SkyClan it looks as though we abut / first border patrol ?

[Hawkstar]

HAWKSTAR, 62 moons / SKYCLAN LEADER
A long-legged short-furred seal point tortie with one electric-blue eye; heavily scarred
Mentoring ROSEPAW ; mother of STARLITPATH
Prone to corporate attitudes, harsh words, hazing practices ; generally morally dubious
Tagging person here

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Hawkstar was not one to often lead patrols. It wasn't her first priority, what with Flowercloud and.... Fujimoto.... to pick up that slack. That's what they were there for, anyways: bodies that she could delegate the more boring tasks to while she held training sessions and did the important job of spying on keeping tabs on her adjusting clan. They were the generals to her kingship, with patrols being their rounds meant to do without the crown present.

However, the journey had left them all .... a bit more waylaid than the pointed king would've liked. Her generals lacked the precision she needed in these new lands - lacked the vision she had. Not one other clanner had so much as graced their negligible borders since their arrival.... surely, it was not because they had been so generous as to allow them time to "settle in." No... Hawkstar was not going to wait in isolation, her paws idle and her ears flat to her head as another clan prepared a raid on the territory she had just claimed. No... best go to them first.

.... that is.... if she could pinpoint who "they" were.

It was late into the afternoon by the time the leader slowed to a pause at the edge of some river, the water gurgling happily at her feet, her ears swiveling. Not once did the hard line of her mouth waver, despite the frustration that boiled somewhere in her gut. "Rosepaw, what do you smell out here?" she meowed, one electric blue swinging from shoreline to apprentice: an unpassable test.

@stormcrow @Cherrydawn @Momo @Rosepaw @Fuzzypaw

/ general idea is this is supposed to be peaceful. no skirmishes today ! no posting order.

 

[willowburn]

(☾) her new name still tastes odd in her maw. willowburn has always been willow, brother to smoke and night, mouser, then shipyard dweller. she has never been anything beyond those two syllables, or the occasional familiar nickname. now her name has an addition, something she has been told is important, even crucial, to being a riverclan warrior. it's all odd to the feline. still, she will say that she doesn't mind the name itself. it is pretty enough, tough and fierce seeming while also keeping her heritage intact. smokewreath's is much the same, although the feline has some things to say about the young one's suffixes. so many "kit" names, it's always a mouthful to call them all. pike… pikestar, has made it known that willowburn's kin will one day have warrior names of their own. she just hopes the tomcat will get better at tactful monikers before then (russetfall comes to mind.)

as the smoke feline pads through their new territory, paws smoothing over paths that will one day be familiar, they hum gently to themself. just beyond a break in the trees of her namesake is the river, babbling away despite the chill that permeates the air. sidling gently beneath willow boughs and through drooping reeds, the feline finds the water. their slender head turns, glancing back at their small patrol of other cats. "no ice on the river! that means good fishing today," they calls to their clanmates, eyebrows raised in excitement. flicking their tail, willowburn turns back to the water, bending to lap up sweet, cool liquid.

as she rights herself, peering over to try and glimpse any chance at fish, a small noise on the other side of the river alerts her. willowburn glances up, locking eyes with a stranger. fern on sea-blue, the two felines stare at each other, before the other is joined by several more cats. aware of the colony from the shipyard days, willow scents the air, but these strangers do not smell like the desperation and hunger that the colony cats had. "greetings," she calls, bold, stepping into the open with her tail held high. the rest of her clanmates will join her soon - she need not fear. "who might you be?"

WITH THE ECHOING HYMN ☾ OF MY FELLOW PASSERINE

• // " #87874b"
• 
• WILLOWBURN
  ☾ SHE / THEY. RIVERCLAN WARRIOR. 30 MOONS. PENNED BY LAVS.
  
  
  a lithe black smoke feline with ghost striping and leaf green eyes. long smoky fur dashed through with grey and white adorns her frame, sliced across by darker stripes that frame her face and legs. eyes like sage, brilliantly green, gaze with an intelligent look. she is scarred across the bridge of her angular nose.

​

 

[Adderfang]

They were adjusting quicker to their new home than he had anticipated.

Peachy and Downy had done good work, ensuring shelter was over their heads. The river ran with fish—so long as it didn't freeze over—and Adder had been scouting out other prey-rich areas, preparing for the worst. Scent borders were beginning to take shape, though much was still to be done.

It was familiar work. He had plenty of experience patrolling and marking territory alongside his father. And when the dusky tom disappeared, leaving him and his siblings to fend for themselves, Adder had remained. Instead of dispersing, he stayed behind, determined to build on what his father left them, rather than abandon it altogether. That decision had eventually led him to Wave, and for that, he thought it the best choice he ever made.

Still, despite their progress, an unease lingered—mostly between himself and Pikestar.

