☆~STARDUSTCLAN!!!!~☆

OOC: Dawny, you silly old thing, you need to learn how to keep up, furball! *teasing grin*
Morningglory is having her kits (I came into the world!); Twilightfur, Honeystep, Cometblaze, Falconcry and Owlsight have put down the vixen who had attacked Ravencry; There's an upcoming ceremony after things fall back into place which promises to be HUGE XD And I miss Novapaw.
P.S. This is easily my favorite thread. ._.

IC:
Thistlekit meowed loudly in response. Certainly, she could hear nothing and see nothing, but she figured that she could monopolize everyone's attention by yelling at the top of her lungs. Her little body trembled from the effort of pushing herself forward, following the inviting scent of milk and the promise of warmth emanated from her mother. Next to her, she could feel her siblings and the familiarity of the presences was comforting. She felt love - the most important feeling in the world, the one she would want to hold on to for the rest of her days in the clan. She latched as soon as she had covered the exhausting distance to her mother's tummy (mind you, not that big a deal, but still harder than anything a lazy newborn could bear) and her yelling was stopped by the heavy, greedy gulps.

Squirrelpad was not much for medicine stuff and felt quite distressed when Skymist left again. However, births came naturally, with just a few that went wrong. Morningglory, although being a very young mother, seemed to be doing just fine. The elder's heart grew with pride and admiration for the female as she read the wonderful love in her eyes as she spoke and tended to her young while still struggling with the ones that were still on the way.
"They're lovely, Morningglory. Just like their mother." Squirrelpad said. It was the first compliment the elder had given in a long while, but quite frankly she was feeling overwhelmed by emotions.

Frostpaw was padding back and forth in the camp. She stopped only rarely to check on sounds or look at Skymist and Lillypaw work. She felt useless, pointless and disappointed. She shouldn't have let the patrol leave without her. She should have insisted or, at least, make a gut call and follow them regardless. Instead, she decided to be submissive. She wouldn't even take risks for her own leader! What kind of warrior was she supposed to be?! She laid down, her heart racing in her chest. She panted from the rage that was engulfing her alarmingly fast. Her front paws came over her face and she just barely avoided a yowl of frustration. I don't deserve to become a warrior! She thought to herself, beating the life out of her in the concealment of her skull. That was no time for indulgence - she has made a mistake and for every wound found on the bodies of the leader, the deputy and the warriors who have joined her, she would fuel her self-loathing.

Owlsight backed away from the vixen, slowly. She was watching intently as the fox lay there, motionless, save for the heavy breaths it took that made her flank raise up and down. She was bleeding heavily and was now, probably fully blinded. "She didn't avoid the attacks, Twilightfur. For all it's worth, I don't think she'll make it. And there's no future awaiting her." Owlsight meowed carefully. She did not want to sound insensitive, it wasn't like herself to turn a blind, merciless eye to the suffering of others. "Perhaps it would be best to get it over and done with.".

OOC: Foxwhiskers, I understand your impatience, but posting OOCs over and over again won't really solve anything. Twilightfur will be going on with the birth of the kits whenever she comes back online. Hold on tight, sweet pea!

IC: Owlsight sat down next to Honeystep. She had listened to her troubled whispers, heard the accusations in her tone, thrown against StarClan itself. "Poor dear. She's exhausted." She meowed, licking Honeystep's ear gently. She pressed her chin against the flank of the she-cat and looked around protectively and yet, still on her guard. She didn't know what had happened to the deputy, what terrible past she bore with her, but she feared the blackness in it all the same. Her breath was steady, at the very least, the vitals normal, so to that extent there seemed to be no worry. However, the mind healed slower than the body and the wounds haunting Honeystep seemed far from having become scars.