Welcome to Warriors of the Moon! We are a modern-day warrior cats roleplay! It's been 10 years, and all of the original Clans have disbanded. Even SkyClan means nothing. We have new ones called MarshClan, MistClan, PeakClan, and WolfClan. We're one account per person, like most warriors roleplays. Meaning, no character accounts!
Our roleplay rating is 3-0-2, and we have a simple application and a quick acceptance process! Your character will be approved in not even an hour, depends on our timezones, though! Welcome!
DATE HERE
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Sorrelstrike said nothing to anyone. That's how she was. There was simply not enough time in the day to conversate when she could be doing so much more. The young she-cat's slick fur stood straight out in some places. As said before, there wasn't enough time to fix it. The calico stalked into WolfClan's territory. The scent of prey floated on the soft breeze. Sorrelstrike thought herself to be the opposite of this wind. She was not soft and she did not stop as the wind did. However, she sometimes wondered if this was a blessing or a curse.
The warrior needed to focus and get her day started. She would begin with a hunt, a training session with herself, and then make it back in time to be assigned to a patrol. Yes, this was good. She had a plan, and it would be executed with perfection.
Or so she thought.
Sorrelstrike made her way deeper through the territory. The strong scent of rabbit had made its way into her nose. It would surely make an impressive meal if she could catch it. Keeping low the ground, the calico easily blended in with her surroundings. She felt like an adder as she made her way across the forest floor. After a few moments, she saw the prey she was searching for. A large rabbit stood on its hind legs, sniffing the air as if hoping it would find something to run away from. I'll grant its wish.
Sorrelstrike got into position. She was in perfect stance - one Ravenfall would approve of. Wait. Wait. Wait... Now! The young she-cat exploded from her place towards the rabbit. However, it had scented her a split second too soon. It bolted straight into its burrow. Sorrelstrike, too caught up in the chase, underestimated the size of the borrow and dashed right into it. Before she could even get halfway in, she was stuck.
"Dammit!" She shouted. Trying to back out of the hole, her back paws pushed desperately at the dirt. She didn't budge. She did the same motions again, and again, and again, but to no avail. The she-cat was strong, yes, but she eventually exhausted herself. Her last resort was to simply call out, "Help!" over and over again.
As Shadowstar prowled about her territory, she could have expected many things. Prey, patrols, predators...there were endless possibilities in these woods, often hiding in thorn bushes or behind the large rocks she leapt atop of or wove around. However, what the molly hadn’t been expecting, were muffled cries for help. Pausing, the raven feline felt her muscles stiffen, her claws curling into the icy leaf litter and snow beneath her pads, tail tip twitching with anticipation. It was terribly unlike her beloved warriors to call for help, and at first she wondered if perhaps she might run into a trapped intruder she could dig her claws into. Oh how boring it got when nothing dared even approach her borders, patrolled by vicious, bloodthirsty warriors and lined with well polished skulls at surprisingly regular intervals.
However, after a moment, she caught a familiar scent, and the faint thrill that scent the blood rushing through her veins fizzled out to some strange balance between amusement and irritation. She hadn’t been able to recognise a voice so muffled, and she had to admit it surprised her that this particular warrior would be crying out at all, much less in a desperate plea for help. Snorting, a faint lash of her long tail accompanying the sound, she let silent, deadly paws carry her toward her cornered quarry.
Was it bad she pictured even a trapped clanmate as cornered prey? Who cared.
Indeed, it was a comical sight, even for Shadowstar herself, to see the small, muscular calico molly stuck halfway into a rabbit burrow. A mix between a purr and a growl rumbling in her throat to announce her arrival - a sound that wasn’t unpleasant yet still would send a chill down any spine for it was never the best sign - the leader sat herself calmly alongside the struggling warrior and surveyed the situation with icy calm. Still, amusement gleamed in her narrowed eyes. However, it would seem words may also be required, lest the slight growl made the warrior panic without sight or scent and think she’d been cornered by a fox.
“Eat to many mice this morning, Sorrelstrike?” she drawled smoothly, tail curling neatly over her paws. No matter how great a warrior this cat was - in fact, Shadowstar might even say she was one of her best if it didn’t require complimenting the molly - if she wanted out, she was going to have to be a little more convincing. Or, wait till Shadowstar grew bored, that was. “Were you hoping all that racket would lure a nice fox to dig you out.”
Sorrelstrike continued to push herself against the burrow. She was absolutely disgusted with herself for having to resort for calling for help. But in this case, perhaps her pride needed to be pushed down for a while. Getting out and continuing on her day was too important for humbleness. Besides, she was becoming more and more determined to keep moving due to the harsh cold. The wind blew in through the sides of the burrow, maneuvering its way towards her in order to make her more miserable. It was like shards of ice were slicing into her fur. "Dammit," she again cursed to herself. "What's the point of this?"
