Family Outing (Closed for family bonding)

The stars shone bright against the dark night sky. Pale wisps of clouds drifted past the large moon, so close to full yet not. The pale snow on the ground practically glowing with it's reflected light. Hardly a thing stirred in the forest. Even the cats of ThunderClan laid mostly in their nests. They were settled in for a long night of sleep, but a small few stayed awake. A large dark tom padded through the silent camp with a silver she-cat.

Marshstorm turned towards the apprentice's den. The white on his muzzle and chest seemed brighter in the snow as he padded slowly and carefully. He watched the other apprentices closely, smiling at their slumbering forms. All of them were doing well... despite the drama of a few days ago. His gaze fixed on Aspenpaw first. His heart ached that they didn't spend more time together. She'd be a warrior soon... the only kit of their litter to do so. His gaze turned towards a pair of pelts. Dawnpaw and Duskpaw had been doing well. He was proud of them as well, their suspected heritage barely slowed them down at all.

"Aspenpaw, Dawnpaw, Duskpaw. Wake up and meet us by the entrance tunnel." He spoke barely louder than a whisper, but he trusted they heard him and padded back to the camp entrance to meet the silver tabby waiting for him. Her blue eyes reminded him so much of a clear summer sky. Her injuries seemed to be healing well, but he was still careful as he sat down next to her. "I wonder if they'll think us crazy." He murmured with soft concern. With the events of Lichenmask still fresh in the clan's minds, he wasn't sure what every cat thought about StarClan.

Even he wasn't sure. Yet this routine, this special time, was too precious to break. When the clouds were clear and the stars are bright, the pair of them had made a small habit of slipping out of camp. This would be the first time their kits had ever accompanied them for this bonding time. Still, he smiled when he saw one of them leave the apprentice den. Eyes of warm amber bright against the dark as he encouraged them with a flick of his tail to come over.

Dawnpaw was the first to rise, holding back a grumpy protest when she recognized the voice of Marshstorm. She'd trained hard that day, sparring once more with other apprentices, and was still feeling the fatigue in her muscles. Her pelt was a mess of brown and ginger, flattened in some parts and sticking out in others, and she took some time grooming it all down before exiting the den. It naturally all fluffed out when she met the chilly leafbare breeze. Dawnpaw had grown rapidly in the past few moons. Although her long pelt lent to her size, her frame was pure muscle and she had grown much larger and longer than she had been when she was first apprenticed. It made sleeping in the apprentices' den quite cramped, especially since Duskpaw was growing quite large as well. Slatepaw, Burntpaw, and Littlepaw were likely having a more difficult time squishing all three of them into the same den.

Dawnpaw turned her mind from her lost siblings. She focused instead on rubbing the sleep from her eyes with a paw and catching Marshstorm's gaze. Stifling a comfortable smile, the apprentice walked calmly to him and Dustcloud. It was odd to approach these cats and think briefly of the family she used to have. She cleared her mind once more and lifted her gaze to the deputy, a silent question in her own yellow eyes.

When it came down to examining the copious abilities of one’s own mind, dreams were quite peculiar in every sense of such a term. One evening your nightly retinue of reprocessed sensory imagery focused solely upon whatever you happened to have stumbled upon during the day, while another evening might be completely contradictory to this previously established norm- nonsense overtook reality, imagination overtook familiarity. Unfortunately, this brisk evening wasn’t unlike any of its predecessors; a chilly jumble of detached recollections and bleak colors drifted endlessly throughout Duskpaw’s unconscious mind. It made him a tad bit too restless to dredge into the recesses or complete sleep, but mayhaps that was the lingering touch of a stubborn fever that clung to his bones.

Marshstorm’s hushed words and Dawnpaw’s inevitable movements stirred his uneasy flesh, an unpleasant rasp overtaking his voice as it hitched upwards into a plaintive groan. The features that flickered briefly behind Duskpaw’s heavy lids were already vague under the strain of time that had inevitably gone by, but the sour touch of dismay that often accompanied such memories helped flush the remaining traces of drowsiness from his veins. Ignoring the scattered tufts of downy moss and feathers that he had managed to tear up during his immensely brief moments of cohesive sleep, the young tabby reluctantly followed suit in the steps of his littermate and adoptive parent.

It likely wasn’t helpful for a still-sickly Duskpaw to go out tromping about in the freezing woods at the behest of his foster family, but anything was better about dreaming of the days of the red skies, right?