The small black she-cat nearly jumped out of her skin when a warm, wet tongue rasped over one of her undersized ears. However, the familiar scent drifting toward her on the sun-kissed greenleaf breeze told Twistedpaw there was nothing to be scared of. Her slim shoulders relaxed as she turned toward Brightpaw. Her foster sister's tan-and-white face glowed golden in the sunlight, the fresh green grass providing a beautiful backdrop. She would've loved the flowers. A hard lump formed in the apprentice's throat, and fresh tears shimmered in her mismatched eyes - one dull, the other cloudy and colorless. She would've, Twistedpaw wanted to say, but she couldn't get the words out. Her crooked jaw only opened slightly, dangling wretchedly before she managed to tense it up again. She didn't want her Clanmates to look at her and see that hideous jaw open, swaying discordantly with the breeze, though the wind wasn't what moved it.
Brightpaw's face blurred, then cleared as Twistedpaw blinked the salty tears out of her eyes. They slid down her face, their dark paths invisible against her round black cheeks. Light plops sounded, hardly heard by her tiny ears as they landed in the grass. Looking into Brightpaw's eyes, their brown hue turning them to shadows against her sun-warmed pelt, and seeing the brightness in them... the glimmer of tears... It was too much for Twistedpaw to bear. The black she-cat looked away, her pink nose twitching as she sniffled. Whenever she thought of Fireflame, it felt like a badger had kicked her in the chest. It hurt so, so much. The last time Twistedpaw had seen her, talked to her... She'd made Fireflame, the gentle, loving queen who'd accepted a kit despised by her own mother cry. Twistedpaw felt like a monster. No, she was one. She certainly looked the part.
The black-furred apprentice was drawn out of her dark thoughts by Brightpaw's mew. She looked up, blinking in confusion. "H-huh?" she meowed in a choked, distorted voice. Starry Meadow... Twistedpaw had spouted the name without thinking. It made sense - it was a meadow where their deceased Clanmates were laid to rest, their spirits sailing toward the stars. Her paws tingled with the significance, the gravity, of this beautiful, flowering field. She also felt her pelt prickle with embarrassment at Brightpaw's words. "W-well... I d-don't know if T-Twilightstar has a n-name for th-this place y-yet... I-I don't w-wanna intrude... It was j-just..." she began shakily, her voice humble.
She was cut off by a friendly, high-pitched voice. Twistedpaw turned to find Leopardsong, the appointed kit-sitter, staring at her, along with Wolffang. Her cheeks felt like they'd explode with heat at the compliment from the former; they were hotter than the greenleaf sun soaking into her matted black pelt. She remembered Leopardsong well from the fire. The Snow Bengal she-cat had been a pleasant, stable presence during those terrifying days, and she often hung around Wolffang. She ducked her head, feeling herself shake with the pressure of their gazes, Brightpaw's and Leopardsong's words. "I-I..." she began to stammer, shaking. For StarClan's sake, the fear-scent rolling off of her must be overpowering. Every cat in the tour group must be able to smell it. Especially Brightpaw and Mousefern, who were nearby. She fidgeted, long claws tearing at the green grass before she remembered this was a burial site. With a tiny, alarmed squeak, Twistedpaw quickly sheathed them and scuffled her paws over the ground. Please don't get mad at me for that! Oh, she was such a featherbrain. An inconsiderate, pathetic mess of a cat. Her heart was pounding, the blood roaring in her flattened ears, invisible against her round head...
Wait! I didn't say thank you to Brightpaw or Leopardsong! Twistedpaw's head shot up. How rude she must've seemed! "Th-thank..." she began in a tiny voice, only to have someone else speak up. It was the great leader herself: Twilightstar. Praising Twistedpaw's spur-of-the-moment, quickly-conjured name. And now this place was officially deemed Starry Meadow. Twistedpaw's head spun like a moss ball tossed between a pair of rowdy kits. She ducked her head again. Twilightstar had accepted her name? She'd wondered if Brightpaw and Leopardsong were just being nice since that was their nature. Twilightstar could've easily ignored her. But she'd taken the name suggestion. Her pelt prickled, feeling like it was being scorched by the ferocious flames that had destroyed WindClan's old home. She hardly knew what to say, what to think. It was such a huge honor... but was it one she deserved? Someone as wretched and messed up as her? Twistedpaw knew Twilightstar liked her, which was a miracle in itself, but something like this... Her name getting accepted for such an important place...
