It took a moment before finally Bravebird poked her head out from the warriors' den. She had been trying desperately to grasp at the fleeting strands of a dream, something that had felt more like memories than fantasy. But it had been futile and left her awake without a chance to return to sleep. So the warrior had gotten to her paws and decided to check out what was currently happening in camp.
With Twilightstar perched on the large rock that overlooked them, it was then the lilac lynx-point realized she had missed the call of a meeting. With a quick lick of her chest to smooth down any wiry patches of fur Bravebird hurried over to join the small crowd, taking a seat among them. She caught the name of a kitten being called forward and smiled, watching as she called up to Twilightstar. She was becoming an apprentice, if Bravebird remembered correctly.
The wind howled across the vast, rolling moorland, setting its grasses waving and carrying the scents of renewal. Fresh, tender green clashed with old, shriveled brown and yellow, but together they bowed with the forces of nature. A warm sun lit the sky; it glowed golden in an unbroken backdrop of light blue. Yellow gorse flowers hugging prickly bushes and long, purple-specked heather stems craned upward to absorb its life-giving rays. Their sweet odors mingled with growth, peat, and warm, living things that had also been coaxed to the surface.
Wolffang walked through the stalks of grass, short and long, his pinkish-gray nose twitching as the mingled scents reached it. His large, sturdy body carved a path through the plants, bulging muscles rippling underneath a dappled gray pelt that blended with the familiar landscape. He could've been a rock or a discolored patch on the moor, but he was not. He was a warrior, WindClan's former deputy and forever its protector, even as he grew and changed and made amends with those he should've spoken to sooner. Yet even he bowed to the wind; his eyes were screwed up to slits, flashes of amber that reflected the sun, and his one large, notched ear was flattened against his broad skull. The chill of the wind bit through his thick pelt and sank into his skin. However, he faced the onslaught of air, and his steps only slowed by a hair. The scents of the blooming newleaf envigorated him, as did the warm caress of the sun, so sweet after leaf-bare's bitter frost. He was here on a mission: to hunt prey for WindClan, especially with so many taking trips to the medicine cat's den.
The warrior stood still for a moment and opened his jaws, letting the air flow acutely over his scent glands. Although the wind, which was a little rougher than usual, made the odors glance over his tongue, some stayed and settled long enough for him to get an accurate reading. There were mice around here, and if the wind wasn't keeping them holed up in their burrows, he should be able to spot a rabbit. The thought of a chase made him swipe his pink tongue over his jaws. I'll catch plenty of prey before I return to camp, he vowed. First, he had to focus on the mice.
Wolffang followed one of the tasty traces he'd detected, instinctively lowering into a crouch and making his pawsteps quieter. If there were mice in the area, he didn't want them running away. The wind would help; its howl would mask any noises his large, broad paws might make, though he'd gotten rather good at stealth, and it was blowing toward him, meaning he could smell the mice, but they couldn't smell him. Grass stalks that sheltered him from the force blowing against him brushed his solid gray cheeks and tickled his underside as he moved, tasting the air on occasion to make sure he was on the right track.
And he was. Wolffang hadn't been walking for long when the scent grew undeniably stronger, and a round gray head with even rounder ears and a pointed muzzle poked out of the earth. He froze. The mouse did not look his way; its beady gaze glanced left and right, missing him, before it popped out of its burrow and began nibbling on a fresh green stalk of grass. Wolffang's eyes narrowed. The mouse was small, but it was getting plump; despite leaf-bare's weather leeching into newleaf, it had clearly gotten enough to eat. Careful. The sturdy tom lowered himself farther to the ground, feeling his muscles roll beneath his pelt, and honed every sense toward the mouse. His ear swiveled forward, unbowed; his nose twitched; his broad paws dug into the uncomfortably damp earth. Then he lunged, and the mouse barely had time to turn its head before a powerful paw snapped its spine.
