Re: ShadowClan Elders' Den
〚~Willow'Paw~〛
| 9 Moons | ShadowClan Apprentice | Female, She/Her | Purrks:
Kitty Soft Paws, Heightened Perception [smell]
[a small, fluffy tortoiseshell she-cat with pale green eyes and an atrociously fluffy tail]
[this takes place a bit after "it all falls down!"]
The first impression was: EEP! Scary!
The second impression was: Oh wow. Kewl!!!
Willowpaw had mixed thoughts about the new Elder's Den. It was dead, and even if it was just a treetop, anything dead was auto spooky. But also, LOOK AT THIS! ITS A TWELVE KAJILLION YEAR OLD ARTIFACT! Who knows what this canopy could have seen! Twolegs, dogs, cats, multi-universal beings, leaves, the future, fire, and anything else that came its way! A very very old tree-part for very very old cats. She thought that was pretty fitting. Willowpaw was doubtful that someday she'd morph into an old-looking cat when she got older, and be an occupant of that den herself. It was hard to imagine herself slow and creaky as a young apprentice. And, bonus, if she compared this tree-cover to the other trees, then it looked practically the same, except for the ghastliness the aged tree held. Must to be pretty similar to cat aging, ignoring how they were built up completely differently and how one was a plant and one was an animal and they had totally different anatomy. Yes yep indeed affirmative, she was the most innovative cat to roam the lands.
To her semi-disappointment, she couldn't study trees any longer, and she had to actually do what she came here to do. She had a bundle of moss, not a lot of it, since she couldn't carry much. Willowpaw wasn't too troubled by this; she could always yoinky some more from the split trees. She made sure this was all the moss she could carry, and then ducked into the Elder's Den, still getting among-us style stabbed in the neck by a stick despite her crouching. There were already some nests in the den, but she could decipher some semi-cozy (hopefully you don't mind throwing hands with branches) spots in the corners. Willowpaw blooped the moss down by a spot were the thicket of branches reached lower, it was less spiky and murdery, but more tangled and maybe still as murdery. She spread the lichen-twin out, in the shape of a nest.
An uncanny amount of kneading, testing, failing the test, adjusting the nest, getting more moss, and testing it and repeating the process later, 'MWUALA! Moss bed!' It was a bit rough, given she was the equivalent of a toddler in this case. The apparently-a-toddler flopped down in the crunchy moss, proud of what she'd done, when really it was merely pathetic in comparison to the other nests. She didn't have much time to relish off her bedding building, before she had to get more moss. The nest had taken three full mouthfuls of dry moss, and she needed to get more.
On the way to the completely unsuspicious mossnapping, she heard a growl. For a moment she froze. What did she do wrong? Was moss off-limits? Was mossapping illegal? Before she realized it was her stomach. She did not like when it did that. It was loud, embarrassing, and a dead giveaway that she'd rather be munching away instead of whatever she was doing at the moment. She really couldn't stand her stomach being grumpy at her. She quickly made a stop by the fresh-kill pile. And then she realized with a stomach lurch: There was no fresh-kill pile. The hunting patrol hadn't returned yet. 'Oh darkness my old friend.' Dragging herself back to the taking of moss, she went for the tree half that didn't make up The Grimpeak, still feeling like the world was empty without the fresh-kill pile.
A little bit later, Willowpaw spawned in the Elder's Den, with a whole new mouthful of moss.
Definitely no cat here who was wanted by the M(oss)BI.
[OPEN!]
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"We cannot change our destiny. We just have to have the courage to know what it is, and accept it."
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