down to the outskirts of the valley below. Despite the moons from the fight with Cinderfur's sister, Gracklestrike, Stag remained wary of too many Clan-cats. He wasn't fearful, that was reserved for real dangers, feminine, and disease to be exact.

He kept his distance from groups of clan-cats. Make polite and civil conversations of pairs or single cats, he had no intention of being well known in the valley and did it out of formality. A peace offering, knowing the name of something or someone made them less scary. Curiosity was both curse and blessing to Stag who often let it get the better of him. The drive to know as much as he could about the world around him remained a powerful motivator.

Trekking downward at an angle to avoid tumbling whisker-first into the snow. Stag caught a glimpse of a cat seemingly failing to do the same. The brown-green eyed tom picked up his face and arrived a few moments later. A bit out of breath, a pilar of fog billowing upward from his maw.

"Are you okay?"' He asked first between gulps of air, only to recognize the cat now that he was closer. "Birchspots right?" His tail flicked excitedly, it was rare to meet a clan-cat more then once, there numbers were several times that of the tribe. How they remembered their own names amazed him. "It's me Stag," A bit awkward introducing himself, he did so in the off chance Birchspots forgot him. Never mind the feeling of fear in the bit of his belly and the fleeting idea that Birchspots had forgotten him.


Text ends here.

♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 | #words | background | lyrics | table by Amber

[♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟]

Boys are raised to be men.

BIRCHSPOTS

[attr="class","birch"]

<sup>He knew he was being foolish, wandering out here into the mountains. He could get sick, lost, hurt, killed. He could fall into an endless chasm and disappear into its dark depths, never to re-emerge. But despite the distinct knowledge of his own foolishness, here he was, bitten by the cold and frosty wind, with a battered flower and a forlorn little rabbit. Even in death, the creature looked as miserable as he to be out and about in such a cold, unforgiving landscape. Above the sigh of the wind, Birchspots just about made out the sound of paws crunching over snow. The layer of flakes giving away beneath paw-pads too light to be a fox but too heavy to be prey. Leaping to his paws, the tom bristled at the eerie sound. Suddenly all surroundings became threatening, the shadows deeper, the tang of rabbit’s blood on his tongue sharper. “Who goes there?” He growled, though his light voice sounded more alarmed than threatening. Though he had a warrior’s stance, his claws were hidden away within his toes.

A familiar brown face appeared between the trees, and Birchspots immediately sagged with relief. Thank StarClan! He thought, his ears unpinning from his head. Green eyes so much brighter than the dark pines around them met his with concern. “I hope you didn’t see that.” He meowed with a wince, referring to his slip-and-slide. “Yeah, I’m fine, really.” He was surprised when Stag re-iterated his name, and dipped his head. “Stag! I… I remember.” He laughed. “You’re… actually why I came here.” He continued awkwardly, pointing with a dark-tipped tail at the rabbit and flower. The purple colours stood out so stark against the snow that it looked almost like a discarded artpiece. “See, I… you saved my life.” He said, shrugging. “I thought… well, I’d thank you.” He picked up both gifts and laid them at Stag’s paws. “The rabbit, you can keep it for yourself or share it with your Tribemates, I don’t mind.” Would a Cave-guard carrying back a prey item be considered odd to the Tribe? Birchspots had no idea. He didn’t have a clue how the Tribe worked or thought. “And the flower, well, I found it while hunting, and I always thought flowers made a nice gift. Colourful.” Mist puffed from his own mouth, reminding him of how cold he was.</sup>

Warrior
_{of LightningClan}

Hellion 395

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