Mothcloud purred, following the she-cat. Well I don't know your age. But I'm sure it's mor than 30 moons. I'm not exactly young" Mothcloud purred. "I remember when Dawnstr had her first kits, cute little bunch." Mothcloud meowed. Amused by the next question Mothcloud nodded. "Yes, hunting tricks are easy. Wen we get there show me what you know and I'll adjust" Mothcloud mewed
@GrimacingHeron
The young cat carefully steps over fallen leaves and brittle twigs. She looks at the more experienced warrior in admiration.
Honeybreeze allows for a silence to fall over the cats, so they don't scare away any potential prey. Her ears twitch as she parts her mouth, scenting the air. Slowly, the brown tabby falls into a crouch, long belly fur brushing the damp ground.
The warrior hides herself in a bush, pale eyes stalking the mouse just a few tail-lengths away from her hiding place. Silently, she glances at Mothcloud.
(Do you see the awkward line in my posts?Just above the signature? Am I going mad?? What is that?? D:)
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All are welcome to interact with my cats.
HoneybreezeShadowclan, non-binary, long brown fur w/ barely visible tabby stripes
GoosebiteThunderclan, male, brown tabby w/ scarred front leg
Frostkit looked at Newtpaw. "U- uh I don't know . . ." she said softly. She didn't really want to learn it. What if she did badly at it? Which she probably would because of her leg.
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Featherstar is the current leader of MountainClan! She has an open den policy!
credits to @/newo Newtpaw
ShadowClan Apprentice ♞ He/Him ♞ 7+ moons "We are the warriors, who learned to love the pain
We come from different places but have the same name"
Newtpaw purred, still oblivious to the kit's limp leg. That's okay! We can do something else! Do you wanna play? He squeaked, tipping his head to the side.
@Snowyfeathr
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"Someone can break your heart, but always remember you can still love them with all the broken pieces." Starlit-Tribe Signups!!! HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!
♡ Here Lies Blue ♡ @Blue_Wazhere
☙ "Be yourself, everyone else is already taken" - @Beanz We'll miss you!
Pantherkit medium-furred, dark brown mackerel tabby with white paws, hazel eyes
purrks: n/a
he/him | shc kit | 4 moons
Pantherkit's ears twitched forward as Bleedingpaw spoke, every word sinking into his thoughts like a stone dropped into a still pond, rippling outward with growing intent. His pale hazel eyes never left the golden apprentice, studying the way Bleedingpaw held himself—confident, easygoing, as if the pressure of guiding a crowd of overzealous kits didn’t weigh on him in the slightest. It was the kind of poise Pantherkit envied, a calm assurance that made the young tom’s chest tighten with both admiration and a gnawing pang of insecurity. He wanted to carry himself like that, to be seen as capable and in control, rather than a kit weighed down by the expectations of leadership that he could feel like a thick cloak draped over his shoulders, even when no one said it aloud. His tail flicked restlessly as Bleedingpaw explained the task ahead. Sneaking. The very word stirred something deep within Pantherkit, a thrill of anticipation that quickened his pulse. Sneaking wasn’t just fun—it was power. It was control. A skill that could make him more than just his mother’s son, more than the future every cat assumed he’d grow into. If he mastered it now, if he could prove to himself that he was more than the name that had been given to him, maybe he could quiet the voice inside that whispered of failure and falling short. He listened intently as Bleedingpaw laid out the foundations of the skill, his thoughts racing to piece together the clues.
Sight. Hearing. Scent. Touch. Four ways to detect, four ways to be caught—and therefore four obstacles to overcome. Pantherkit’s mind worked as Bleedingpaw continued, mapping out the possibilities in his head. Hide behind something. Blend into a shadow. Duck under a bush. Find something the same color as his own dark, frost-dusted pelt. He could do that. He had to. As the command to hide rang out and Bleedingpaw’s bright blue eyes squeezed shut, Pantherkit’s muscles tensed like a coiled spring, but he didn’t rush into action like a whirlwind of paws and fur. He watched the others scatter—though his focus remained firmly internal, his thoughts an intricate dance of strategy and restraint. Patience was key. Noise was danger. Heavy breathing, crunching snow, and careless whispers would betray even the most clever hiding spot. A true ShadowClan warrior would be more than just fast; they would be deliberate, calculating, and silent as the night itself. Pantherkit’s breath clouded in the frosty air as he crouched low, his pale hazel eyes narrowing against the dazzling glare of snow reflecting the weak winter sun. Every heartbeat seemed loud, a drum pounding within his chest that he had to will into stillness. He forced himself to breathe through his nose—deep, controlled, and steady, letting the cold air calm his nerves and sharpen his focus. His mind flicked through the possibilities around him. Rocks. Shadows. Snowbanks. The cedar roots twisting at the camp's edge.
