thorned ღ open for wc warriors

Dovestream had figured that the greatest time to carry out her little plan would be at the crack of dawn. Cats were rising from their nests, heading out into camp, and being put into patrols. Almost nobody was lingering in their den, because everyone had something to do. The she-cat had managed to slip out earlier than dawn so that she could grab some thorns and not be placed on a patrol. In order to make sure that she didn’t get pricked, the gray tabby used a rather large leaf to bundle the small yet sharp items inside. Then, she had set to work. The warrior had slipped into camp with a tiny, sly smirk on her muzzle, and she had padded immediately toward the warriors’ den so that she could carry out her plan.

The she-cat had randomly headed around to the nests of her fellow warriors, taking out an ample amount of thorns before placing them strategically in their nests so that they would be able to feel it the instant that they laid down. When Dovestream was done, she checked over her work, and grinned as she ran through the list of her victims.

Nectarleap, Swiftstep, Pigeonstorm, Fernwing, and Gustpuddle.

It was enough cats for Dovestream to be satisfied.

However, there were still quite a few thorns left. What could she possibly do with these? She didn’t want to thorn anymore warriors, the queens would be upset if she thorned their kits, and Dovestream wouldn’t be able to see the reactions of the apprentices. Suddenly, another smirk grew on her muzzle as she poked her head out of the warriors’ den. What if she stuffed some of the extra thorns into Brindlestar’s nest? The she-cat saw nothing wrong with it. It wasn’t like the leader was a complete stranger - she was her mother for StarClan’s sake. It would be completely fine. Dovestream grabbed her leaf bundle and darted quickly towards the leaders’ den, sighing with quiet relief as she realized that Brindlestar wasn’t inside. Making sure to be quick, considering that this wasn’t her own den, Dovestream positioned the thorns inside of Brindlestar’s nest and then darted out quicker than she had come in.

Nice one, Dovestream, the warrior thought, smiling gleefully.

Then, night fell.

Dovestream managed to hold back any suspicious smiles as cats began to sleepily head into their dens for the night. A small, inaudible chuckle did escape her muzzle, though. All the she-cat could think about was how much fun was about to begin as she followed the other warriors into the den. She made sure to look over at her five victims very quickly as she settled down in her own nest.

It was time…

ooc; windclan warriors who didn’t get thorned are able to post and react to the noise and everything. <3

OOC: just wanted to say that Windclan warriors don’t sleep in dens. If you check the books they sleep under the open sky. Easy mistake, though~

Pigeonstorm was tired. He had to do a hunting patrol in the heat of the day, a border patrol with some very annoying apprentices, and had spent half an hour trying to catch a particularly fat hare, just to end with a couple tufts of fur. It wasn’t a complete fail of a day, as he got two-albeit skinnier- rabbits in the end. He padded into the Windclan camp, yellow eyes drooping from sleepiness, and quickly dropped the rabbits down on the prey pile. He made his way over to his nest, and without bothering to fix it up for the night, plopped down heavily onto the moss.

“Ahh!”

The scarred grey tom let out a high-pitched sheik and jumped straight into the air. He swore he just felt something sharp prick him all over. What was that? He quickly looked over himself. His fur was all messed up on the side he lied down on, but he could make out a tiny drop of blood coming from a large thorn embedded in his side. He looked down at his nest, and found to his non-existent delight that it was filled with large, sharp thorns. “N-Now, huh in the name of Starclan, put t-these here!” the older tom growled through his broken jaw, whipping his head around to glare at the surrounding cats. “‘Cause I swear, I-I’m going to be puttung some thorns i-in yuh food once I find yuh!”

Fernwing stretched her jaws wide in a yawn as she followed after Pigeonstorm and her other Clanmates, having been on the same hunting patrol. She carried a big juicy squirrel in her jaws — she had caught it just before it fled back into ThunderClan territory, and she was very proud of the difficult catch, too — the fresh-kill falling out of her mouth and to the ground when she yawned. She picked it back up and deposited it on the fresh-kill pile next to Pigeonstorm’s rabbits and sluggishly padded to her own nest, her eyes closed; she was practically sleep-walking at this point.

Just as she laid down in her own nest and closed her eyes, she heard her Clanmate shriek in surprise. Her head lifted up instantly, awake and alert, and her sudden shift in her nest led her to feel the same sharp prick in her haunches. She squealed and leaped high into the air and out of her nest, and she quickly inspected her hindquarters to find the blunt end of a large thorn sticking out of her thick tabby fur. She whimpered and whined as she spun around in circles, trying to reach it to pluck it out, but she couldn’t reach it without sitting down, and she was too injured to sit properly. Finally, she let out a wail, sounding akin to a kit who had just been pushed down by another. ”Swiftsteeeeep!”

