quiet moments before the storm comes [OPEN]

War loomed on the horizon.

Patrols went out early and stayed out late, often returning with tired eyes and heavy pawsteps. Frostblossom, for one, couldn’t say that she hadn’t foreseen this. An alliance with the moor-dwellers could only end in tragedy and, indeed, the threat of war fought and lives lost. Though ShadowClan was stronger, with more and better trained warriors, the silvery queen wouldn’t put it past those filthy creatures to try a sneak attack in the day, or, worse, to target the nursery.

That was her reason for her current endeavor: reenforcing the nursery walls with sticks and mud. Usually, her days would be spent collecting fresh moss to make it more comfortable, but, for now, safety was more important. As long as the only entrance was just big enough for one adult cat, a single warrior (or even a queen like herself) could keep the enemy at bay, and that was all that mattered.

Frostblossom finished wedging a stick into place with her powerful jaws and took a step back, eyeing her progress critically. The sound of approaching pawsteps made her ears prick- a warrior or apprentice, perhaps, come to offer their assistance? Or a curious kit, who would need to be reassured and comforted?

"...Want some help?" Batswarm looked behind him and into the eyes of a miffed Harriertalon whose head poked out from behind the newly sprouted leafy entrance of the medicine den. He knew she was getting closer and closer to pulling aside to question where he was going every morning. He would rather not have that conversation.

Looking back to Frostblossom and her muddied paws, he grimaced. Mud. "I'll place the sticks if you place the mud. I prefer not to touch it."

Frostblossom turned her scarred muzzle to see one of the younger toms approach and offer his help. Batswarm, one of Leopardsun’s children, a tom she hadn’t really interacted with when he was a kit, due to their Clan being stranded at Highstones with those filthy WindClanners. She waved her tail in proper greeting, giving him a gracious nod. She could use the extra paws, even if they were a tom’s whom she was not overly fond of, for Batswarm’s inability to get himself dirty had not escaped her. How could one be a true ShadowClanner if one despised the very mud that made up their home? No matter, for now. That was not her battle to be fought.

“That’d be wonderful, dearie,” she said instead, deep blue eyes going over their current supply of sticks. “If you could jus’ smack that big un right down in the middle of that side there, that’d be right fine. I’m not getting any younger, you know.”