Wolffang scraped some earth over it, memorizing the spot before continuing on his way. His movements were cautious yet swift, though there was no need for speed; he spotted another mouse not long after the first, nibbling on a seed it held between its front paws. He lowered himself to the ground again, but unluckily, the mouse looked up and spotted the hulking warrior. It squealed, and Wolffang sprang for it, but by the time his paws smacked the slightly muddy ground, the mouse had disappeared down a hole. He growled a curse under his breath. That wasn't your fault. It was bad luck.
The dappled gray tom searched the area, but any of the mice he scented were sheltering in their holes or too difficult for him to detect properly. Frustration made his pads prickle, but he stayed collected in his search for his Clan's sustenance. He had traveled a little less than a tree-length, bone-cold from the wind but warmed by the newleaf sun, when he spotted it.
A rabbit sat in the sunlight, its agouti pelt tinged golden by the warm rays that fell upon it. Beady eyes shone, and it was tipping its head upward as if exulting the sky. It didn't know about the warrior ancestors its predators worshipped, but the foolish thought briefly crossed Wolffang's mind. StarClan must have sent this my way, he thought, unsheathing his long, sharp claws. The rabbit wasn't the biggest he'd seen, but it certainly wasn't small, and it had plenty of meat on its bones. A scrumptious scent drifted his way on the fierce winds, and he licked his lips. This rabbit would be enjoyed by many.
As he had done for seasons ever since first learning it as an apprentice, since his cocky moons as a young warrior and his turbulent mental state as deputy, during his improvement before his death and now after it, Wolffang lowered into a half crouch. Slowly, he drew himself forward, his ear flattened and every sense alert for the movements of the creature he stalked and the shifting of the wind. The rabbit did not look at him; the wind did not change. Then he rose from the crouch and broke into a run in one fluid motion, feeling his muscles bunch and expand as the wind blew harder against his sturdy yet lean frame. The rabbit lifted its head and emitted a startled squeal, turning and bounding away. It was fast. But Wolffang, despite his size and build, knew how to run like the wind his Clan was named after. His broad paws expertly pushed against the peaty, grass-covered earth, flattening grasses both young and old, and he propelled toward the fleeing creature. The distance between them closed so that he could spot its bobbing white tail with startling clarity.
Then, without breaking his stride, Wolffang put power into his hindquarters and took off in a massive leap. He soared through the air, the blood roaring in his ear. His shadow fell upon the rabbit. It looked up, and alarm glittered in its eyes, but it could not escape its destiny. Wolffang fell onto his back and dug his claws in neatly, keeping the rabbit secured as it wildly bucked beneath him. His teeth sank into the back of its neck; he tasted the delicious metallic tang of prey-blood as the rabbit shrieked. Its dying cry was broken off by a loud crack, and Wolffang let go, swiping red off of his teeth with his tongue. The rabbit lay limp beneath him. He climbed off of it and briefly inspected the catch with a flicker of pride; it was a doe, not that that mattered. What matters is that it fills the bellies of my Clanmates and ensures that they don't spend the night hungry. He bent down and grabbed it by its scruff, then headed toward the spot where he'd left the mouse. Most other prey would be hiding in its burrows with the wind despite the warmth of the sun, and Wolffang was cold, though hunting was more important, of course, and the bite of the wind's chill wasn't as bad as leaf-bare's. It was time to head home.
Wolffang padded into camp. Its sheltered walls were comforting, blocking out the cold wind that howled across the moor. But what felt better was the weight of prey in his jaws: one plump rabbit that was bound to feed multiple cats and a mouse that would make a good meal for someone on their own, maybe something a pair of kits could share. Or Leopardsong? His stomach got that weird feeling of butterflies flitting around in it, and he considered bringing it to her. However, he wasn't sure how she felt about eating, with her sensitive stomach and all - although she was feeling better, she could eat, and surely that would've been healed by now? - and if she was hungry, he knew she was fully capable of getting fresh-kill for herself. He also wanted everything he'd caught to be available to anyone who was hungry, as much as he wanted to do something nice for the she-cat he loved. So, he put down the rabbit and the mouse, then padded away, thinking about what he should do with the rest of his day.
