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desperatefans2023-11-07 06:19 pm
mothwingofriverclan) wrote in desperatefans2023-11-07 06:19 pm
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Introducing: Mothwing
Mothwing leaves camp at sunrise, wanting to beat the greenleaf heat. Herbs are plentiful this time of year, and Mothwing wants to find a few to take back to camp to teach Frostpaw their scents. She’s glad that she’d found a new apprentice with a connection to StarClan so quickly after Willowshine’s death, if only so that her clanmates wouldn’t bug her. She still doubts that they really need StarClan; it had been Bristlefrost that saved them from the impostor and the Dark Forest, not a bunch of mouse-brained dead cats. Still, Frostpaw was learning her herbs well, which was what really mattered.
Heading for the lakeshore, Mothwing keeps an eye out for borage, and maybe some rosemary. Padding up to the edge, Mothwing takes a look at her reflection. She’s getting old. Her dappled golden fur isn’t as shiny as it once was, and her amber eyes are tired, but she notes with satisfaction that she’s still bigger and stronger than most of her clanmates.
There’s an odd flicker in the lake, and Mothwing instinctively swats at it with her paw--extra fish is always welcome, even in bountiful greenleaf--but it turns out to be a trick of the light. Disappointed, she looks up, and is startled to find herself at a completely different lake. It’s much smaller than her lake, and she can’t see the Gathering island anywhere. Besides, it smells completely different--is it leaf-fall suddenly? She backs up a few steps, the fur on her back raising defensively.
For a moment, she wants to laugh--is this her first ever vision from StarClan? They couldn’t have sent this to her seasons ago, when her position was in question? Then she notices the large twoleg dwelling looming over the lake, and she feels a stupid kind of relief. There are definitely no twoleg dens in StarClan’s hunting grounds, so this isn’t a vision. On the other paw... she has no idea where she is.
“Is any cat here?” she meows as loudly as she dares. Unbeknownst to her, anyone walking by would understand her words, whether they were a cat, a twoleg, or any other person.
Heading for the lakeshore, Mothwing keeps an eye out for borage, and maybe some rosemary. Padding up to the edge, Mothwing takes a look at her reflection. She’s getting old. Her dappled golden fur isn’t as shiny as it once was, and her amber eyes are tired, but she notes with satisfaction that she’s still bigger and stronger than most of her clanmates.
There’s an odd flicker in the lake, and Mothwing instinctively swats at it with her paw--extra fish is always welcome, even in bountiful greenleaf--but it turns out to be a trick of the light. Disappointed, she looks up, and is startled to find herself at a completely different lake. It’s much smaller than her lake, and she can’t see the Gathering island anywhere. Besides, it smells completely different--is it leaf-fall suddenly? She backs up a few steps, the fur on her back raising defensively.
For a moment, she wants to laugh--is this her first ever vision from StarClan? They couldn’t have sent this to her seasons ago, when her position was in question? Then she notices the large twoleg dwelling looming over the lake, and she feels a stupid kind of relief. There are definitely no twoleg dens in StarClan’s hunting grounds, so this isn’t a vision. On the other paw... she has no idea where she is.
“Is any cat here?” she meows as loudly as she dares. Unbeknownst to her, anyone walking by would understand her words, whether they were a cat, a twoleg, or any other person.
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