#EDIT: i used this post as a writing sample to get into a warrior cats RP.

[sedge-and-sanctuary]

Moon Seven - Frostcreep

Harebolt gathers raspberries on patrol. Coniferstar is seen talking seriously with a kittypet. Harebolt quickly apologizes after bumping into Snowstreak. They have a small laugh about it.

Cats mentioned: Coniferstar - 27 moons - Leader Hubert - 92 moons - Kittypet Harebolt - 105 moons - Medicine Cat Snowstreak - 106 moons - Warrior

The air is fragrant with the scent of pine. Coniferstar inhales, deeply, opening his mouth to let the spicy, fusty smells of the forest wash over his tongue. Pine-litter and sweet bark, the earth rich, the land all teeming with life. The very southern border of their territory. He looks up; the trees loom over him. Dark, straight pines, dripping the melt of an early snowfall back to earth in fat, loud, spattering drops. The woods begin, here, all in a sudden line; the kind of clean, unnatural break that only comes where Twolegs go. All the better– it makes a very neat boundary, between where his cats can and cannot go. Beyond here, danger. Coniferstar huffs. Rubs his cheek against a bleeding, sappy stump; Sedgeclan was here. With so few warriors, their border-marks fade as quick as the clan can lay them. His heart twinges, a little, at the thought; at the smell of pine-sap fresh and bright on his fur, as he pulls back away. A homesickness; a grief. No matter– they will be a proper clan, here, some day.

And he has other business, today. The young tom shakes himself, trotting on along the treeline. The shadows of the pines fall over him, in patches, like the stripes of some great, dark tabby. Over a thunderpath, now; gravel, and not the hard, stinking stone of his old territory. The rocks bite into Coniferstar’s paws– he pays them no mind. At the end of the road, a strange structure crouches; some cross between a monster and a twoleg den. Small, and clad in shining metal; it throws back the sun like packed-down snow. Coniferstar squints, and ducks his head against the glare. He slows to a walk, sidling around the backside of the den, until its shadow falls across him. He calls out only when he can raise his head, again. “Hubert! Are you here?” There is a silence, which lasts a very long time. A hawk cries, far away, and Coniferstar glances up to see its outline stamped, dark, against the cloud-grey of the sky. “Coniferfrost?” Coniferstar looks down, again, blinking spots out of his eyes. “Coniferstar,” he says.

Hubert cocks her head. A kittypet– a tortoiseshell, with a pelt all-grey except the strange, stark orange of one paw; like she’d dipped it in a puddle of mud. “That’s a promotion, isn’t it?” She blinks at him. “Hang on, then. Is Cooperstar…” “Yes.” Coniferstar ducks his head. There is another pause. The silence goes unbroken, this time, the sky above a grey unmarked by far-off wings. “I’m sorry,” Hubert says. And then, inadequately, “he was nice.” “He was.” Coniferstar sighs. “You didn’t know, then? I’d hoped you’d have… heard. If there was news, from Featherclan.” Hubert shakes her head. “You’re the first one I’ve seen in ages. I’d kinda thought you all’d forgotten me.” Coniferstar laughs; though his heart isn’t in it. He forces a purr, and leans in to nudge Hubert’s shoulder. “No, old friend– how could we?” From the shadows, rabbit-leaps away; a pair of green-blue eyes watches– and then turns aside.

Lost in thought, Harebolt drags a bundle of raspberries back into camp. The bristly stalks prick at her mouth– like chewing on a cat’s tongue. She huffs at the strange mental picture– and knocks, hard, into another cat, her vision obscured by the bundle of herbs. Snowstreak makes a startled, wounded noise; there is a dull thump. “Oh!” Harebolt’s words are muffled through the leaves; she spits them out, and bends to sniff at Snowstreak where she’s laid out, sprawling, in the dirt. “Sorry– Snowstreak. Are you alright?” ‘I– think I am.” Snowstreak blinks, her eyes crossing a little to meet Harebolt’s as she bends in close. “Though I’m not sure when you became so… fussy.” Snowstreak pushes herself upright, just enough to touch noses with her mate; and then shoves at her, a little more insistently, to give her room to get up. Harebolt sits back with a laugh. “Around the time you got your leg bit off by a rogue.” She watches Snowstreak struggle to her paws, warmth flooding her pelt. “It– bitten off is a little strong. It’s mostly attached.” Snowstreak sticks her back leg out, for them both to see. Harebolt thinks to a moon or two back, when it would have been too stiff to move like that. A purr rumbles up out of her chest. “All the way off,” she says, to diffuse the bubbling, too-warm feeling rising up in her, too strong to contain. “I’m a ‘medicine cat’ now. I’d know.” Snowstreak laughs; a little wheezy and breathless-sounding still, but leaps better than she’d been. She leans her head into Harebolt’s shoulder, purring deep in her chest. “Strange,” she says, softly. “Isn’t it? This– all of it. ‘Medicine cats,” and–” “Yeah.” Harebolt licks the top of Snowstreak’s head; she’s barely feverish, to the touch. She opens her mouth, and then– there is a pause. Snowstreak pulls back, to look at her. “Harebolt?” Harebolt meets her mate’s green, familiar eyes. “Snowstreak. Once you’re better. Do you want to stay?” Snowstreak blinks in surprise. “Of course! Why– I mean. Do you…” Harebolt looks at her paws. The raspberry leaves, scattered all around her, bristle, their edges scalloped with some precursor to thorns. “Of course not. He saved your life. Coniferstar did.” It is strangely hard to say, through the knot tying up her throat. Snowstreak purrs. “Oh– good,” she says, her voice a rush. “Me– I mean. I’m glad. I know it’s odd, but–” And she is so steady, on her paws; on her own four paws, again. Her injured leg doesn’t even shake, when she shifts her weight as Harebolt looks at her. What else is there to say, in the face of that. “But he saved us,” Harebolt murmurs, and presses her cheek against Snowstreak's, their pelts warm, together, even with High Dark looming.