Your gateway to endless inspiration
Moonpaw - Blog Posts
And here she is, the apprentice everyone is talking about!
⊹ Вы бы хотели иметь у себя в голове голос вашего мертвого сиблинга, который ежесекундно хочет свести вас с ума? ⊹
Вахах, встречайте очередную Лунолапку и ее бро, но это хоррор
Я бы очень хотела написать, чтобы вы не воспринимали этот арт всерьёз, хотя он вроде как получился неплохим, так что... 🤷
Я уже около нескольких недель хотела нарисовать что-то подобное и вот наконец-то я нарисовала ЭТО🆘️
Не знаю зайдёт ли он вам, но буду надеяться на это
Лунолапка
...и её шиза
Просто маленький постик 🤷
Так сказать, чтобы блог не пустовал 💪
Лунолапка сидит ･ᴗ･
Угадайте, кто забыл выложить арт после экзамена? Правильно, я! (Хыхы, извините, прост со мной случилась небольшая неприятность по пути домой, но сейчас всё хорошо👍)
Результатом я вполне довольна. Над фоном действительно запарилась, но, думаю, это того стоило.
Ахах, а потом следующие арты: "Лунолапка стоит", "Лунолапка идёт", "Лунолапка бежит", "Лунолапка спит" и так далее💥
Лунолапка
Да, я решила тоже поучаствовать в этом💥
Moon 4
[Previous] [Start] [Next]
Happy New Year!
///
“We would've had our warrior ceremony by now.”
Fogpaw groans at his sister, pushing past her as they climb higher up the mountain, paws farther from their territory than they've ever been. The terrain and the scents are unfamiliar and the rock is hot under their paws, baking in the greenleaf sun. They can’t go back, so they press on. “Don't start with that. I'm not in the mood for reminiscing right now.”
“No, no, listen to me.” Moonpaw bounds ahead of her brother, cutting him off and leaping atop a large rock. She puffs her chest out, head held high. “It's been twelve moons since our kitting, right? That means we should have our warrior ceremonies.”
Fogpaw eyes her dubiously, but Moonpaw spies the small smile that creeps across his muzzle. She grins, feeling flush with victory.
“What do you think Pitchstar would’ve chosen for our warrior names?”
“Why don't we pick them ourselves?” Moonpaw’s tail wags playfully. Fun and ceremony like this feels sorely needed after their long, lonesome travel. It's been four moons since their camp caved in and the two of them were forced to head out on their own. It's about time they have some fun. “I'll pick a name and you can name me,” Moonpaw says, patting the rock she stands atop with a paw, “and then we swap – I'll give you the name you pick.”
“Okay,” Fogpaw laughs. “I want to do yours first. What's your warrior name going to be?”
“Moonpool.”
“You didn't even have to think about it?”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Moonpaw says, and it’s true, she has. She’s had a long, boring few moons to mull it over in her mind. “Okay, swap with me, give me my name!”
Laughing, the apprentices trade places, Moonpaw hopping down from the rock so Fogpaw can scramble atop it and look down at his sister.
“I, Fogpaw of NimbusClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon– what're the words?”
Moonpaw rolls her eyes. He should have let her go first. “Look down on this apprentice,” Moonpaw recites easily. She's been looking forward to this since her nursery days. It’s not anything like how she dreamed it would be, but having Fogpaw smiling down at her makes the unorthodox celebration worth it. “They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as a warrior in their turn.”
“Wow, you seriously have that memorized?”
Moonpaw carries on, ignoring him. “Do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”
“Well, do you?” Fogpaw leans down on the rock, gesturing to Moonpaw.
Emotion swells in Moonpaw’s chest. “I do.”
Fogpaw smiles warmly at her and sits upright. “Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Moonpaw, from this moment on, you will be known as Moonpool.” Fogpaw cocks his head at her, a considering expression on his face. “StarClan honors you for your judgment. We welcome you as a full warrior of NimbusClan.”
Fogpaw leaps down from the rock to rest his muzzle atop Moonpool's head and she licks his shoulder in turn, eyes misty with emotion.
“Thank you,” She whispers when he pulls back.
He grins at her. “Don't get sappy just yet, you have to do mine now!”
“Right, right, okay.” Moonpool hops up onto the rock, the greenleaf sun warming her shoulder blades. “Did you think of a name?”
