November Gathering (2023)

Rowansong

Rowansong trudged into the Gathering at the heels of his Clanmates. Hunger made him feel bitter, and being so exhausted only made his frustrations worse. He could not stop grimacing at his coat, trying to make himself seem presentable for the Gathering but unable to bring any sheen to it. It bothered him terribly. Even now, as RiverClan filled the clearing. He could not shake the sense that he was matted, even knowing he wasn't. However heavy it made him feel, at least the persistent feeling of unkemptness distracted him from the fact of starving. But-- ah, he'd remembered again. Rowansong huffed and shook his head like he could expel the sensation of his stomach folding in on itself by shaking it from his thoughts.

He hadn't realized it, but he'd failed to pause with the rest of his Clan. Rowansong blinked sluggishly and lifted his head to take in the faces around him, realizing with a mild shock they were all unfamiliar. Turning, he caught sight of his crowd of Clanmates, where he'd intended to remain for the night-- but on the way to finding them, he caught sight of two familiar pelts amidst the crowd he currently stood in.

Belatedly, Rowansong registered the scents of the Clan around him and assessed he'd bundled himself up with SkyClan. They were friendly with RiverClan, so it was of no concern, but now he was left staring at Crookedlight and Rainfrost's backs. He was vaguely aware that he looked quite the fool, wandering amongst their neighbors just to freeze and gawk. Rowansong decided he didn't particularly care tonight.

With a hearty shake, he unstuck his muscles and looked back toward RiverClan. He did not want to socialize with the mood he was in, and he still was not entirely sure where he stood with Crookedlight or what he was meant to do on the subject... but he found himself padding forward anyway, paws dragging him ahead unbidden. Rowansong blinked several times fast and shook himself out again to make himself look at ease, hoped he did not look as fractious as he felt, and soon found himself at Rainfrost's other side.

His jaw fell open the moment he approached, but he had little to say. Looking between the two of them, they looked as thin and frustrated as he and his Clanmates were. Rowansong tilted his head at them, the lingering surprise in his eyes melting into sympathy. He was in a rare mood for quiet, anyway. His mouth shut with a quiet click and Rowansong dipped his head in a low nod to each of them before sitting down, wrapping his tail tight around his forelegs.

Rowansong is sitting with Crookedlight and Rainfrost.

Rookpaw

Rookpaw had desperately wanted to avoid this Gathering. That was true of every full moon, but they'd been particularly adamant about it-- privately. They fussed relentlessly to themself, upset with having to dredge up the energy to hike to Fourtrees and suffer the hours of commotion and make the return journey home-- all that with a hollow stomach. They hardly had the energy for these nights when they were well-fed. Crawling out of their nest was a miracle in itself, and Rookpaw wished they had fallen ill as they were prone to doing. Their misery set in before the patrol even left for Fourtrees.

They had to go, though. Larkpaw was going, and they did not want to leave him to the Gathering alone; they also simply did not want to be alone. There was no point in protesting to anyone over it. So it was they stuck to his side as RiverClan joined the clearing. He was bitter, too, agitation rippling off his pelt. That, at least, was a good sign they would not be speaking with anyone tonight. That made the whole affair marginally easier to tolerate.

Though a quiet voice approached the pair of them before long. Rookpaw turned, following Larkpaw's sharper stare to level their pale gaze on Cinderpaw. They looked between both cats until Larkpaw settled and gave her a nod. Somewhere underneath the rare appearance of their temper, Rookpaw felt pleased watching the small interaction. Following along at Larkpaw's gesture, they padded after the others until they'd reached an unoccupied corner of the clearing, cool grass flattened by countless seasons of Gatherings. Rookpaw was quick to decide that spot was decent and settle down-- sitting, briefly, before giving into the desire to lay down fully. They tucked their forelegs under their chest and let their head rest against their chin, ears turned up in acknowledgment of Larkpaw and Cinderpaw but otherwise content to lay there.

Rookpaw is with Larkpaw and Cinderpaw.

Silverpaw

Silverpaw held himself aloft as ShadowClan filtered into the Gathering. His head was spinning and the gnawing in his gut was bound to drive him to madness soon, but he was determined to put on a good face for his Clan. He was agitated, though: his hackles already bristled, and his tail lashed periodically as he walked. He was tired and cranky, however he buried it, and Pineblossom and Forestbreeze weren't here with him tonight. He had never entered a Gathering without at least one of them at his side. Having that familiar routine broken only made him feel more upset, but he dug the points of his canines into his tongue and stretched himself out a little more.

