-Maplefeather caught Dewbelly talking about him to Frogstar.
-Dewbelly told Frogstar about the argument between him and Maplefeather.
-Frogstar took note, but since she was leader she chose not to take either cats side.
-The cats are starting to become anxious about breaking the curse.
-LavenderRay suggests attempting to go back on land, to see if that would break the curse.
-Frogstar volunteered, since she has 9 lives and the others only have 1.
-LavenderRay goes with Frogstar, but stays in the water and watches Frogstar from afar.
-Frogstar went onto the surface, and was alright for a moment so she went further.
-After a few minutes, Frogstar began to suffocate from lack of water.
-Frogstar painfully died 3 times before the other cats were able to bring her back in the water.
-Frogstar now has 6 lives, and has gained a scar on her throat.
-A rule has been created. No cats are allowed anywhere near the surface.
-Maplefeather and LavenderRay were playing together in camp when Maplefeather revealed something important to LavenderRay.
-Maplefeather now identifies as genderfluid, using both she/her and he/him pronouns.
-For now, LavenderRay is the only one who knows.
-While stretching her legs, LavenderRay noticed a kit transformed by the crystal lake curse struggling to breathe on the surface.
-LavenderRay grabbed the kit and brought him back into the water.
-The kit said that he had wandered off from his loner mom and siblings and fell in the lake, where the curse affected him. And when he had tried to get back onto the surface, he started to suffocate. That’s when LavenderRay came and saved him.
-The clan decides to take the kit in until they can figure out a way to break the curse and return the kit to his family, naming him Carrotkit after his colors. He is a 2 moon old tom-kit, and is a quiet kit.
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“The heat was overwhelming, the clouds dark as night… the lightning struck through me and I felt like ice.”
“It felt so.. real. I couldn’t sleep the whole night.. what does it mean?” Heronsmoke pleads, skin beneath the eyes dark and watery. She stopped dead in her tracks as the wind ruffled her short fur, staring wide-eyed at the cat accompanying her: Warmmask. He nods earnestly, taking a step forward and craning his neck to lick the messied fur on the warrior’s side. He offers a warm smile, taking a seat and inviting Heronsmoke to do the same. She did so.
“You have been blessed with a vision, Heronsmoke. What luck!” He purrs, a deep rumble emanating from his softly-striped chest. “It is clear you are in good graces with Starclan- few receive such messages so directly.” He hums, tail tapping against Heronsmoke’s side. She exhales a shaky breath, lifting a paw to rub her exhausted eyes.
“I am thankful for the blessing.” She begins, glancing skyward, where the light of dawn twinkled softly with slowly disappearing stars. “I just.. didn’t think it’d be so frightening. I feel like something bad will happen, Warmmask.” She sighs, turning her head to catch his gaze.
“It is only natural. The weight of such visions is a heavy one to bear.” He murmurs, trailing off quietly to break her eye contact, trading it to stare at the ascending sun. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. Petrichor. Grass. Lightning. Warmth. Blood. Heronsmoke still stares expectantly, breath hitched in her throat.
“Starclan does not distinguish the obvious. It exposes what is hidden from us.” He begins. “We may enter a difficult Greenleaf. Heat and lightning… storms approach. This much is clear, you and I have seen it.” His brows furrow, eyes remaining closed. Warmmask’s tail slides from Heronsmoke’s side, curling around his paws, flicking.
“We must exercise caution as I unravel this. Thank you, Heronsmoke. I shall inform Raggedstar and Russetkestrel swiftly.”
He dips his head, and Heronsmoke nods, looking past his shoulders, out into the grasslands.
...
“Nevermind, sorry…”
Russetkestrel mumbles, head held lower from behind Hollyhockstripe. The pair had spent the entire morning checking the outer borders of the territory, where the paths that monsters roamed converged. The gentleness of dawn had since faded into an aching mid-morning, where darkened clouds dug into the sky like claw marks. The white tom marched in front of her, ear flicking backward at her quiet muttering. He huffs and pauses, turning around momentarily.
“You’re not patrolling with Swanstone, you’re patrolling with me.” He grumbles, narrowing his eyes. “Quiet and keep up.” He turns, leaving Russetkestrel to stare, mouth slightly agape, claws digging in to the hard soil. Her one-sided resentment had been boiling over ever since the fox attack, leaving Russetkestrel to often complain about the noble warrior, much to the chagrin of Cricketleap and the others in the den. The only one who hadn’t heard her pouting yet was Hollyhockstripe, but now he had to deal with it. Russetkestrel huffs, blinks, and begins to follow him into the lower cut brush near the asphalt.