Clan History
Settling down on a comfy bed of moss, Twilightstar rested in a slight crouch finding little reason to bother with standing since she was teaching a class of little ones. Well, actually today she had two paws and one little one if she had the request correct. "Moorpaw, Littlekit, Milkpaw." Twilightstar raised her voice to be heard. "Come gather for your history lesson." Milkpaw, she was quite certain, had recently returned to the clan after disappearing. Since Fallownose had been the one to find him and he hasn't come to her for anything. She assumed whatever caused him to go missing was handled, hopefully.
@Abyssopelagic - Moorpaw @Leafie - Littlekit @Wingnettle - Milkpaw
Moorpaw was a little slow getting to Twilightstar as she called for the group to gather for their history lessons. She was tired a lot lately, probably an after effect from being ill after helping Cowtuft with the mass quarantine.
But at the same time, she was extremely eager to get back into her apprentice duties. She'd sat around for too long, it was time to get herself into the swing of her training!
She didn't have time to be tired.....
She sat herself beside the other apprentice and the kit joining for the history lessons as well. She gave a polite smile to the group but didn't have the energy to hold it for long, so she turned her attention to the leader. If she'd missed the leader's opening lessons..... she was sure the lilac molly would cut her some slack?
It seemed she hadn't missed anything, as Milkpaw turned to greet her. She gave him a second, more genuine smile as he addressed her briefly. She couldn't help but think he was so cute with his beautiful, chubby little face.
CLOSED; PLEASE DO NOT REPLY. I WILL MAKE AN OPEN POST IN THE CLEARING AFTER THIS ONE.
CONTENT WARNING: The spoiled sections of this post contain depictions of intense sickness and depression caused by the sickness. Please do not read it if you think this will bother you.
~ TULIPPAW OF WINDCLAN ~
Dainty calico she-cat with sleek fur and rich, vivid green eyes.
Dark shadows reached up on all sides, cast by the thick walls of the apprentices' den. They crept toward the frayed moss nest resting in the gloomiest corner, which reeked of sickness and a decaying body. But its inhabitant wasn't dead. Tulippaw lay curled on the soft green moss and woven grass with half-closed eyes as dull as those decorating the corpses of fresh-kill, her pathetically small body reminiscent of a dying flower. A beautiful calico pelt, white glowing in the persistent darkness and orange and black blending into it, covered a frame that was naught more than skin and bones. It had been lovely and dainty once; its fur covering, too, had been thick and lush, with stunning green eyes glinting against a rounded face. But now that pelt was thin and patchy, slightly slicked down but nowhere near its former glory, with the occasional ungroomed tuft and smidgen of moss decorating it. Dry, crusted eyes were set deep in a sunken face, and snot trickled from a perfect pink nose. No, this was not the same Tulippaw who had strutted around camp with her head and tail held high, showcasing her beauty for all to see and begging for the attention of her Clanmates.
This Tulippaw was hiding in the darkest corner of the apprentices' den, sheltering her weakening body from the critical eyes of the Clan. At first, she'd hidden signs of her illness behind a sweet smile and forcefully brightened eyes, brushing it off as nothing more than a sniffle and a slight protrusion of the ribs caused by the dreaded leaf-bare. It had been easy enough to strut about, hunting prey and stomaching a mouse here and there, supplementing lost calories with snow. My Clanmates like it when I'm strong and don't display discomfort even if they should be flocking to me for something as minor as a gorse thorn in my paw, she'd thought pompously. As the sickness got worse, reality trickled into her determined illusion; the symptoms had been dreadful, the hunger mixed with nausea, the soreness in her throat, the stinging dryness of her eyes and nose despite the snot constantly trickling from it. Memories of her missing family and missing or dead friends struck her with waves of loneliness and terror. Oh, poor me, giving up everything for my Clan! she'd lamented. They'll see soon enough what they've done. She'd been planning some dramatic reveal of her illness, something that would make her Clanmates incredibly upset for the poor apprentice who had given up everything.
