December Gathering 2019

There were very few things that Wolfcall could say that he truly, hated. And they were normal things, like sickness... war... things that caused death and pain. But snow... this blasted white, wet, frigid nonsense had made the top of his list as soon as he woke up to find it blanketing the ground in all its obnoxious, inconvenient... existence. As he followed his clanmates through the forest and into Fourtrees, the newly named warrior remained silent, a constant unsettled expression across his dark features. He was so used to being able to blend into the darkness, being able to disappear at will among the foliage and shadows, that this infernal whiteness everywhere made him feel vulnerable. His dark pelt stuck out like a beacon in the expanse of unbroken color, and he hated it.

As they reached the gathering, Wolfcall broke away on his own, finding a spot of ground beneath an overhanging rock that had spared it from the snow. And he slunk there into the shadows, keeping his eyes on his siblings just in case something were to happen, he'd know where to find them. He had a feeling that this meeting wasn't going to be as peaceful as the last one he'd attended.

A feeble squeak escaped Featherpaw's maw as something crashed into her, flinching fleetingly at the impact. Ruffled, her eyes flickered towards the sandy pelt, tufted ears lowered at his woodland reek. ThunderClan. At the warrior's words, she winced shamefully. She had assured herself she had chosen a place relatively free from other cats. Embarrassed at the rather abrupt encounter, she fidgeted with her paws, urging herself to apologise. "S-Sorry," Featherpaw sputtered, not even bothering to consider that the collision may not have been entirely her fault, "I, um.. didn't know I was i-in the way." The evident disdain plastered all over the ThunderClanner's features brought a scratchy tingle to her pelt, an odd feeling of vague recognition flaring in her mind. He's just like Hillfire.

She forcefully eased herself at his introduction. Houndheart of ThunderClan, "one of their best warriors". She blinked at his request for her name, before responding softly, yet hastily, "I-I'm Feather..paw, of RiverClan." The apprentice kept her reply purposefully brief, as she was wary of his next comment. She looked patently too old to still be a 'paw, and he seemed like the type of cat who would love to mention that.

ooc; 1) poor featherpaw does not deserve this, 2) its mildly ironic she remembers hillfire because one of my other characters kill him OOPS

It appeared he was growing softer, being pressed into by the friendship of his companions in Thunderclan, because he almost felt a pang of guilt for such abrasive behavior at her small voice. Houndheart's ears flattened to his head. Why should he feel bad if she was sitting so mindlessly in the way and not paying attention to her surroundings? But before he could conjure up anymore ill-feelings, it melted away and he just looked at this soft, stuttering mess of a Riverclanner. A grumbled, mildly aggravated sigh left the corner of his maw. It was the closest thing she would get to an apology unfortunately, and it was more an expression of his internal frustrations at being the mess that he was. But his ears perked when he heard her say that she was an apprentice. Houndheart couldn't stop the snort of laughter and twitching of his whiskers, "An apprentice? What? Were you born already six moons of age or something?" Despite her shrinking demeanor, he could tell she was at least several moons his senior. Houndheart settled down, finding himself intrigued by what her response would be.

Ferretnose walked wearily into the clearing, feeling proud of herself... but also quite tired. The job of a warrior was never done, she supposed. Her good eye darted around in the night, looking for a marsh-scented tabby pelt and praying it had a few new scars. She held no contempt for the poor tom who brought her to the end of the battle, but stars, would she love to see the look on ShadowClan's deputy's face.

The thought was a passing one, gone with the breeze as quickly as it had come. There was no use in contempt or rage anymore. The battle was done. The matter was dealt with. She would continue to protect her clan under cover of the night. There was more at stake now, with love and light sharing her heart and nest. She spotted a familiar RiverClan she-cat in the snow-capped landscape and chirped a small greeting at Honeytongue. She seemed quite engaged with Dacepaw, a light in the dark as always, so Ferretnose held back, her paws shuffling in the slush, not willing to intrude. She lowered herself onto her haunches and waited for the chatter to stop. The sooner she could go home and nap, the better.

