"I'm up for anything," he said, stifling a yawn as he padded up to the deputy. Finally, there was something new to do around camp. He glanced sidelong at Dovepaw and Bluepaw as he just caught the fragment of a sentence about a WindClan patrol. His tail lashed once before he held it still. "Oh! I can come to WindClan too! If you need someone else," he added quickly. Another chance to see Smokehaze - it was almost as if StarClan was guiding his path. Maybe this was a sign? Was that even something StarClan did, to try to bring two cats together? He dug his claws into the earth anxiously, resolving himself to speak to her today. Omen or not, he could at least admit to himself that was what he wanted to do.

    "speaking." thoughts

    "O-oh, okay," he stammered quickly, yellow eyes quickly focusing on the ground as his ears flattened. Mouse-brain! He chided himself. Of course, he was just a stranger. She wouldn't want him trying to pry into her life. He knew he should've just kept his mouth shut, but he couldn't help what slipped out next. He at least wanted her to know what had motivated his comment. "I just thought... you just sounded a little shaky is all," he said quickly, shrugging slightly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude..." He trailed off, feeling too awkward to continue. Hopefully they'd get to the WindClan border soon so he wouldn't have to embarrass himself any more.

    "speaking." thoughts

    Half-asleep in a patch of sunlight, as he often was, he quickly jolted awake at the sound of Twistedstar's voice. He took a moment to process the sentence he had only partially caught - something about figuring out the pollution? He turned to look at the camp entrance, seeing a few warriors already heading over to where the leader stood. He hauled himself to his paws and shook out his sun-warmed pelt. Now seemed like as good a time as ever to demonstrate that he was a responsible warrior.

    "Hi Twistedstar," he said after trotting across the clearing. "What's happening? Did you find out where the poison is coming from?" A large paw reached up to quickly rub the sleep from his eyes and swipe down his bushy fur.

    "Uh, okay," he said, crouching down to let Nightfall hop off his back. He'd never met any kit who didn't enjoy badger-back rides, but the black molly was certainly unique in a lot of ways, so he supposed this wasn't very surprising. He shook out his long, dark pelt one more time before facing the kit again. "So then, what would you like to do instead?"

    "A badger-back ride is... well, it's when you give someone a ride," he said with a shrug. Didn't all kits know what a badger-back ride was? Maybe in whatever place Nightfall was from they didn't do them. He was about to continue their journey around the camp when he felt the sting of Nightfall's claws pierce into his side, and he yelped in pain and surprise. Kitten claws were tiny, but they were as sharp as anything. "Ow! What'd you do that for?" He asked, his tone more bemused than angry.

    Letting the kit pounce on his back, Swanfeather crouched before jumping up into the air, jostling Nightfall. "Want a badger-back ride?" He asked, stepping through the clearing with heavy strides. "Where should I take you?"

    Tired yellow eyes flew open as he felt the weight of another cat barrel into him. He grunted as he staggered and fell, the paw he had just been grooming splaying out unsteadily. His head twisted to the side, straining as he tried to get a good look at who had just jumped on him. A grin appeared on his face as he realized it was just Nightfall. "Oh, you don't have me yet!" He said, shaking his pelt hard in an attempt to dislodge her grip on his back. When he was younger, he had always never really enjoyed playing with kits, always finding it too boring and childish for his taste. But now it came so naturally. Hm. Maybe growing up didn't stop at becoming a warrior.

    Duckpaw, huh? His lips twisted into a suppressed smile as soon as the apprentice shared his name, not sure if he should say what he was thinking. He caved in a moment later, never one to keep a joke to himself. "Looks like we both take after birds," he said with a chuckle. Maybe it wasn't that funny, but he was a sucker for lame quips like that. His muscles relaxed as he realized that the confrontation was over, and he sat down on the soft grass near the border. His heavy tail began to sweep slowly back and forth across the grass as his tiredness was replaced by excitement at meeting a new cat.

    He raised his brows in mock offense at Duckpaw's description of the river. It wasn't exactly a unique opinion among non-RiverClanners, and the fear that other cats had for the water only served to feed his ego. "It's not so bad when you've grown up here," he said with a shrug. "It's dangerous sometimes, but the river feeds the clan." When it's not poisoned. But his unfazed grin cracked a little at Duckpaw's next comment, and his ears flattened guiltily. "N-no," he said, a little too quickly. "I've just had to go on a lot of border patrols, and... well, it doesn't matter." He glanced away for a moment, thankful that Duckpaw would continue on to another subject while his face warmed under his fur. There I go thinking of you again, Smokehaze. He cast the thought from his mind, refocusing on the conversation he had momentarily tuned out.

    A rush of sympathy filled the older tom at the apprentice's words. Duckpaw's brazen confidence seemed to slip for a moment, but he couldn't quite tell what had filled that gap. Was it sadness? Loneliness? Whatever the other tom was feeling, Swanfeather could empathize with him. He had experienced the exact same thing, after all. "What's her name?" He asked softly. "Maybe I could tell her about you... or you about her?" He had a sinking feeling that whoever this cat's mother was, she wasn't around anymore. No one he knew had ever talked about an illegitimate WindClan kit, not even in whispers. But there were still so many possibilities, he had probably known her at some point, right?