The pair stopped just underneath a small tree, branches swaying with the wind of oncoming rains. Russetkestrel let the scent float into her nostrils, anticipation of petrichor making the hairs on her spine rise. Hollyhockstripe scanned the land below before turning to the deputy, flicking his tail. “The border seems in check. We can return.” He affirms, glancing back down. Russetkestrel nods her head, beginning to turn around.
Something rustles nearby, a flash of red and white. The molly pauses, quickly turning to Hollyhockstripe, bumping his side with her paw. She jerks her head quickly, silent, pointing to the source of the sudden noise. The pair stares, creeping forwards. The grasses rustle again. A tail, long and multicolored, sticks upwards, waving like a banner in the air. Russetkestrel glances at Hollyhockstripe, brows furrowed and bridge of the nose wrinkled.
Without warning, a cat bursts from the grass with a yowl. His bright blue eyes would match the sky on a cloudless Greenleaf, his face sporting red and white split distinctly down the middle. A snarl twists on his maw, ears flattened to his skull as he bounds towards Hollyhockstripe, tackling the tom to the ground. Russetkestrel gasps, freezing in place as the toms tussle for a split second.
Almost instantly, Hollyhockstripe kicks the lean cat off of him with an enraged hiss. Blood dribbles from his snout, a clean mark just missing his eyes. The attacker tumbles into the grass.
“You fight like a kit!”
He screeches before sprinting away towards the thunderpath. Hollyhockstripe huffs, staring down the newcomer as Russetkestrel slinks towards her peer. They watch in silence as the red and white body disappears towards the asphalt expanse, bewildered.
MOON TWO - PART TWO
Heronsmoke has a vision.
Russetkestrel keeps complaining about Swanstone.
Russetkestrel and Hollyhockstripe stumble across a kittypet who immediately turns on them as they approach.
The clan has met Blavingad.
Sedgeclan has no deputy!
Sedgeclan has no medicine cat!
While exploring the territory, Coniferstar meets a loner named Silent, who declines to join the clan.Â
Silent - Male - 81 moons
Loner
Charismatic
Great Hunter and Helpful Insight
Coniferstar has begun to know the territory, by now. Strangely easy to get turned around, in the flat, wide sameness of the tundra.
Unfamiliar plant-scents tickle his nose; strange flowers and spicy-smelling, woody shrubs. There would be plenty of time to learn their names, and functions. For now, Coniferstar creeps through the rippling sedgegrass, following a different scent–
Cat. A lone tom, with no smell of sickness on him. Coniferstar had caught his scent-trail near the border, and tracked it here– to the edge of an icy, trickling stream, where the stranger sits, washing his ears lazily.
Coniferstar lingers in the undergrowth, for a time, watching the big, white tom.
His fur blends well with the Thawcreep snow, still clinging to the tundra here and there. Older than Coniferstar, judging by the yellow of his teeth, but not too old– yes. He might do.
“You look a strong cat,” Coniferstar says; the stranger startles, as he steps out into the open.
The stranger’s pelt bristles, but he doesn’t move. “Strong enough,” he says, evenly; his voice is deep, and smooth. “Who are you?”
Coniferstar blinks warmly, keeping his claws sheathed only by force of will. “Coniferstar. A newcomer to these lands. And I mean you no harm.”
The big tom studies him, for a moment, pupils thin as thorns in the wide, bright gold of his iris. His fur, by degrees, settles back against his spine. “Then I’m Silent. And I don’t mean you any either.”
“A pleasure, Silent.” Coniferstar lets out a purr. “I don’t suppose you have a moment to speak?”
Silent flicks an ear, glancing at something over Coniferstar’s shoulder; Coniferstar follows his gaze. Sees only the hazy, purplish line of the horizon; a white fur of low-lying cloud.
“Don’t suppose I do,” Silent says. “Snow’s coming.”
“There’s shelter at my camp.” Coniferstar speaks maybe a little too hastily; winces, at the note of desperation in his voice. He wonders if Silent hears it clear as he does; sharp and loud as hawks crying.
“And at my den.” The loner’s voice is not unsympathetic; but he stands, to leave. “Take care, newcomer. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
Coniferstar pauses, for a long, long moment– something gnaws at his belly, hungry, though he’d eaten well that morning.
But he dips his head, eventually, gracious, and turns to go.
