The Lazy Days of Greenleaf {open - WC bonding topic}

This topic takes place a day before the September Gathering.

Late sunhigh, sand painted gold and orange as lazy rays caressed the camp. Finchstar stretched out his front white paws, nibbling at some dirt between flexed claws in the light. Rye grass swished with a light breeze, the smell of heather drifting over the moor. Birds chirped in unison, and sun spots flickered over every shadow. Perfect. The patrols had returned with prey, the holes in the side of camp full with scents of rabbit and grouse. Kits skirted tussocks farther up the slope, fuzzy pelts glowing in the late evening light. Warm, the leader let his eyes close for a moment, a steady purr rumbling in his throat as a group of wrens soared overhead. These were the days he prayed for. The ones he strived for. The honey of the moors, dripping from the very sky to bathe them all in gold. Prey was fresh, nests were full, and as the crickets meekly chirped in their bush, his clanmates appeared. Some stretched out on the rocks, jutting out from slopes in the grass. Others sat closer, drawing lines in the sand with curious paws. Finchstar watched; amused. He wondered if it was naïve to imagine every night could unfold in this way. While yes, the hollow feeling still remained, Brookclover's shadow was never far away.

Aspenheart kept his nest of spiders in his den, much to Finchstar's amusement. Cloverpaw had made for a good companion, still recovering from his wounds. The leader wondered if the apprentice would be well enough to venture out into the clearing today. Perhaps they'd muster up a game of mossball. Grousefrost may laugh at the leader. Yawning, Finchstar stretched, finding his paws. He padded through the soft peat grass, waving his tail as a greeting to those nearby. A fat rabbit sat at the mouth of the prey-hole, fur still warm in the late sun. He tugged it from its spot, nose tickled. The light warmed a patch of sand near the Tallrock, golden crystals sparkling. Content, the leader sat down on his belly, kneading the ground for a few perfect seconds before finding the cat nearest in proximity. "Would you care to join me? If I eat all this rabbit myself, I may turn into one."

Ploverpaw paused in his venture towards his usual resting spot at the sound of the leader's voice. Yellow eyes looked over to the leader wondering if Finchstar was actually talking to him. With a couple of glances in other directions it did indeed appear that the leader was speaking to the warrior sized apprentice. Unsureness set into the apprentice chest as he considered Finchstars words. After the leader accepted him back into Windclan it would be unkind to say no. Even if the feeling in his chest wanted him to say no, he pushed forward.

"Of course." The tom responded before making a move to join the leader. The fluffy tuxedo tom sat down beside the leader, waiting on Finchstar to take the first bite of the rather large rabbit. Yellow eyes turned to the sky, the blue sky fading into other colors. The warmth in the air just enough to be enjoyable for the fluffy tom. "Wonderful sun down is it not?"

Graybriar had been alive long enough that she knew what followed greenleaf- the last rays of the sun in beautiful and graceful leaf-fall, then a cold and snow-white leaf-bare that would make the fluffiest RiverClan cat shiver. So she lay in the warm light that enveloped the camp, bathing in the sun that she knew would soon disappear behind rain clouds. After moons of depression and business and worry, it was nice to take a few moments just to enjoy the little things. All thoughts of sadness were firmly banished from her mind as she gazed at the few puffy white clouds drifting in the sky above, bright blue at the center that faded slowly to gold and orange at the edges where it met the moors. Sunset was approaching, but for now, part of the sky above still reflected the same color as her eyes. Eyes that had so often stared off into dreams when she was younger, but now found less and less time to do so... she almost missed the simpler days of her youth. But she'd trade them all for a single day with Barleytuft, or even on the moors here in WindClan. She'd never regretted her decision for a second.

The senior warrior's lazy reverie was interrupted by the smooth voice of another cat just a fox-length or two away- Finchstar, the young tom who had risen to become leader by fate and StarClan's grace. He was younger than Briarpaw, a fact that startled her every time she thought of it, yet the wisdom of their warrior ancestors shone in his eager eyes. Rolling into a sitting position, bits of dry grass speckling her gray tabby pelt, she stretched thoroughly before padding over. "I'll join as well, if you don't mind," she meowed, bringing a small quail from the fresh-kill pile with her. Didn't want to take too much food from the two growing toms. "I love this weather, but I'll be glad when leaf-fall arrives. It's my favorite season... the chilly wind, the last run of prey, the beautiful colors. How have you all been lately?"