    Determined not to let Finchpaw get too far away, he leapt higher and higher as he chased after her tiny form, silhouetted against the branches. The excitement had drained out of him, replaced by a feeing of cold anxiety.

    He placed a broad gray paw on the next branch, only for it to suddenly swoop dangerously under his weight. His heart shuddered as he shakily retracted his foreleg. The tom was an adventurer by nature, but something about this felt all wrong to him. They were too far away from the ground. He felt as though he were receiving visions from StarClan, watching the thousand different ways an accident could happen flash rapidly before his eyes.

    Too heavy to climb further, all he could do was crane his head up at Finchpaw, whose feather-light body seemed to barely disturb the thinner branches. While her technique was clumsy, her steady upward motion seemed deliberate. What was she trying to achieve? How could she not realize the danger she was putting herself in?

    He hadn't wanted to be the one to ruin the fun. Although he had approved of Pearlgaze's sternness with the younger cats, he was loathe to be that kind of warrior. But now his concern for Finchpaw overrode his ego, and his voice carried into the sky as he called up to her.

    "I think you've gone high enough, Finchpaw! Can you please come down now?" He tried to keep his voice steady, but a nervous quaver edged the desperate words, betraying his fear. His brows furrowed as concerned yellow eyes followed her movements, muscles clenching every time her tiny paws reached a higher branch. Please, StarClan, just make her stop already.


    — swanfeather, swanpaw, swankit

    cis male, masculine, he/him

    pansexual + polyamorous | no preference

    — 25 moons, ages double on the 14th

    created april 14th 2019

    traditional riverclan | warrior


    — dark gray, longhaired maine coon mix with a white mask.

    his chest and underbelly are a lighter shade, and white hairs are scattered throughout his pelt.

    bright gold eyes

    — smells like sandalwood and apple blossoms

    detailed description:

    — swanfeather has a heavy-set, powerful build. his dark fur is long and layered, glinting with hints of silver and deeper blue. he is tall and broad-chested, suggesting an aura of dominance that is undercut by his more gentle personality. faint tabby marking score his face and legs. he walks gracefully, but often with an air of unconfidence that betrays his inner insecurities. his eyes are warm honey, swirling with dark copper and flecks of white light. his left ear has a large, triangular nick given by an eagle, and his shoulder is scored with faded scars from a fox attack. his left shoulder still occasionally seizes from the muscle damage he endured during the fight. despite his intimidating appearance, his inexperience in battle and large frame makes his fighting style a clumsy one, more reliant on brute strength than clever tactics.


    swan is laid-back, relaxed, and humorous. his main concern in life is to have a good time, which pairs well with his natural extroversion and friendliness. however, his pursuit of short-term enjoyments can leave him hurting in the long run; he often shirks responsibility and is quite forgetful, although not maliciously so. more responsible cats may view him as immature. he feels a general loyalty towards riverclan, but feels more connection to the land and cats than the entity of the clan itself.

    he is very non-judgemental, and his trust and friendship are easy to obtain; this also means he is quite gullible. swan isn't unintelligent, but lacks focus, often speaking without thinking and appearing empty-headed. he is impulsive and reckless, as he rarely considers the consequences of his words or actions beforehand.

    he can seem lazy and hedonistic, spending as much time as he can eating, sleeping, and goofing around. he enjoys both telling and hearing stories, and seems to have his head in the clouds. his adaptable attitude can easily slip into complacency.

    despite his casual nature, swan struggles with deeper emotional connections. he is often afraid to be serious and may try to maintain an inappropriate cheerfulness when others are upset. he finds great difficulty in expressing his emotions, and fears commitment of any kind.


    family: swanfeather was born to riverclan parents. his father left the clan after falling in love with a rogue, and his heartbroken mother died the next leaf-bare to an outbreak of greencough. he was raised jointly among the nursery queens, but failed to form a meaningful parental relationship with any of them.

    mentor: n/a

    romantic relationships/mates: n/a

    close friends: n/a

    friends: n/a

    enemies: n/a

    His eyes narrowed slightly at the scene unfolding above him. Nightfall had been a little dismissive of Finchpaw, but at least her tone was back to being kind and excited. The kit had certainly done a good job of encouraging Finchpaw - maybe too good of a job, because now she seemed to be scrabbling and leaping her way through the branches without concern for her own safety. While he could accept that kind of behavior in himself, he had higher standards for others.

    He quickly hauled himself up the branches, starting to grunt with the effort as they got farther apart. He really wasn't built to climb trees. Digging sharp claws into the bark, he kept close to Finchpaw as she and Nightfall scaled the trunk. Maybe Finchpaw would think he was babying her, but there was no way she was getting hurt on his watch.