The leader’s den is cold, that night, the stone leeching heat from Coniferstar’s fur. The silence of the camp, around him, presses in.
Coniferstar works his claws into the earth. Maybe recruitment wouldn’t be as easy as he’d thought– but of course. A big, strong tom like that had no reason to join up with a clan.
An idea taking root, Coniferstar lets out a breath, relaxing, and settles his chin onto his paws, to sleep.
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“Get this thing off of me, kid.” Spindlespots rasps. The tom lay near the outer grasses of camp, comfortably nestled in a warmer patch of lichen, straw, and dirt. After a moon of loud-mouthed complaining within the healer’s den, Warmmask had begrudgingly allowed the older warrior to escape- as long as he kept the binds around his body tightly wrapped. Paw-flattened moss and spiderwebs decorated his shoulders and back, lightly covering the pale spots of his namesake. A cricket slowly ambled across his spine, clutching each hair with its long appendages.
Hollyhockstripe sat next to him, pupils enlarged as he stared at the large insect, tail flicking back and forth with anticipated energy. The newleaf air had warmed ever so slightly since the previous moon, though it often brought icy breezes once the sun had set. The sun, however, was high in the sky, rays coming and going as large clouds passed by. Spindlespot’s tail flicks, landing against Hollyhockstripe’s side, tapping and tapping with irritation. Get on with it!
Hollyhockstripe huffed, casting a glance to Spindlespots with furrowed brows. He sits up, extending a darkly patched paw towards the glimmering green insect, gently offering a bridge. Without much hesitation, the cricket crawls towards the younger warrior, firmly clutching his paw. The tom stares down, ears flicked forwards, and a small smile appears on his maw. The focus is once again broken as Spindlespots exhales loudly, in apparent relief.
“Thanks, Hollyhock.” He purrs, taking the time to adjust and flop over on his side, wincing slightly.
“That little thing was gonna rip all my hair out, I felt it!” He teases, beginning to shut his eyes, tail smacking the ground. Hollyhockstripe rolls his eyes, leaning back to gently shepherd the cricket onto his own back. The tom walks to the very edge of the camp’s line, moving once again to grab his small companion, who he guides onto a tall strand of wild grass, swaying ever so slightly.
To his relief, the cricket leaps away, onto the grass, then away further into the undergrowth. He returns his attention to Spindlespots, who had immediately fallen asleep as soon as Hollyhockstripe had turned his back. The white and black tom exhales, carefully walking past him into the more open part of the camp’s clearing.
Two cats lay comfortably at the base of the plateau that housed the leader’s den: Raggedstar and Cowboy. Their fur seemed damp, as if just groomed, pushed around by active paws. Hollyhockstripe huffs again and approaches, sitting down next to the pair. One of Raggedstar’s bright eyes cracks open, and a smile appears.
“Hollyhockstripe, come come.” She invites, patting the dirt with her tail. “Rest up from-” She yawns. “-the morning patrol.” Raggedstar purrs, stretching out her body and rolling to the other side. Cowboy’s ear flicks, peering up at the newcomer with a tired expression. She grumbles something underneath her breath, then shifts in her position, getting as comfortable as she can. Her brows furrowed as Hollyhockstripe begins to speak.
“Resting, or just enjoying the sun?” He asks, tucking his paws underneath his body. Raggedstar yawns again, rubbing a paw on her chest.
“Cowboy and I sparred. Gotta shape up those skills, right kittypet?” Raggedstar chuckles, causing Cowboy’s ears to flatten against her head. The bright metal medallion hanging from the white molly’s neck shone in the sun, beaming into the stone with a bright yellow glow. “You’re doing pretty good, Cowboy. Nearly took my eyes out today!”
Raggedstar exclaims with an odd grin. “Claws of yours were longer than I thought. That’s good, girl. That’s good.” She purrs. Hollyhockstripe glances at Cowboy before nodding, starting to feel his body relax. The clouds had begun to slow their movement, where the sky was perfectly situated so that the warm light covered the entire camp, as if approving of their efforts. The three are lulled into a nap underneath the sunshine, soft breezes whisking through camp to ruffle their pelts. The rest of the camp comes alive during the day, moving past the sleeping cats who become sun-basking stones.
...
MOON TWO - PART ONE
Hollyhockstripe gets a bug off of Spindlespots' pelt and takes it out of camp.
Raggedstar practices fighting strategies with Cowboy.
Raggedstar, Cowboy, and Hollyhockstripe took a sunbath together.
