Google dot com says the traditional gift for a four year anniversary is fruit & flowers?? How festive! In honor of our fourth year on the world wide web, we are requesting bouquets and fruit baskets or cash donations to the whip-a-rain-fund 😌 Oooooorrr we guess...alternatively...we can put on a big, month-long celebration featuring a warm-and-fuzzy event, scavenger hunt, a raffle drawing, and a freakin' prize wheel??! See the September Announcements for more information, and don't forget to check out the September Patrols too!
The Apostles is a warrior cats roleplay based in northern Wisconsin. On Lake Superior, the wild cats have made the Apostle Islands their home. It is on these islands - Rocky Island and South Twin Island - that the clan and tribe cats have lived in a peace and harmony that ebbs and flows with the tide.
But as the tides turn, so does the truce that binds them to one another; and as the water raises, a darkness follows, an evil that will end in bloodshed and violence.
The blizzard raged for three days. Now wind tore through the pines. The chilling air seeping even into the midst of the burrows. Mistflower remained in the nursery, it’s central location providing shelter and more warmth than the usual warrior dens. But there was a chill in Mistflower’s bones that never seemed to go away. The old fracture she had received in her front leg as an apprentice ached. Her green eyes were dull and tired. She felt weak, and all her energy went towards feeding her kits and playing the part of a cheerful mother. Ever since the fox attack she had felt like she was barely holding on. The loss of two of her kits…She squeezed her eyes closed as if that would block the memories. No, don’t think of them. Rainkit and Cloudkit were her only kits, they were her everything. She had to focus on them. But still, the silver she-cat felt worn and pulled thin. Her physical wound seemed to have healed, but her body felt off, listless and dangling over and edge.
As the wind picked up she felt Rainkit and Cloudkit burrow closer into her side. The noise was frightful. She nuzzled the two kits. “Shhh…it’s okay my darlings.” But she could only comfort them so much. A quiet sigh left Mistflower. I wish Smokestorm was here. Her mate had been unable to come during the brunt of the storm, and she missed his comforting presence. It was the only thing that lately had made her feel like there was some kind of stability to her life.
Rustling, and one of the kits peaked their head up. Mistflower smiled. “The wind does sound scary, but we are safe in here, don’t worry.”
fog that hangs in air ∙ loudstorm ∙ aspenfoot ∙ eaglefang ∙ leafdapple ∙ orchid that blooms by night ∙ sparrowheart ∙ froststrike ∙ shrikesong ∙ streak of shooting star ∙ clawkit
There was an intense discomfort plaguing the tiny blue she-cat, a discomfort that felt foreign to her little world not because of the unfamiliar sharpness that seeped into her developing bones, but because it was incurable. There was never a scenario that would befall her that could ever cause her any physical or emotional stress, from the smallest thorn to the scariest visitor, and it would all be due to the very careful graces of her mother.
Now, her brother, on the other paw, was the truly spoiled one. For everything their mother did for them, she would do for Cloudkit. She watched him closely when he was playing by himself, she licked him clean when any portion of his pelt was ruffled, she would make sure he was asleep before she even closed her eyes. For every moment she was safe, she would make sure Cloudkit was safer. But as a small shiver ran through her body, she wondered truly if even the combined efforts of her and Mistflower could keep him warm.
Rainkit let out a quiet whine as she wrestled with the most physical disturbance she had ever felt by shoving her body further against her sibling and mother. That was when the soothing voice of Mistflower cradled her ears. "I'm cold," she complained, peeking her head up. "Are you sure it's okay? What if Cloudkit turns to snow?"
do you think you will be good enough to love others and to be loved?
Warmth had been a rare, beautiful feeling Cloudkit had felt only a pawful of times. Now, pressed between his sister and mother as the wind howled outside, he struggled to remember what it felt like. As a particularly loud gust shook them, the little tomkit couldn’t help but squeak in surprise.
His mother’s soothing voice brought his attention back to her. Her warm fur took the bite out of the cold, but it bothered him that there was no one to warm her up. Papa wasn’t here, and he didn’t really understand why, but for some reason he felt like he shouldn’t ask.
Suppressing a shiver, Cloudkit tried to press closer to his mother at the same time Rainkit pressed into him. He grunted, eyes fluttering open as his sister spoke.
“Hey!” he squealed indignantly, paws kneading anxiously against his mother’s stomach. “Kits can’t turn into snow!” He turned his head to look up at Mistflower. “Right, mama?” His voice was smaller, quieter. Come to think of it, his name was Cloudkit, and snow did come from clouds…
“Would you still love me if I was snow?” he wondered aloud, looking over his shoulder at the swirling sheet of white. “Would I melt in…in newleap?”
Even with the comfort of her words, the two kits snuggled deeper into Mistflower's stomach. The queen curled a little tighter around her kits, hoping to provide even the slightest bit more warmth for them. "Shh... I know it's cold Rainkit." Mistflower cooed at her daughter. "Leaf-bare won't last forever though."