Elmskip had been lounging just outside the warriors' den, long tail flicking idly as he took in the warmth of the remarkably pleasant Greenleaf night. The evenings were his favorite part of Greenleaf. The sky was glowing, a light breeze blew, and the air was a comfortable warmth instead of the stifling heat of midday. He purred softly to himself, watching his Clanmates milling around under the setting sun. Everything was so peaceful, at least for now. His head was often clouded with darkness but on nights like these, he was able to push it away for a little bit and relax.

Finchstar came and plucked a fat rabbit out of the fresh-kill pile and sat down with it, offering to share with anycat that wanted to. Ploverpaw accepted the offer and sat next to the leader. Elmskip looked on curiously, pleased with Finchstar's openness. Brindlestar was an excellent leader in his eyes but she didn't often relax with her Clanmates like Finchstar often did. He found it refreshing. Graybriar joined the small group, a quail in her mouth. The tortoiseshell tom then got to his feet, crossing the camp to the fresh-kill pile himself. He was hungry too, and he might as well join them. He picked out a smaller, younger rabbit from the pile and limped over to Finchstar and the others, settling down with the group. He placed his rabbit on the ground before he spoke, pinning it with his paws.

"Good evening, everyone. I hope I'm not intruding, just thought it would be nice to have dinner with you all. I hope everyone is doing well." he mewed, nodding towards Finchstar and then Graybriar. He offered Ploverpaw a small friendly smile before taking a bite of his meal. It was nice to relax with others.

Goldengale hurried back into camp, carrying the final bits of her catch from earlier in the day between her jaws. Her eyes shifted around the camp after she deposited her prey into the hole that held the fresh kill, and it wasn't long before they landed on the group around Finchstar, which included her apprentice as well as her mother. Her tail curled in delight at the sight of her mother out and talking, she had been so distant ever since Quailpaw's death and Cloverpaw's injury, and understandably so. She poked her head back into the fresh kill pile, pulling a crow that she had caught earlier from it. The feathers shone in the setting sun, and were soft and warm, she would be sure to offer some to her family, and maybe Aspenheart as well. She moved to sit next to her mother, a muffled greeting sounding from around the crow in her jaws as she settled in, feeling her heart skip as she noticed what her mother was eating. She quickly shifted her attention to the crow, plucking out the feathers with intensity as she focused on anything other than the quail at her mother's paws. "Hello! The prey was running quite well today, I got quite the workout!" She purred as she pushed a small pile of the feathers to her mother. "Here, can you share these with dad? You can line your nests with them." She purred as she took a bite out of the crow and wondered lightly if Grousefrost would join them, her pelt growing warm at the thought.

Foxspirit padded into camp, a fat rabbit dangling from her jaws. She then padded into the medicine den, where her mate was sitting outside, enjoying the sunshine. She sat down next to him, placing the fresh kill in front of them.  "Hey, Swiftstep." she said, licking him on the ear. "Would you like to share this rabbit with me?" She had been wanting to spend some time with him, especially after his... condition had started.

Ploverpaw quickly accepted the leader's offer, settling down beside him in the sand. At the presence of the tom, Finchstar purred, watching all the little sun dapples dance on his gray fur. "You are quite right, 'paw. Sunsets are one of the great wonders of this forest. I'm afraid they might lull me to sleep." Finchstar smiled and reached down to take a bite of the rabbit, relishing the juicy taste of the meat. Dipping his head to Ploverpaw, he passed the prey his way. Graybriar arrived shortly after, settling down with a quail of her own. Finchstar nodded and swallowed, tail flicking in a greeting. "I was born in leaf-fall, I must say I enjoy it, although I'm sure I'll envy Ploverpaw's thick coat once the winds get chilly again. I am well Graybriar, and yourself?"

Elmskip was the next to arrive, carrying a rabbit in his jaws. Finchstar watched with earnest as he sat down, biting into the small thing. "Good evening Elmskip." The leader purred, feeling true bliss. He closed his eyes for a moment before stretching out his forepaws, claws long from their pads. The feeling ran up his spine and threatened a good night's sleep. Finchstar wondered if Brookclover would sleep as soundly as he did. Sometimes he swore he could feel her pelt next to his.