Nectarleap had padded back into camp after a long day of hunting. A rabbit and a hare fell from his jaws into the prey pile, and he hardly stopped to look before heading towards his nest. Either because he was getting older, or because he had stopped feeling happiness, he had seemed to be constantly feeling tired recently. The screams of his clanmates rang in his ears, but he ignored them. Someone was always going crazy over the smallest thing, not realizing that their petty little problem was insignificant in the dangerous world that they lived in. Better to just deal with it then keep other cats awake with their pitiful complaining. Reaching his den, his paws had fallen away before he had even decided to lay down. Letting out a long, deep sigh, he settled into his nest. Just to be greeted by a sharp pain in his flank.
"Who did this?" The bicolor warrior was back on his feet in an instant, his voice filled with a calm sort of fury. Nectarleap really couldn't believe that after everything, this was now happening. Hadn't he already been through enough? Why did this have to happen and ruin his soul even further. A small growl escaped his lips. Twisting his head around, he saw a large thorn stuck in his side. Knowing that the bedding had been changed the night before, he knew it had to have been the purposeful work of a cat. Why did some cats have to be so stupid? By now he was getting fed up with that.

Gustpuddle had had a day akin to the rest of the warriors in camp. She was tired and wanted nothing more than to curl up in her nest and rest. She quietly carried in two pieces of prey- a sparrow and a rabbit- and dropped them onto the freshkill pile, not bothering to grab anything for herself to eat. She'd already eaten twice that day; she didn't need anymore. Dipping her head to her fellow warriors, she perked her ears at the sound of shrieking coming from where the warriors nests were gathered, easily spotting Fernwing, Nectarleap, and Pigeonstorm lumbering on about some pain in their sides. She trotted over to where they stood, amber eyes glowing in the dying orange light that flooded her senses. Each of them had thorns stuck somewhere near their hindquarters, and she couldn't help but let out a small giggle, whoever had done this was out for a laugh, she knew it. A small grin was left on her face as she padded over to her own nest, only to be met with a yelp of surprise as she seated quickly flopped onto her own feather-lined nest.

She stood up quickly, looking back with widened eyes to her flank where she spotted three rather large thorns embedded in her skin, piercing through her fur. She tried to lift her front leg, only to be met with a sharp, aching pain. As she looked down to her left shoulder, she spotted yet another, yet smaller thorn showing just through her thick grey and white fur. It hurt, yes, but it was a temporary, dull pain that she knew would go away in short time. She bent to the side to pick out the sharp thorn from her shoulder using her teeth, careful not to prod it in any deeper."Nice one." She mused, looking around at the gathering group of warriors with a smile. Tossing the thorn to the side, she looked down at the three that were still stuck in her haunch. It hurt to move as they had pierced the muscle slightly, and she winced as she twisted to gently try to maneuver them out of their places in her hide.

Laurelsong had just settled down, beginning to doze off when suddenly...half of the warrior's den decided to start wailing like dying foxes!  Her temper flaring, the lithe warrior's head jolted up out of her nest with a hiss, and she yowled; "What're all you kits squealing about, for StarClan's sake!  Some cats are trying to sleep!"  Even more easily angered than normal because of Brindlestar's punishment, Laurelsong glared around the den with narrowed eyes and noticed...why're they all licking their sides?  Then, she caught sight of something that looked to be...sharp.  Had someone placed thorns in their nests?  With a sudden flash of alarm, she leaped up to check if there were any in hers, only to find none.  Geez, that was a wimpy move!  If you're gonna put thorns in cat's nests, might as well cover them all!

For a very brief moment, Brindlestar wrongly interpreted the stinging in her side to be a result from the storm of thoughts that raged within her mind.

But as the irksome stinging remained, and only twinged more sharply with each movement, she realized it wasn't her imagination playing some strange trick on her. Wriggling about with a slight grunt, the Leader kicked about the carefully pulled together nest in search of the little culprit. The irritated and pained cries that seemed to flood the drowsy camp easily matched the now foul mood that had befallen the Leader. Although she was able to find a few thorns still neatly disguised within her nest, the rest of the bunch seemed comfortably lodged within the flesh of her side. Ruefully spitting them out and clear from the shelter of her den, she rasped her tongue over the slight puncture marks before shuffling forward so that she wasn't entirely concealed within the hollow beneath the Tallrock.

"I suppose one of you thinks this is amusing?" Brindlestar called out into the damp darkness, voice dry.

Acornpelt wasn't bothered by the few hisses of pain and surprise until the voices started to increase in number and the noise started to grow. 

Usually, the sound of a light breeze or a tumbling piece of heather would soothe Acornpelt to sleep, but this was just loud cacophony. Pressing her ears against her head and paws along with it, the brown tabby was quick to get to her limit when the clamor didn't stop. Whipping her head up, she snarled angrily, "I agree with Laurelsong. By StarClan, would you all quit your whining and deal with the problem instead of complaining about it? No one's gonna fix it for you."

I'm talking to you, Fernwing, Acornpelt thought rather quite harshly upon remembering the light grey she-cat yelling Swiftstep's name, but she knew better than to call out the deputy's daughter.

