Event [#event]

It was just a tree. Only a tree.

Nothing special.

Non-threatening.

Just a tree...

I can't do this. Mudslide thought, starring up at the Grimpeak, her eyes betraying her fear by how they slightly glossed over everything around her, except for that stars forsaken tree. The Grimpeak looked rather bare without Dawnstar on it, and Mudslide felt nauseous just looking at it. Having the terrible feeling that at some point, she'd have to move her paws over there, call for attention, and then act like she wasn't about to throw up.

Fun.

So, so, fun.

She wound her tail around her paws, rocking herself back and forth slightly as though she was trying to swaddle herself in a blanket and soothe herself. All in vain, terrible helpless vain.

Okay. That's it. You're going up there, and you're not looking at anycat, not in the slightest. She begged her paws to stop trembling (which they didn't) as she walked to the Grimpeak and leapt a top the structure, her breathing so deep and ragged she was sure even the blindest shrew could see how her chest heaved. She cleared her throat rather harshly before she spoke. She hated speaking, dreaded the way her voice sounded, hated how it gave her a hint of acknowledgement.

Just pretend. You can pretend.

She looked down at her paws as she called for Shadowclan's attention with a harsh lash of her striped tail. It was go time. And she was far from ready.

"Socialize. Prey skinning." Flaying, a skill Mudslide lacked, but Mistlewhisker had. The Enforcer cleared her throat once more, all cracked with lack of usage. Why was she calling this event anyways? "Mistlewhisker... Teaches skinning." Another cough, her voice raspy.

She then turned her gaze to the nursery and the apprentice den, shaking her head wildly, her ears pinning back. "No younger cats." Her voice warned, reaching above regular speaking volume, but still laced with an undeniable edge of rasp. It almost sounded like her voice was speaking through heavy radio static.

She then gave a nod to the prey pile. "Eat afterwards." Unless they wanted to prove absolutely incompetent, they'd eat or give away their skinned prey. "Pelts... For dens." The whole point of this event was to warm the clan up, if not that, then get them to talk to each other (how ironic. Mudslide would not be doing any socialization this event).

Darn, she needed to catch her breath. This whole talking thing was making her anxious, eyes immediately searching back for her multicoloured paws after she made her statement, icy eyes closed and sealed off from the cats below her. Her tail was still taut around her paws, hoping how they shook was shielded. "Questions? Seek Mistlewhisker."

Mudslide however, she was done here. She'd easily sleep for a thousand years and not use her voice for even longer.