In The Mist [closed]

Ponderous tendrils of translucent white murk hung heavily upon the snow-laden earth, greedy fingers of gossamer-like webbing steadily wreathing their way across the dismal morning landscape. Decaying corpses of frost eradicated foliage lingered as mere outlines within the pale depths of the early morning mist, once recognizable landmarks suddenly engulfed within the eerily silent amassing of diluted vapor. The heady, chilly dampness exuded by the fog only worsened the itch within Adderfeather's throat and the ache within her lungs, yet it did little to quell the simmering sense of exuberance at the prospect of the steadily encroaching liberty. After an unfortunate bout of minimal illness left her stranded within the suffocating confines of camp for several sunrises, the molly had found the fiery fathoms of restlessness strengthening with every moment that her illness dwindled. Giving herself a vigorous shake in an attempt to chase away the frigid flecks of an underlying chill, the scarred molly found herself straining to catch a glimpse of the watery light exuded by the partially obscured dawn.

Lying partly obscured within the grasps of the mist, a long trail of distinct paw prints stretched out across the snow. At its head was a certain well-built, fluffy RiverClanner, who plodded along with a steady gait. The pale rays of the dawning sun, filtering down upon the wetlands, weakly illuminated the brown tabby pelt as Scorchclaw's. As usual, the deputy had woken up before the majority of his clan had. Alone in the wee hours of the morning, what could one possibly be doing in the middle of RiverClan territory? He was certain of his purpose, and that confidence showed itself in his calm, steadfast demeanor. Surprisingly, he was in an almost leisurely mood. A faint but unmistakable humming rumbled from the depths of his throat, almost seeming to resonate within the wordless mist—a melody recognizable only to the feline species. With every breath, the icy air rushed into his lungs. Every step he took crushed the snow and frozen greenery underpaw, dragging the trail ever onward. The cold was refreshing, if not a little desolate. Deep within his being, early memories of his kithood were stirred. StarClan had seen it fit for him to be born in the harshest season of the four, a fact that had shaped the very cat that he was today. His paws jerking to a halt, he perked his tufted ears. Reflected within his pale-green eyes was the silhouette of the cat he had set out in search for.

"Good morning." Scorchclaw greeted simply, with a flick of his dark-tipped tail. "You're up early, Adderfeather." The same could very well be said of him. His expression was the solemn one he always seemed to wear. As he stepped closer, her form materialized out of the mist, and she stood before him in the glory of reality. "How are you feeling today?" Tilting his head ever so slightly, the tom seemed to cautiously examine his best friend. He had been aware that she was ill, but the busyness of recent times had unfortunately kept him from visiting her as often as he would have liked. Truth be told, he had woken up that morning with a sudden urge to see her. Upon visiting the medicine den, however, he had found only the dozing medicine cats and a particular empty nest. It was by following her scent that he had finally arrived at the Broken Pools. Now that he was face to face with the gray-furred warrior, a sense of relief welled up within him. She was safe; of course she would be. Words failed to express how grateful he felt for something so simple.

”I’ve spent the better part of three days devoting my energy to nothing but the pursuit of sleep! I feel as though I might go mad if I have to spend another moment debating whether or not I should close my eyes.” Although lightly sweetened with a touch of self-depreciating amusement, Adderfeather could not deny the long-simmering emotion of frustration that frothed beneath the faltering exterior of her being. It seemed as though every turn of the sun brought a new reason for her to spend time in the company of Goldeneye or Fallowpaw, and it was immensely unpleasant. Perhaps it was rude to consider pleading with the stars to pawn off some illness or another on a Clanmate, but could you ever blame one for merely considering? ”I’ll be glad to have the chance to slog through the half-frozen mud again, even as grueling and unfavorable as it might seem. I need something to do,” Adderfeather turned to peer at Scorchclaw as she petulantly complained, ”Even if it is just testing the ice or changing out old bedding!”

Scorchclaw huffed, sending the white wisps of his breath billowing outwards. "I suppose that is reasonable. It does feel awfully dreary to be trapped in the medicine den, with only the occasional visitor for entertainment." To be trapped with Goldeneye, no less! The senior medicine cat did her job well, but any cat who had known her for a little while could understand that she did not make good company. At least, so the RiverClan deputy assumed. There was a possibility that a different side of Goldeneye existed, one that he had never seen before, one that only a select few knew of. Many moons ago, he had been afflicted by a bout of whitecough. While it had not been anything too serious, he had needed to spend a few days resting within the medicine den. As such, he understood Adderfeather's troubles very well. He paused for a moment, mulling the matter over. When he had made up his mind, he gave a happy twitch of his whiskers. "Very well." He declared, meeting her gaze. "As long as you refrain from pushing yourself too far, I see no problem with giving you some minor duties to carry out." He trusted the gray-furred warrior to know her own limits. With the great number of cats currently living on the island, anyway, an extra helping paw would be appreciated. "Magpiepaw seems to be keeping up in his training thus far. How is he as an apprentice, Adderfeather?" Striding over to a nearby rock, the large tabby dusted the snow off its surface with his feathery tail and proceeded to casually sit down. "It has been a while since our last proper chat." He mused, glancing over at Adderfeather. His tone sounded almost cheerful, an audible difference from his usual uptight self. "I do not assume you are in a hurry to return?"