"Th-thank y-you," she managed to choke out, trembling like a blade of grass caught in a gale. "I-I... th-this is a-an honor..." Speaking was an effort, but Twistedpaw had to say something. What if my Clanmates are angry? she wondered with a thrill. What if they don't want such a sacred place named by someone... someone so hideous? Someone who takes twice as much work to get half as far... someone who drove her mother into exile... A tiny whimper sounded in her throat. The shock and pride were replaced by fear. Twistedpaw tried to look at her Clanmates' faces, but they were all a blur.
"A-are you s-sure?" she sputtered to Twilightstar. Immediately, she felt worse. I shouldn't question my leader's decisions! This kept getting more and more awkward... Why did I say anything? I don't deserve this! I don't want to make the Clan mad or... or ruin this burial site! But Twilightstar had chosen her name. Twistedpaw's mortification made way for some of her previous pride and another emotion, happiness. This really was an honor and far, far more than she deserved. It didn't erase the other emotions, though.
Feeling the need to explain her name choice, Twistedpaw stammered, barely managing to lift her gaze, "I-I th-thought of it b-because... it's a m-meadow, and our Cl-Clanmates are b-buried here... And th-their spirits g-go t-to the s-stars, in St-StarClan... S-so, th-that's why I s-said S-Starry Meadow." She swallowed hard, barely managing to keep the drool inside her mouth. Above her head, she felt her bulging light gray tail-tip twitching erratically. "I-it's n-nothing special, r-really... B-but th-thank you. Th-this means... a l-lot... as l-long as... everyone else is... o-okay w-with it... I d-don't wanna... upset anyone..." Was she saying any of this right? Twistedpaw didn't want to sound conceited or like she deserved this honor, but she also didn't want to discredit her leader or the kindness of the other cats. She saw Wolffang nod at her before looking away, and her pelt flushed with nervous heat again. He accepted it... but he'd also saved her life. What did everyone else think?
@RedLeif (Brightpaw) @Moonraven (Leopardsong, Twilightstar, and Batglare) @Omari (Mousefern)
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Not roleplaying for now; indefinite hiatus
Large, muscular, dappled gray tom with light fluff on the front of his neck and chest; amber eyes.
Wolffang's gaze flitted to Leopardsong as they beheld the beautiful, sacred meadow. A solemn feeling had settled over him upon learning this was WindClan's new burial ground, the former deceased lost in an ash-covered territory. Pain hovered over his heart, squeezing it with claws dripping in deathberry juice. The freshly-turned earth that covered Maplepaw's body didn't help. For a moment, his eyes glazed over as he thought about all that had been lost. So many dead... So many missing... Not just from the fire, but before that, too. Wolffang's friends, kin... and so many cats he'd hurt with his viewpoints and harsh, reckless decisions. He wasn't sure why his mind flitted to this - was it because of Twistedpaw, Ashfeather incarnate? - but he remembered when he'd exiled Specklepaw, her son, for failing to complete a patrol. He'd exiled an apprentice. Yes, he'd had to crack down on the rules, but... really? An apprentice? He knew he would've done it to other apprentices, too - had done it - but he'd also harbored more dislike toward the young tom for his relation to Ashfeather. Even when I had learned so much, I was far from perfect. Wolffang still wasn't perfect, but he'd learned so much.
The pain of the past might have been destroyed by flames, might have been soothed by the words whispered by StarClan when Wolffang fell from the stars and back to the living world, but it would never truly be gone, nor should it be. Whether they wanted it or not, it was a part of their lives. So much pain to WindClan, and so much pain to me, too. He was going to be better. He was going to keep living his life, learning from his mistakes and making up for them as best he could. He couldn't change the past; he knew that. He couldn't excuse them, either. The best he - and WindClan - could do was move forward. And as he gazed at Leopardsong, now talking to Littlekit, he felt some of the burden in his heart lift. No matter his worries, no matter what he'd done... he had her. And his Clan. But duty wasn't the only thing that had brought him back from that brink of despair and mistakes. Leopardsong was the driving factor.
Once more, he wondered how he could've ever doubted her, ever worried that Leechscar would steal her from him. No matter what, she'll always be my closest friend. And she should spend time with anyone she wanted to, even if it was a rude, disloyal, inconsiderate brat like Leechscar. I just hope... oh, StarClan, I just hope she likes me back. If she rejected him, he wouldn't resent her for it. It would hurt - especially if she had somehow fallen for Leechscar, as unlikely as that was - but... he wouldn't judge her. Her feelings were her feelings, and Wolffang would always want to be by her side, even if they were just friends.