Mossbloom was tired. She had seen two sunsets, and tonight would hold the second moonhigh. She had caught a quick nap in the sunlight outside of the medicine den before a warrior approached with a thorn in their pad, waking her from her brief slumber. The leaf bundle between her teeth wasn't as neat as usual, but it was still there. What would this Gathering have in store for ThunderClan, and the other clans, tonight?

Flintshard limped after his mother, eyes dull as he glanced at the gathering Clans with a soft huff. He paused, one leg hovering slightly above the snowy ground with a deep, ugly scar down the side of it. Something had been torn in his fight with the SkyClan tom, his leg ached and could barely support its weight. Mothglow had tried to be hopeful, that perhaps it could hear fully - or nearly full - in time but... There was also a chance that the warrior would never walk without a heavy limp again.

Part of him wanted to scour the gathered SkyClan cats for the tom who had done it but he knew his fate. Killed by accident by Thornstar in the thick of battle... It wasn't the justice that Flintshard had wanted, but Thornstar had made amends by having the SkyClan leader rid her of one of her lives. His gaze fell toward the great rock, spotting the tom that he knew as the ThunderClan deputy. A flicker of rage flared through him, followed by an aching pain that caused him to look away. He...He had lost his uncle in the battle and it had brought an unexpecting pain with it. He hadn't mourned the death of any other life - he had never felt this sadness before but now... He wasn't sure what to do with it. How to make it stop. He...He didn't like it. He shook his head, turning and trudging trough the crowd until he found a familiar spot near the edge of the clearing, settling down.

It was another Gathering he didn't want to be at, but he had to show ShadowClan's strength in the wake of their defeat at the paws of SkyClan and ThunderClan. He hated that he kept finding reasons to come - good reasons when he just wanted to stay away. But he wasn't going to let the other Clans think that his injuries stopped him...And perhaps, just perhaps, there was part of him that wanted to see Basilpaw. See how she was holding up. He was...Surprised at his own slight worry over her - they didn't know each other well even if they were 'friends.' But...She seemed...Nice. She hadn't gotten pulled into a battle that she shouldn't have had any part in, did she? He straightened up a little, glancing around the cats for any sight of her pelt.

---------------------------

Honeytongue smiled softly as Dacepaw confirmed that she was still an apprentice, leaning over to gently bump shoulders with her. "You'll be a warrior before you know it, Dacepaw. I'm sure they just want to make sure that you are comfortable as a ThunderClan cat before they make you a warrior - I can't imagine having to work my way through the undergrowth when I am so used to the water..." she shook her head, drifting off as she heard a familiar chirp. Her gaze flickered away from her two friends, smile brightening at the sight of Ferretnose as the she-cat was strolling pass. She flickered her tail in silent greeting as the she-cat settled down some distance away, before she turned her attention back to Dacepaw. "I'm proud of you, Dacepaw. I can't imagine how...Weird it is, living in the forest like that. It just seems...Crowded in there, no open areas at all," she murmured. "I don't know if I could ever even think about trying to live in a different territory. It would be fun for a while, sure but...I would be a fish out of water, I suppose," she added with a smile.

Padding into the clearing, Daisyflame let out a huff as he glanced around. ShadowClan's appearance would not be welcomed, especially by SkyClan and ThunderClan, so he knew mingling with cats from other clans wasn't the best option this time around. So instead, he spotted Flintshard, a fellow warrior.

"How's your leg doing?" the large tom mewed to his clanmate with a smile. He couldn't imagine what warriorood was like with such an injury and knew he couldn't really help the younger tom, but maybe at least showing that he cared would be enough, seeing as though sometimes it was simply the thought that counted.