Just as the she-cat paused to take a much-needed break, a muffled voice made its way to her ears. She knew that voice so, so well and yet it still managed to startle her on occasion. Shadowstar, of all cats, had been the one to stumble upon her sorry state. How humiliating.
Sorrelstrike quietly cleared her throat and froze. How should she go about this? What was the best way to impress her leader? Dear StarClan, I'm thinking about this when I should be focusing on getting out. Surely, Shadowstar will understand my situation? She finally concluded that it was worth a shot. "Shadowstar." She said respectfully. If the other she-cat could see her, she would have nodded her head politely as well. "I apologize if I bothered you... but, as you can see, I am in need of assistance." Yes, that was a good start. She desperately hoped Shadowstar would no longer toy with her. Sorrelstrike wanted to get out of this uncomfortable position and be on with her day. Oh, how embarrassing!
A soft hum of consideration left the molly, before she gave a slight nod. She didn’t care the warrior wouldn’t see, it was more so a affirmation to herself that she would deign to help her struggling subject. Still, as she studied the predicament more carefully, she realised she didn’t have many options. She couldn’t reach the scruff of the young calico - she was too far buried in the burrow. In fact, she could only really see three. She could grab the warrior’s tail, but risk injuring her if she was quite stuck. She could try simply shoving her aside, but that would also risk injury.
Shaking her head, the molly decided to go for the third option. “You know, its a shame your scruff isn’t reachable...though I suppose I don’t want to risk a warrior by dragging you out by the tail,” she mused. Mind made up, the raven she-cat wrapped her paws around the stomach of the smaller cat and hauled her backward, aiming to get her far enough out to scrabble the last bit on her own, before stepping back and sitting down, amusement still gleaming in her eyes as she surveyed the molly like an eagle watching its prey.
Sorrelstrike waited quietly, anticipation flooding her senses. Shadowstar was intelligent and clever; she would certainly think of something to help the calico. Before she could continue her inward thoughts, Shadowstar's chilling voice made its way to her ears. All she said was true, there was no way the ebony leader could reach her scruff, and dragging her out by the tail could be quite painful. For a small moment, she felt defeated. Before the young warrior could attempt to add in her own thoughts about the situation, she felt larger paws wrap around her waist. Letting out a sound of surprise, the calico felt her body scraped against the dirt walls of the burrow. Thankfully, she really felt no pain from the event, it was just uncomfortable.
Sorrelstrike was pulled up enough for her to scrabble out of the hole. The she-cat's head was finally freed from the dark, cold home of the rabbits. The calico blinked her eyes a few times, attempting to get the green orbs used to the light of day once more. Dirt still clung to her pelt, but she didn't seem to notice. That, or she didn't care about her fur. She barely groomed it in the first place. Sorrelstrike faced her leader and gave a thankful smile. She dipped her head, acting in her normal formal way, and said, "Thank you, Shadowstar! That burrow smelled like rabbit droppings."
The calico was slightly surprised with herself. She threw in a joke. That was unheard of, especially when she was talking to her leader! She waited quietly, not sure how else to carry on the conversation. Besides, she didn't know if it would be rude or not if she continued to speak. The she-cat wondered to herself, I was doing so well! How did I go from confidence to uncertainty in a matter of seconds?
While the calico didn’t answer once she’d scrabbled to her paws, Shadowstar’s piercing gaze tracked over the warrior to find the answer of her question herself. She didn’t look injured, and there was no smell of blood. Clearly the worst she could have was a bruise or two, but she could just get over that. Whiskers twitching, she straightened up from surveying her warrior, and peered down at her instead, cool expression betraying nothing as she watched her. A formal dip of the head was given, so at least the molly remembered her manners, yet still Shadowstar’s tailtip flickered at the attempt at a joke.
It wasn’t the joke that annoyed her, if anything, she didn’t care at all for that. It was the uncertainty afterwards, the way she meekly let her words hang in the air as she waited to see if Shadowstar would disapprove. Was this the beginning signs of weakness in a strong warrior? Still betraying nothing, Shadowstar let the silence drag on for a moment, searching to see if Sorrelstrike would squirm or shift beneath her gaze, if she’d show any greater signs of weakness. Then, she spoke, rolling her shoulders in what could be called a shrug.
“As it should,” was all she offered, voice cool and devoid of emotion, before she rose to her paws and began padding through the trees. At first, she simply expected the warrior to fall into step beside her with little more than a whisk of her tail needed in invitation. However, she still offered words as well, in case that uncertainty should lead to hesitancy as well. “Come, patrol with me.”