But everything had gone from dreadful and dramatic to draining and dull.
Her vision was constantly dark. Sunlight glinting from the entrance of the den she viewed as a haven nearly blinded her. She could hardly smell the foul odor rising from her nest, something she doubted the other apprentices would notice since she slept so far away from them, but she didn't care. Her ears barely picked up on conversations; words slipped out of her grasp like a fish slipping through water, skimming the surface of her brain before being lost. Teeth gnawed at her stomach and bones when she shifted even slightly, but she'd grown used to it. Stay still, don't move, and the teeth stop. Or at least, they aren't as painful. Her breath rattled in her feeble chest; sometimes, she wondered if her heart had stopped beating.
Everything had faded to a dull ache, if that. Tulippaw could hardly process emotions. She could barely feel. The popularity that had been so important to her, her grand plans, her resentment, her feelings of self-importance... they were gone. Even her pelt, which she had kept clean no matter her physical state, was losing the touch of frenzied cleanliness. She cleaned it on occasion, but her licks were half-hearted, and if she was too tired to continue, she ignored the tufts of fur that stuck up and the bits of her nest that had woven its way into her calico hairs. Occasionally, she saw Dusktalon's familiar dark, brawny figure, those copper eyes gleaming at her with joyful menace, or she thought of someone who might hit her, or everyone hating her, and fear sprang like a clear stream in her heart. Or she thought she could sense the presence of a family member or friend, but when she got excited and focused on it, she realized she was what she was never destined to be: alone. But it always faded to that familiar nothingness.
She didn't know what to do. She couldn't do anything but lay here, hoping she'd get better. The next day might bring something nicer... maybe she'd wake up and find out that StarClan deemed her special enough to heal her instantly with their powers.
Weakly, Tulippaw gazed at the entrance of the apprentices' den. As usual, the sunlight pouring inside was blinding, scalding her eyes with the force of fire. She screwed them up against it, wishing she could retreat to the darkness, another place she didn't belong. But... but...
Ugh, this light was so bright. Uncomfortably bright. So golden...
A strong breeze blustered past the round hole where every apprentice except Tulippaw entered and exited, and it breached her clogged nose. She breathed it in, a brief trickle of gladness making its way into the misery that swamped her. Fresh air was always nice. But this air was different than the cold leaf-bare breeze. It was warm. Comforting. And it carried the touch of newleaf.
Newleaf.
Growth and renewal.
Leaf-bare was going away. When it was warm... Tulippaw would get better.
Hope wormed its way through her weakening heart, and the organ pumped it through her veins alongside her blood. Newleaf... Newleaf... Joy joined the hope and, though her eyes remained dull, a faint spark that didn't reach them physically seemed to appear. Warm air. She'd been in her warm nest, sheltering from the harsh leaf-bare winds, but... it was warm now. Warmer. That meant grass and flowers and the end of sickness. She was going to get better. Surely... surely it was a sign from StarClan? From her family, who was bound to return any day now? That has to be it. Or it could just be getting warmer, but... Tulippaw desperately wanted to believe it. She had to feel the newleaf air. She had to get outside. The sunlight, which she had cringed away from, became beautiful and inviting. She had to feel it on her pelt. She... she didn't want to be in the apprentices' den any longer.
The thirteen-moon-old calico braced her small, delicate paws beneath her, then forced herself into a standing position. Her legs trembled like heather stems in a violent storm, her knees knocking, and her heart stuttered. Breathing became difficult; a wave of light-headedness washed over her entire body, and she almost collapsed. But somehow, miraculously, she kept her paws grounded in the mossy depths of her rank nest. She shut her eyes tightly as phlegm gathered in her throat and threatened to make her hack violently. Stay upright. Stay upright. You can do this... Have to reach the sunlight... Maybe the brightness and warmth would scare Dusktalon away? Burrpelt?
