they call you an omen, only here to torment [CLAN MEETING] (Sitewide!)

OOC: The sitewide has begun! If you haven't seen this topic, please read up to learn more about the current state of RiverClan.

As always, peace could never last long. Perchstar had been lulled into security by the long and sleepy days of greenleaf, the warmth that pulled at her pelt, the alliance that ensured her borders' strength. She had once again allowed herself to believe that things could be all right. And as always, the moment she fully believed that the gentle hours could truly last, the stars pulled out the ground from beneath her feet.

It had begun a few days ago. She had gone to catch a fish in the water, but it had been dead before she even touched it with her claws. Then there was the smell--a strange, bitter scent that nearly scratched the back of her throat when she tried to drink it. Soon, every inch of the river was dark, discolored, gummed up with whatever source had been causing it to flow strangely. Few fish still lived. Few sources of clean water remained. The broken pools were still drinkable, but they were shallow, with hardly any water due to the long and dry greenleaf. Soon they would run out, and then... then what?

These thoughts tormented Perchstar as she leapt atop the Willow Branch, looking down on camp with a neutral outward disposition hiding the fear that began to creep into her heart. What would they do if their territory became unlivable? What would they do if their source of prey completely vanished? How would they stay alive? For now... there were things she could do. Very few, but there were options that they had. Options that, for now, were their only hope. She tried to straighten her shoulders, hoping that some façade of calm might bring what little peace she could to her Clanmates.

"Let all cats old enough to catch their own fish gather for a Clan meeting." Her voice was clear and even, despite the chill running up her spine. They would get through this. They would. Nothing had ever been able to stop RiverClan for long.

...Yet.

Duckpaw was snoozing away in the shadows of the reed - curled up into a tight ball. They had been here for a while, aggressively napping around the camp and only moving when a warrior would usher them to stop being underpaw until they had finally managed to collapse in a corner for their nap. Their ears twitched at the sound of Perchstar's voice however, a grumble escaping them as they rolled onto their shoulder, covering their face with their paws for a few heartbeats before they flopped dramatically with a huff.

Rising to their paws, they slowly shuffled their way to the gathering crowd - taking a seat on the outer edge as they tried to paw the tiredness from their eyes. It was another bad day where all they wanted to do is sleep but they tried to stay aware, their ears perked for whatever Perchstar had to say.

Ears pricked at the sound of Perchstar's voice, Swanpaw quietly made her way toward the willow branch. Hunting with Poppyshine had not been going well lately, and it seemed like fewer and fewer of her clanmates were having luck catching prey, either. It was unsettling and worrying to the young she-cat, and as she gazed up at Perchstar, it seemed that she wasn't the only one. As a cat who had known nothing but the plentiful greenleaf, the situation had put a damper on Swanpaw's already dull mood.

Scarletpaw heeded the leader's call as soon as he heard it, joining the rest of his Clanmates. The atmosphere in RiverClan was strange, lately; and the circumstances stranger. Something was wrong, that much was clear, but what it was... That was beyond his understanding, and that fact was more concerning than anything.

Sprucebark settled in at the sound of the gathering. The river had gotten all gross recently. Just when he had been back and comfortable with fishing it had gone all sour again.

He stayed quiet waiting to hear what perch had planned for this. He hoped silently someone would sit by his side

Harebounce had experienced a wide variety of things, seen and smelled and heard more than most clan cats ever would. She tried to stay positive in the face of the many terrible things she knew were out there, after all, they existed far away. In a different world, almost. But nowadays the river was haunted by noxious fumes and the ghosts of fish poisoned by the very water they swam in. She couldn't take a drink without feeling her stomach riot at the water's first touch upon her tongue. She couldn't even begin to describe it. The tortoiseshell has scented similar things during her time in Twolegplace, and indeed as part of the Asylum. Yet just because she knew she had sort of smelled in before, didn't mean she had any idea as to what it was or what caused it.

The older she-cat's gaze was drawn away from the high-flying birds in the sky by Head Perchstar's call. Like quite a few of her clanmates, she had turned down a few meals already with so little to go around, although the true extent of her hunger remained hidden beneath her hare pelt.

Perchstar's stomach was as empty as the others, if not emptier... but what hurt more than the hunger pangs was the empty twist she felt as she looked at her Clanmates. Growing scrawny, thin, rugged. The emptiness in the backs of their eyes. How long would this last? Were the stars punishing her, or was this part of something even worse?

RiverClan hasn't fallen before. We certainly won't now.

She let out a quiet, shaky breath. Then she spoke. "I'm sure that all of you have noticed the issues we've been dealing with lately," Perchstar said, trying to keep the scratchy edge of a dry throat from her voice. "Our fish are dying of strange causes. Worse, the river--the very blood of our Clan--seems to be ill. There is something very wrong with it. Our Clan is large with many mouths to feed, which would usually be a blessing. But right now, hunting has become difficult. We are hungry and thirsty, the likes of which has never been seen before in this forest. And a trial that we have seen before has returned: predators are more common now than ever." Despite her best efforts to keep a neutral face, her tail swished once behind her. Only those closest to her would recognize the gesture for what it was: uncertainty. Concern. "However, all is not lost. We have many good hunters and many fox-lengths of territory yet. It will take more than a lack of fish and a few intruding foxes to stop us. I hope that whatever is causing our troubles will go away soon. But in the meantime, RiverClan will be instating new rules to keep us as safe as possible."