Fogpaw's eyebrows draw down in thought. “Hmm…”
“How about Fogfreckle?” Moonpool suggests, pointing at him with her tail. “On account of your markings?”
He looks over his shoulder at his dappled pelt. “Okay. Yeah, I like it.” He turns back to smile up at her. “Fogfreckle it is.”
Moonpool grins, then draws in a deep breath and recites the ceremonial words once more.
“By the powers of StarClan, I grant you your warrior name. Fogpaw, from this moment on, you will be known as Fogfreckle.” She watches as Fogfreckle swells with determination. Her eyes shine, and she continues without hesitation. “StarClan honors your courage. We welcome you as a full warrior of NimbusClan.”
She hops down to rest her muzzle atop Fogfreckle's head, and then both cats tip their heads back and bellow across the mountain.
“Moonpool! Fogfreckle! Moonpool! Fogfreckle!”
Filled to the brim with excitement and ceremony, the pair of them chase each other around the mountain, laughing and leaping at each other and wrestling across the warm ground.
“So, are we going to stand vigil?” Fogfreckle asks, panting with exertion from their play fight.
“Stand vigil where? We don't have a camp to guard.”
“Wherever we find to sleep tonight,” Fogfreckle shrugs, a smooth roll of his shoulders under sun-warmed fur. “We can take turns, like with the names. I'll guard you first, and then you can guard me. We're warriors of NimbusClan, and we protect each other.”
Moonpool smiles at him, having to fight back the beginning prickle of emotion behind her eyes. “Pitchstar would be proud of you, you know. Not only as your mentor, but as leader.”
Fogfreckle grins at her. “You basically mentored me the rest of the way.”
“Me?” Moonpool is surprised, her eyes widening. “Hardly! You didn't need any of my help,” she laughs.
“I learned a lot from you. I'm still the better hunter,” he adds without an ounce of modesty, and Moonpool laughs and throws her shoulder against his, “but I don't think I could've done this without you by my side. You’re… I really look to you for guidance. I probably would've been killed by those cats if you hadn't come to rescue me on the border that day. You're more… you think first, which I’ll admit I don’t always do. You'd make a good leader, I think.”
Moonpool is shocked, embarrassed, but nonetheless pleased. “Come on. I got scared by a mouse earlier. That's hardly leadership material.”
Fogfreckle shrugs, but he's smiling. “Leaders can always use a bit of humility. Either way, you'll make a great warrior, Moonpool.” His smile turns teasing. “Especially with me by your side.”
She knocks her head against his affectionately and then races up the mountain, calling after him to chase her.
[Previous] [Start] [Next]
Seasons Greetings to all those who want to be greeted seasonally!
Interlude 3-4
[Previous] [Start] [Next]
no but really how do cobwebs work
Moon 3, Part 2
[Previous] [Start] [Next]
Without a second of hesitation, Moonpaw takes off over the mountain, mouth open to follow Fogpaw’s scent as her paws fly over the rocks. Her legs are screaming, but adrenaline overpowers her exhaustion.
“Fogpaw?” She yowls. “Fogpaw!”
“I’m here.” Fogpaw’s voice sounds from somewhere nearby, strained but blessedly alive. Moonpaw turns in the direction of the sound and darts around the edge of an outcropping of rock, freezing as the sour scent of blood fills her nostrils.
“Fogpaw?”
“I told you, I’m right here,” He hisses. He’s half on the ground, struggling to pull himself to his paws, so Moonpaw goes to press her body to his to help him up. His pale fur is stained and streaked with blood from long gashes that mar his flank and there are clumps of fur stuck between his claws.
“What happened to you?” Moonpaw is terrified. The scent of blood reminds her of her last night at home and she struggles not to gag. “It smells like other cats.”
“It was other cats,” he spits, leaning heavily on her as she guides them back towards where she first spotted the rabbit. He limps, wincing with each step. “Remember those cats we met up with at the border? They’re using our hunting grounds.” Fogpaw’s voice shakes with anger. “I confronted them, but they said we don’t have a clan anymore which means that the territory is theirs. They said that if I tried to stop them, they’d make me pay. Well,” he laughs humorlessly, “I tried, but there were too many of them. I’m lucky that what little honor they have left was enough to stop them from killing me.”
Thank StarClan. She can’t lose her brother, too. He’s the only thing she has left. “You’re too reckless,” Moonpaw scolds. Fogpaw’s muzzle twists into a scowl, but he doesn’t deny it. “We have to leave, Fogpaw. We need to find somewhere new. We can rebuild NimbusClan, but it can’t be here.”