Rainkit's next question and Cloudkit's response sent a joyful ray of delight through Mistflower. Kits made such amusing connections, and asked questions that seemed to have such obvious answers. But it was a delight to Mistflower to see how such small minds were beginning to question and explore the world around them. "If kits could turn into snow I would still love you Cloudkit." Mistflower nuzzled her son's cheek. "But you don't have to worry, kits nor cats turn into snow - no matter how cold the leaf-bare gets, so you won't melt."
The wind lessened for a moment and Mistflower's ear twitched. A sound out of the ordinary in the din of the storm would probably not have been noticed. If not for the queen's great desire to have her mate there beside her. A comfort not only for her kits, but for her. She had been straining to hear Smokestorm approach, and now it seem he was. She lifted her head and turned to look at the entrance of the den, eyes sparking with delight as her mate stepped in. "Smokestorm!" Mistflower stayed as she was, not disturbing the warm nest she made for her kits. "You must be frozen, come join our little pile."
fog that hangs in air ∙ loudstorm ∙ aspenfoot ∙ eaglefang ∙ leafdapple ∙ orchid that blooms by night ∙ sparrowheart ∙ froststrike ∙ shrikesong ∙ streak of shooting star ∙ clawkit
The storm was unceasing - Smokestorm might've sworn that, after three days of darkness and endless swaths of snow, the world might be eternally shrouded in blinding white. It was only when the snow began to cease its falling from the sky and instead swirl in great billows across the ground that the warrior felt he might one day see the sun once again.
Exhaustion had begun to cling to him, dragging at his limbs and pulling his head low amidst the shoulders. He did not complain, not even a murmur of self-pity. There were many that suffered - many more worthy than he. The blue warrior pulled his frostbitten body into the camp, squirming through the mounds of snow that blanketed all until he found the shallow entrance to the nursery. A purr sounded from his chest as he crawled within, the sounds of queen and kits enough to draw from him even the most basic of joys.
Clamped between his teeth was a thin, frosty vole. It was hardly a worthwhile catch, but in the storm, there was little to do but take what the forest thought fit to give. So, as though it was a voluptuous rabbit or rare and tender grouse, he laid the pathetic creature before Mistflower and nosed it towards her. "It's not much..." He muttered. But he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers, holding her touch there for a few moments, despite the inadequate meal he brought.
He could not help the look of tranquility that crossed his face when his gaze turned to observe the little ones that cuddled so close to Mistflower's chest. No matter the horrors of the beyond, always he had these two to look forward to seeing. With creaky, stiff bones did Smokestorm lower himself, wrapping himself on the other side of the kittens so that he and Mistflower might cradle them between two warm bodies, mother and father. He nuzzled closer and closer until he might provide his shoulder for Mistflower to rest a weary head until his tail tip might curl and entwine with hers.
"Cloudkit and Rainkit, good evening," He purred, knowing that the time of day could hardly be determined with the intensity of the storm beyond their humble shelter. "What have you two got up to today? Anything fun? Any new games?"
"I would love you too, Cloudkit," Rainkit quickly chimed in as she listened to the exchange between her brother and mother. Putting a paw on his cheek, she added, "But I would call you Snowkit instead." And as humorous as her statement was, every bit of it came from an honest place. Rainkit, of course, was too young to grasp the full spectrum of feeling and emotions the consciousness experiences on a life time basis.
She had not yet known the true icy tendrils of sadness or the hot flames of anger, making complexities like guilt or longing incomprehensible in her current state of development. But she did know love. Love as both a given form, and a taken form. Rainkit knew well of her mother's love, her father's love, receiving it like milk offerings and bathing in it like warmth from the sun.
And her brother, she didn't care if he loved her, nor yearned for it like she did her parents. All the satisfaction came from her own affection for him, her own need to suffocate him with as much of herself as possible. She adored her brother, more than playing, more than the sun, more than her parents affections. But showing it as good as Mistflower and Smokestorm did was still a skill she was working on.
Speaking of her parents, a tiny squeak of excitement rose instinctually from her throat as the blue pelt of Smokestorm conjured from the den's entrance. Immediately Rainkit sprung up, forcing her way from the clutches of Mistflower's and Cloudkit's warmth and straightening up into her proudest sit on her haunches to fully greet her father. She was caught off guard, though, by the snow-tipped vole locked in his jaws, staring at it in both awe and fierce caution as he laid it before their mother.
She always was a little weirded out by the carcasses he brought back, unsure of whether to trust that these small animals wouldn't just burst alive and scratch their eyes out. But they always seemed to remain obedient as they were eaten, and Rainkit wondered if there would be a day she would enjoy a meal of meat too.
As Smokestorm joined them in their comfortable pile, Rainkit excitedly met his gaze as he spoke. "Dad!" she exclaimed happily, before frowning in response to his question. "It's too cold to do anything. And Cloudkit is turning into snow."