Pawsteps at his side-- approaching him, not passing --made Silverpaw spin around like he intended to raise claws against whoever bothered, but the tension bled out of him immediately when he realized who it was. He blinked at Hawkpaw once, twice, then lit up with a toothy smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Ohh, feeling bored tonight, Pigeon?" He purred, taunting. Half his frustration was forgotten in an instant with Hawkpaw's company. He didn't clear away the dizziness or the pounding headache, but he at least made Silverpaw's fur lie flat. "I thought I was annoying."

Silverpaw is talking to Hawkpaw.



Pigeonpaw has stayed home.

Birdstar will speak after the medicine cats.

thrushnose

Thrushnose's ears instantly perked as a familiar voice called his name—Murky! His head whipped around to greet the she-cat with a warm purr despite his visible exhaustion; his smile fading slightly at the realization of how much skinnier she'd also gotten. Worry gnawed in him—a natural sense of brotherly protectiveness and responsibility despite knowing he, himself, was facing very similar problems.

"You... You got your new name?" He smiled, his gaze softening immensely in pride and affection alike for her new identity. A bittersweet sense of both unfamiliarity and not washed over him; he'd have to take time getting used to her new name, but he was glad for his sister's new place in RiverClan, nonetheless. "Congratulations, Murky," He whispered, lovingly pressing his forehead up against her own, "Murkyriver." He stepped back just slightly, looking her over before returning to nestle himself comfortingly against her fur again with a subtle frown, "Your fur's gotten more brittle—have you been taking care of yourself?"

Thrushnose is talking to Murkyriver!

Fawnshine

Fawnshine listened attentively to Mottlestar's announcements, appreciating her efforts to make all important aspects known and clearly heard by every applicable cat around; from the young to the old, all needed to hear what was going on. And, being one of the most trusted messengers of the Stars to be warned of upcoming disaster—she'd waste no time speaking up the truth of what prophecy StarClan had bestowed, and at the same time foreshadowed upon them. Even if inner conflict was brewed from all the same spot since she was a mere kit, there was no time to waste.

Making eye contact with Mottlestar, she nodded and rose to her paws to speak up first among the other medicine cats. "A couple of moons ago, we, as a whole, received a prophecy foretelling us of the upcoming starvation and illness for the entire Forest. We are guilty of not yet being able to fully decipher the message then, but it now rings loud and clear that what our ancestors had meant was this: ' Our forest's rivers are becoming poisoned, our prey lost, and our herbs decaying by the instant. Our numbers are, or will, inevitably dwindle—but not all hope is lost." She recited the first prophecy through her way of understanding, hopeful that the rest of her colleagues would agree on the same. "A StarClan ancestor of ours told me this: 'Your only hope clinging to what remains, look forth, and see the red path right that lays. A future uncertain, if you hold still. Run, dear kits, the trial is here.' "

Fawnshine lifted her head, eyes gazing up at the leaders, deputies, and the rest of the medicine cats for a sign of recognition or a connection to the first prophecy. Once she made sure that at least one cat could relate, if not decipher the meaning of the divination and spoke up—she continued, " As for the previous half-moon meeting between us, we received a familiar sounding prophecy: ' The red sun calls for you and for your children. Choose your path, and trust the sun's warmth. Your rivers will run dry, and your trees will die, and any meat you eat will turn to ash should you stray from your forsaken path.' She gave a moment for the cats around her to discuss with one another, waiting until it was the right moment to continue, "We know our rivers drying, the trees dying, and meat disappearing are all of the sudden starvation and lack of prey in the forest due to this harsh season. However, the cat in the mentioned prophecy seemed extremely ill; bleeding and mucus excreting from their muzzle, while their eyes were crusty with secretion. The cat in the previous moon's prophecy experienced similar symptoms. Perhaps the Stars are warning us of a spreading, lethal illness—though that is only my interpretation. I strongly urge all of you to please notify your medicine cats and leaders should you experience any similar symptoms, for they could be a sign of the afflicting prophecy."

The molly paused, her gaze and voice unwavering as she scanned the crowd to read their expressions. One last message, she decided. "Our vision ended with the cat being swallowed by the earth as they walked away into the red sun. While we're still unsure of what definite meaning this significant 'red sun' symbolism might be—it would be much appreciated if some of you could give your own interpretations and decipher it for us." She looked up towards Mottlestar, heterochromia eyes gleaming with anticipation and sparks of hope amidst the chaos, and spoke, "If what our leader, Mottlestar, said could be true—temporarily leaving our forest to heal by itself while we head beyond the territories and Highstones could benefit us. Should any of you have any other suggestions, please do speak up."

Fawnshine has spoken up about her interpretation of the prophecy!