He looks at her, his eyes going wide and round. Slowly, a determined sheen comes over them. “Alright. Lead the way, Moonpaw.”
[Previous] [Start] [Next]
Moon 3, Part 1
[Previous] [Start] [Next]
“Stop breathing on me.”
“I’m not anywhere near you, Fogpaw.”
“You are, because you’re close enough to be breathing on me.”
StarClan help her.
“What’s your problem?” Moonpaw asks, unable to keep claws of exasperation from sharpening her voice. She’s not anywhere near him. They’ve been walking side by side for ages, up this horrible, hot mountain to the highest edge of their territory, under the horrible, blazing sun, and only now he’s going to fuss that she’s been beside him this entire time?
“What’s your problem?” He mocks in a poor imitation of Moonpaw’s meow, sticking his tongue out at the end of his sentence.
Moonpaw scoffs. The fur along her back is so warm it feels as though it’s been set aflame under the full force of the greenleaf sun, and her paws ache with the near-vertical climb up harsh ground. Short on patience, she lifts a paw and bats Fogpaw with it. He should consider himself lucky she kept her claws sheathed.
Fogpaw whirls on her, astonished and angry, and whaps her with a paw of his own. Her ears flatten and her fur bristles as she rears back, tail fluffed up to twice its size.
“Seriously, what is wrong with you?”
“You hit me first!”
“Because you’re being an idiot!”
“Well, if you would stop stepping all over me–”
“FINE!” Moonpaw screeches. A few songbirds lift from the sparse trees that cling to the cliffside, startled. “If I’m just so in your way, I’ll get out of your fur!”
“GOOD!” Fogpaw yowls back. “I’m going hunting by myself!”
Fogpaw stomps off and Moonpaw hisses at his retreating back, her own arched and angry. What is he being such a mouse-brain for? She whips around, intending to get her emotions out by sinking her claws into something, but her head is too cloudy with anger to focus on the scents surrounding her. It doesn’t help any that somebody had her training cut short because her mentor got buried under a pile of boulders.
Angry tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, she crouches down in defeat. She can’t do this. She can’t do this – pretending that everything is fine, walking in some random direction and hoping for a miracle. She’s walked every inch of this territory since her earliest apprentice days. The best place for a camp was drowned in rocks and rubble. They’re not going to find another one.
Despair sinks quick claws into her chest, overwhelms her with the thought, I wish StarClan had buried me, too.
A sharp blur of color speeds past her. Pupils dilating, her despair fades to the back of her mind as she hones in on a rabbit that’s sped by and settled several fox-lengths away, sniffing and nibbling at some grass that’s struggling to grow through the cracks in the rock.
She flexes her claws against the rough ground. Catching a juicy piece of fresh-kill is the best kind of therapy.
Dropping into a hunter’s crouch, she drags her belly slowly over the mountain as she creeps up on the rabbit, closing the distance between them to a few tail-lengths. The wind is in her favor, and the rabbit hasn’t spotted her yet.
An ear-splitting yowl cuts through the air. The rabbit’s ears go up, eyes round and frightened, and it bounds away. Alarmed, Moonpaw’s ears also fly up, head swiveling in the direction of the noise.
Fogpaw.
[Previous] [Start] [Next]
THANK YOU ALL SOOOOO SO MUCH FOR 100 FOLLOWERS!!!
This is beyond incredible to me. I just recently passed the first month anniversary of this comic, and there's already a hundred of you here?! That is so special to me, thank you all for following Moonpaw and Fogpaw on their journey. 💖
Interlude 2-3
[Previous] [Start] [Next]
Aw, one big happy famil-- oh, no. oh, wait,
[Previous] [Start] [Next]
Moon 2
[Previous] [Start] [Next]
“Moonpaw, wake up. We have to keep moving. Moonpaw.”
Moonpaw mrrps in sleepy protest as she's jostled awake by her brother's paw digging insistently into her shoulder. She cracks one bleary eye open, momentarily disoriented by her surroundings.
Right. They’re not at home. They don't have a home.
