[dino.]

// @poppy.

>Buckbranch<

Despite the chill of leaf-bare in the night air, a brown and white shape huddled in an open space of ThunderClan's camp. Buckbranch's dull, mussed fur was not puffed up against the cold. His cheek rested against the trodden grass, while the rest of his body was pulled into itself in a loose ball. Green eyes stared blankly up at the clear night sky, scanning the stars silently. Cindersky's words resonated in him more than he cared to admit, and after a moment of squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw, he let out a heavy sigh and forced himself to untense. ShadowClan scent had long mingled with ThunderClan's—he should have been used to it by now. But Cindersky's voice and Icicleripple's name kept circling through his thoughts, forcing him to notice it every time he inhaled. (Icicleripple... she had not visited him once in his dreams. Was she angry with him, what he had allowed himself and ThunderClan to become? She had a right to be. Was Cindersky right?)

Groaning to himself, Buckbranch shuffled around to bury his face in the grass. Whether it was to shut his thoughts up, or make himself stop staring helplessly at the stars, or an attempt to drive the ShadowClan scent from his nose, he wasn't entirely sure; it just felt right. He wasn't tired, he was rarely tired at night anymore due to sleeping during the day after his long night walks. He'd stopped doing those after Cindersky had gone off on him, but his sleep schedule was still wonky.

A fresh wave of irritation rolled over him and he allowed his limbs to splay out as he let out a soft growl. "Be quiet," he muttered to himself.

The former leader must have looked quite a sight, splayed out in the clearing, with a clearly uncared for appearance, grumbling to himself, in the middle of the night. It was probably not helping to improve his public image whatsoever.