RTA Camp HELLO MY OLD HEART [ rta ]

[wheatwhistle]

(★) he's not cowboy anymore. that name is stripped from him, burnt to ash in the fire that took the rest of his life too. now, the old man wanders the moors as wheatwhistle, aimless, lost in his head and his heart. dustystar allows him to do so - his granddaughter has always had a soft spot for him. she leads her new clan well, as he had always expected her to, and he watches her. ghosts haunt him, old memories of his sister, of his late lover, the others who had perished in the blaze, and he lets them swirl, lost in his heavy grief. four moons - it's been four moons since the worst day of the elderly cat's life, since clouds had swallowed the light from his vision.

today, when he emerges from the warriors' den and looks around, he sees the sun. a softness has settled into his dual-hued eyes, and when he swallows, his throat doesn't scratch like hell anymore. tufted ears flick to attention, the ginger and white tail curling across his flank as he takes a breath. okay, he thinks. let's start over. as morning shines bright and clear across the flowery moor, wheatwhistle rolls his shoulders, raises his voice. "anycat fancy a huntin' patrol?"

DEEP GREENS AND BLUES ★ ARE THE COLORS I CHOOSE

• // peepaw returns! " #6c8886"
• 
• WHEATWHISTLE ★ HE / HIM, BARNCAT. 106 MOONS, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  an orange tabby tom with low white and one gold eye, and one blue eye. short silky fur reminisces flame and rye, darker ginger tabby stripes slicing through the lighter tone. splashes of white are strewn across his face and body, a snowbank covering the flaming base of his coat. his eyes are odd- one crystal blue, the other sunshine golden, peering with a slightly lopsided look.

​

 

[Hollowmumble]

Hollowmumble, -- 39 Moons / Windclan Cat -- Ages on the 14th
Black spotted ghost tabby with bright amber eyes.
She is friendly, yet quiet, and always willing to help.

Tagging @wheatwhistle

---

Hollowmumble's ears perk up from where she was just finishing up a small mouse by the freshkill pile. Taking a second to paw the small leftovers aside so someone else would finish it, she slowly stood. She stretched for a long moment, taking in the afternoon sun before standing tall and padding over to Wheatwhistle. "I could go for a hunting patrol," she was already planning on heading out, but two paws would be better than one if they happened to run into a rabbit or a hare. They were much easier to catch when you weren't alone.

Replenishing the freshkill pile always gives her a certain sense of purpose, instead of feeling like she was drifting aimlessly through the prairie only because the cats she cared about lived here now. It was a nice day to hunt, with a soft breeze and a sky that was patchy with clouds, the sun occationally shining through to warm the earth that was still damp from earlier's rain.

 

[sassafraschill]

SASSAFRASCHILL, 31 moons / windclan moor-runner
a pale blue tabby with scraggly fur and a large shoulder scar
sister to honey, mate and parent to none
a scrappy cowboy who feels he has something to prove. stupidly stubborn with hotheaded tendencies.
Tagging person here

---

"Y'don't think your creakin' bones won't scare'em off?" Sassafras spoke dryly with a smile as he padded up to Wheatwhistle, harshly bumping his head against the older toms shoulder. Sassafraschill was always prepared for a good hunt, as if he might keel over if he stopped moving while there was still daylight out. Hollowmumble was given an appreciative nod, too.
"Where should we head to, then? Goin' by the warm spring'll get us there 'fore sunhigh."

 

[ROOSTERTUFT]

x

"I think we'll do jus fine if you don't scare em off with your big mouth first." Roostertuft says rather playfully in the direction of Sassafrachill with an eyebrow quirked at his close friend noticing the way that he harshly bumped against Wheatwhistle, in turn, the patchwork tom attempts to bump roughly against the shoulder of the pale blue tabby with his own. A smirk forming on his face only to nod in silent agreement to what his best friend asks where they'd head off to and offers a small nod of greeting in Hollowmumble's direction.

"I'll tag along with t'rest of ya and make sure this one doesn't cause too much trouble." His whiskers quiver in a brief show of amusement and prepares himself for whatever trip they may need to make for this hunting expedition, it'd be good to stretch out his legs, and the moor runner is more than eager to better his hunting skills. He'd be able to hide within the long blades of grass with his mismatched pelt, he just needs to make sure that the prey itself doesn't detect his scent first while stalking it.

FACES ILLUMINATED IN THE DARK

ROOSTERTUFT

WINDCLAN WARRIOR
TRANS MASC x HE/HIM​

x

"speech", thoughts, attacking
a large, longhaired black smoke tortie/blue ticked tabby chimera with a pair of earthy toned eyes and low white
has complicated feelings towards goldenroar and subtly interested in nutmegpurr

charismatic, stubborn, adventurous, aloof, and awkward would be a few words that describe roostertuft as an individual. a former barncat that's getting accustomed to clan life after the events of the barn burning down, he oftentimes misses the life before it burnt down yet he's someone who'll adapt to change.