She stands, stiff from sleeping on bark, her muscles protesting as she arches her back and stretches her legs. The sun that slots into their log from an opening at the top paints the inside in streaks of rich reds and browns, so different from the cool, smooth stone she’s used to waking up to. She misses her moss nest fiercely in that moment, the weight of her grief threatening to overwhelm her, but she forces the feeling away with a shake of her head. There is no comfortable, warm nest for her to return to. Not now, not ever, and she needs to move on.
“Coming,” she mumbles sleepily, rubbing a paw against her eyes as Fogpaw turns and ducks out of the log. “How'd you sleep?” She stumbles out into the sunlight and shivers in the weak, earling morning newleaf air.
“I've certainly slept better,” Fogpaw mews, licking a paw and drawing it over one of his ears. “Best not to dwell on it. Breakfast first.”
Moonpaw nods, padding after Fogpaw as he weaves through the sparse mountain pines. She opens her mouth, scenting for prey, and sets her ears on a swivel to better hone in on the skittering of small paws through the bed of fallen pine needles that soften the cats' footfalls.
The breeze drifts the scent of mouse towards Moonpaw and her tail flicks up in excitement. She shoots a look Fogpaw's way and he nods and veers off in another direction, allowing her this hunt to chase his own prey.
Creeping forward, the words of her former mentor rings in her ears. Keep your paws light. Even so much as a scattered pebble will alert your catch to your presence. She never was able to complete her training and earn her warrior name, she thinks with a pang, but files that sadness away for later. She has enough information to know how to hunt, and she and Fogpaw will have plenty of time to practice now.
The mouse she's stalking shows itself, leaping onto the root of a tree, little whiskers twitching. Moonpaw waggles her haunches, preparing to launch herself at it, but as she leaps she slips on the loose pine needles underfoot and falls short of her catch. The mouse darts away and she lunges forward, hoping to snag it with a claw as it escapes, but it's too far from her outstretched paws and disappears into a hole in the ground.
“Star-damned trees,” Moonpaw growls to herself and sits back with a huff, her tail tip twitching. “Hunting on the mountain was so much easier.”
Prey continues to evade her for the rest of the afternoon. Squirrels run up trees, voles dive for cover under the leaf litter, and one particularly annoying chase after a songbird ends with Moonpaw landing in a puddle of mud.
She screeches with disgust, the bird long gone, and drags herself out of the mud to shake her fur. Her nose wrinkles in disgust at the state of her pelt. This is going to take ages to clean out of her white fur. Hopefully, Fogpaw is faring better with his hunt.
She follows her brother's scent trail to find him laden with mice, pawfuls of them at his feet. As he glances up and makes eye contact with her, the corner of his muzzle ticks up in amusement. “Rough hunt?”
“Do. Not,” Moonpaw huffs, eyeing his sleek, clean coat enviously. She drops herself next to him in a patch of sunlight and begins to groom her coat. Between mouthfuls of fur, she says, “we need to find someplace else on the territory to stay. This is no place for a mountain cat to settle.” She darts a pointed look at his small mountain of prey. “Except for you, maybe.”
Fogpaw mrrps a laugh and pushes a mouse towards her. “You can have some. I caught plenty.” He settles onto his paws and helps Moonpaw clear the mud from her fur. “I agree, though. I think we should look around the rockier places of our territory until we find a place that could work as a new camp.”
“A whole camp?” Moonpaw says doubtfully, tongue paused in her grooming. “I could settle for a couple of safe hollows in a rock. What do we need a whole camp for?”
“Rebuilding NimbusClan, of course.”
“Oh, Fogpaw–”
“No, Moon, seriously. I don't want to spend the rest of our days as rogues. I want–” he falters, eyeing her hesitantly before continuing. “I've always wanted a family, one like ours. Mom and Dad and us, it just… made me so happy, you know? I want that for myself one day.” He casts his eyes away from her, his shoulders hiking up around his ears, and Moonpaw knows he’s fighting back tears.
Moonpaw smiles gently at Fogpaw, her own eyes misting a little. “It made me happy too, Fogpaw. Makes me happy. They're watching over us in StarClan, I'm sure of it.” She curls her tail reassuringly over his back.
“I'm sure they are,” He murmurs, resting his head against hers. “I miss them.”
“I miss them, too.”
They sit that way for a while, purring softly with each other as the newleaf breeze plays over their fur. Eventually, they tuck into the mice Fogpaw caught, and then curl together to take a nap in the sunshine.