"A blackbird, Goldengale! Wonderful catch! Be careful, don't let Raventail see you eat that or he may fear for his own pelt. They do look similar." Another bite of the rabbit and Finchstar smiled to Graybriar's daughter, watching with cool yellow eyes as they conversed. Swiftstep sat near the clearing as well, joined by Foxspirit as they shared a rabbit together. Finchstar was ever relieved that the tom had survived his sickness, but wondered each day if the former deputy would decide to retire. There was no hurry of course, but the brown tom deserved a peaceful late life.

Graybriar hadn't been paying much attention to what she grabbed from the prey pile- she'd just basked in the warmth and driven any hint of sorrow from her mind. That seemed to be the only way to keep it at bay these days. She smiled and nodded to Elmskip as he came up, then her grin widened as her daughter Goldengale appeared to join the gathering. Any time spent with Clanmates was time well spent, but adding any member of her family improved her mood tenfold. Barleytuft, Briarpaw, Mistystripe, Cloverpaw.... She lived for her family. "I'm doing all right, Finchstar," she responded to the leader after he spoke. "Everything seems better when the sun is out." The sun that continued to warm her back as it slowly set behind the moors- stars, she loved WindClan. The territory, the rabbits, the thrill of running that she hadn't felt in so long. The cats who shared it with her. Thank StarClan she had come here.

Her heart glowed as her golden daughter came to sit by her, offering her some feathers from the crow she had begun to eat. Feathers- she'd always chased feathers and leaves as an apprentice. She still loved to decorate with them... "Thank you so much, Goldengale," the senior warrior purred, setting the shiny black feathers under one of her back paws so they wouldn't drift off in the light breeze. The temperature, the mix of warm sunrays and cool wind, was perfect. It ruffled her whiskers, and she raised her face a little, reveling in it. A small, involuntary smile of pleasure graced her face. Then, she bent down to take a bite of the piece of prey she'd grabbed- and froze as the taste of quail hit her tongue.

Quailpaw.

After a split-second reaction of shock, the tabby found herself spitting out the mouthful she'd just taken and staring down at the fresh-kill in horror. The gray striped bird, still mostly feathered, a gaping bite with blood beginning to leak out. In her panicked vision the limp body on the ground changed to one she'd never seen, but had still dreamed about. Her son. Crushed in the tunnels. Thankfully, amazingly, she didn't make a single sound that would have disturbed the camp. No one who hadn't been watching her would know that anything was wrong. But Graybriar's face had gone pale, and she slowly pushed the perfectly good piece of prey to the side, in front of another cat, and tried to calm her shaky breathing. She slowly lowered her hackles that had instinctively raised at the moment of panic. Her bright blue eyes were still a little wild, staring down where the quail used to be. Everything was fine. It was just a quail. It was... just... just....

Goldengale purred at Finchstar's praise, responding back with a sly grin. "Oh no, Finchstar, don't you recall? It's Baypaw and Vinepaw that Raventail has to look out for." She purred, taking a bite of the bird. Her pelt brushed against her mother's in solidarity as she chewed, acknowledging her thanks. Their closeness was what quickly brought her attention to how still her mother had gotten, and she looked over to see the bite taken out of the quail and quickly realized just what had happened. Her mother turned to spit out the bite, and after a moment of staring down at the fresh-kill she pushed it in front of another nearby cat, who after a questioning look accepted it.

In response, Goldengale pressed closer to her mother's side, nudging her crow in front of her. There was plenty for the two of them to share, if Graybriar wished, and as she listened to her shuddering breath she mewed to her mother. "The prey has been running really well! We should go out together sometime. Cloverpaw has been excited to get back into training, so we should go together!" She paused, wondering for a moment what to do. She found herself trying to imagine what Barleytuft would say, and wished that her father was there. Lowering her voice, she murmured as she pressed her head to Graybriar's shoulder. "I listen for them, you know. I always think that hearing or seeing one is his way of sticking around. I love you, mom. We'll be okay, I promise."