CraneClan

At this rate, we are at Moon 0 as of the 21st of Dec. Moon updates are probably going to be fortnightly or weekly but that may change. Edit: Updates are content based! As in, I will be posting only interesting, major events that happen.

Hope you have a great day/night!

I am Noor from Gaza, a mother of three children. We lost our home in the recent war and are now homeless. We are facing extremely harsh conditions, and I cannot overcome this ordeal alone. I kindly ask for your help, whether by sharing my story or providing support to rebuild our lives. Your support will make a significant difference for us in these difficult times.

vetted ♥️🙏🌷. @90-ghost 🌷🙏♥️

Donation link🌹

https://www.gofundme.com/f/rebuilding-lives-a-mothers-plea-for-hope-and-safety-in-gaz?lang=en_US&utm_campaign=fp_sharesheet&utm_medium=customer&utm_source=copy_link

🙏🌷

Tempestpaw is made a medicine cat apprentice.

Trigger Warning: Animal death, fake blood.

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Coyotestar padded through CraneClan’s territory quietly, the constant tug of sorrow in his heart growing heavy as he passed the river, the place where Quickkit and Cicadacurrent had died. He dipped his head at the running water.

It had been twenty-four moons since Fringepaw’s death, and it still hung over Coyotestar like the moon - always watching, especially in the dark. Coyotestar had never felt so alone, in moments at his weakest, he’d thought he was the only cat left in the world.

When he’d caught whitecough, he’d had to hunt for himself whilst sick, and died quickly because of it. Sure, it was only one life, but it was still dying. He’d seen Fringepaw, and a little bit of him had flickered with hope, but that had extinguished eight moons later, when he’d been hit by a monster crossing the Thunderpath.

Two moons later, he was covered in healing scratches and cuts, paws sore and stomach aching with hunger. Coyotestar wasn’t used to living alone.

Maybe, he thought. Maybe I’m supposed to die alone. 

Over, and over, and over.

His thoughts were interrupted by a pitiful mew, and he turned to sniff the air. Coyotestar’s eyes fell to the ground by a push, where a small ticked brown and cream kit lay, thinner than a twig. He rushed to examine the kit, his eyes meeting its beautiful grey ones, although they were dim and almost life-less.

Wordlessly, Coyotestar grabbed the kit by its scruff and rushed back to camp. He placed the kit down in the medicine cat den, before grabbing a squirrel from the fresh-kill pile and pushing it to the kit.

The small creature ate quickly, clearly starving. 

“What’s your name?” Coyotestar asked gently, and the tom-kit looked up at him.

“Tempestkit,” he rasped weakly, coughing lightly at the end. Coyotestar flinched back from the noise, memories of Fringepaw doubled over with coughing bouts racing through his mind.

“Where’s your family?”

“They’re all dead,” Tempestkit hiccuped, and Coyotestar moved to curl up around the kit. He licked his ear fondly, soothing the overwhelmed tom-kit.

“Would you like to join my Clan, Tempestkit?” Coyotestar asked, a gleam of hope in his heart.

The small kit nodded immediately, and Coyotestar felt a surge of happiness roll over him.

Maybe, he could rebuild CraneClan.

Fringepaw has died of whitecough.

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Coyotestar padded into the medicine cat den, a bird dangling from his jaws. His eyes landed on Fringepaw, asleep in his nest. The apprentice was looking more ill by the day, and it had been a moon since he’d fallen ill. Fringepaw was mostly unconscious, making it hard for Coyotestar to make sure the younger ate.

The day before, Fringepaw had collapsed after they’d had an argument, leaving the older tom guilt-ridden and ashamed.

Coyotestar moved to lick Fringepaw’s ear fondly, eyes closing sorrowfully at the coldness. He nudged the apprentice body, expecting to feel Fringepaw adjust and grunt in annoyance. Instead, he rolled over easily. 

Coyotestar leaped back in horror, letting out a wail of grief as he realised. “Fringepaw!” He howled, rushing to the apprentice and nudging him again, only to watch the grey tabby flop over limply, his eyes closed peacefully.

Coyotestar choked out a sob, burying his face in the fur of his dead apprentice, hopelessly whimpering. Now, it was just him.

Just him.

Fringepaw touches noses with their mentor, Coyotestar, looking bored and unimpressed. But on the inside, they're bouncing around with euphoria as if they were still a kit.

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