[Previous] [Start] [Next]
---
(Okay so yes I know moons are months and so far the timeline of the fic portions doesn’t exactly line up with that, but bear with me for the sake of storytelling purposes)
Moon 1
[Previous] [Start] [Next]
As the two cats climb the slope away from everything they’ve ever known, Moonpaw sends a fervent prayer to StarClan as thanks for sparing her brother.
She watches the strong shape of his shoulders as they move under his pelt, carrying him up the mountain, the swish of his tail as it guides her forward, and knows that without him, she’d have lain down in that cave and let the darkness have her. Without her clan – without her brother – she’s nothing.
With only the moonlight and twinkling Silverpelt to guide them forward, the mountain seems ominous and threatening in the dark. Outcroppings of rock throw insidious shadows over them, spires of stone stab high into the sky and curve like the talons of an eagle. Fogpaw lowers his nose to a scraggly shrub that clings stubbornly to the unforgiving landscape and adjusts his course for the border of their territory. Moonpaw slinks after him, head low and ears flattened nervously against her skull.
She scents it before she sees it, the border with their neighboring clan strong with the scents of foreign cats. “We’re here,” Fogpaw murmurs, brushing a comforting tail over Moonpaw’s back before stepping forward, claw-tips straddling the edge of the scent-marks denoting the line between territories as he lifts his head and caterwauls into the night.
After the sound of his announcement fades across the mountainside, he turns to look back at Moonpaw, his cobalt eyes round and unsure. The line of his body is bold, his tail and head held high, but Moonpaw has grown beside him since their nursery days. She knows that he’s nervous, even if he’s not showing it outright. His eyes shine with apprehension.
Just then, a clatter of pebbles alerts the pair of them to movement on the other side of the border. Moonpaw presses herself to Fogpaw’s flank, body tense, as the shadows melt away to reveal three neighboring patrol cats, alerted by Fogpaw’s yowl.
“What is your business at our border so late at night?” The largest of the cats spits, unkindly, flanked by the other two of his clan members. His eyes flit between the two siblings, sizing them up with an unimpressed frown.
“Our home has been destroyed, and our clan with it,” Fogpaw explains. Moonpaw feels unsteady under the wary gaze of the other cats and wants to sink her claws into the rock beneath her pads for a sense of balance, but refrains, not wanting the action to be interpreted as a threat. “We ask that you welcome us into your clan. We’re only apprentices.”
The large cat bursts into laughter, his voice rough and mocking. The two cats beside him snicker, the three of them exchanging amused glances.
“As if we’re going to accept you scrawny rejects into our clan,” the large cat continues to laugh, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight as he grins. “You’re no more than rogues now, if what you say is true. We don’t take in rogues.”
“You better scram, before we make you,” one of the other cats says. His muscles are thick, bulging under his pelt, and Moonpaw hasn’t had nearly enough battle training in the scant few moons she’s been an apprentice to feel ready for a confrontration. Even if she felt as though she could take on this single cat should she need to, they’re outnumbered. “We don’t take kindly to rogues trespassing on our territory.”
Fogpaw scoffs, affronted, and Moonpaw’s fur spikes along her back, a lightning bolt of fear racing down her spine. “We’re not on your territory,” Fogpaw spits, gesturing between each of their groups. “We’re still on our side of the border.”
“You don’t have a clan anymore,” the third cat jeers. “What border?”
Fogpaw bristles, tail lashing furiously, and the other cats get to their paws like they’re ready to make true on their threat to run them off. “Fogpaw,” Moonpaw murmurs, brushing her tail along his side. “Let’s not do this. We should leave.”
Fogpaw spares the other cats one last, angered look, and then turns tail and stalks away, calling for Moonpaw to follow. The mean laughter of the clan cats echoes behind them as they turn the corner and head down a slope that hugs the mountainside, loose pebbles clattering away under their paws as they make their way down.
Rogues. Moonpaw shivers, hastening her step to keep up with Fogpaw’s furious pace. “What are we going to do now, Fogpaw?” Moonpaw asks, anxious. “We don’t have a clan anymore.”
“We are the clan,” Fogpaw reminds her. “We are NimbusClan. And what we’re going to do right now is hunt, because I’m starving and we need to keep our strength up.”
What about the Warrior Code? Moonpaw thinks to herself, padding after Fogpaw as the terrain levels out and they find themselves in a sparsely wooded clearing she’d only passed through a couple times when out with her mentor. Will StarClan punish them if they eat outside of the camp?
