Private Territory ponder the manner of things ] lostpaw

[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 stands just outside the den, the crisp morning air carrying the scent of damp earth and new growth. The healer's fur is still slightly ruffled from sleep, but there's no time to smooth it down—there's work to be done. A thin layer of mist clings to the ground, curling around their legs as they scan the clearing. The camp is waking slowly, warriors stretching out stiff limbs, apprentices blinking sleep from their eyes. Cicadabuzz has no patience for sluggishness. They have a task, and they need assistance. With a sharp exhale, they turn toward the apprentice's den, stepping inside without hesitation. The scent of moss and young cats washes over them, thick and warm. Shapes shift in the dim light, fur pressed against fur, tails twitching in the hush of early morning. Cicadabuzz sweeps their gaze over the dozing apprentices, eyes narrowing. Most of them wouldn't be worth the trouble—too slow, too easily distracted—but then their gaze settles on one in particular.

"Lostpaw," Cicadabuzz says, their voice cutting through the quiet like a claw through bark. It is not a question. It is not a request. Some of the other apprentices stir, grumbling, shifting deeper into their nests, but Cicadabuzz doesn't care. They take a step closer, looming over the young cat. "Get up. You're coming with me." They don't wait for a response. Their tail flicks, and they turn sharply, already moving toward the entrance of the den. They expect to be followed. Outside, they pace a short distance from the entrance, claws flexing against the dirt as they glance toward the sky. The sun is climbing, but the mist still clings to the trees. If they don't move quickly, they'll waste precious daylight. As soon as Lostpaw appears, Cicadabuzz fixes her with a look, sharp and expectant. "We need to gather hawkweed," they tell her briskly. "There's a patch just by the ThunderClan border. I don't have time to waste hauling it back alone."

Their tail lashes once, agitation flickering in their tone—not at Lostpaw, necessarily, but at the situation. Their stores are running low, and with the dampness in the air, it's only a matter of time before the -coughs start creeping through the Clan like rot in a fallen tree. They won't be caught unprepared. "Keep up," they say simply, before turning and heading for the camp entrance without another word.

 

[lostpaw]

Lost was sitting in her nest after a very long, very annoying morning of hunting and trying not to slip and slide with the spring mud beneath her paws. She was just about to settle in to take a few hours' nap before an afternoon patrol when someone's voice-- Cicadabuzz's, she realized-- sounded from the entrance of the apprentice's den, and told her-- told, not asked-- her to go with them. She stared at them in a quiet bout of annoyance, emotions displayed on her face without a care as to what her face might convey. Her ears lay back but she just nodded, knew of her and Flea's debt to these cats that took them in, knew she had to pay them back for saving her life, and knew it would never come to pass.

She stomped out of the apprentice's den, noted Flea's nest right next to hers and took a few moments to debate waking her sister up. She decided against it, though, and followed Cicadabuzz's eerie form out of the den and into the foggy morning air. The molly watched the mist gather around her feet and shook one of her paws to get it to stop clinging to her, only for it to start up again. Gods, Shadowclan was such a dump. Not worse than the mill, nowhere near that level, and there were no twolegs so she supposed it wasn't that bad.. but still. She really hated the swamp. She hated the frogs and the lizards. Ugh. So annoying! she would think with a grimace once again displayed loud and proud on her short-furred face.

The molly was a few steps behind the medicine cat when they exited camp, not bothering to keep the same brisk pace as the other even though they followed close behind. "What's this shit look like?" She asked, tail flicking but her annoyance settling down into her bones like a leech on fresh skin.

SHE IS FREQUENTLY KIND ☆ AND SHE'S SUDDENLY CRUEL

• "speech"
  
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• LOSTPAW she/her, shadowclan, six moons.
  ☆ a sh solid grey she-cat with green eyes / small and fast
  ☆ mentored by @/Mothbite
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / always tag @hellybear
  ☆ penned by hellybear ↛ hellycinth on discord, feel free to dm for plots / click for toyhou.se

 

[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 28 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit ; mentor to magpiepaw
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

Cicadabuzz does not stop walking when Lostpaw speaks. Their pace remains steady, purposeful, each step measured as they weave through the damp undergrowth. The scent of wet moss and earth clings to the air, thick and rich, and the mist still lingers, curling like restless spirits around their paws. They do not acknowledge Lostpaw's annoyance—if anything, they find it predictable. Apprentices, especially ones like her, are always resistant to being pulled from their own plans. But Lostpaw follows, and that is enough.