Each one presented a different advantage, but they also carried risks. A snowbank could collapse. A root might snag. A rock, depending on its size, could leave him exposed. He cast his gaze toward a patch of withered brambles at the base of a tree, their thin, spindly branches stretching like claws over a shallow hollow. The thorns were a deterrent to some, but Pantherkit saw opportunity where others might hesitate. Shadows pooled beneath the brambles, dark and uneven, the perfect place to blend if he kept his profile low and his steps lighter than a falling leaf. He padded forward carefully, each movement slow and deliberate. His paws barely disturbed the snow, spreading his weight to avoid the telltale crunch of ice beneath him. Closer. Closer still. The brambles loomed before him, and he dropped even lower, his belly brushing the icy ground. His tiny heart hammered against his ribs, but he kept his movements precise. He couldn’t afford to rush—not with Bleedingpaw’s ears possibly pricked to catch every faint sound. He crept beneath the thorns, tucking his limbs close and curling his long tail neatly beside him. The thorns snagged at the fur along his spine, but he resisted the urge to fidget or shake them loose. Movement, any unnecessary movement, would give him away. His position was not perfect—he knew that much. The hollow beneath the brambles was narrow, forcing him to tuck tightly into the shadows, but he took a measure of pride in how well his dark tabby pelt blended into the gnarled, frost-tipped branches.
A burst of warmth bloomed in his chest—a small victory, perhaps, but one that filled him with cautious hope. His gaze flicked toward Bleedingpaw once more, still behind closed eyes, and Pantherkit let his mind run ahead to the next steps. Would Bleedingpaw find him? Would his breathing betray him? Could he truly stay still enough, quiet enough, to avoid detection? Every instinct told him to shift, to adjust his position for better comfort or better cover, but he fought the impulse, tightening his muscles instead. He was a part of the bramble now, just another shadow amid the tangle of branches and thorns. His ears strained to catch the sound of paws crunching over snow, his nose detecting the familiar scent of his littermates as they scrambled to find their own hiding spots. He imagined himself beyond them—beyond the camp—moving through the forest with the same calculated grace, unseen, unheard, unknown. The thought steadied him. Pantherkit didn’t just want to hide. He wanted to master the silence.
━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━ “You're either living or you're not. You ain't little, you ain't a girl, you ain't a boy; you ain't strong or smart. You're alive.”
⊱ my carrd ◦ future roleplay tracker ◦ future character bio ⊰
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Sootpaw short-furred, dark, charcoal-gray tabby tom with white markings, and sharp amber-copper eyes.
purrks: prison escape - tier 1
he/him | shc apprentice | 16 moons
Sootpaw’s ears twitched at the voice cutting through the brittle quiet. His copper eyes, which had been fixed on the frost-covered trees, flicked downward to the small figure perched across the thin stream. A kit. Not just any kit—one of Dawnstar’s. The resemblance was obvious. That same sharpness in the eyes, that same set of the brow, like he was already practicing how to carry the weight of his bloodline. The observation stirred something in Sootpaw’s chest, something bitter and half-formed. He didn’t know much about Grottokit beyond whispered mentions and the fact that he was far too young to be wandering alone in the cold. His first instinct was to snap at him for sneaking out. But the kit’s words—blunt, unfiltered—lodged in his brain like a thorn. A sharp exhale fogged the air in front of Sootpaw’s nose as he fought to keep his expression neutral. His muscles tensed under his thick tabby pelt. Every nerve felt raw, exposed, as if the cold had found a way past his fur to sink into the very scars Grottokit had pointed out. A dull ache throbbed along his face in time with his heartbeat. He resisted the urge to touch the jagged marks, to run his claws along the ridges like he could scrape them away. He’d never considered how they might look to someone else—not really. To him, they were memories. Ugly, painful memories that refused to fade. But hearing the kit’s words twisted something in his gut. He couldn’t help but think of Dawnstar, her fierce and terrible presence like a storm cloud. The way her scars seemed more like a crown of thorns than a mark of suffering.
"Copying her?" The words came out before Sootpaw could stop them, sharp-edged and laden with something between sarcasm and disbelief. His gaze darkened as he shifted his weight, the frost crunching faintly beneath his paws. "Yeah, because I woke up one day and thought, ‘You know what would really pull my look together? A face full of scars.’" He bit back a sigh, his breath curling into the morning air. He didn’t mean to be cruel—Grottokit wasn’t the one who deserved his bitterness—but the thought of anyone comparing his scars to Dawnstar’s made his skin crawl. She had earned her marks through wars and triumphs, through blood spilled and lives taken. She wore her scars like battle honors. Sootpaw’s claws flexed involuntarily, sinking into the icy dirt as he fought to keep the cold knot in his chest from tightening further. His scars were different. They weren’t badges of victory. They were reminders of what it felt like to be helpless. Trapped. They burned when he thought too much about it, as if they carried the memory of the claws that had carved them into his skin. He forced himself to look at Grottokit again, this time really seeing him. A kit—not a threat, not an enemy, just a curious child with far too many shadows lurking behind his eyes. Sootpaw let his breath settle and softened his tone—just a fraction.
