we are the last generation || cres | Closed

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we are the last generation || cres Mar 10, 2016 1:03:16 GMT

Post by Deleted on Mar 10, 2016 1:03:16 GMT

Two large eyes, one blue, one green, watched the other cats in their conversation. The plan was set it seemed, and everyone but the scrawny black tom was ready to go. Starlingstep had always been easily to excite, and the excitement in the air at the idea of leaving camp was almost overpowering. He was still laying on the ground when Mothfang got up, much easier then he had this morning, and leaped toward the entrance. How nice it would be to feel the grass under his paws, the wind in his fur. He might even test out his rusty hunting skills while they where out.

Attempting to stand to follow the grey elder, Starlingstep put weight on his back leg only to hit the dirt again. He hissed though his teeth, mentally cursing his bad leg. Why did it have to act up now of all time? He needed all his strength if he was to be running around like an apprentice on his first day out. The wise part of his mind told him that he needed to stop by the medicine cats den and see if he could get one of the shecats to give him something for the pain. The more rational part of him,however, knew that if he stopped, the pair would ask questions. Those questions could end this adventure before it even started. Giving himself another low hiss, he tried to stand again. This time his leg held and he stood still for a moment, making sure it would not give out if he tried to walk. There was no way he would be able to run, he knew this. So instead, the black tom padded as quickly as his stiff leg would allow, and exited the camp after his friend.

He stopped right outside of the entrance and stood still. He had often taken walks with young apprentices when he was in better shape. It seemed so long ago, even though it was only a few moons. He let all of his senses reach out and take in all of his surroundings for a moment and sighed in content. What a lovely day they had chosen to come out into the forest. Mothfang was already far ahead of him, but the old tom's scent was strong and very easy to follow through the forest. Starlingstep was not sure where the other tom got so much energy, even as excited as Starlingstep was he had to stop a few times to catch his breath, and he was hardly moving fast. For as old as he was, and hoe quickly he was advancing toward death, all of his senses had maintained nearly as good as they where when he was young. He was glad for that. Never getting to see Peachpaw's warm grin, or the first snow fall of the season would break his shriveled old heart. Starlingstep tried not to dwell on the idea of dying, though the grim subject returned to him often. In his condition, he knew he only had a few moons left before he might not be able to stand. He made a mental note to talk to Blueberry about keeping the young one well away when he got too bad to care what he said to who. HE would hate to die and her last memory be on him in one of his panics. Shaking the thoughts from his head, the old tom continued to make his way after Mothfang, enjoying the forest as he went.
Words:580 Tag: crescendo alee Notes: Starling is excited for his last outing

TEAM WINDCLAN

alee

Administrator

they see me rollin they hatin

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we are the last generation || cres Mar 17, 2016 9:00:07 GMT

Post by alee on Mar 17, 2016 9:00:07 GMT

Mothfang hurtled past, unusually quick for one so old, and Willowstep felt a surprisingly intense gush of warmth for the battle-worn old tomcat. In many respects they were one in the same; beaten and battered by countless upon countless of trials and tribulations, and carrying the fresh wounds of grief and loss of loved ones long past. With a jolt she recalled Dougal, the charismatic loner whom she'd nearly struck up an illicit relationship with, before deciding that her loyalty to ThunderClan was much too powerful. Although she'd later be mated to the kind and gentle Umberpelt, Dougal never strayed far from her thoughts, and the elderly she-cat couldn't help wondering what he was up to now.

Suddenly sharp realization hit Willowstep, and she wondered about the youth of ThunderClan, and the future mistakes and hard hitting choices that they'd be faced with. Although Dougal had been a path she'd decided not to walk, she'd never regretted the solemn choice, instead dedicating herself to raising the precious youth of the Clan. With a small pang she hoped that others would choose the same, that loyalty would always come first, no matter the consequences. But of course that decision was not for Willowstep to decide; sharing a quick glance with the two senior cats, Willowstep thought that perhaps mistakes were sometimes necessary, and that they formed whom they were today.

She matched Mothfang's pace, and was first to arrive at the foot of the ravine bordering camp. She glanced back at Mothfang and Starlingstep, another surge of warmth rushing through her veins for the denmates she shared her nests with. "Come then," came her rumbling purr, turning blue optics back onto the rocky slope. "We've faced worse, haven't we?"

