Bronzeclaw| 48 Moons| Male African Lion| Deputy| Mentions: Open for Interaction

Massive, strong paws bore gouges into the dirt, water welling up inside of them almost immediately after their maker raised their foot. A heavy mane, thick and dripping droplets of the constant rain, was fluffed up against the unfamiliar chill in the air caused by the condensation. A soft breeze blew through the camp, carrying with it the smell of mud and crisp, clean air. Unlike the younger lions of the clan, who enjoyed this newfound weather, the giant male had had enough already. Huffing in annoyance, he moved himself quickly beneath a low-hanging baobab branch near the leader's den, awaiting the long trek to meet with the other clans. The Roaring Call was important, and he quite enjoyed the festivities that came along with it. No need for borders or hostility in a time of truce. Not that it always happened that way, but he could hope. Bronzeclaw raised his large head, broad muzzle trying to deduce who else was coming nearer through the haze. So far, he was the only one to arrive, and flicking his ears, Solclan's deputy settled into a state of sullen patience only intensified by the dreary sky.

Brazenpaw| 13 Moons| Female African Lion| Apprentice| Mentions: Open for Interaction. Bronzeclaw [Indirectly]

A gentle drum of water poured down on the young lioness, her fur soaked and plastered to her lean frame. However, it didn't seem to be bothering her much, as the expression on her face was one of pleasant contentment. It wasn't often that it rained like this in Solclan territory, and the welcome reprieve from the regular intense heat caused her spirits to be rather high despite the fact that she would not be attending the Roaring Call this moon. Opening honey colored eyes, the young she-cat caught sight of a familiar hulking frame, though the deputy seemed to be less than pleased about the heavy clouds and pouring rain. The water running down her flank was slowly seeping into her skin, and Brazenpaw realized that perhaps sitting out beneath the downpour wouldn't be too good for her health after too long. With a breezy sigh, she stood and trotted happily over to the mouth of the apprentice's den, giving her fur a good shake before laying down at the entrance, watching the camp awaken.

Image Source
| Sagewater |
Congo Lioness | Warrior | 47 Moons (~4 yrs.) | Location: Camp| Mentions: Bronzeclaw [Directly] Brazenpaw [Indirectly]

Lilystream | Female | Camp | Warrior | 31 Moons | Mentions: N/A

Lilystream sits on her lonesome, quietly waiting for the announcement that the chosen of SolClan were to head out to join the rest of the Clans at the meeting place, where they would socialize under a truce. Usually, she would be very happy for this event, weaving around the warriors of her Clan and chatting before they would have to prepare for the journey, answering the questions of apprentices and even tussling around with the cubs, but not this day.
No, this day she felt heavy and not just from the rain, the cause? Frostheart was not in camp, in fact he hadn't been in camp for quite some time. Rain spilled heavily down on the felines of her Clan, some anxiously moved to retreat from the cold spray, others basked in it. Lilystream's usually well-groomed cream fur was darkened with moisture and watery soil, water dripped from her chin and droplets clung to her long whiskers and lashes though she did little to clean them away.
She lacked the once easy ability to walk up to one of her clan-mates and converse, nowadays preferring her own company if not on a hunting or border patrol, yet even then she vocalized very little. Forlorn, she continued to sit in place; allowing the weather to do with her what it wished, her ears perked only to catch wind of the command to head out. The Roaring Call was the only thing she looked forward to, but only vaguely. The fact that the Clans could come together, not out of spite but out of peace made her feel a little better. RoseClan interested her the most, the Clan had many variations of felines, all unique and beautiful in their own way.

| Buzzardpaw |
Male • 11 Moons • Asiatic Lion • Warrior Apprentice
Location: Camp • Mentions: {Directly} Sorrowwing, Brazenpaw / {Indirectly} Bronzeclaw, Frosheart, Lizardtail

Buzzardpaw hadn’t bothered leaving the apprentice's den upon waking to the sound of rain pounding against the roof, remaining curled in the warmth his nest offered. Bronzeclaw informed him the night before he wouldn’t be going to the gathering this morning since he had attended the last one and another apprentice should be given a chance to go. It hadn’t taken much convincing. Buzzardpaw had no desire.

A deep sense of sadness kept the young male from doing much of anything these days unless urged by his new mentor. Frostheart’s disappearance had clearly hit him hard. ’If I had stayed with him instead of going with Lizardtail and the others maybe he would still be here,” he thought in utter misery, a soft sigh escaping him as he stared at the den wall. His ears twitched as Sorrowwing’s voice drifted toward him from outside, clearly aimed at Brazenpaw resting near the entrance.