They’re the only two cats left, so StarClan surely will understand their need. There are no other cats to bring fresh-kill back to. Moonpaw settles into a crouch at the base of a tree, tucked between the roots as Fogpaw slinks behind a bush and scents the air for prey. Exhausted, hungry, and grieving, Moonpaw doesn’t have the energy to hunt right now, so she watches her brother flick the tip of his tail as he stalks across the ground, the light of the moon that filters through the sparse trees flickering against his dappled pelt.
Fogpaw works hard to catch them dinner, chasing a squirrel halfway up a tree and just managing to sink his teeth into its tail. It shrieks an alarm call into the quiet of the night, but Fogpaw pulls it from the tree with a hard tug and lands nimbly on the ground, giving it a swift bite to the neck to silence its cries. He drags the fresh-kill over to where Moonpaw crouches and noses it towards her.
When she doesn’t eat immediately, eyeing him with worry, he shrugs and tucks his paws under himself. “You eat first. Everything that’s happened this evening has given me a stomachache.”
Moonpaw drapes her tail sympathetically over her brother and tears the squirrel into equal portions for them, pushing Fogpaw’s share towards him. “You said it yourself, we have to keep our strength up. Eat at least a little.”
He flashes her a small, quick smile and digs in, the two cats pressed side by side as they eat. Disposing of the remains of their meal so as not to attract any scavengers, Moonpaw spots a hollowed out log for them to spend the rest of the night in that shelters them from the mountain winds. It’s nothing at all like her nest back home, the bark hard and cold beneath her pelt, but it’s safe for now and at the very least, she has the comfort of her brother’s warm body pressed up against hers to help lull her to sleep.
[Previous] [Start] [Next]
Interlude 0-1
[Previous] [Beginning] [Next]
Swirling clouds encircle the summit of Star Reach, stirred as if by a breeze.
No wind blows here in StarClan. Frostcrest settles delicately beside the leader she had in life, curling her tail neatly over her paws.
“She’s hardly more than a kit, Pitchstar.”
“Moonpaw will not fall,” The old, dark bengal replies. His eyes are fixed unwaveringly on the churning, writhing clouds below him. Frostcrest’s gaze drifts to it. A blurry, rippled image of her son floats amidst the mist. He pads along a mountain trail, unaware that the eyes of StarClan are upon him.
Frostcrest’s face twitches, her whiskers tightening.
“After all,” Pitchstar continues, “she has her brother with her.”
[Previous] [Beginning] [Next]
Refs for our starter kitties!
Moonpaw: A pale tabby she-cat, eyes of sunlit ice, medium fur length. Nervous, picky nest-builder. 8m old.
Fogpaw: A white, unusually spotted (rosette) pale gray tom, cobalt eyes, medium fur length. Daring, quick to make peace, picky nest-builder. 8m old.
Moon 0
[Next]
After the dust settles, the silence that follows is deafening.
It presses against Moonpaw’s eardrums, suffocating her and sucking all the air from her lungs. The only other sound in the apprentice's den is the panting of her brother’s shallow, rapid inhales of breath, knocking hard against Moonpaw’s own ribcage. His body is warm against hers, his muscles taut and hard like the walls of rock that surround them.
“Pitchstar?” Moonpaw mews into the dark. The blackness is so thick she can hardly see even with her pupils as wide as the boulder that’s blocking the entrance to their den. “Frostcrest?”
“The kits,” Fogpaw’s voice shakes in her ear. It’s utterly wrecked, twisted with fear. “Condorkit!” He screeches. “Whisperkit!”
There is no response. Only the deafening, crushing silence.
“Fogpaw, we have to find a way out of here,” Moonpaw mews. “We have to help them.” All of her fur is standing on end, fluffed out to twice her size. Despite the silence, the yowls of her clanmates echo in Moonpaw’s ears. The way their cries had cut off so abruptly– Moonpaw shivers. She can’t think about it. She can’t.
Fogpaw leaps forward, claws scraping uselessly against the rock wedged into the entrance. All of NimbusClan’s dens are hollows that have been carved away by time within a cave set into the base of the mountain they call home. Home has always felt so safe to Moonpaw. Of course, she’s known the dangers of the mountain ever since she was a kit – older warriors and mentors would often warn that falling rocks are one of the deadliest threats to an unaware cat. The mountain is strong, protective, but can be deadly - just like any warrior. She could never have imagined it could harm the camp, despite the warnings she grew up with. Tucked away into its cozy little cave, this camp has lasted moons and moons, through many generations of cats. A tragedy of this magnitude is… it was impossible.