"Hawkweed," Cicadabuzz says, their voice as even as the steady rhythm of their paws against the ground. "Thin stem. Yellow flowers. Grows in patches near dry ground—what little of it exists here." They glance at her briefly, taking in the scowl stretched across her face, the way her tail flicks with restless irritation. "We will find it in the patch of land just across the thunderpath. It's used for soothing coughs, in the same vein as catmint. ShadowClan may need it soon." Their words are clipped, but not unkind—just factual, firm. Whether Lostpaw cares or not is irrelevant. The fog swirls around them as they move deeper into the territory, where the damp air hums with the calls of frogs and the distant rustle of unseen creatures shifting through the reeds. Cicadabuzz moves with the ease of someone who has walked this path a hundred times before, stepping over roots and weaving through the tangled growth without hesitation.

They wonder, briefly, how Lostpaw and those related are adjusting—outsiders dropped into the heart of ShadowClan's swamp. From the way Lostpaw carries herself, with her irritation worn openly, Cicadabuzz suspects she is not adjusting at all. They don't care about her complaints. The swamp does not change for those who dislike it. Complaining about the damp and the mud is like complaining about the sky for being too high. Useless. But there is something in the way Lostpaw moves—heavy, reluctant, but still moving—that holds Cicadabuzz's attention for a moment longer than usual.

"You don't have to like the work," they say, finally breaking the rhythm of silence between them. "You just have to do it." They step over a slick, moss-covered root, flicking their tail once as they glance back at her. "Unless you'd rather be back at camp, sitting in the mud with nothing to show for it." Their tone is flat, but there is something pointed in the words, something that lingers between them like the ever-present mist. It is not quite a challenge, nor an insult—simply a truth, offered plainly, like all of Cicadabuzz's truths. They do not wait for a response. They rarely do. Instead, they continue forward, their gaze already scanning the ground ahead, beginning to serch the ground for the telltale yellow blooms as the two approach the thunderpath.

 

[lostpaw]

It wasn't like Lostpaw had anything to do without a mentor. She was supposed to get one at the next meeting, on the new moon, but in the meantime she just... wandered. Helped where she could. She owed her life, her sisters life, all of her siblings lives to the clan and if helping out meant dealing with Cicadabuzz's creepy ass then that's what she would do. However annoying it was and however many times she needed to roll her eyes to get through whatever boring ass fucking task Cicadabuzz had in store for her-- or anyone else for that matter.

She dipped her head at the chimera's explanation as to what they were looking for, still following close behind the medicine cat. She was so close behind, actually, that she was nearly stepping on their heels. They would probably eat Lostpaw alive if she were to do that, if she were being entirely honest.

She didn't feel like getting eaten alive. She fell back a few pawsteps, just in case.

Lostpaw nodded again at the explanations given, finding all of it interesting despite herself. "For, like, bluecough or whatever it's called?" The molly stared ahead, paws deftly navigating the rough ground.

She made her way over the same root Cicadabuzz did. Her gaze catches sight of the thunderpath, and she started searching the ground just like the medicine cat. "Uhh, no I think I'll be fine doin' all this." A slash of color caught her eye and she pads closer to the thunderpath. The color had been yellow, she'd been sure, but as she got closer she realized that... yeah it might actually be what she was supposed to be looking for. "Is this it?"

SHE IS FREQUENTLY KIND ☆ AND SHE'S SUDDENLY CRUEL

• "speech"
  
• 
  

  

• LOSTPAW she/her, shadowclan, six moons.
  ☆ a sh solid grey she-cat with green eyes / small and fast
  ☆ mentored by @/Mothbite
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / always tag @hellybear
  ☆ penned by hellybear ↛ hellycinth on discord, feel free to dm for plots / click for toyhou.se