These thoughts were important, but they'd circled around the large warrior's head for a while during this tour. It was time for him to focus on the present and not lose himself in his thoughts. Wolffang blinked, his amber gaze clearing from his constant resolutions and pain of the past, and found Littlekit's gray-and-white tabby shape carving a path through the flowers. He blinked, having completely missed Leopardsong's interaction with the kit, but his attention was taken by another tiny shape heading their way. It was Owlkit, his black fur ruffled and sticking up as it dried in the warm greenleaf sun. It really was a pleasant day; Wolffang should be enjoying it more. He breathed in the cloying aroma of wildflowers and the familiar scent of Leopardsong as a cool, gentle breeze teased his drying fur. He still felt unpleasantly damp, but the golden sunlight remedied that.
Wolffang's eyes narrowed slightly when he noticed that Owlkit carried a little yellow flower. No, two flowers. He gave one to Leopardsong and the other to Littlekit. His fur prickled uncomfortably, and he opened his mouth, about to inform the half-drowned scrap that this was a sacred burial ground. But Leopardsong spoke first, encouraging the pair of kits. Wolffang shut his mouth and glanced at her, mildly surprised. However, he didn't get a chance to speak as she replied to him, so he kept his mouth shut, planning to say something after this conversation. He wanted to talk to her, but kits desecrating a burial ground wasn't something to be ignored. Her words about Moorpaw reassured him, and he felt his tense, bulging muscles relax - though they continued to bulge, of course, as they always did. He loosed a breath and leaned down to lick her soft-furred cheek. "You're right," he admitted. "But... well, I can't stop thinking about all the time I spent standing or lying around with nothing to do, yet I never talked to her. Or Bravebird, or Barleybite." Wolffang sighed. "But I'm going to talk to Moorpaw the moment we get back." No more waiting.
Thankfully - or not thankfully? - the topic changed to something allusive to Wolffang, a concept shrouded in mystery and intrigue, something little-known to hardened, serious warriors such as he: "fun." By the mercy of StarClan, Leopardsong didn't burst into laughter at his awkward, embarrassing question, though she did chuckle softly. Wolffang felt a funny feeling in his chest as he looked at her beautiful striped face, his paws tingling like a swarm of ants were crawling along the skin on its insides. Was it love or ignominy? Despite this, he listened intently, his amber gaze oddly serious and his singular notched ear pricked. So, "fun" could be different for each cat... They did it because they liked it and it wasn't... work-related? This was baffling, and Wolffang's astonishment showed on his face like clouds uncovering the sun. Yes, "fun" didn't relate to work, but cats did it because it wasn't work-related? He shook his head slightly. That is so weird. Thank StarClan he had Leopardsong to explain it to him.
No matter what anyone, even Leopardsong, said, Fallownose jumping into the pond would always be featherbrained. "She might not have said it, but still," he grumbled. "How was I supposed to know he could swim?" Wolffang's still-damp fur was a humiliating reminder of that whole incident, though it was good that he'd been willing to put his life on the line to save a Clanmate. Though in front of Leopardsong, after what happened with the dogs... He shook himself. Now was not the time, and Leopardsong hadn't been angry at him, so that was that.
He focused on Leopardsong as she finished talking about snow. He blinked at her. "I wasn't saying you shouldn't-" he began quickly before he teased her. He glanced at his huge broad paws. "Well, maybe I'll try it next leaf-bare," he meowed. "Until then..." He frowned slightly. It felt awkward to be talking about such a concept at a burial site, but he wasn't going to leave off the conversation here. "What else do you consider 'fun' that can be done in greenleaf? Like... hunting?" He frowned. "But that's work-related, and cats do 'fun' things because they aren't work-related... for some reason..." He shook his head again, voicing his thoughts. "Thank StarClan you're here, or I'd be completely lost." He was talking about fun, but the words went deeper than that. Without her, I'd truly be lost. She'd taken him out of dark recesses and taught him so much. Suddenly wishing to convey his affection without launching into a lecture in front of all of their Clanmates, Wolffang moved to press his solid, thick-furred side against Leopardsong's. His heart thundered, and he prayed Leopardsong couldn't detect it.
Leopardsong looked at Twistedpaw when he did and commented on her name suggestion: Starry Meadow. Trying not to think of the shadows of his past, every feature that screamed ASHFEATHER!!! to him, he offered the scrawny apprentice a nod. It was a good name, he had to admit. More than good, actually. It represented the place and its purpose perfectly. Would Ashfeather have had this chance to show her creativity if Rosepaw and I didn't spend so much time tormenting her? he wondered with a pang of guilt.
