Private Thread Plot Thread A Perfect Normal Stroll

"..."

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Cinderwhisper stood silently beside Otterwhisker. She wasn't close to the molly. They'd only interacted in patrols and nowhere else. Despite this, the grumpy she-cat still appreciated being dragged out of camp for once. the younger feline was right. She couldn't sleep all day. She had to move every once in a while.

When the silver tabby was reminded to not slip, she simply nodded in agreement. She wondered what it was like to experience the honor of raising the leader's kits. Cinderwhisper wasn't jealous though. She wasn't fond of kittens. It was simply an interesting thought.

Otterwhisker had a point. Leafbare had it's beautiful moments but it was never kind. Not to any cat. The water froze and the prey hid away while the temperatures became freezing, making everybody vulnerable to disease. Disease. Cinderwhisper never got sick except for twice in her life. Both times she thought StarClan would come for her. It had been horrible.

One step after another the molly felt a little less grumpy. Maybe moving about was a good idea after all. 

What I dream, the day might send. Just around the riverbend.

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Otterwhisker flicked her tail as she noted Cinderwhisper’s silence, but she didn’t press for conversation. The elder’s company was enough, it was rare to find someone willing to endure the cold alongside her without complaint.

She padded steadily along the riverbank, her claws extending slightly with each step to grip the icy ground. "Moving helps."

She exhaled through her nose, forcing the thought away. "It shouldn't be long before newleaf comes." She mewed, though whether she was trying to reassure Cinderwhisper or herself, she wasn’t sure. "Prey will come back, the ice will melt, and we’ll be warm again."

"..."

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Cinderwhisper nodded again when Otterwhisker spoke once more, her ear flicking a few times since it itched a little. Cinderwhisper was growing old. It was rare for felines to live as long as she had. She wondered if she would live to see the next newleaf. Sure she'd see this one but the next one? She was a bit doubtful.

What I dream, the day might send. Just around the riverbend.

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The wind whistled low across the frozen river, carrying with it the scent of ice and damp earth. Otterwhisker’s breath curled in the air as she padded forward, her paws crunching against the thin crust of snow lining the riverbank. The sky overhead was an endless stretch of gray, promising more snowfall before the day was through.

Something shifted ahead, a dark shape breaking the smooth, unblemished expanse of white and ice. Otterwhisker’s ears pricked forward, her muscles tensing instinctively. At first, she thought it was driftwood - perhaps a fallen branch caught in the ice, half buried in the snow. But as she drew closer, the scent hit her.

Cold. Wet. And something sharper beneath it - blood.

She stopped abruptly, her breath catching. A familiar shape lay at the water’s edge, black and white fur matted against the ice, one side of his small body submerged in the frozen shallows.

Alderfly.

Otterwhisker’s stomach twisted. The warrior’s body was unnaturally still, his limbs splayed awkwardly, his muzzle bloody and pressed into the riverbank as if he had been crawling for air. Snow clung to his pelt, fur stiff with frost, and the ice around him was broken - fractured where something, or someone, had forced him down.

"Alderfly..." Otterwhisker only thought to say, her voice tight. Her paws moved before she could think, carrying her forward. There was no rise and fall of Alderfly’s chest, no stirring at the sound of is name. The river had claimed him... Or something else had. Once she got close enough she could see pawprints half dented in the snow, leading over the ice...

"..."

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Cinderwhisper closed her eyes for a feel heartbeats, feeling the wind in her short fur. The molly opened her eyes again before continuing to pad after Otterwhisker. Hopefully they would get back before it snowed again. Snow in her fur was the last thing the she-cat wanted.

The elder has also notice something shift ahead, assuming it was nothing, the dark feline didn't do or say anything. Well. That was until she smelled the younger molly's fear. She lifted her head up, following the she-cat until she too recognised the tom.

Death happened all the time. But what was unsettling about this was the suddenness in which it had occurred. If Cinderwhisper remembered correctly, Adderfly still had a lot of life left in him and was quite young so for him to suddenly be dead in front of them was scary.

Should one of them go back and get Boldstar, Coldgaze, or Nettleplume?

What I dream, the day might send. Just around the riverbend.

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Otterwhisker’s breath was quick and sharp, misting in the frigid air as she stared down at Alderfly’s still form. The icy wind bit at her pelt but it was nothing compared to the cold sinking into her chest. He wasn’t just dead - he had struggled. Something had happened here, something that left its mark in the broken ice and the half buried pawprints leading away.

Cinderwhisper’s presence beside her was steady, but Otterwhisker could feel the same unease radiating from the older she-cat. Otterwhisker swallowed hard, pushing back the sick twist of dread in her stomach. "We need to tell Boldstar...And Coldgaze. Someone needs to track those pawprints before the snow buries them." Her tail flicked sharply. "If this wasn’t an accident…" She trailed off, unwilling to say it outright. If someone had done this then RiverClan was in danger.

Her claws flexed against the snow. "I can go to get them...Then Nettleplume can look him over." The medicine cat would want to look over Alderfly, even if it was too late to save him. Maybe he could tell them how he died. Ice, the water, or claws..