Border RC SC Because he's a Fallen Angel, and he used to be God's Favourite ❄️ Galepaw

[Stoatstream Stoatstream]

SOMETHING SACRED

HIDES IN EVERY DROP OF DEW

Hunger furled claws around her stomach, like a blink of an eye prey had grown so... Scarce. She wasn't ignorant of the hunger; it wasn't the first, it clung to her very beginning, but it was so long ago, it was a visage of pain. Stoatstream was just a kitten, given scraps of food her father could find. Her stomach turned at the thought. If she were hungry, she only dreaded to think how her father had starved before Shadowclan. Now, a warrior all her own, she was all too aware of the plights he had faced in trying to keep her safe.

Part of her found sorrow in the fact that Timberfrost suffered so much to care for such a tiny kitten all by himself, leaving himself exhausted and hungry. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees his limp form. Pelt soaked in sweat from his fevered state, barely awake in the days passing by, but holding on. But he needed help. Herbs and good prey. She had already pushed herself to hunt more and more. Saffronkit needed to be fed, and she hadn't hesitated at being the one to step in for her sister. There was a bitter sorrow where she stood in her father's own paw steps, out in the cooling seasons, paws wandering without a thought.

Wandering...

Stoatstream blinked; she had been so lost in her dread that at some point she had wandered to the edge of the pocosin, facing the Thunderpath. Out of habit, she hesitated, but she wasn't an apprentice anymore. And now, of all times, she had to do something to help. Be useful for her family. She swallowed her pride, her fear, and stepped upon the acrid pathway, darting across.

She passed through Fourtrees, hesitating to gaze up to the night sky, nearing an empty moon, just a sliver remained. She let out a sigh, grimacing at the sight of her breath curling into the sky, the first of many bitter nights. But she had something to seek, something to take.

There was no pride in her plan; it made her stomach churn, but with prey scarce and her hunting prowess being limited to learning in the pocosin, there was but one place she knew she could hunt the easiest. But she would have to be careful, so very, careful. She had made this same mistake once, it had nearly cost her life, and she wasn't prepared to fight, exhausting clung too close to her bones to even suggest a fight.

It would be easy, in prospect, but as the scent of Riverclan grew stronger, her blood began to run cold. The scent still struck fear into her core. Of course, she was growing more used to it, but without him there, it only served to knot her stomach in terror. Padding out from Fourtrees, the scent of the river washed over her. It was cruel, she still found intrigue in the water, the creatures below, but she had been warned time and time again. To come into Riverclan territory would be her demise.

Even so, she pushed ahead, crouching as she walked, eyes darting around desperately for any cats, for the scent of anyone nearby. But, it seemed, she was safe. Stoatstream wasn't proud of it, but she would have to embrace the title she took. A name spat at her with vitriol, a name spoken with pride by her clan; thief.

Certain she was alone, she crept to the water's edge and peered into the rushing river. Part of her was inclined to dive in, make the hunt easier, quicker; her father had taught her to swim for a reason. But the faith in her stenth made her remain land-bound, instead of waiting in silence watching the fish dart past. She needed something big in one swipe or at least a bountiful collection to bring to her father, to her sister, to her clan.

And yet, so focused on the water, she hadn't noticed the figure cloaked in what remained of the moonlight observing her in turn.

YOU'RE MORE THAN STAINED GLASS ​

YOU'RE THE LIGHT THAT COMES THROUGH ​

STOATSTREAM She/Her, Shadowclan Thief, 13 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.

 

[Galepaw Galepaw]

—————————————————— Rocked by an endless motion ✦

Silence had always been welcoming to him. It did not ask questions, did not look at him with that ever familiar expression he had grown so used to, and did not shy away when it wished to be held. It was a cold, unfeeling presence, but it was a presence all the same, and so he relished in it. The night provided him such silence, silence that he could not get in those sunny hours of morning. The birds cawed, crowed at him and his every move, and the words they spoke... it overwhelmed his senses at times, tearing into his curled ears when he wished for peace, and flitted about his head in such a dizzying manner. No, no—while he could see the interest in observing, of hearing the world work around him, the night cooed his name in an unfamiliar, welcoming way. It was his friend in the times when he did not have many, and it was rare that he found another that shared in such a notion.

And perhaps he was not surprised to see such a cat illuminated by the night, pale coat shimmering as his did, a daughter of the moon in the same way as he was borne from those glimmering ripples in the water. She was familiar to him, a presence he had felt in those few moments at the gathering, something he hadn't focused on much. That night was a dizzying flurry of events, and her name? Her place in all things? It drifted away from him, just out of grasp of his pale claws. It was a frustrating thing to him, but intriguing all the same—and sure to not be repeated, as he was far too drawn in by the way she stalked the water now. It did not seek harm in its gaze, merely a dull interest—one of the few things that it remembered of this pale she-cat was the bloody clan to which she belonged to, the clan that had doomed Shellkit to death. So it goes. But to regard her poorly for this, regard one with such rage due to the actions of others... no, he didn't see sense in it.

For this reason, he stepped out of the thin shrubbery. Gentle white paws split the rushes in two, stepping into the burbling shallows of the creek with experienced ease. His long legs were not unlike those of a heron, allowing him to stalk through the waters with relative ease compared to those of shorter stature. Of course, there was no stalking to be done here—but his eyes were watchful, staring with a curious sharpness to them, as though the familiar cat held the secrets of the world, or perhaps she could be an interesting piece of prey that he would like to dissect. Both seemed equally likely, but there was no violence in his frame as he regarded the oddity in front of him.

"Such eyes." It mused, unblinkingly studying the other. "They are adapted for the night, are they not? There is a certain... hunger there—a sense of violence, even." It looked away for just a moment, eyes instead tracing the glint of the moonlight on the brook that he now stood in. "There is no danger for you here. Not on this night, not from these paws... but even so, tell me—" It regarded her once more, the way she held herself, the tense nature of her body. This was an unfamiliar land to her... but he could see her blood in those around him, in the way she expertly watched the water, in the way she yearned to leap in. "I have never seen a plover regard the water with such unfamiliarity... but even in familiarity, these tides are dangerous to you. Surely you do not consider this an easy meal?" With this question, the lynxpoint tilted his bluish head.

—————Whether truth or just a story

It's not up to you—————

• 
  Galepaw
  ✦—Riverclan Apprentice | 11 Moons
  ✦—He/They/It
  ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ✦—A fluffy high white lynx point with curled ears and deep blue eyes
  #87878E #BAB2AC