The dappled gray tom drew his gaze away from Twistedpaw, about to search for Littlekit and Owlkit among the flower field, when Twilightstar spoke. His attention was redirected to the small lilac-gray leader. She accepted Twistedpaw's name, and now this burial ground was officially Starry Meadow. He dipped his head to the apprentice again, who looked like she wanted to melt through the ground, but quickly averted his attention once Twilightstar spoke again. So, the wildflowers could be picked. Good thing I didn't berate the kits. But Wolffang hadn't been sure whether to disturb the burial ground, and even Twilightstar was telling them to pick the flowers sparingly, as there were many others in their new territory. Wolffang felt too uncomfortable to disrupt the territory here, so he didn't plan on taking any. It won't be hard finding others for Leopardsong. Thinking of the time when he would propose to her made his heartbeat pick up again.
Twilightstar called the Clan together, so Wolffang went over to her, making sure not to leave Leopardsong or the kits behind. As he did so, he heard Twistedpaw's distorted, stuttering voice humbly explaining why she'd chosen the name. A jolt ran through him as he realized how much she resembled Ashfeather. She seemed so nervous, so scared. Wolffang's throat tightened. Were there cats bullying her like he and Rosepaw had bullied Ashfeather? I wouldn't be surprised, he thought grimly. Or maybe, by some miracle, there weren't. It could be because of her family situation. Wolffang knew her brother had been stillborn, her father had left, and her mother had gone crazy and attacked her at a Clan meeting before being exiled. She'd also gotten the harsh grump Batglare as a mentor. Batglare was a good warrior, but he certainly wasn't kind. Wolffang made a mental note to find time to talk to him - and perhaps Twilightstar. Maybe even Leechscar, although he dreaded another interaction with the massive dark gray tom.
Wolffang briefly felt surprised that he cared so much about how Twistedpaw was being treated. Then he realized it was because he didn't want the cycle repeating. He might still not like Ashfeather, but most of his opinions on her had been clouded by hate and prejudice. That had to stop. No matter how uncomfortable Twistedpaw made him, no matter what memories of Ashfeather she brought back, he knew how he and Rosebriar had mistreated and abused Ashfeather... It hadn't been right. And he didn't want Twistedpaw to go through the same thing. Wolffang didn't want to be completely involved in her life. He knew he wasn't the right cat for her, what with his history with Ashfeather and everything else he had going on. However, he wanted to make sure the cats who were a part of her life could prevent another from being treated as he and his kin had treated Ashfeather.
「☆」 THE GENTLE GIANT 「☆」 ╰► COWTUFT he | him ★ massive white tom with black splotches and floppy ears + scar over his neck, burned hindleg, x-scar marks on shoulders; left green eye and right blue eye ★
ೃ⁀➷ @gs29513 || very short but i wanted to get this out ! do not worry about the deadline because i completely forgot that ii am on a week-long vacation so my activity is super limited "We are looking.. for any golden flowers.. so, anything will do!" Cowtuft yipped, leading Curlyeye towards Starry Meadow. It was a bit of a climb but he managed to trek it up to the top of where their clanmates were buried. Cowtuft then started to look for the golden flowers -- specifically marigold and yellow bells.
Yellow flowers? He could do yellow flowers! As long as they weren’t too pretty. If they were, he might get jealous. Ok! the tom mewed, his long for swishing a bit in the wind as he deprecated from the medicine cat. It took him a minute or two, but after a bit of careful grass-wading, he found some yellow flowers. He didn’t know what type of yellow flowers they were, but they were fuzzy and bright, like suns in the grass. When he nipped two off at the base they dripped a milky, sticky, nasty tasting substance into his mouth. He dropped them, grimaced, and then headed back towards Cowtuft with two of them. Arr dees da wite thins? he mumbled through the plants, hoping his mouth wasn’t obscuring them too much. (Okie! Sounds good!) @x ghostie
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All hail the Rat Queen's!!
