this will be the day we've waited for [ShadowClan meeting]

Juniperpaw padded back into camp, his paws muddy from the marshes, but he held two lizards by their tails in his mouth to show for it. He personally preferred to eat any voles or mice he could find, maybe a stray chipmunk, but lizards would have to do. The elders can’t complain. Fresh-kill is fresh-kill after all. The sun was warming the damp ShadowClan earth and now seemed like a good time to maybe lay around and clean the mud off of his fur, not that it made much of a difference with his brown coat.

He watched with frosty-green eyes as Rosestar left her flowery den (he wrinkled his nose every time he saw it, why did she have to decorate it like that) and made her way to the Highboulder. She looked distracted—worried, even. Juniperpaw watched curiously, although Thistleshine and Marshfire had told him about the days ShadowClan was far more ruthless than how Rosestar wanted it to be, he did always think it was nice she kept a level head no matter what was thrown her way. The fact she seemed anxious was disturbing.

The brown and white tom felt the stern yellow gaze of his mentor piercing into him like a thousand sharp pine needles, and he left the fresh-kill pile to go sit next to her in the back. Patchpelt had already joined her. Patchpelt was like Rosestar, too kind and too soft, but Juniperpaw would readily admit the new kits were very cute. By the time they would be apprentices he would be a warrior, right? Maybe he could mentor one…

Juniperpaw’s maw briefly flitted into a smile, of course Marshfire didn’t give a rat’s tail about what Rosestar had to say. He dipped his head respectfully to his mentor first, and then Patchpelt, as he sat down and curled his tail around his paws obediently. “Whatever she’s going to talk about, it seems serious.” Juniperpaw said a little stiffly, not sure if he was allowed to join in this conversation, but he did anyway. His young and naïve nature got the better of him though, and he smiled at Patchpelt. “How are your kits today? Do you think they’ll try and spy on the meeting from the nursery?” He meowed with a slight chuff of a laugh. He certainly would have back when he was a kit.

H A I L K I T

"Alright, you lot, back inside!"

The sound of his father's voice touched at Hailkit's ears, though it only further served to feed his curiosity.

Baby blue optics cut through the murky haze of darkness from the depths of the Nursery; a small tail flicked and twisted, tiny auricles pressed forward atop his cranium. Noise - a lot of noise, in fact. His dappled pink nose wrinkled at the sounds practically reverberating from the Nursery walls. But it wasn't Rosestar's authoritative lyric however, or the murmuring chatter that flowed like a burbling stream throughout the camp - no, it was intimidating, but it didn't exactly distract him. Rather, it was sounds that were supposed to be in the background, now magnified and distorted to the foreground.

The tread and mush of paws; the twitch of a tail as it slapped against the earth; the squelch of mud pressing up between toes. It sent swirls of nausea to his stomach, clawed at the skin beneath his pelt like nipping termites. The breath snagged uncomfortably in his maw; frosted cerulean eyes caught sight of Patchpelt within their depths, and he wanted to join his father, to sate his curiosity on what was occurring - it seemed important enough. But the itching in his ears was incessant.

He drew in a deep breath. Okay, okay - who else could he see? Oh, look! Laurelpaw! That was his older brother, correct? Nostrils flared as he took in another breath, as if to ease the hammering of his heart. I'm fine, he thought, allowing himself a long, slow blink; a sudden flare of determination alighted like a flame within his tiny chest. My siblings could probably do it...so why can't I?

Patchpelt and Laurelpaw weren't too far away. He shook himself, gathering up enough courage within his fluttering heart; like the ants, he thought, recalling the trails he was constantly finding; head held high, and in a straight line.

He was bumbling forward before he could give himself a moment's hesitation. Halfway from the Nursery however and already he was having his regrets; so many cats...! Usually he'd leave the Nursery for quiet time in the late morning and early afternoons, when all was peaceful and very few felines lay scattered around. Now however they were all pushing into one, singular mass. He quickly glanced back at the Nursery - but there was a flash of a stranger's fur as they passed by its entrance, and it sent him scattering back in the direction of his father.

Bump! He fell back with a squeak, pink nose smarting. But - as dark orbs lifted to see the faces of his older sibling and Patchpelt, a small purr of relief awoke in his throat. "Hello," came his soft meow - rather surprised and proud he'd actually made it to his family. Wait, was he even supposed to be here? Probably not, if Patchpelt had ordered them all back inside...A head cocked, suddenly uncertain.

Uh...

Oops...?

crescendo , skyy and her socks , just atlanta.

R A V E N S H A D E
 
Now this would prove interesting. The sleek raven furred fae weaved and bobbed her way through the crowd; audits pinned back against her skull, she came to perch at a more isolated section of the camp, green eyes fixed high upon Rosestar's lean and beautiful figure. It was sure due time for an apprentice's ceremony - but something in the leader's gaze, in the way she held herself, had the she-cat second guessing. Was a mere ceremony the only reason for their gathering?

She leaned forward, interested piqued at; it was normally so difficult to evoke a genuine emotion from the she-cat, though now it was evident that she was especially curious. Her paws gently kneaded at the ground, fueled by the rising static of anticipation. Her orbs temporarily shifted from her leader, to land on other clanmates gathering; she specifically caught a glimpse of Crowpaw. After second guessing herself, she decided to join the calm medicine cat apprentice.

She approached with quiet paws, as if she were a fleet footed ghost; sable pelt brushing against sable, the young she-cat settled down beside him, and promptly proceeded to rasp a salmon pink tongue over a paw. "I wonder...if this gathering will carry any influential news." It was a mere muse; again, pupils wandered back to Rosestar. "Well, regardless. Greetings to you, Crowpaw. How are your lessons progressing?"

@all shadowclan ame