Tulippaw opened her eyes, and the world spun. She took several deep breaths and prayed to StarClan that she wouldn't cough. She cared about her ancestors even though they'd turned a blind eye to her. She should've been prioritized, but... they had to look after everyone, right? Every WindClan cat? Every Clan cat? Some ignorant warriors must've just... forgotten about her. But she hoped they could hear her now. Apparently not, because she coughed violently, hacking up green-tinted phlegm that spattered on her chest fur. But... no, they could! She rocked, but she didn't fall. Tulippaw was still on her paws.
She lifted her head. Her face was sunken and bony, but it felt like there was a rock on top of her neck. One paw in front of the other... Tulippaw's voice played in her head, but she had a memory of Pheasantgaze saying that to her and her siblings in the nursery as they learned how to walk with perfect posture. Tears threatened to break through her eyes, and they burned painfully, but they didn't fall. Come... on... She rose a paw into the air and briefly put it down. Walking wouldn't be easy. Her head lurched, the teeth in her stomach bit deeper, her brittle bones and wasted muscles sang in protest...
But Tulippaw kept going. Shaking, stumbling, her paws barely leaving the ground as she rocked like a leaf in an overflowing river, she made her way across the den, previously her haven and now her prison. She tore nests apart with her fumbling paws and flailing legs, but she didn't care. The glowing sunlight burned her retinas. She had to reach it.
A shaking paw, primarily white with a spot of tabby orange and a smidgen of black bleeding from a splotch on her ankle, poked out of the apprentices' den. Suddenly, it lurched forward, finding purchase on the sandy ground outside. Another paw of the same color scheme but with a different pattern followed, as did a muzzle. Then a sunken face with dull green eyes appeared, looming out of the shadows. Almost... there... The light was blinding, but it was so beautiful, even with the spots dancing across her retinas. And... Oh, the sunlight. It felt so warm on her face, the sand soft and familiar and comforting as the cold grains rolled under her small paws. Tulippaw breathed in the fresh newleaf air. It was cold, and her lungs felt scorched, but it was just so warm, too. So much warmer than leaf-bare had been...
It didn't take long for narrow shoulders and a disturbingly thin body with a patchy, partially groomed pelt to emerge, too, heralded by lurching, stumbling steps. The golden sun shone on Tulippaw's beautiful calico pelt, the only remnant left of her former glory. But newleaf promised more. So much more. She took another deep breath, feeling the phlegm rattling in her throat and threatening to choke her. Her body trembled horribly, but... She was here!I made it, Tulippaw thought, feeling a flicker of triumph. The sun... it feels so good...
Things would be okay. They would be okay.
She took a few steps out. Shapes were moving about the clearing, her Clanmates, but she didn't care. This was about her. She would get better on her own without letting them see her, then she'd be the best, most popular cat WindClan - no, all the Clans - had ever seen. That was how it worked, right? You go through something horrible, survive it, tell everyone about it, and they love you?
Thank you, Pheasantgaze! Oakshade, Fogpaw, Asterpaw... Frostpaw, Irispaw, Robinpaw, Barkpaw, Honeykit... I know you did this. You did this for me, your friend!
But something was wrong.
No, many things were wrong.
Tulippaw's determination to get outside had propelled her, but now that she was here, that resolve had bled away like everyone she'd loved. As if she'd been hit on the head by a boulder, exhaustion and light-headedness rushed through every fiber of her being, and she swayed dangerously on her paws. The teeth in her shriveled stomach grew harsher, gnawing and biting, reaching past her digestive system to every bone in her body. It hurt. Everything hurt. The light, her savior, became blinding, and the chill of the wind in the clearing settled around her. It sank past her thin pelt and allied with the teeth chewing up her bones. The phlegm in her lungs and throat increased tenfold, and she was choking. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. Her eyes felt like they were being clawed out, her nose wouldn't stop running, the weight of a rockfall was crushing her...
