Broken Ice Skates [c]

With the warm breeze promising Newleaf on the horizon and better times, the queens had taken the kits to the broken pools to play. The mood in camp was sombre, reflective of the past days, for a few hours it would be nice to escape. The light shattered as it met with the ice casting rainbows on the ground, and sending refracted beams skittering in every direction. The kits skidded and fell, sliding over the frozen surface giggling and laughing. Clovermottle let out a content sigh, glad the little ones could still find joy in the dark times. Their energy was boundless, and when they all collapsed in a heap on top of one another she was certain they'd want to head home, but every single time they bounced right back up, tails straight and whiskers buzzing. "Are your paws not cold yet?" she called out to them. All she received was a poked out tongue in response. Despite the rudeness, Clovermottle could not help but laugh, her usual sour spirits lifted.

As the sun began to dip below the tree line, and the sky dimmed, orange hues weaved through the trees replacing the rainbows of sunhigh with a golden glow. The queens began to call for the kits and the return to camp. There were various groans and yowls of protest, but eventually they began to move. As per usual, Clovermottle with her slower pace took up the rear, keeping stragglers in tow. "Come on, you mustn't fall behind me!" she mewed gently head butting one of them forward. A yip escaped their maw, but they quickly scurried to catch up with the others. They still seemed so boundless with energy, so carefree. She watched them with a sad longing gaze. Her mind elsewhere, she wasn't watching where her paws were going. The tortoiseshell stepped out, confident in her own footing, only for her paws to go skittering out from under her. A surprised squeak left her maw as they fell forward, crashing into another cat.

Hastily, she rose to her paws, quickly looking over the poor cat she'd crashed into. She hoped it wasn't a fellow queen. Thankfully it was just a warrior, but the heat in her cheeks from the embarrassment was all the same. One that the molly recognised too. "Oh! Apologies, Owlcall. My head was in the clouds. Are you okay? I know the ice is hard, you didn't bruise did you?" mewed Clovermottle abashedly. Her yellow eyes skimmed over the tom, taking in his appearance. She frowned. "Aw, no. I messed up your pelt, I'm so sorry I know how much pride you put into it." Her gaze then travelled to her own pelt, her frown only deepening. "Look, mines all ruffled too!" she sighed "I suppose that will teach me not to mope." She began to clean herself, smoothing out the tufts of her pelt. Yellow eyes drifted back to Owlcall, and his own ruined pelt. "I feel awful, would you like me to help with yours?" enquired Clovermottle.

Owlcall had decided to take a walk, to enjoy the quiet of the setting sun. It was nice to take a moment for himself without the expectations of the clan weighing on him, at least that was until he heard the chitter of queens and kits near by. Blue eyes looked over to see the crowd coming towards him, probably going to pass him on the way back to camp. He looked over the kits to make sure all of them were okay when he let out a grunt of pain as a queen slipped into him.

"I'm alright, nothing too bad on my end." While his ruffled pelt annoyed him, it couldn't be helped. It was going to get messed up at some point anyway. It came with being a warrior. At least he wasn't in camp with it all messed up right now. "I suppose if you want to help you can, but I don't mind either way."

With a gracious smile, thankful that Owlcall wasn't too upset about his pelt, she can began to gently coax his coat flat. As she cleaned, her gaze shifted to the leaving party of kits and queens, noting another queen had taken her place at the back, to which earned a sigh of relief from Clovermottle. Not wanting to let an awkward silence fall between them as she groomed him, the tortoishell found her voice again "So how come you're heading out so late?" she asked, leaning back to admire the work she was doing. The fading sunlight danced on his pelt, similar to the orange dapples that adorned her own pelt naturaly. Clovermottle smiled fondly, before returning to the task at hand. "We're not ShadowClan." she added with an airy laugh between licks.

Owlcall let out a small hum at her questions, before going to answer. "I was just simply wanting to take a moment away from camp is all." It wasn't like he was going to go far enough to warrant a full patrol or anything, he just wanted a moment away from all the hustle and bustle. Just to be Owlcall for a moment. Not the older watchful sibling to what he call the chaos crowd or be the perfect warrior he presented himself to be. Just a cat that existed, but he wasn't going to tell anyone that. "I wasn't planning to go far."

“That, we both have in common.” purred Clovermottle ”Sometimes i think my ears might fall off from all the screaming kits.” Her eyes twinkled in amusement at the thought. Screaming kits and the stress of being a warrior what a pairing. “If you want quiet company on your next stroll you can always come and find me. Any moment away from the wailing is much appreciated.” Finally, most of Owlcall’s pelt seemed to lay flat, it was almost as perfect as the tom had had it before. “Is it too your liking?” she asked.

Owlcall could relate, especially when he found the kits with Perchstar. He did his best to help take care of them despite only being an apprentice himself. The visits to the nursery to feed the queen filled his ears with the sound of screaming kits. It wasn't the best sound in the world, but when they were actually being good kits were pleasant. "I wouldn't mind company as long as long as we don't have to bring anyone younger than a warrior." He told her, before his blue eyes roamed over his pelt. "It looks good, I see you take pride in grooming as well."