frozen river ♡ open

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    The winter moons had taken it's toll on Riverclan . . . even in Sweetpaw's blissful arrogance to clan troubles, even she could feel the effect of the tension with other clans, the scarcity of prey and the cruelness of the winter winds. Through the thick foliage, her unkept, ivory coat could be seen against the bleak, dying plants. A sigh escaped her maw - what was once beautiful, flourishing flowers was now on the brink of an icy death. As she arrived at the river bank, small pads leaving delicate marks in the mud, the nonchalant expression across her innocent, youthful features suddenly lit up.


    The river was frozen over!


    A flouncing laugh left her lips as she bounded ungracefully forward. The crystalline water had become a solid sheet of ice, a beautiful sparkling glacier that held up firmly as she placed a single paw upon it. Sweetpaw had no caution as she placed all her short limbs on the ice; within seconds, the femme was sliding across the ice, using her thickly plumed tail to keep her from toppling over.


    Flowing, condescending intentions broke the fine layer of dusted frost that covered the moon-dappled moor; soft enthusiasm held with high esteem in the handsome, evergreen gaze of the burly male. It was well past the eve of November, furthermore it was well past the time in which he'd decided to return home. Though despite the change, it was a bit off-putting knowing that his arrival had suddenly swung in at the other medicine cat, Rootlegs. The two had talked, in both friendly affection and worry, and from what Chase understood, the male was a bit unstable now. He was tired, growing gray around the edges, and even though Chase, himself, was also tired, he was the younger of the two. Not to mention he'd taken his leave beforehand, and now it was time to return to favour while his partner-in-medicine recovered.


    "You know, I-I've never been the biggest fan of water." Large paws could be found sitting a few feet back, chuckling as he watched the tiny wonder dance upon the ice. He couldn't share in her fun, but passion certainly did highlight itself upon his cheekbones as he pressed a soft thought to his lips. "Is fear going to stop you forever...?" He sighed to himself, lifting a paw to reach out at the frozen water only to sit it back down and push it closer to his chest. "I suppose so."


    [ side note because a lot of people don't know! chase has PTSD and it is triggered by water, he can handle it better now, but his fear still remains. c: ]

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    Thistlepaw had taken to solidarity in the two days since he’d premiered crested on the muddy shore of the winter river, which mostly entailed leaving the camp when he really probably shouldn’t have been and finding hollows at the base of trees to sleep. The lull of the sloshing river was, for whatever reason, soothing to him. Perhaps it was a birthright of some sort; no mater his history, he was born of the water. It hadn’t occurred to him that the cold could become so powerful as to render the river useless, however. The glassy sheen of ice stretched across the expanse of dark water, frost littering the tops of the freeze, in the sort of mystifying way that comes from complete unfamiliarity. He’d never truly experienced winter, let alone an ice rink.


    Greenish eyes landed upon the swirling form of Sweetpaw. Her excitable frame ebbing and flowing with the natural currents of frozen water, skating across the surface with unrefined grace. He stood at the edge, close to the unbloomed foliage of the bank, watching. “Unlucky to live here, isn’t it?” the young tom thoughtfully wondered, glancing toward Chasingcomets with eyes pulled in consideration at the edges. What kind of RiverClan cat was afraid of water, he wondered.