Shrewstep has Silver Tongue and Mind Reader purrks
Pit has Just a Scratch and Beefed Up Tier 2
Ashendawn
She sat on the crest of the hill, crickets chirping in the nighttime gloom. Fireflies danced in the starlit meadow, moon illuminating the dark grass. the wind had died down a bit, leaving a calm breeze in it's place. Finally, some time to myself. It's been hard these last few mons, but even with Riverclan i'm sure Windclan will pull through. We've always been strong. Some say it's the harsh wind, others storms and snow. I think that it's our connection to Starclan though. I've always felt like their watching us, though that might just be how we can always see the stars. She thought, letting the breeze ruffle her fur as she watched the grass riple in the meadow below. I feel... somehow connected to the world up here. The grass riples like the tide, or the constant flow of life. Sometimes the winds change, like time seems to. It's peacefull. It's especially a good change from the recent chaos. I'm still not sure how to feel about this whole situaton with Riverclan, but they say time heals all wounds for a reason. I'll fight to defend Windclan if it comes to that... but I still think that just a bit of talking could solve all our problems. #bluebird#Earth
Ashendawn
She sat on the crest of the hill, crickets chirping in the nighttime gloom. Fireflies danced in the starlit meadow, moon illuminating the dark grass. the wind had died down a bit, leaving a calm breeze in it's place. Finally, some time to myself. It's been hard these last few mons, but even with Riverclan i'm sure Windclan will pull through. We've always been strong. Some say it's the harsh wind, others storms and snow. I think that it's our connection to Starclan though. I've always felt like their watching us, though that might just be how we can always see the stars. She thought, letting the breeze ruffle her fur as she watched the grass riple in the meadow below. I feel... somehow connected to the world up here. The grass riples like the tide, or the constant flow of life. Sometimes the winds change, like time seems to. It's peacefull. It's especially a good change from the recent chaos. I'm still not sure how to feel about this whole situaton with Riverclan, but they say time heals all wounds for a reason. I'll fight to defend Windclan if it comes to that... but I still think that just a bit of talking could solve all our problems. #bluebird#Earth
Twilightstar led the way out of camp as Snowybreeze gathered the warrior on his back. The walk to the Starry Meadow was quiet as the molly got lost within her own head. She had much to think about, but the way a former member of her clan got brutally slain was at the forefront of her mind. Reaching the hill filled with flowers, Twilightstar made sure to climb up the path that had been created by several paw steps and climbed to the top of the hill. Carefully of the flowers, she made her way towards a nearby mound of dirt where flowers had yet to regrow and set to work on digging nearby it, building the grave that would be their fallen's resting place.
@Alchemist Kitsune [Snowybreeze]
Silence stretched between the warrior and leader, yet there was no awkwardness in the breeze. Not any the young tom could feel, in any case. They both understood their task. Taking the unclaimed warrior to his final rest. It still unsettled him, how in a clan so filled with cats not a single one stepped forward. No anguish. No shock. No claims of planned vengeance. It was almost as if the tom had never existed in the first place.
It was sorrowful, to say the least, although understandable. If he truly had been gone for moons, perhaps the other cats had simply deemed him a traitor and decided to carry on with their lives. Snowybreeze couldn't quite throw him in the traitor pile so easily. The gentle giant was certain the WindClan warrior must have had his reasons for vanishing. For staying away. He himself had almost done so. If he hadn't met with Berryfrost by the falls... would he have simply kept moving? Walking without destination until he had become unequivocally, irrevocably, and permanently lost? He didn't doubt it, and as such, he believed he was in no place to condemn the tom he now carried on his back.
He'd come back to them. Whoever had killed him had known he was WindClan. Brought him back here for a reason. Therefore, he still saw himself as WindClan. That was enough for the quiet warrior.
As Twilightstar took to scraping away the dirt for his grave, Snowybreeze gently dropped the fallen warrior from his back. Despite having never taken on the role of tunneler - his giant size making the tunnels a bit... cramped - his massive paws excelled at digging. A fact he had unfortunately learned in his times burying a fallen clanmate. A friend never to return. Allowing the silence to extend, the tom removed clumps of dirt with ease, glad he could be of use here. It was a grim job, but one he took with pride, refusing to do a rushed job. It was to be this tom's final resting place. It shall be done with the respect it deserved. Their more impatient energy could be reserved for when he inevitably led the lilac molly to the scene he'd been found.
Aspenstrike had gathered some flowers and padded to her beloved daughter's grave, gently laying them down. "Hey, sweetness. I.... it's been a moment. I brought you some flowers." Soft, calm breaths turned into quick breathing as she fought to keep the tears in. Why, Squirrelkit? Why did you leave camp that day? Guilt crashed over her like a tidal wave, and so, unable to speak anymore, she crouched by the grave, eyes fixed with laser-like passion on a single flower, afraid to move a single muscle for fear that it would send everything crumbling.
Re: Starry Meadow
