Open Camp ShadowClan midday chatter [open/lunch hangout]

[WOLFPACK]

AND I AM SORRY MY CONSCIENCE CALLED IN SICK AGAIN​

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Spring was fast approaching.

The day was mild, pleasant by Shadowclans standards. While it had rained all night and left the world soggy and scattered with puddles and patches of mud, by midday the sky was blue and the sun was out. There was still a chill in the wind that ruffled his fur, and it was too cold out for the puddles of rainwater to not leave him wishing for warmer weather, but after the leafbare they'd just gone through he was happy for any signs of the newleaf to come.

Wolfpack– along with several of his clanmates– had just finished up their midday meals. Now, they lounged in camp together, taking a few moment to relax in the sunlight while it lasted. Stars knew they'd have a sky filled with stormclouds come late afternoon, and so the mottled tom was content to enjoy it while that lizard digested.

"Think this place will be any dryer come greenleaf?" he asked, tone more conversational than complaintive, more focused on lazily rolling the mossball he had trapped beneath his paw. After a moment of messing with it he rolled it off toward one of the other cats sitting in the group, intending to start the worlds laziest game of 'catch'.

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OOC-- A nice casual thread of the grownups hanging out and messing with a mossball???
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shadowclan deputy - male - a large, monochrome chimera with mismatched eyes and several scars​

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[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 27 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

Cicadabuzz observes from the edge of the clearing, where the damp earth still clings to the night's rain. Their paws are dry; they are careful where they step, always preferring solid ground to the treacherous grip of mud. The sun above is a welcomed presence, but Cicadabuzz does not waste time basking in it like the others. Their work is never finished, even in these moments of ease. They are sorting through a small bundle of dried herbs, ones that barely survived the leafbare. Newleaf will replenish their stores soon, but soon is not now. Their ear twitches as Wolfpack speaks, though their gaze remains fixed on their work. A question with no real expectation of an answer. It is idle talk, the sort that Cicadabuzz rarely partakes in. Still, they allow themselves a response, voice even and pragmatic.

"No," they say simply. Their tail flicks as they inspect a leaf for signs of rot. "This is a swamp. Greenleaf will make it hotter, not drier." They do not soften the words. The world is as it is, regardless of what one wishes it to be. ShadowClan's land is wet, cold, then wet again. To hope otherwise is to waste energy better spent elsewhere. Cicadabuzz does not look up, but they can hear the sound of the mossball rolling lazily across the clearing, the gentle thud of it bumping against another cat's paw. A game. Foolish, perhaps, but harmless. They allow a pause before adding, "Better to start storing herbs for the coughs and fevers the damp will bring than to hope for dry ground." A subtle suggestion, though they know few will take it. Most prefer to enjoy the fleeting warmth while they can. Cicadabuzz, however, thinks always of what comes next.