There was a conversation that needed to happen. But Adder had learned the hard way that walking into complicated situations without a plan never worked in his favor. Until he figured out how to approach it, he preferred to just keep his mind busy

That was more or less why he joined Willow and the others on their hunting trip. He trailed behind the dark-furred molly at a steady pace, not as quick-footed but no less eager to reach the river. He hadn't fished so far upstream before. With so many young mouths to feed (seriously—where were they all coming from?), keeping their pile stocked was more important than ever.

As they neared the water, Adder's eyes flicked ahead, immediately noting what Willow did. His pace quickened to a trot, tail flowing behind him, flicking sharply to grab the rest of his clanmates' attention. He slowed as he approached, taking up beside Willow with quiet confidence. She was already asking the right questions, so he listened expectantly.

Yes, who are you? What do you want?

Adder stood ready, ears pricked as he took stock of the strangers. He counted four… five… six in their midst. Too many to get careless. The one-eyed cat at the front was obvious—stone-faced—much like himself. But there were also two younger cats, one of them not much older than his kits. A blue point wearing a twoleg collar and a molly whose pelt split into two distinct shades.

The river would offer some barrier, should things turn hostile. But he was not naive enough to believe that would stop them should they be provoked.

___________________ There wasn't a wrong or a right he could choose 𓆟 He did what he had to do ________________

• "speech" - thoughts
  
  

• 

• Adderfang he/him & riverclan
  𓆟 Chocolate ticked tabby w/ amber eyes. Peppered with scars. Deep gash across the right side of his face exposing one canine slightly. Missing left ear.
  𓆟 Deep gravelly voice that might unsettle others.
  𓆟 Would and will kill a man.
  𓆟 Peaceful and healing powerplay permitted. For other powerplays, DM.
  𓆟 Fur smells faintly of river reeds and damp earth.
  
  
  penned by Scarlet​

 

[stormcrow]

Stormcrow is walking a few steps behind the last cat of the patrol, keeping watch, ears alerted. This was still unfamiliar ground, unfamiliar bushes, with unfamiliar predators lurking. Hawkstar stops at the edge of a river, and Stormcrow approaches her leader, scanning up and down the waterline. She hears something– a rustling that might only be the wind. Still. Hawkstar asks something of her apprentice; a question with no right answer. Stormcrow's whiskers twitch with amusement, glad to no longer need to answer such questions.

Suddenly, the reeds on the other side of the river bend, and a beautiful she-cat steps out into the dim leafbare sun. She calls out to them, and soon another joins her– a rather nasty looking tom. Gnarled. He says nothing.

"We could ask you the same thing," Stormcrow replies.

She does not introduce them; not her job. Hawkstar can do that, if they so please. Stormcrow has no interest in making friends with these strangers. So long as they do not come onto Skyclan land, what and who they are is of no interest to her; and if they do come, her only interest would be in chasing them out.

 

[Fuzzypaw]

The journey had taken a toll on the young tom, his muscles torn and aching as a constant reminder to the trek they had made. Hawkstar had promises of a land for themselves, a land where they could flourish and leave the retched sickness that had swallowed up their last camp, their home. Fuzzypaw didn't really understand still why they had to leave. Hadn't it not been so bad? Hadn't the medicine cats had it all under control? Couldn't they contain it? Perhaps they were just too young - or too ignorant, though not their fault - to notice. But their new camp... it stressed them out, more than the tuxedo feline had expected. The pine forest was dense, dark and quiet... even too quiet for someone like him.

Sticking close to Rainchime, the boy couldn't help the trembling that shook his curls or the chattering of pearly teeth. He wasn't one for confrontation; and he could only expect the worst out of discovering their next-door neighbors. Their fluffy tail snapped back and forth quickly, darting around so much it was as though a mini tornado could appear below their tail. Fuzzypaw usually was anxious, but not to this extent.

The voice of Hawkstar caused them to jump and let out a slight meow, golden eyes glancing to her with embarrassment littered in their gaze. "Um, sorry," they murmured before looking out over the river, chest heavy from the air they had taken in. Blowing it out slowly and softly to try and calm their bouncing nerves, two blurry figures were brought to their attention as they turned their head to Rainchime. "Uhm, Rainchime? Who're they?" He asked with a gulp, the dark gray molly being the first to open her maw and ask the same question that was on all their minds. They chose to stay quiet, as per usual. It wasn't their place to speak up - no, never in a situation like this. Stormcrow's response had his fur prickled on edge, a forced yet friendly smile mustered onto an anxious expression. 'Oh, StarClan, just answer the question!' They thought, hoping it would just be a quick, easy, and kind exchange. No need to make enemies so soon into adjusting to their new camp.

ooc: mentor tag <3! @Rainchime