Survival demands caution, but greatness requires daring
⋆｡°✩ ⭒ ──● 𓄿 ●── ⭒ ⋆｡°✩

The rain had been a long time coming.

For days Whitehart had baked in the heat. Now, since the moon crested high the sky had finally relented. Rain fell in persistant lines over the Twoleg dens, pattering against rooftops and ground alike. The world smelled of wet soil and thirsting plants.

Kosmo moved through it without complaint, ruddy fur along his shoulders darkened. Water gathered at the tips of his whiskers as he lowered his head to inspect the ground. He weaved between the sleeping Twoleg dens while the hour remained quiet and the first suggestion of dawn was still almost an hour away.

The heat had stressed the plants, but the rain would have softened their leaves and coaxed their scents back into the air. A nearby garden caught his attention. Kosmo slowed, eyes moving towards the beds arranged by humans. Careful where he placed his paws, he tested the scents and sights to identify the leaves.

A faint, thoughtful smile touched his muzzle as he started to meticulously pluck leaves to fill his grape leaf. A bit of daisy...a bit of lavender...a bit of thyme.

Looking this good is a full-time job
⤝ ⥈ ⥈ ☁️ ⥈ ⥈ ⤞

The last light of day was disappearing behind the moor when Smokepaw slipped through the tall grass, his dark spotted pelt almost disappearing into shadows of the tall foliage that stretched here. Occassionally he glanced behind his shoulders in the direction of camp, wondering if anyone had noticed them slipping away. Nobody seemed to stop them at least...

His paws carried him farther north than he'd ever been allowed to go alone, his green eyes bright with a mixture of excitement and the tiniest bit of uncertainty. Ahead, beyond the familiar stretches of WindClan territory was the rumored abandoned two-leg den in disrepair. He had never gone to see it by himself, which is why he recruited his sister to uncover just what kind of mysteries it held.

The crooked silhouette of the old building rose against the dusky sky, its broken windows appearing like enormous black eyes. Through the wind loose pieces of wood creaked ominously...

Smokepaw paused briefly, his pelt on edge and turned toward his sister, attempting to recover his dignity. His tail gave an uncertain flick. "You wanna go closer...? Probably, right? You can go first. I mean, if you want."

Stars do not pull each other down to be visible, they shine brighter.

∘◦ ⛈ ◦∘

When Merryaster returned injured from the battle of yesterday, Skypaw couldn't help but fret for longer than she should have, it was only a few scrapes right? Nothing too deep or deadly. But what if they got infected and it got into her blood! A wound was never just a wound to her, not matter what it was, to Skypaw, it meant life or death.

But she knew she needed to trust in Nettleplume, after all, he did help her mother with her kitting all by himself, that was surely a testament to his skills. But she couldn't help but worry about her mentor, it was like her at least. Yesterday, tensions were high, but maybe today, she would be able to check on Merryaster herself. 

She hadn't really gone training that day, presumed den-rest. Skypaw wouldn't mind if that were the case, she wouldn't mind if Merryaster generally didn't feel up to it today either. It was better to not disappoint Merryaster or Lilyriver again, maybe. 

Her paws soon carried her to the entrance of the medicine cat's den and she poked her head inside of the herbal smelling den, her nose twitching at the various smells. "Nettleplume? You in here? I wanted to visit Merryaster." She called out, hoping to see a cream pelt or even hear Nettleplume's voice from the darkness. Or better yet, Merryaster's. It wasn't even about the training, she just wanted to know that her clanmate was okay. That's all she wanted.

Bloodlines of strength ignite fierce souls
──●◎●──

Wildcry stirred as dawn broke the treeline. No rogues or danger she could sense, but they were still here...Still pressed into the orchard. Cats still needed to eat, though. Age had never earned her the luxury of ignoring her body, and her aches still remembered the day prior. Even then, she stretched.

First her forelegs then she shifted her weight, extending one hind leg at a time before arching her spine high. With that she gave her pelt a shake and her eye swept camp, taking stock. The patrols had been cut thin since the evacuation. Every warrior mattered now and there were too many who were still healing. All needed to eat. So she would hunt...Eventually.

She ran her tongue over her back paw, smoothing down the fur and began picking out her claws. She'd be using them soon.