Ice-blue eyes stared out at each of her Clanmates. She looked at Sprucebark, trusted senior warrior. She looked at Scarletpaw, at Larkpaw, at her daughter Willowpaw and apprentice Cinderpaw, all so young to be dealing with such difficulties. She looked at Poppyshine, her dearest friend. The suffering they were going through was worse than any agony she could ever try to shoulder herself. Hopefully she would not fail them. "Firstly: from now on, no one is to drink the waters of the river. They are poisoned, and we do not know the source. There is a little clean water still stranded in the broken pools, and the occasional rainfall leaves clean puddles. Until it is no longer necessary, we must carefully ration out these sources of water. Any time that it begins to rain, set out as much moss as we can and let it soak up the water. Drink as little as you can without thirsting too much to hunt. Do not deprive yourselves, but follow the same rules as with prey: the sick and the young drink first." It was strange to be at a loss for water. Water, the lifeblood of their Clan, the source of their strength and their plenty. But it had been taken from them for now. "Secondly, as the waters have been poisoned, so have the fish. They are no longer safe to eat. For the forseeable future, we must only hunt land prey. I know it is difficult and undesirable, but all apprentices have been taught the basics, and it is the only prey currently safe to consume. Do whatever is necessary to find enough food, short of breaking the code. Climb trees, bring the meat of predators back to camp. Whatever you can."

The next part was possibly the most important. "Right now, we do not know why this is happening," Perchstar said. She narrowed her eyes. "But I do not intend for us to sit idly and wait for the storm to pass. There will be daily patrols that, once they have hunted as much as they can, will be searching around the borders of our territory. Sprucebark, Harebounce, and Stormdance will be in charge of finding sources of clean water. Go to the Twolegplace farm, or cautiously traverse the bottom of the Gorge--whatever other boundaries we can reach without crossing into the territories of the other Clans. Poppyshine, Rowansong and Egretswoop will be in charge of investigating the source of the poison. Follow the rivers to their source; look for hints and clues; safely and without intruding, see if any solution can be found to this current problem. You may take extra help with you as needed. For all other warriors and apprentices, hunting is now a higher priority than border patrols. While we will still maintain our borders, it is more important to find food. Please do your best."

Talking this much on a dry throat was painful. Still, Perchstar kept a calm and neutral outward presence, trying not to show how worried she felt. The tightness in her chest was surely just her anxiety acting up again. They would be fine. She had to believe that, or she would lose it. "I believe that RiverClan is strong, and we can weather any storm. I myself will be going out on as many patrols as I possibly can to find food. Please, help and assist each other. Our greatest strength is not the river. It is the bonds that we form as a Clan. Everyone, stick together, protect each other, and do your best. Please come to me with any questions or concerns. For now... that is all." Exhausted, the leader leapt down from the Willow Branch, lingering by the base in case anyone wished to speak to her further.

The ilk that had permeated the waters of her homeland had first been scented by her. It had been such a mellow tinge of sourness to the waters that she had simply brushed it off as perhaps an ill school of fish, or a predator that had met its makers at the bottom of the waters that had yet to finish withering away into nothing but bones. Once, she had even wondered if there had been a cat at its depths, but a scan had found nothing. It was simply a smell of wrongness, but one that she had brushed off as long as possible. After all, her nose picked up on more scents than most did. She simply observed more than most did. It hadn't been too wrong to assume it was ill fish, to attempt to find patches of river that didn't carry that scent. But when she couldn't find one that smelled correct, and saw the dwindling numbers? Her next conclusion had been twoleg poison.

Then the scent grew stronger. On top of it, the rivers color tinging away from its typical hues of blue and green, mixing with a murkiness that made it look simply wrong. Something that she could no longer ignore, voicing her concerns to patrol-mates that she had accompanied. It seemed that they, too, had noticed the wrongness of the river. Their kindred spirit of the earth falling prey to an unknown illness.

It hopefully would not spread to the rest of them. Egretswoop had anticipated Perchstar's call, and had been unsurprised as it rang out across the camp. She resided, now, at the base of the Willowbranch, the foxpelt around her close. The colors of leafbare matched the darker hues of the pelt, allowing her to blend more thoroughly. As orders were dispatched, her ears twitched at the sound of her name. She was trusted to help find the source of this illness... good. A firm nod was accompanied with her honeyed gaze meeting the piercing blue of her leadership, before surveying to find her company. Rowansong, and Poppyshine. Rowansong would be easy enough to spot and sit with, and she reserved Poppyshine to have the space due her status.

Alongside it, the note of hunting patrols to supersede the need of border patrols. Another note that she took and internalized thoroughly. Her apprentices would continue to learn how to hunt, and an idle thought to gain insight from Murkypaw on how to best hunt the land-dwelling prey rose to her mind. After all, she would likely be the one with the best knowledge. Perhaps Rowansong, too, in his experience would be able to provide good insight that she could pass onto both Iron and Toffee. Yes, she would go. She would fight for her Clan. After all... what else would she do?

The end of easy green-leaf days descended in the sudden beating of large white wings and dark poisoned water. Lavenderpaw struggled to get half-upright, propped up on his front paws to follow Perchstar’s call from the willow branch. Lavenderpaw didn’t have the strength to get into the crowd of his clanmates, exhausted after several days with little food and water. He had not seen the condition of the river and wetlands, but he had seen the shallow waters around the camp shrunk and the small fish he caught there disappear, while hunting patrols returned empty-jawed. As Perchstar explained the situation, Lavenderpaw looked up to meet his mentor’s eyes in support, seeing her subtle concern. It hurt him that he could not feed his starving clanmates, his fishing useless in the crisis, and in the past days he had difficulty even getting around camp to do his other duties. Lavenderpaw could make sure, if not to feed his clanmates, then to keep nests and dens warm in the coming colder weather. Herbs could be organised and ready and moss set out to soak up rain. Lavenderpaw hung back after the meeting ended, in case any of the cats Perchstar had named needed to speak to her, before coming to his mentor for duties and training.