"I’m not copying anyone," he said after a long pause, his voice low but steady. "Scars don’t make you like someone else. They don’t change what’s underneath." His gaze drifted back to the stream, where the thin crust of ice still held firm over the dark water beneath. "They just remind you of what you survived. That’s all." He fell silent, the weight of the quiet pressing down on him again. But this time, it felt less like suffocation and more like a thin, fragile balance. A silence shared, but not endured alone.
━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━ “You're either living or you're not. You ain't little, you ain't a girl, you ain't a boy; you ain't strong or smart. You're alive.”
⊱ my carrd ◦ future roleplay tracker ◦ future character bio ⊰
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SPIDERTHORN he/him || mind reader, flock together t2 || 16 moons
SpiderThorn had been bored. Ma had been…pushing him away. Honestly? He didn’t blame her. He had been ushering her back to her nest any chance he got, but he had to accept her injuries were healing. Was he still anxious from her getting sick moons back?…Like 7 moons and he was still shaken? Huh…interesting. Well. He was cleaning his pelt, actually trying to look neat…for once. His pelt was always ruffled and messed up in certain patches. He was finally cleaning out all of the dead leaves and flowers and moss and such from his pelt, only keeping what he thought was necessary…which was a few magpie feathers. He had the one that marked his nest, that always stayed in his nest though. Always. He (for no specific reason) had seemed to grow a habit of collecting the feathers…who knew why. One remained in front of one of his right ear, and the others scattered in his tail and pelt…then…oh!
Oh! There’s his magpie! He couldn’t help but a grin creep on his face. He hadn’t seen her around much…she had apprentice stuff and he had warrior stuff. It made sense. May as well utilize the time he could talk to his only friend! “Hey Mags!…Is that leaf life-altering, hm?” he teased, though he was truly unsure what was so intruiging about the thing.
@Marigoldwhisper [new formatting again! and I couldn’t resist heh]
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_____________________________________ ”And there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch by night” ★H a p p y N e w Y e a r★
DarkPaw is one of ShadowClans Aides. If He is Needed, PM/VM or Mention Me.
The young cat carefully steps over fallen leaves and brittle twigs. She looks at the more experienced warrior in admiration.
Honeybreeze allows for a silence to fall over the cats, so they don't scare away any potential prey. Her ears twitch as she parts her mouth, scenting the air. Slowly, the brown tabby falls into a crouch, long belly fur brushing the damp ground.
The warrior hides herself in a bush, pale eyes stalking the mouse just a few tail-lengths away from her hiding place. Silently, she glances at Mothcloud.
(Do you see the awkward line in my posts?Just above the signature? Am I going mad?? What is that?? D
There is nothing there
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Oceanstar is the leader of Beachclan!
"You did a great job today and I hope you smile a little by thinking about me at the end of the day" -Kim Hongjoong
SPIDERTHORN he/him || mind reader, flock together t2 || 16 moons
SpiderThorn had been bored. Ma had been…pushing him away. Honestly? He didn’t blame her. He had been ushering her back to her nest any chance he got, but he had to accept her injuries were healing. Was he still anxious from her getting sick moons back?…Like 7 moons and he was still shaken? Huh…interesting. Well. He was cleaning his pelt, actually trying to look neat…for once. His pelt was always ruffled and messed up in certain patches. He was finally cleaning out all of the dead leaves and flowers and moss and such from his pelt, only keeping what he thought was necessary…which was a few magpie feathers. He had the one that marked his nest, that always stayed in his nest though. Always. He (for no specific reason) had seemed to grow a habit of collecting the feathers…who knew why. One remained in front of one of his right ear, and the others scattered in his tail and pelt…then…oh!
Oh! There’s his magpie! He couldn’t help but a grin creep on his face. He hadn’t seen her around much…she had apprentice stuff and he had warrior stuff. It made sense. May as well utilize the time he could talk to his only friend! “Hey Mags!…Is that leaf life-altering, hm?” he teased, though he was truly unsure what was so intruiging about the thing.
@Marigoldwhisper [new formatting again! and I couldn’t resist heh]
Magpiepaw
She, Her\Apprentice\16 moons\Shadowclan
"One man falls, another takes his place, he chases the wind until the end of his days."