The ravine was a tough climb, especially for cats as old as themselves. It wasn't incredibly steep, but it was deep enough that a few elders might have trouble making the climb. Ravenpaw was soon far ahead of Willowstep, his fur fluffed as he leaped and stumbled up the sandy ravine, looking rather excited and proud at what Mothfang had said to him. Willowstep prayed for the ache in her bones to settle, before bunching up all her muscles and springing forward, ignoring the snapping pain that resonated like fire through her joints as she did so. At last! She was at the top, perched beside the black apprentice, whom was hopping from paw to paw with impatience. "There! Easy said, easy done!" she called down to the others, a wry smile tugging at her lips. The bramble thorns of camp prickled painfully at her back, and a seeping ache seemed to throb through her very bones, but Willowstep was hardly ready to turn back now.

crescendo @twotone

WAIT U GUYS REPLIED I DID NOT KNOW T HIS

Last Edit: Mar 17, 2016 9:14:32 GMT by alee

TEAM RIVERCLAN

crescendo

Warrior

"they're not worth you"

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we are the last generation || cres Mar 23, 2016 20:05:29 GMT

Post by crescendo on Mar 23, 2016 20:05:29 GMT

we are the hollow men,
w e a r e t h e s t u f f e d m e n

The elder was certain he hadn’t said anything about his worry of the ravine climb but he did hesitate. His loping run slowed to a halt, and he glanced uncertainly at Starlingstep and then over at Willowstep. The old cat suddenly felt his age like it was a weight tugging at his paws, but he brutally shoved it down with a flick of his tail. No! He wouldn’t succumb to it, not like this. He’d go out fighting like a warrior, even if it was age that killed him.

“Right,” Mothfang rasped in agreement to Willowstep’s words. Ravenpaw sure was spry though. He glanced at Starlingstep and then grunted, looking away and flattening his ears. “Right we’ve conquered more than this, eh Starlingstep? Battle skirmishes, hungry ShadowClan warriors—heheheh…”

The tom was still nervous. He wasn’t sure if he could make it up. The cat grimaced and glanced at Starlingstep again. “Alright, let’s do this together yeah? Teamwork, get our old tails up that hill in no time.”

With that the old cat started to climb laboriously up the tumble of rocks. Claws splayed and scraped against the edges—this had been so easy when he was young. He could remember bounding up them like they were nothing at all. Now he felt his muscles starting tremble as he hauled himself one pawstep at a time. His heart thudded hard in his chest, and his ears were ringing, but he was going to make it. He’d be damned if he didn’t make it. Besides, he wanted to make sure Starlingstep could make it as well.

With one last loud grunt and a scrabble of his hind legs, Mothfang pushed himself up and landed next to Willowstep with a wheeze. The elder shook himself firmly, tail lifting and eyes brightening. “See! Easier than swallowing a mouse tail.”

The old cat sat down and began to actively swipe his tongue over the pads of his paws. He was covering up the fact that he desperately needed a rest before they plunged on into the forest—the old cat wasn’t about to let himself keel over because of exhaustion or something. The tom grumbled through a mouthful of pawpad, “Got some pebble or somethin’ between my toes hold on.”

It felt oddly as though he ought to have hurried. He was a full-grown cat—elder or not, he was not confined to camp. He’d walked every pawstep in this territory, and he’d claw the pelt off of any cat that would think he couldn’t walk toward the border if he wanted to. If he wanted he could fight just as well as any warrior if pressed to it, he was certain. The old cat dropped his paw and got to his feet again with a firm shake.

“Let’s not waste anymore daylight, to the training hollow!” Mothfang rasped—the old tom couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in the sandy hollow. It brought a strange pang to his chest and he remembered training Goosetail. The young cat had been eager to learn and Mothfang had enjoyed his time as mentor. Prickly or not, the warrior was proud that Goosetail was a part of his legacy. Even so, he hadn’t been there in ages, and after stating where he’d wanted to go the elder realized with a small stab of panic that he couldn’t remember the way. Slyly, trying to hide his confusion, Mothfang grumbled, “Take the lead Ravenpaw.”

l e a n i n g t o g e t h e r
headpiece filled with straw

TAGGED: alee @twotone WORD COUNT: 571
OOC: he so bossy ravenpaw omg... LYRICS: 'The Hollow Men' by TS Eliot

Last Edit: Mar 23, 2016 20:06:29 GMT by crescendo

is it thursday yet ?

art credit @suites on tumblr

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we are the last generation || cres Mar 27, 2016 19:53:56 GMT

