RiverClan Warriors' Den

[WarriorGalaxy]

[Activity post]
Littlestream slept

[Diamondfur]

name: waveclaw
Kits: none yet but his mate is expecting
Mate: RabbitFur
age:21 moons
Color: blue-gray tom with gray eyes

[Tallstar]

Spiraltail slept(Activity post)
Reedshade slept

[Marigoldwhisper]

`~Owltalon
She, Her\Deputy\46 moons\Riverclan
"Are you listening, starchild?"

Purrks: Agatha Kitty [ACTIVE]


- - -

Even if Owltalon was the deputy, that certainly didn't change her sleeping spot. She wasn't sure why she thought it would for a small moment during her promotion. Well, she wasn't upset, she liked to sit in the warriors den. She remembered when Beachkit was still around, her heart still ached for her son, wherever he was, but hopefully he was happy. Looking at her barren mossbed, Owltalon was reminded of how she'd hoped to give her kid some trinkets. Maybe bones and skewered out eyes... Though, he probably wouldn't of liked those very much, now that she thought about it. But, she would've loved to give him something. She wasn't sure why he ran away, it hurt to think about, but she only hoped he was safe and would eventually build up the courage to turn back up to Riverclan.

Would he remember her? Hopefully, Owltalon thought as she kneaded through her mossbed, missing the soft cold of bones against her paw pads, cool and chilling. Between the Exodus trip to the mountains, the trip to the abandoned Two-leg den, and then further up some more rock, she'd lost all of her trinkets and ornaments to the natural give and take of travel. It was sad, but it just ment she'd have to get out there a bit more often, find some new things and stuff them into her mossbed. She always started with feathers, so that's just how it was going to be now.

Maybe she could go down to Lionsbeach and snag a few. Though, those seagulls were particularly disrespectful to her, and she wasn't sure why (it's probably because she skinned their family members right in front of them without a hint of remorse, but c'mon! She could get a pass, right?), but she'd hunt them anyways. And, not only that, but she'd also be killing two birds with one stone seeing as she'd get her trinkets and fill the freshkill pile. She could certainly manage to pluck off a few feathers without completely mutilating the animal, even though that was fun too.

After she was done fluffing up her mossbed, she trotted inside of her resting place in a circle, her pace slowing once she found a spot she liked, then she flopped down and closed her eyes. Sleeping? No, no. Justice never sleeps.

(she was so corny)

Tags:
@Rowan // Rowanmane (GIMMIE GIMME)

[Scarylolia]

Willowheart sleeps.

[Neptune.]

Larkwing
~<>~
28 moons || she/her || RC Queen Warrior || Kitty Softpaws, Mind Reader, Killer Aptitude T2
scarred, scrawny dilute tortoiseshell; green eyes

As her leg and tail begin their healing, and her strength slowly returns to her, Larkwing finds herself drawn to the warrior's den more than any other place. This den is not one of the... what, three? Four? she'd found to be her home over the moons, but the cats the den belongs to are still the same: warriors. It won't be long before she has to face reality and move to a different den, and she's only far too aware of that fact. Still... she has some time left.

Maybe a nap would be nice... it's not like there's very much else she's able to do, confined to the camp as she was. When's the next time she'll be able to go out in the territory? At this rate she might as well be considered an invalid.

Where's her nest anyway? She hasn't been in the medicine den long enough that she'd had her nest scrapped, had she? ...she hadn't exactly established a good nest in this new den before getting hurt, though, so not surprising. Still, a familiar scent reaches her, and the small tortoiseshell lets her nose guide her to a nest that is not hers, but carries a scent as familiar to her as her own paws and as comforting as the river.

Limping, she circles in the spongey moss, curling up stiffly, injured leg outstretched at an odd angle, tail stiffly curling against her flank as she breathes in the scent there. Fishfreckle...