Swiftstep had just gotten back from a solo hunt. He had successfully caught a nice bird and a plump hare. The deputy placed his catches on the prey-pile. Once he did he was heading back to his nest when he began to hear whining and surprised yelps. He his brow furrowed in confusion as he got closer. He had also heard his daughter's cry among the rest. He ran up to Fernwing and pressed against her. "Now what's goin' on? I didn't expect to come back to camp an' hear all ya'll cryin' like this." The tom walked over to his nest to sit so he could talk to his daughter better but when he did he felt a sharp pain on his behind. His eyes widened but he emitted no noise. He quickly scrambled up and looked. He had a few thorns lodged in his pelt. His face held a bit of discomfort but his eyes held amusement. "Well I  guess this is why you guys were acting like that." he said to himself as he removed the thorns. Once he did, he walked over to Fernwing and helped her get them out. "It's okay darlin'. I got 'em out." he whispered to Fernwing. He had somewhat of an idea of who it might've been.

Dovestream decided to not reveal herself until each and every one of her victims had reacted somehow. Some of them made threats, but the gray tabby just shrugged it off. Laurelsong and Acornpelt were complaining, Fernwing was screaming for her father, Swiftstep was helping her remove the thorns, Nectarleap and Pigeonstorm seemed upset, and the warrior couldn't help but flinch at Brindlestar's tone. Out of everyone in the warriors' den, Gustpuddle was the only one who seemed to be totally calm and possibly even happy.

The she-cat couldn't hold it in for much longer. She let the bickering and the shouts of protest continue for a bit longer before laughter escaped her maw. She buried her face into her nest, trying her hardest to keep herself quiet, but it still failed. The gray tabby found herself in an endless fit of giggles as the chaos ensued before she rose from her nest, flicked some moss off of her tail, and glanced around at the others.

"Geez, calm down!" The fiery warrior said, "I put the thorns in your nest. You all should learn how to take a joke, like Gustpuddle! At least she isn't squawking like an injured bird, Fernwing."
The yellow-eyed feline couldn't help but think that the reaction of the deputy's daughter had been rather kit-like, but of course she wouldn't say that aloud. Per usual, a playful smirk was evident on Dovestream's face as she plopped back down into her nest and waited for more reactions to come.

Fernwing yelped and squeaked as her father plucked out the thorns that she couldn’t reach, and she gave him a shaky smile, about to thank her.

That is, until Dovestream revealed herself to be the culprit. She would have possibly shaken this off as she didn’t even know the warrior very well — until the she-cat called her out of every victim out. Her ears burned with embarrassment, and she looked around to see Acornpelt and Laurelsong glaring at her in annoyance.

She whimpered as she looked back at Dovestream, her eyes watering. Sore, embarrassed, and emotionally wounded, she bolted past the other warriors and right out of camp, crying rather loudly.

Dovestream? It wasn't anything that surprised her. Fernwing's reaction to the thorns wasn't the best that she could imagine, but Dovestream's fussing over it was completely unjustified. Although she'd taken it in a light-hearted manner, it was obvious as to why others might not. It wasn't the nicest prank to pull, and to any sensitive cat, it would've been taken as a personal offense; even if the trick wasn't on jut them. With a silent glare in Dovestream's direction, one that said what was the point in that? she looked towards Fernwing, who was rushing out of camp. Gustpuddle's motherly instincts kicked in and as soon as Fernwing was out of camp, she was following close on her heels. "Fernwing!" The thorns still lodged into her side stung and pulled at her muscles as she ran, but she ignored it to the best of her ability. She felt one wiggle its way out, which would have been a relief if there weren't still two left in her flank.

"So let me get this straight," Nectarleap began, amber eyes locking with Dovestream. If this had been a few moons ago, he would have laughed it off along with Gustpuddle. But now not only did he see that seriousness of the situation, but he couldn't help but feel like this was wrong. If Ashstar's death hadn't already done so, this unfortunate incident would have pushed him over the edge. Already he felt like his life was going completely downhill, and now someone had to go and make it even worse. It might have been a joke, but she didn't prank everyone. He was someone she particularly decided to prank. Not only did he feel insulted by that, but he also felt as if he could no longer trust his clanmates. If he was singled out by cats who knew what had happened to him, how could he ever trust them again. One thing was clear. This she-cat had to pay. The tricolored warrior stepped forward, looking the offender directly in her yellow eyes. "So you are telling me that you took time that could have been spent patrolling for much needed prey that kits and elders desperately need, and instead used that time to search for thorns. And once you had wasted all of that time, you came back and wasted even more hiding them in cat's nests. Undoing work that apprentice's have worked hard to do, spending a long time doing the tedious work of changing bedding that they didn't even want to do. Not only that, you only chose some cats. And not even too wisely. You seemed like you were asking for this. On top of it all, these thorns don't magically disappear. They need to be removed, then the scratches they leave need to be healed. That will already use up a lot of our already small herb supply, not even considering the chance of one of them getting infected. And for what? Your own selfish amusement? So you could laugh at cats being offended by what you did? So that you could see the small effect your misuse of our clan's resources had? So you could be happy for a moment at the risk of letting other cats starve or get sick? Was it worth it?" Despite his words, his tone wasn't angry. Scarily flat and solemn, never letting his eye contact dwindle.