Post by Deleted on Mar 27, 2016 19:53:56 GMT

The steep climb up the rocks almost made Starlingstep turn tail and head back to camp. It was not pride that stopped him. No it was fear for his companions that pushed the elder forward, that made him ignore the looming shadows on the edge of his vision, the pain in his leg, and the knowledge that death was closing in on him as they closed in on mice. He was slow as he climbed the loose rocks, slower then any of the others, but he finally made is way to the top, and joined the other's sitting there. Starling wanted desperately to lay down and sleep for the rest of the day, but he pushed forward. Starlingstep stumbled along after the trio a little ways ahead of him, and gratefully sunk to the ground once they reached the hollow.

Starlingstep quickly realized something was wrong. He needed to get back to camp as soon as he could. He casually told the others that he was going to go back to camp to ask Blueberyy for some herbs for his leg, and insisted that no one needed to come with him. He would be completely fine

It was a long while before Starlingstep got to camp, and once he did, the elder went straight to his den and fell into a deep sleep, not stirring until late into the night.

Words: 230
Tag: crescendo alee
Notes: Starlings last post here </3

TEAM WINDCLAN

alee

Administrator

they see me rollin they hatin

553 posts completed

we are the last generation || cres May 6, 2016 12:07:11 GMT

Post by alee on May 6, 2016 12:07:11 GMT

(hi im alee and im the worst at replying to threads)

The leaving of Starlingstep came as a surprise to the wizened old she-cat; indeed, had she known these would be her last moments with such a precious friend, then she would've accompanied him back to his den, ensured he was comfortable and safe. Alas, however, this was her first time leaving the confines of Camp in moons; as the tom padded away, Willowstep merely waved a tail in goodbye, her gaze following his retreating form until he'd long since disappeared.

Ravenpaw barely seemed ruffled by this; the young thick furred apprentice was already bounding ahead, calling for Mothfang to hurry his tail and catch up. Willowstep was about to remind him to hold his tongue, though the party was in such high spirits...well, she hadn't the heart to break the rather cheery mood with her scolding. She passed Mothfang an amused glance - ah, he's an old soul, but a bit of youthful company ought to do him some good - and followed along in the apprentice's pawsteps, her gait quickening as the fresh new-leaf air seared delightfully at her lungs.

A cool breeze ruffled her grey-dappled pelt, carrying with it the tantalizing scents of prey. Plump voles, scurrying mouses, the sounds of squirrels scampering up a tree; ah, it reminded her so much of Umberpelt, and the quiet afternoon strolls he'd lead her on during their courting. She could almost smell his sweet scent, dancing at the very edges of her nose - a reminder of a past long gone, a scrap of memory discarded from what felt like centuries ago.

"...Doesn't it remind you of your loved ones?" Her voice escaped as a mere whisper, hushed and forlorn. Umberpelt...his memory no longer brought her warm comfort. A brush of fur at her side, a press of pelt against pelt, whiskers tickling at her cheeks; a soft and lyrical breeze, the squeaks and chatter of wildlife bumbling beneath the brush. All were simple gestures, simple sounds and smells one would experience each and every day - and yet nowadays they brought back a rush of memories, reminded her of simpler days, when her heart had beat steadfast, and her paws had itched to run. "You know, most cats take this forest for granted. I did too, when I was young. But once you've lived so many moons, once you've met and lost your friends and family...well, it almost takes on a life of its own. Every fern, every trunk, every blade of grass...it reminds me of them."

She was interrupted by Ravenpaw. He was perched at the very edge of the sandy hollow, his tail raised with confidence, his green eyes sparking with barely restrained impatience. "Come on, come on! You're taking forever. I wanna show you my new move! It's called the Ravenpaw uppercut, and it's super amazing! Watch!" At once he'd sprung up on his backpaws, battling rather ungracefully at the wind before him - and then, with a rippling yowl, he'd toppled backwards, disappearing over the sandy lip of the hollow.

A black head emerged moments later, ears pinned back against his skull with embarrassment. "Okay, so it needs some work - but that's what you guys are for, right?" Willowstep rolled her eyes, though she couldn't quell her building purr. "Right again, young one. And my first piece of advice for you would be to not lose your balance while battling an enemy warrior." She flashed a small smile at Mothfang before taking the lead. "Let's not waste anymore daylight. I have a feeling training this foolish cat will take until moonrise."

crescendo