The old clearing felt surreal, a vast expanse of memories from before the attack. Finchstar and his friends padded in wounded, scars lacing their pelts, battle medals for the trials they had faced. In the last few sunrises, holes had been patched, trauma had been bandaged, and the tom hoped his clan could recover. It was simply a barrier between the peace that was coming, and had instilled itself already. But yet again, WindClan has prevailed. However it seemed the cats of the moor were not the only ones to bear scars. Finchstar watched with wide weary eyes, gazing upon SkyClan and ThunderClan, noticing their feud with ShadowClan like sparks in the sky. The leader nodded to Raventail, leaving his deputy and friend at the bottom of the great rock before ascending upward with the rest of the leaders. His deputy had led WindClan in his absence, a bold feat that Finchstar respected him for. There was still much to discuss, however life would continue on, and their claws would remain unsheathed to the trials of this world. “You’ll have to forgive our tardiness.” Finchstar crooned, grinning slyly. “You see, WindClan has been engaged in war. I myself remain out of the loop, as I was sadly trapped underground last gathering.” There was no use in hiding what took place over leaf fall. The whole forest needed to know of the dangers that lurked below. However the scars on their neighbors were interesting indeed. “It seems you bear your own wounds, Oakstar, Spottedstar.” Finchstar knew he was prodding a sleeping bear, but wished to know the whole story. “Please, let us share our tales. I will tell you of our beasts if you will inform me of yours.”

Spotpaw was one of the first cats to go in the clearing with Windclan. So much had happened in her past moon of apprenticeship it felt relaxing to go to a gathering. After she had managed to convince Aspenheart and Foxspirit she could go (which was quite a task) Spotpaw searched around for Brindlepaw whom she talked to last moon. After not finding her Spotpaw figured it was time to make new friends.

As she searched around the gathering she found a grey Thunderclan Tom. He was clearly a warrior. Spotpaw didn't feel imtimitated by the warrior as she would've been a moon ago. She had a growth spurt almost towering over Foxspirit. Spotpaw hoped the warrior would not mistake her for a warrior. Her voice was just a squeaky as kit's voice.

"Hi I'm Spotpaw! Whats your name?" Asked Spotpaw sitting beside the tom.

OOC: Spotpaw is talking to Mistwalker

Given what had been revealed at the last Gathering, this one was bound to be tense. The air itself, colder than it had been the previous moon, was already thick with uncertainty. Foxfire and Lynxscar had spoken of a deputy’s death (or murder); Spottedstar had spoken of accusations of treason, calling out the names of his missing warriors, three of whom WindClan still harbored. Whatever else had plagued the Clans since they’d last met, Raventail couldn’t imagine. But he was tired. He could let himself be tired. By a miracle, his good friend stood at WindClan’s helm once more; Goldengale slept among the warriors; no one had died in the attack on WindClan’s camp. They could ask for nothing better.

Raventail fell back, letting the crowd surge past him. Even now, a deputy once more, he couldn’t spend the Gathering at Dappleshine’s side. He had a few moments, though, and so he gently shouldered through his Clanmates to reach her, pressing his nose to her cheek. ”I’ll find you when we’re ready to leave,” he said as he pulled away. The light in his eyes dimmed briefly. ”If you need me, you know where I’ll be.” True, there wasn’t much he could do at the base of the Great Rock, but tonight, he lacked the energy to care about whatever unspoken rule held him there. With a final purr, he whirled around and darted off.

At the Great Rock’s base, he caught up to Finchstar again in time to shoot his friend a faint grin before he ascended. Raventail remained seated below. Where he belonged. For once, he didn’t immediately launch into conversation with the other deputies. The haziness in the small tom’s eyes as he gazed around at the snow was two parts exhaustion, one part wonder.

---

Lightfang had never liked Gatherings. Tonight’s, however, held an air of danger he’d never felt at Fourtrees before. It would have been easy to stay back in camp again; no one could afford to be too sure the beasts were gone. His half-healed wounds, sore though they were, weren’t enough to stop him from fighting if need be. But he had a duty to show up here. One cat’s presence wouldn’t avert a war—in this case, he imagined it’d be more likely to cause one—but it would make WindClan seem a little bigger, a little stronger. And WindClan, at least for now, was his to protect.

He sat behind them all, as far from the Great Rock as he could manage while technically being within the clearing’s boundaries. His tail wound tightly around his paws. Unfortunately, it did little to ward off the chill. With a brief shiver, Lightfang lowered his head.

ooc: lightfang is open to talk! preferably to other windclanners

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Mudfrost did not like snow. She’d decided this from the moment her paws had touched it, and nothing during the walk to Fourtrees had convinced her otherwise. Not even Honeytongue’s frolicking could sway her. The snow stuck to her fur in a way that water didn’t, turning her pelt damp and prickly with cold. But she’d already missed one Gathering—the Gathering where her full name had been announced, at that. She wouldn’t miss another just because of a little chill. Besides, this was still better than being in camp. The calico marched through the crowd, peering into the slowly-forming clusters of cats for any faces she recognized. Mossbloom, the apprentice she’d fought, the ShadowClanner she’d spoken to at her first Gathering…

ooc: mudfrost is open to talk!

Addershade walked into the gathering alongside the rest of his clan, just as unenthused about being in a crowd of strangers as he had been at every gathering prior. Still, he was long since used to it by now, and it bothered him much less than it had when he was young. He settled down and waited patiently for the gathering to begin.

--

Nettlefire marched in to the gathering, head held high. This was officially her first gathering since receiving her warrior name, and she was thrilled to have reached that milestone, at long last. The idea that other cats might stare at her scars didn't even cross her mind. Even if it did, it wouldn't have bothered her in the least. She didn't care what anyone thought. All that mattered was that she was finally, finally, here.

--

Marshcloud entered the gathering with an air of melancholy, one he had been carrying with him frequently as of late, in light of everything that had happened. The tone did not suit him; it seemed at odds with his nature. But he couldn't shake it. Normally, he'd try seeking out cats he didn't know and strike up a conversation-- he loved getting to know new cats. But tonight, he just took a place and waited.

OOC: Addershade, Nettlefire, and Marshcloud are all open to talk!

Mothglow followed the rest of her Clanmates into the Gathering, though for once she seemed to trail a short distance behind them. As if she was trying, in some small way, to distance herself from them in the wake of the bloodshed; to remain a truly neutral and nearly impartial presence. While the typical bustling of Gatherings surrounded her, she was uncharacteristically quiet as she took her place among the medicine cats. She was nervous, wondering if Sagelight would be here. In particular, she wondered if he would blame her for what had happened. After all, he had been there too, and she hadn't managed to prevent the unnecessary bloodshed. Wasn't that what she was meant to do as a medicine cat?

Glancing up to where the leaders stood, and from there to the warriors that mingled all around, she wondered if StarClan was playing tricks on her. On all of them. Keeping the peace with cats so quick to fight on all sides... How were they supposed to manage that? It wasn't exactly amusing, but still a quiet, bitter laugh escaped her.
~
Zinnia followed WindClan into the Gathering once more; this time prepared for the assault on her senses that came from gathering five Clans in one place. A part of her wondered if the cat who had spoken to her last time would be here again, and another sought to forge new relationships. She settled near a group of unfamiliar cats, not quite with them and not quite away from them. She knew that Clans were told apart by scent, but the corresponding names didn't come as easily to her as to a cat who had learned them all her life. WindClan's scent she knew, but everything else was - though distinct - marked as similar, solely by being unfamiliar to her.

(She wasn't going to let herself dwell on recent events. Not tonight, at least.)

[Both Mothglow and Zinnia are open to talk to!]

Flintshard blinked at the sound of a familiar close voice...But it was one he hadn't been expecting as he turned to glance over at the two-toned tom as Daisyflame settled down next to him. He fixed the much older warrior with his stand glare, before he sighed. He would have to entertain him a little, wouldn't he? He imagined that Daisyflame would only press for an answer if he didn't bother to give him on. "It aches," he admitted with a slight shrug of his shoulders, gaze once again returning to scanning the clearing. "But I'll be fine."

Burningwolf was feeling more attatched to her mate than ever after the incident with everything, and especially after losing their kit. Though she hadn't spoken since to Aspenheart, it was tough to leave his side. The nearly healed scars on her body reflected the scars on her ego. Her ears were missing, her face was disfigured. She looked nothing like the cat that left SkyClan. Would anyone say anything? As the chilly winds pressed through, Burningwolf leaned into Lightfang.

Sandshrew sat near where the other WindClanners sat. It was her first Gathering as a warrior, and she was thrilled to finally have her name called.

OoC: Please talk to Burningwolf about her injuries! Sandshrew is open to talk.