Open Territory wolf house ⋆ rain storm

[lichentuft]

lichen

The air is warm... it blankets the territory in this heavy sort of atmosphere... but her whiskers tickle with the sense of something approaching on the breeze. It is as familiar as the Shipyard had been... a place scoured and explored in agonizing detail for the many moons she'd lived there. This place... this place is still too new, too strange... and their neighbors far stranger. They are grisly at times, toothy-grinned other times. Their unpredictable nature makes the blue molly wary for the future of her children, for the safety of her partners.

Still, she heads out dutifully into the territory, wading through the waters to venture out into grassier plains, determined to bring home something to eat, something to share with her loved ones. The air is heavier still than it was this morning... the earth underfoot seems to soften in sigh of relief the moment the first droplet cascades from the sky.

Aughhh... of course... Her ears fold against her head with a frustrated sigh, already noting the crescendo of the rain as it grows more and more into a downpour rather than a sprinkle. It was meant to be dry in the summer months but she was no stranger to the surprise of a warm-seasoned rainstorm... and her whiskers had warned her, hadn't they?

She's prepared to veer off into a patch of leafy ferns to wait out the storm when a small branch drops into the soggy earth in front of her, splatting mud everywhere, including the pale furs of her flank. "Right..." she grumbles to no one in particular, watching the muck slither down her coat as the rain continues to drench her.

"I'm going home- this is ridiculous," the fussy she-cat declares, turning on her heels to start making her way back towards camp with a disdainful grimace on her face with each squelch of mud under-paw.

 

[Shimmerpaw]

There was a time once where Shimmerpaw enjoyed the harsh onslaught of rain, where it meant stories of ships rocking on the ocean and tales of how cats came to be on the shores. The parts where some died had been left out, eventually told to the now older apprentice when she was no longer a kit, and although at first she enjoyed it - soft sprinkles of droplets falling from the sky reminding her of nights spent by the ocean - the harsher the weather got the more the white-pelted moggie felt her ears begin to flatten against her head. The more she felt the corner of her maw tug downwards into a frown until tail was drooping and back was hunched over, paws moving carefully in the mud as she began to follow after Lichentuft who - in the older apprentice's opinion - had the right idea of going back to camp.

"Might as well, I doubt the fish are gonna be biting and if it keeps getting worse it'll make swimming for them more dangerous." It wasn't like they were struggling for food right now anyway, and although Shimmerpaw enjoyed swimming and didn't mind getting wet this was a different kind of wet, thrown at her by the weather by force instead of by her own choice and that wasn't something she liked.

​

SHIMMERPAW she/her, riverclan 10 moons old.
all white cat masking cinnamon tortie
mentored by NPC // mentoring none
littermate to none
NPC x NPC / mother to none / mated to none
"speech" // "thoughts"
penned by tikki ↛ rabbitcake on discord, feel free to dm for plots.