Moonpaw huddles in the middle of the den, shivering with terror as Fogpaw hisses in frustration and scrambles on top of the boulder, scraping at a few smaller rocks balanced atop it. Suddenly, moonlight streams in through a crack Fogpaw has managed to punch through the rocks, illuminating stripes of both cats’ pale fur.
“Keep going!” Moonpaw meows, leaping to her paws, but Fogpaw doesn’t need the encouragement. He’s already pawing with renewed vigor, scraping away at the rocks as they fall away and bounce against the floor of the den. Each clatter of stone on stone sends a stab of ice cold fear through Moonpaw’s heart. The cacophonous sound of rocks tumbling against each other as they filled the camp, shaking the ground and vibrating up through Moonpaw’s pelt as she was ripped from sleep, rushes back to her. She has to force down the bile that rises in her throat as the terror threatens to overwhelm her.
Soon, Fogpaw has cleared enough of the smaller rocks to squeeze his head and shoulders through, and he beckons Moonpaw with his tail. “Let’s go, let’s go– our clanmates– Moonpaw, hurry–”
Moonpaw scrambles up the rock after her brother, squeezing herself through the small opening after him. The sight that greets the two apprentices has Moonpaw’s blood freezing in her veins.
There’s not a single whisker-length of camp that isn’t covered in rubble. There’s barely any space left at the camp entrance, only a sliver between the arch of the cave wall above their heads and the boulders that crowd together beneath it that lets the light of the moon stream in.
“Locuststripe! Loudtalon!” Fogpaw yowls, leaping from boulder to boulder. The scent of blood is strong and sharp in Moonpaw’s nostrils. Grief constricts her throat. She can’t shout, can’t help, can’t move. “Pebblespore!”
“Stop–” Moonpaw chokes out, “Stop, Fogpaw– they’re– they’re gone. We have to– have to get out–”
Fogpaw is instantly at her side, his comforting scent wreathing around her as he curls his tail over her shoulders. “You’re right.” Even in the face of unspeakable horror, her brother remains strong. His voice is broken, and Moonpaw can tell he’s shaking from where he’s pressed up against her, but he stays strong for her. She draws strength from his and pulls herself up onto her paws. “We have to get out. We can’t– stay here. Not anymore. Let’s go, Moonpaw.”
His shoulders brush the ceiling of the cave as he squeezes his way out through the entrance, guiding Moonpaw with the touch of his tail against her back as they clamber over the uneven stones. They leap down from one of the boulders wedged into the entrance of their camp and turn to look at the devastation. Moonpaw wants to throw her head to the sky and wail, but her voice has disappeared. All she can do is stare in disbelief at the landslide of rocks and mud that has ruined her home.
“It’s all gone,” her voice cracks. “Our home, Fogpaw, it’s all gone.”
“It’s not,” he assures her. He presses his nose into her fur, voice muffled. “It’s not. We’re still here. You and me, Moonpaw. NimbusClan is still here.”
Moonpaw chokes back a sob and curls into her brother. They sit there for a while, in front of the remnants of their lost clan, underneath the gentle glow of Silverpelt. She feels shocked and filled to the brim with grief. There’s no room for anything other than despair within her.
“Come on,” Fogpaw nudges her eventually, coaxing her to her paws. Her legs feel stiff and cold from where they’ve been folded under her. “We can’t sit here forever. Why don’t we head to the border, see if our neighboring Clan will help us?”
With no other plan of action, Moonpaw nods. He’s right. They can’t stay here forever. She spares one last, longing glance at the mound of rubble that was once her home, and pushes down on her exhaustion and grief in order to follow behind Fogpaw.
[Next]
Moonpaw Sketch. Moonpaw is owned by Karina, or @dilfosaur on Tumblr.
Power Outage #101 ….I Love Moonpaw….
(Moonpaw is owned by Karina)
Alternates Below!:
@dilfosaur @drawfee
i have no hope for this arc to be good but god i am praying moonpaw gets to be an absolute freak of nature
have another moonpaw
tbh I like my moonpaw design better but for warrior cats standards her canon one is pretty cool. I did both side by side :D
ik this an oc blog BUT MOONPAW