This wasn't a blessing from StarClan. Her family and friends... they were missing or dead. They weren't here to help her. They were gone. She was alone. All alone. She'd hidden from her Clanmates. Who was going to help her? Was Dusktalon here, stalking her with that haunting copper gaze?
It was too much. Too much.
Tulippaw's jaws parted, and her sunken eyes bulged as she hacked violently. As her head drifted toward the ground, the black spots in her vision grew until it was evident they weren't just caused by staring at the sunlight for too long. Phlegm, greenish and sticky, splattered on her chest and the ground. Her lungs hurt. She couldn't breathe. She tried inhaling, but there was phlegm in the way. Her heart beat fast, impossibly fast, and tears of agony and anguish pricked the corners of her green eyes, which had once been the most stunning shade of green any cat had seen. Static sounded in her ears, but somehow, she was still here.
Tulippaw was too weak. Her heather-stem-thin legs and their feeble knees buckled, and she collapsed. The thirteen-moon-old apprentice's body jerked vigorously, her legs splaying, phlegm foaming at the corners of her mouth, her eyes wild as she bucked like a trapped rabbit. Tears didn't fall, but they continued to burn in her eyes, swimming in them like a school of fish. Tremors racked her body, and her breathing - when she could breathe between emitting unsettling hacking, choking noises - was quick and shallow. All rational thought fled her mind, and she was overwhelmed by the sensations as every instinct and nerve ending inputted different information and the sickness she had harbored took control.
It was too much for her weakened body to handle. Far too much.
@SpiritedWarrior (Since you wanted Badgerfoot to notice and get Cowtuft!) @Moonraven (In case you want Twilightstar to intervene, but she doesn't have to. )
Last edited by TheNyanCatMinecart; April 3rd, 2023 at 09:21 AM.
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Cinderspirit (she/they)
WindClan ❍ 26 moons small fluffy grey she-cat with blue eyes and faint tabby markings
╚═════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════╝
Coughing. That was the first thing Cinderspirit heard. She poked her head out of the warriors den to see a young apprentice - Tulippaw if memory served - hacking violently in the clearing. She hurried over just as the calico apprentice fell to the ground, her body convulsing and spasming with each cough.
Panic rose in their chest. This cat was dying. Their blue eyes darted around frantically, searching for someone else, anyone more responsible and calm than her to take charge of the situation. But no one was there. Taking matters into their own paws, they yowled, "Help, someone help!"
As they looked quickly over the young cat, they could see that she had evidently been ill for a while. Her pelt was dull and her eyes bulged in a thin face. "Shhh, it's ok. Just try to breathe. Focus on that, and on me. I'm here, I won't leave you. Just try." What else could she do? She wasn't a medicine cat, but she decided to try not to move her, not in this state. Maybe giving her something to look at and hold onto would help? Who was she kidding. She wasn'r prepared for this.
On a really good stride on here and Barleypaw is really close to getting her post counts finished for her training. If there is anyone who needs a cat to help with anything feel free to VM or pm. I want her to be more active along her clanmates.
Either that, or someone had turned everything upside down and now they were enjoying watching the chaos.
Because the specter that Berryfrost was looking at could not be Tulippaw. It could not be, for she refused to believe that this.. skeleton of a cat had been WindClan's resident beauty queen. With a wild, unchecked lurch, the speckled molly jerked forward and towards Tulippaw, her own breathing turned labored at the sight of her former denmate. For what, she had no idea. This was the cat who'd bullied Badgerpaw, the cat who'd never done anything of note to Berryfrost but had always made her self-conscious of her own lacking self.
Right now, however, Berryfrost didn't care for any of that. All she cared about was the dull expression her Clanmate wore, as if life were escaping her. And that .. Berryfrost couldn't have that! If WindClan were to suffer another loss...
The young molly didn't stop to think, didn't stop to evaluate whatever condition Tulippaw was in. Scurrying over to the calico female's side, the shorter feline positioned herself infront of Tulippaw, ready to offer her support if needed.
Re: WindClan Breezerock
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