HEATHER, HEATHER, AND HEATHER — open, introduction

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    "shoot." the word lounges on her tongue moments after the mouse spins away from her outstretched claws and shoots into the crooks of a lone tree's roots. irritation pricks at her brain, all static, and her limbs jerk her up to her feet as she stalks to the creature's haven only to slow as she nears it, already recognizing it as a lost cause. so rather than try to jam a finger into the little hole, she instead lounges against the tree itself, lips tugging into an irritated grimace. concentration alludes teeth at the moment, her mind attracted to other things, more pressing matters that weigh down on her soul and body, disabling the need to strive. peachmoon, for instance. teeth isn't sure what happened there, it's all very unreal to her. when one's sibling gets snatched up by grabby, ugly, twolegs, how should one react? angry, perhaps, which she no doubt is, hellfire jumping her bones, but guilty too. guilt is a heavy feeling, a sharpened knife, carving out her insides and churning her heart into butter. she's angry that she wasn't there at the scene of the crime, but guilty that she hadn't heard of it until the next day. and she's angry that peach got snatched up, but hurt that she hadn't spent more time with her before then. see, cause you never know how much its gonna hurt 'till they're gone and honestly, it's damn near unbearable. maybe that's why she's spending even more time with her remaining sister.


    speaking of, dark eyes lift toward her now, watching her carry out her own hunt a little ways from where she slouches. she's always admired daze's skill over her own. where teeth was all prowess and power, she was the opposite, and that was always something she's liked about her. they're two sides of the same coin, daze and herself, though she likes to think that her side is a little shinier, a little nicer. out of the two of them, she looks friendlier, acts friendlier, is friendlier, as a matter of fact; and teeth is... something else. she's not sure how to describe herself, really. she fares better at gauging other people than herself.

    blegh i forgot how to write ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ HEATHERDAZE

    ❝ CANDYSTORE ❞ HEATHERTEETH

    THUNDERCLAN & INFORMATION

    low in the water and nowhere to go *:･ﾟ✧*

    ( the tiniest lifeboat full of people i know )

    Ivory stained paws parted frosted grass silently as a slender cream frame crouched close to the forest floor, lemon drop eyes fixed on a mouse grooming itself a few bounds ahead. A slow exhale accompanied another sure step forward, unsheathed claws curling into the snow as she crept forward. Hunting was a welcomed distraction from the Clan, a torrent of incessant trauma that Heatherdaze had once been able to stay out of. But it was no longer confined in the camp's thick bramble walls; vines of anguish reached out to wrap around her throat, tearing the breath from her lungs and knocking her feet out from beneath her. Quiet inhale, another slow step toward the mouse. Those Heatherdaze held close were gone now, either by their own accord or forcibly taken from her. Daze did not harbor hatred, nor anger, not in the way her remaining sister did: melting flesh and charring one's own bones with such a destructive temperament. Instead the femme was weighted down with grief, shackles around her paws dragging through the soil with every agonizing step. Her steady breathing had turned ragged as her heart caught up with her head, thoughts having drifted off of the preening prey to the disappearance of Peachmoon. A gaping hole in her life, one Heatherdaze had never considered she would have to face. A miscalculated step crunched the snow beneath her paws, small black eyes meeting her own wide gaze before the mouse darted from sight beneath the sheet of snow she had been carefully traversing. "Ugh," the cameo huffed, rising to her full height to peer above the snowline in search of Heatherteeth.


    Her sister was resting against a tree, a lack of soft copper scent in the air- Heatherteeth had been just as unproductive as she had, it seemed. Heatherdaze met her sister's gaze for a fleeting moment, lips curling up into a warm smile as she tread toward her sibling. "No luck either?" Heatherdaze inquired the obvious as she neared, moving to run her cheek across her sister's own before taking a seat closely alongside her. Heather had, at one time, shied away from touch: valuing her personal space over the pressure of other bodies against her own. But now she was left wishing she had touched her siblings more often: brushed against Peachmoon more frequently, headbutted Bonepaw whenever they passed. Daze was not making the same mistake with her last remaining sibling, flaxen fur ruffling against the winter winds as she leaned into Heatherteeth's auburn locks. To think they were so different, yet so close. Regaining even breaths, golden eyes fluttered shut as her thoughts once more shifted. Heatherteeth was hurting- something Daze had not seen from her sibling in so long, if ever. It caused an ache in her own chest, to see a sort of burden flickering in her dark copper eyes. Did she blame herself? Heatherdaze was her sister's heart, while Heatherteeth was her claws- to see the roles reversed in the slightest of ways, for the briefest of moments: Heatherdaze would do anything for her sister, but oh how it hurt to know she could not lift the sorrow from her shoulders.


    "It's cold," Heatherdaze murmured, hunching her shoulders. "Hope no one was counting on us catching something," she joked lightly, turning her head to offer another light smile.