[ surprise for you @Dark no need to reply ]
[ otherwise open !! ]

[iliri]

Weepingwind
short-furred, black ghost tabby with dark green eyes
purrks: n/a
she/her | riverclan warrior | 31 moons

---

Weepingwind had padded over towards the prey pile earlier before making her way into the warriors’ den to eat what she picked out. Unfortunately, unlike what she had hoped for, her options from the pile were relatively slim. Only two perch lay on the pile, their silvery scales were dull and pale in the leaffall light. It was a subtle reminder of the season’s bite already taking hold, the cold seeping into the rivers and thinning out prey. With a sigh, she carefully picked one of the perches, gripping it gently between her teeth so she didn't risk breaking its soft scales. As she walked back to the warriors’ den, she cast a backward glance at the relatively sparse pile. She could almost feel the weight of the clan’s need resting on her shoulders. When she’d finished here, she’d go out on a solo patrol—just to see if she could find anything to bring back. The waters were already cooling, but she still knew where to look for fish and the familiar thrill of a solitary hunt stirred in her chest. If fish weren’t an available option, then she would go hunt on land for any potential prey that was around. She knew her luck for both would be relatively slim, but all she could hope for was that she could find at least something to bring back to camp so cats could have full bellies. It would be dreadful if cats had to go without any source of prey for a long while.

Weepingwind slipped into the warriors’ den, her sharp gaze scanning its shadows until they settled on a familiar dilute tortoiseshell form lying in one of the nests toward the edge. Larkwing’s scent was easy to pick out from the others, mingling faintly with the medicinal tang of herbs. Her clan-mate lay tucked into a loose circle, her injured leg stretched awkwardly to one side, her frame curled tightly in a way that made her almost appear smaller, maybe even fragile to a certain degree. Something about her posture made Weepingwind pause. She tilted her head, her own deep green eyes narrowing as she observed the quiet changes in Larkwing—the careful, slightly guarded way she held herself, as though there was more than just the injury weighing her down. There was a softness about her, something rather tender and unspoken that Weepingwind couldn’t quite name on the tip of her tongue. Perhaps it was only the strain of her recent confinement, the practical weariness of being camp-bound, but Weepingwind had the feeling there was something deeper there, a quiet shift that she couldn’t quite put her paw on. It wasn’t on her palate to bug about it, though. The warrior looked to be that she could use some company, and Weepingwind was more than okay to do that sort of company. Stepping forward, she set the perch down beside Larkwing’s—or, rather Fishfreckle’s—nest, then crouched beside her with a gentle flick of her striped tail.

“Mind some company?” She murmured, her tone soft but edged with a familiar, easy warmth. She knew how restless she’d feel if she were in Larkwing’s position, cooped up in camp, unable to run the territory and stretch her legs out as she pleased. It sounded like it would be undeniable hell in her opinion. When the former leader answered, the tabby settled herself down onto the dirt floor, not wanting to invade Larkwing's personal space. She tucked her legs beneath herself as she nudged the perch closer, inviting her clan-mate to share if she wanted. “I don’t mind sharin’ if you haven't eaten anything yet. There's not a whole lot in the prey pile, so this was pretty much my only option.”

@Neptune. (gladly snatched this right up <3)

[Neptune.]

Larkwing
~<>~
28 moons || she/her || RC Queen Warrior || Kitty Softpaws, Mind Reader, Killer Aptitude T2
scarred, scrawny dilute tortoiseshell; green eyes

What a surprise it is to have a friendly face approach her. Emerald eyes blink to alert-ness with Weepingwind's approach and the gentle nudge of the perch in her direction. An invitation to share. Maybe it's a little sad just how surprised Larkwing feels every time another cat willingly approaches her for conversation and company, maybe it's a little pathetic how she yearns for their companionship yet feels so unworthy of it she hardly ever seeks it out herself. No one will know what she wants if she doesn't tell them, why should she expect them to read her mind all the time and come chat? So, every time someone does approach, she finds herself surprised, and a little anxious, afraid to mess the interaction up in some way, afraid to assume too much and fearing she might slip back into the anger that had ruled her days serving as their leader. An irrational fear, maybe, but a fear nonetheless.

"N-not at all, go ahead," she replies to the question of joining her, appreciating that the older molly sat a pace or two away, negating any reason for the injured among them to shift her position. There's something soft and gentle in the way Weepingwind speaks to her, not exactly like she was a coddled kit, but the fierce pride buried and bundled away deep inside the warrior cannot help the flash of resentment at the soft tone even as she quickly squishes the feeling away.

"Thank you," she says then, in reference to the perch, but she doesn't take the first bite. "Is everything... okay with you? Any interesting patrols or... anything?" Why is it so hard to talk to some cats? She is genuinely curious, as always wanting to know what's happening and be as involved as she could be in her Clan's daily life, but she can't help the way her voice comes out unsteady, unsure, like she's asking just for the sake of being polite.

[ @iliri - weepingwind !! ]