SASSQUEENS* silvermouth/smallpaw

A rogue band of rushes was sprouting up from a rather permanent scoop in the earth. The spot flooded frequently, and held rain like a bucket, so the cattails rooted themselves in the sandy soil and began to sprout. No one had deserved them yet-- and why would they? The cattails were more like a mascot for their clan, a water plant with a feline moniker. They were soft to touch, refreshing to rub a nose against (though one who did would be risking a sneeze), helpful to gather for mother's expecting kits, and good bedding for any time of year. This patch, though, this rebellious group of six or seven cattails that sprouted in what could hardly be called a mud puddle had never been disturbed. It was odd to Silvermouth, who had an incorrigible habit of commenting on anything, odd or not, had voiced it once among some of the newer warriors, one of whom being her brother. No one had paid her any mind, and the conversation had quickly flowed onto the next topic.

Something about them called to her, though. How different they were. How small their 'family, as it were, and their space was, yet how they thrived. Most importantly, how no one, for whatever reason, disturbed them. They did not even have to be loud and overpowering to be left alone. Silvermouth would often go, in her free time, and splay out on her side by the rushes, watching them bob in the wind, or gather frost when the weather was cold. It was her favorite spot. Whenever Buckthorn-- or anyone in the clan, really-- was looking for her, the rogue rush garden was the first spot they checked.

Early in the morning, a light spring rain had passed over the RiverClan island, cooling the air and making everything fresh. Her brother had been given a hunting order to fill, so he was not around to bug, and she happened to have a free moment. Silvermouth was a bigger cat, built for strength and stubbornness and holding a position in a fight and not really structured for efficient hunting. She tried to pull her weight, of course-- but she had a lot of weight to be pulling around. She was the cat the clan could turn to when Magpiestar said, "Don't let anyone through if it costs you your life." That was the niche she would fill-- not that RiverClan was about to be invaded anytime soon, of course, given their natural defenses.

She went first to her wild cattails, brushing her whiskers gently on their stems as she walked through them. Being gentle was a difficult task for Silvermouth, but with her rushes she practiced with the utmost care. She sat back on her haunches, curling one silver tail around a stem and drawing the soft top towards her to brush her nose against it. It was a rare quiet moment for the obnoxious she-cat, and she relaxed as she felt the wind of Newleaf blow through her soft, silver fur.

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS