Dead Mom - Dead Dad(Closed)

It was hard trying to spend time with family. Especially so when the whole clan was in mortal peril and Crocusfrost was one of the only 'healthy' ones. Crocusfrost was constantly working, even when she was a 'paw, and was chosen to scout the clans to somewhere safe. Deaths that happened during traveling made the guilt weigh heaviest on the she-cat's shoulders, for it was her paws that helped lead the whole forest to sanctuary. How useless that was when the large dogs descended upon them, forcing them back onto a path once forged by their paws but the danger tenfold with winter having fully set in. Anxiety sat near comfortably in Crocusfrost's belly, the dismay and distress from her apprentices- charges just older than their 6th moon- dying or disappearing on her watch.

Wiggleworm was too hurt and exhausted to pull away from the safety of the clan. Her other siblings dropped like flies otherwise, life in the forest was unsuitable or they were unlucky. Only Vinecrawler seemed to be thriving now, but at least she still had her brothers... Finding her brother was not hard for once, for she found he was almost constantly doing something or romping off somewhere, talking to clanmates. Crocusfrost couldn't help but be surprised and jealous of his aptitude and how social he seemed to be. But they were all warriors now, they had duties and tasks to upkeep, she couldn't blame any of her siblings for not having time for her and her vice versa.

But now he was available it seemed, and Crocusfrost didn't want to meander to see if he truly was. Her paws carried her to her brother, her usually stoic face soft. "Brother. It has been too long, while the clans rest we surely must spend some quality time?" She meowed, feral-speak almost rusty on her tongue.

Feral tongue
Forest tongue

Vinecrawler was not a hard worker, but he did whatever he was asked to do without any verbal complaint. Being one of the few healthy and able bodies within ThunderClan, he was working a lot more than usual, though never bothered by it if promised a meal afterwords. There was nothing that bothered him or weighed him down, his mind free when he held no responsbilities; even the death of Brightsplit failed to move him. Live foolishly, end foolishly.

The only thing that mildly crossed his mind was that the feral bloodline was dwindling fast, pitying eyes casting over Wiggleworm whenever he came to check on him as he passed by to leave the camp for hunt after hunt. The only reason this did not bring too much anxiety was the fact there was hope in the budding relationship of him and Quailprowler. The bloodline would have a fighting chance. He was certain of it.

Idly, he trekked through the miserable snow and rocks the clan had decided was the best path to take. Again the direct opposition of his own beliefs and the home of his father. But he would remain silent about it. Where else could he go? The voice of his of his beloved sister barely echoed off the dense white snow. "There will always be time for you, sister." Despite the strangeness of her voice when she spoke to him in their father's tongue, he gave a deep, rumbling purr. "What did you have in mind?" He hoped it wouldn't be a walk, but he would do most anything for his kin. From the tiniest of favors, to the largest of deeds.

Relief made Crocusfrost's shoulders drop slightly, her face softening. "A walk, let's catch up." Crocusfrost invited, although phrased like there was no choice but to go with it, she knew that her brother could always suggest otherwise.

Feral tongue
Forest tongue

"I would walk anywhere with you, sister. You've been quite busy; I'd be a fool to turn you away." He gave his strange smile; one that always looked a little off but was meant to hold love and friendship. Which it did. It was just an unfortunate price of being the son of a cat like Hank. "I ate three bugs today. Beetles."  He nodded his sandy head as though that was equivalent to catching up. "You?"