    "It's no problem!" He said quickly. "I don't think any of my clan mates would be a danger to you, but it's better to be safe than sorry." Well, there was a sentence that he wouldn't say often. But it was more for Rosebriar's benefit than his own. He padded up next to the she-cat, gesturing with his tail in the direction of the WindClan border. After all the meetings he'd had recently with the moor-dwelling cats, the path felt more than familiar.

    As they walked quietly together, he began to wonder about the molly. When she had spoken, her voice had sounded so... uncomfortable. Shaky. Perhaps more so than was warranted by their meeting. Was she just nervous by nature? Or was there something here that she feared? He chose not to ask either of these questions out loud, opting for something a little more indirect. "Are you doing okay?" He asked softly. He knew that technically, he shouldn't even be asking. She was WindClan, after all. How she was doing wasn't supposed to be his concern. But the big gray tom couldn't help the part of him that wanted everyone, no matter if they were best friends or total strangers, to be safe and happy.

    His haunches relaxed a little as he heard the apprentice's tone cool down a little. Although it wasn't fair for him to start fights that he couldn't finish, at least his brashness hadn't turned this encounter into a whole thing. A relieved, slightly nervous smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as he padded a little closer, hoping to alleviate a bit of the tension he had so thoughtlessly created. Confrontations were really just exhausting. He wondered how cat found the energy to keep one up.

    "Eh - kind of," he admitted to the tabby apprentice. He now vaguely recognized the other cat from when he had last come to WindClan. "It's getting a little better, but there's still no real end in sight. Hopefully no one else gets sick." His words sagged a little wearily. Truth be told, he was more than fed up with the river pollution. More than anything, he just wanted it to end so life could go back to normal. "I'm Swanfeather, by the way. Just in case you don't remember." He dipped his head, the aggressive glitter gone from his soft amber eyes. "So do you WindClanners just like looking at RiverClan? I don't blame you guys, it's nice here. But you're not the first from your clan I've met at this border."

    He trudged reluctantly behind the apprentice, letting the younger cat take the lead of the patrol. The big gray tom just wasn't feeling it today, and Bluepaw was responsible enough to be the one actually paying attention. How many times had he been at this border over the past two weeks? Three... four... this had to be the fifth time now. It was almost getting ridiculous, but he couldn't exactly say no to his duties. His head perked up as he heard Bluepaw's voice ring out. That could only mean one thing. A familiar fluttering feeling nestled itself in his stomach at the thought of seeing... well, he knew.

    The blue-and-white apprentice had already started a friendly conversation with the WindClanners before he finally caught up. His yellow gaze flickered up from the ground, and his heart seized for a moment in his chest. Smokehaze, Rosebriar, Duckpaw... he knew every one of these cats, to some degree. He quietly padded up beside Bluepaw, eyes unsubtly fixed on the two she-cats, before he quickly caught himself and refocused. Smokehaze and Rosebriar... He felt his face warm beneath his wild fur, and he gave a quick dip of his head to greet the WindClan cats. Stop being an idiot. You're on a patrol. But he couldn't quite cast the thoughts out.

    "Hello," he said quickly, as he sat beside Bluepaw. "Nice day for patrolling, huh?" There was something like irony in his voice as he left his greeting at that.

    The warrior slinked through the little clearing to sit beside the apprentice, gazing up at the night sky beside her. The emotion and childlike melancholy in Oceanpaw's voice made Swanfeather's heart heavy. Why would StarClan do this to a kit? He wondered as he searched the stars for an answer. Thoughts of bringing her back to camp completely fled his mind as tears stung at the corners of his eyes, her pain becoming his as well.

    He wrapped his tail around his paws as he struggled to think of a response, the words that normally flowed so easily to his tongue catching in his throat. But silence wasn't an option either, was it? He was about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when Ryecatcher unexpectedly appeared in the clearing as well. A jolt of surprise scrambled Swanfeather's thoughts, and they flitted away like birds, leaving him wordless once again.

    Ryecatcher's words turned the gray tom's mouth to ash. He had never known any of these things about the senior warrior - hell, he practically knew nothing at all about him. He was pretty sure they hadn't even spoken before this moment. Well, that was certainly... an introduction. Swanfeather just sat there, too terrified by the weight of the subject at hand to even risk speaking, gaze firmly focused on the grass between his paws.

    "That must be so hard," was all he could force out, his voice a sad whisper. He felt guilty, almost ashamed that he couldn't offer more, and his ears flattened against his head. These two cats were pouring their hearts out in front of him, and he could barely muster even the simplest of condolences? What was wrong with him?

    "Hey, Ravensong," he smiled at the queen. Another older cat that he didn't know well, but one that he wasn't nearly as intimidated by. "Okay then, let's get going." The tom stood up and shook the dust from his pelt, giving a beckoning sweep of his tail towards the cluster of siblings who had appeared to join the adventure. "With this many cats, who needs the Gatherings?" He padded alongside Finchpaw, Bluepaw, and Hawkpaw as the group left the camp.