Stoatstream Stoatstream
In every rosewater rivulet that runs from you.
In every rosewater rivulet that runs from you.
ShadowClan
Thief
SOMETHING SACRED
HIDES IN EVERY DROP OF DEW
TRIGGER WARNING
Mentions of starving, paranoia and injury.
With the growing cold of the pocosin and the aching hunger carving into Stoatstream's frame, of course, she pushed herself again out of her nest to hunt even when exhaustion began to weigh on her. Further and further into the swamp, just trying to find some semblance of prey to bring back into camp. Her sisters and father needed to eat; she needed to eat. Star's she hadn't eaten much lately, had she? It would have begun to show, her desperate attempts to keep her kin alive at her own frame thinning, but hidden beneath her carefully groomed pelt meant it looked a lot less worse.
Even so, knowing that, it only distressed her more at the idea of her family being that hungry. So with Timberfrost and Fleafire finally beginning to recover, she pushed herself out into the territory to ensure they were healthy enough to get themselves back on their paws.
Finding herself near the monster tree, she raised her maw to search for the scent again for a squirrel she had been tracking. It was exhausting following a scent with no other help. She squinted, trying to spot the thing, but with little help otherwise, tracking the thing it felt like an impossible feat.
She stood ambivalently, face falling slightly, feeling rather defeated. Until... Stoastream's fur prickled. The wind was still, the air too, but something chilled her bones. There had been a few times she had found herself submerged in such a sensation, the last was on that border with Thunderclan. Face to face with that bitter, angry tom.
Instinctively, she looked around, swallowing hard as something as close to fear began to writhe beneath her pelt. There was no one here? Nothing anywhere near from what she could tell. Why had the dread struck her so? What... What was wrong? Something had to be. The ivory molly's chest tightened, something- Someone had to be here.
Eyes, there must be eyes looking for her.
There was no explanation she could find for the terror striking her only she had only found this nauseating fear when face to face with someone dangerous. So.... So surely someone was nearby. That rogue again? She had seen how he looked at her, fear mixed with a curiosity. Stoatstream wouldn't mind tearing his throat out for his cowardice, but not when she couldn't tell what struck panic so deep within her soul.
She didn't dare speak, alerting anything to where she was when she was alone? It felt like a death sentence. So, the ivory molly found herself backing away, towards the monster tree, utterly unaware that the danger would come from above.
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YOU'RE MORE THAN STAINED GLASS
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YOU'RE THE LIGHT THAT COMES THROUGH
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STOATSTREAM She/Her, Shadowclan Thief, 15 moons old.
A slender white cat with lilac markings and dark blue eyes.
Mentored by Sablestar // mentoring none
Sibling to Fleafire, Monsterpaw and Saffronkit
Timberfrost x Oleander (Gen 3) / mated to none
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK, PAWSPEAK
penned by Pheo ↛ phoenixwashere on Discord, feel free to dm for plots.