the (unofficial) june gathering

First to break the silence of the clearing was the shrieking of owls. It seemed that the weaving skills that created the vines of brambles into skillful twists of camp walls had also been used to create a trap of sorts around the bodies of two Great-Horned owls, allowing them to fly in perfect tandem. Beyond the shrieks, they called hoots to each other with the intent to communicate about the commands that came from their tethered leads. The vines swooped back, held in the maw of the mighty Thunderclan leader. Somehow, the husked bark of a tree had also been tethered to these bramble ropes, allowing a platform of which the tortoiseshell now stood.

For a Thunderclan cat, it was a surprise that she found so much comfort in being airborne. Nevertheless, the skill was there, especially as her chariot of owls circled around the clearing. Having gone to her sacred Owl Tree in preparation, she was even more impressed at how easy it was to get the massive birds of prey to agree to what was going on. Little feathers had been lost in harnessing them, allowing the birds of the night to look even more massive and looming.

Many would have expected the Thunderclan molly to come pulled by foxes, badgers, or even dogs. But for those who were close with the small tortoiseshell, they would know that her power was mighty. Her affinity for that sacred large oak just before Fourtrees was strong, with all of her family honored and buried at their roots. It only made sense, then, that it was the choice of chariot for the tortoiseshell. A symbol of what she held the most dear, but a perhaps unique choice to truly take to the skies as if she herself had wings. No more did the roots of the ground bind her as she soared above the clearing, allowing the other arrivals to spot and hear the leader above.

It was time to land. Swooping down, down, down, it almost looked as if Mottlestar would come careening to her death. Down into a blaze of plumed glory. But, that couldn't have been farther from the truth. As if the maneuver had been practiced thousands of times by the Thunderclan leader, the moment it seemed she would hit the ground with an impact harsh enough to force her to meet the Silverpelt of her makers, she lept.

Directly onto the Great Rock.

The movement would have put Riverclan's grace and Skyclan's tree-climbing to shame, especially as the owls once more cried with their reigns no longer being held onto. Bark fell gently to the ground behind the rock, safe from hitting any cat as the platform that had served as Mottlestar's chariot no longer was forced to carry the leader, and the owls now flew separated. Even then, the pair stayed together, taking a perch nearby for when their master would summon them to bring her back home.