Was it truly smart to keep the one green leaf she could find outside like this? No. No it wasn't. But Magpiepaw never operated in logic, even when it was important to do so. There she stayed, staring, probably wishing she could actually go out and do something.
Y'know, it was kinda hard to have adoring fans when she'd done nothing worth adoring. She wondered if she could sneak into Mourning Ruins and try to fight an owl herself, just for the attention. If Magpiepaw thought it was worth the backlash and trouble, she would've definitely taken the chance. Buuuuttt... it seemed the one cat she couldn't surpass was Dawnstar. Which... Was fair. If being rebellious had some actual consequences for her, she didn't want part in it! Not at alllll.
Oh shoot. Had she forgotten the entire reason she gathered an unbelievable amount of leaves? Spiderthorn, obviously, and his very not organized pelt. So, imagine her utter excitement when she saw him, followed by PURE BEWILDERMENT when she observed his pelt was NOT knotted, and NOT filled to the brim with the very essence of the forest.
What took their place was a scattered motif of magpie feathers. Was that supposed to be intentionaaall orrrrr...? It was sweet though. If it was. Annoyingly sweet. Like, "I'm going to have a toothache" kind of sweet, "I don't deserve that" kind of sweet. Stars above, she needed friends OTHER than her crush. This sucked (who was she kidding? This was awesome! But oh stars did it suck. Somehow...).
"HA! Leaves." Magpiepaw half laughed half squawked!, her natural lisp on full display. Why was he smiling? Did he have to be smiling? Magpiepaw should've told him to stop, because her stomach wouldn't stop doing flips. Yup. She was sick.
"Yeah--- uh. So REALLY funny story. I noticed, heck how could I not notice, that your fur is pretty messy! So I was like, 'wow, I should definitely give him something to stick into his fur.' And well, you've got, well had, a LOTTT of leaves in there, sapphire. So I figured I could give you some nice sturdy leaves. ButnowthatI'mthinkingaboutit, Ishould'vegottenyousomethingmorespecialthansomegre enleaves..." A pause. "You did NOT hear that last part. I think my gift is AWESOMELY STUPID."
Oh she felt so embarrassed. Maybe she could chalk up the pink of her cheeks to how cold she was, or ward him off with insults to get him distracted or something. How come the only time she actually did something for somecat else, they ended up getting rid of said something (in this case, the mini forest in their pelt) and replace it with a lot of pretty feathers. WHAT WAS A LEAF THEN???!? A BURDENNN.
"Don't make fun of me. I actually, genuinely, thought about YOU for once, EVEN THOUGH I ONLY EVER THINK OF MYSELF BECAUSE I'M AWESOME!"
That was a lie.
Well, a partial lie.
Magpiepaw never didn't think of herself, or how much better she could be doing, or how little she does, or how much she wishes all the boasting she said about herself was still true, but now all she thought about was Spiderthorn and how grateful she was to have him. Stars, she was turning into a zombie!
Now that the feeling was gone, Jaggedsky didn't know what to do. She almost wished she wasn't grounded on the earth again. She could feel her own heart beating, throbbing in her ears. And Greynight's. He was there too.
Her normal confidence was failing her. How was she supposed to explain the feeling that came and went so suddenly? The memory was fading, growing fuzzier and fuzzier, like trees blowing in the winds far way. A whine escaped her. She had to decide what to do. But...she didn't want to now. It seemed like her whole day had had been affect. She sighed. That sounded over-dramatic.
As if he could tell it was over, Graynight pulled his head away from her a bit. "What was that?" He asked softly. "Are you okay?"
Status: Rn my family is finishing remodeling our kitchen. That proj (and school) is kinda my life currently.
Gender: she/her =]
Bump Policy: Whenever =]
Posts: 301
My Mood:
Re: ShadowClan Clearing
Quote:
Originally Posted by Raids
As if he could tell it was over, Graynight pulled his head away from her a bit. "What was that?" He asked softly. "Are you okay?"
Jaggedsky | She/her | 12 moons
"I'm ok," Jaggedsky meowed, exhaling softly. She looked into Greynight's eyes. He was confused. That was understandable. He was worried. That was less understandable. They weren't really friends. At least not good ones. They shouldn't be anyway. Who was good friends after one late night conversation? And yet...here she was turning to him for comfort.
But she didn't need comfort anymore. There was nothing wrong. And if there was, she would be fine momentarily.
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I am always looking to find more interaction for my cats. Especially Jagged and Rain--They are my babies. =]. Currently I have Rainkit (Thunderclan - she/her - 4 moons), Jaggedsky (Shadderclan - she/her - 12 moons), Wispeye (Windclan - she/her - 20 moons), Mal (Malakite - Outsider - she/her - <1 moon).
Re: ShadowClan Clearing
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