His head lifted, gazing in Brazenpaw’s direction. He wondered if it was safe to go hunting in weather like this, but kept from voicing his concerns. Sorrowwing was a warrior. Surely she knew what she was doing?



| Dawnflower |
Female • 61 Moons • Masai Lion • Warrior
Location: Camp • Mentions: {Directly} Nightpaw / {Indirectly} Palefur

Dawnflower approached the medicine den with haste, slipping inside and escaping the rain if only for a moment. Shelter from the cold downpour was not her reason for coming however. Today was the day Nightpaw would visit the Moonlake and, StarClan willing, receive his full name. The apprentice wasn’t nearly old enough for the responsibility being thrust upon him and it troubled the lioness, but Palefur had never returned. They had little choice in the matter. “I came to wish you luck,” she greeted, forcing a confident and reassuring smile. She would have liked to be chosen for the Roaring Call so she could accompany Nightpaw when he left for the Moonlake, but luck hadn’t been on her side this time.



| Fawnstep |
Male • 73 Moons • Transvaal Lion (Leucistic) • Warrior
Location: Camp • Mentions: {Directly} Lilystream / {Indirectly} Frostheart

A pale shape sitting solo near the camp’s center caught his attention almost immediately as Fawnstep lumbered back into camp, dragging the carcass of a sodden gazelle after him. It'd been an easy catch, an adolescent caught in the mud. The poor creature would have died a slow, terrifying death if he hadn’t come upon it, ending it much quicker with a bone-crunching bite to the throat. After depositing the prey to the fresh-kill pile, he made his way to Lilystream’s still form, sitting down beside her.

He knew the light-furred lioness preferred solitude over company these days, grieving Frostheart’s absence. The siblings had been through so much already and Fawnstep knew the pain of a lost loved one all too well, like a thorn in one's heart. “Lilystream,” he said gently. “You should get out of the rain while you have the chance. We’ll be leaving soon and their won’t be much shelter on the way.” Should she turn to look at him, his blue gaze would be filled with warm empathy, lacking of pity and only understanding.

Prey Added: 1 yearling gazelle.

•
"Who cares what happens when we’re dead? We shouldn’t think that far ahead. The only latter day that matters is tomorrow."

Grasspaw • Male • 13 moons • Apprentice • Apprentice Den • Mentions: None

The patter of raindrops drummed against the thick stone roof of the spawning Apprentice den, slowly and calmly waking Grasspaw from his drowsy stupor. The thoughts of The Roaring Call sat only in the deepest recesses of his mind, an afterthought usurped by how loudly his stomach was growling. Bumbling around a little due to a small accident during training, the teen male stood and stepped towards the gloomy outdoors. His previously dry, golden fur was immediately soaked by the downpour, weighing the young male down slightly. "My mane," he complained to himself, shaking his head to try and puff the tufts of long hair out further. His attempts were futile, only dispelling drops of water in every direction.

Lilystream | Female | Camp | Warrior | 31 Moons | Mentions: Fawnstep [Direct]

Lilystream glanced slowly and tentatively to the side, wary, as Fawnstep approached. Through the downpour, she could hear his voice, kind -- always kind -- and gentle; her hazelnut brown eyes flicked momentarily upwards to glance at the darkened sky, watching the rainfall dribble from their origin, before looking towards the light tawny bulk of the male. She didn't mind the rain much, but then again she didn't mind anything anymore. Lilystream was tempted to grunt or make a simple acknowledgement of Fawnstep's presence and let that be the end of it, the rain wouldn't kill her and there would be even more rain in her future but as her gaze settled onto his face, she noted how his cornflower blue eyes shone in empathy and the sight made any thought to ignore him float away. Sometimes, she was gazed on with sympathy, empathy was new and it was refreshing. "Perhaps... you're right." Lilystream murmured. She felt heavy and sluggish, her coat weighing her down. It would be nice to get a little dry, she supposed. Water was running along the skin underneath her coat and it was a bit itchy.

| Fawnstep |
Male • 73 Moons • Transvaal Lion (Leucistic) • Warrior
Location: Camp • Mentions: {Directly} Lilystream

Fawnstep, admittedly, had expected she would reject his suggestion and was mentally preparing how best to persuade her when Lilystream surprised him completely by agreeing with him. Astonishment showed on his face only briefly before he nodded his head towards the warriors den. "Why don't we wait inside until it's time to leave? Perhaps grab some prey on the way? Travelling will prove easier with a full belly," he replied cheerily. He suspected the lioness wasn't eating as much as she should be lately. Food had a tendency to lose its appeal when one was in the process of grieving, but still a nessacary part of life. "I caught a rather fine gazelle only this morning."

Bronzeclaw| 48 Moons| Male African Lion| Deputy| Mentions: Sagewater [Directly]

As a familiar seductive voice tugged at his ears, the giant of a male raised his head, his pale amber eyes landing on Sagewater's lithe form. Her fur, he noted, was slick with rain. It took him a moment to comprehend what she'd said, but he answered quickly and easily, giving the female a gentle smile as he moved over.
"Of course not, you're free to join me." He replied, settling his large body and giving her permission to move beneath the cover of the branch. Solclan's usually dry and arid camp was now covered in sopping mud, rivulets of water creating tiny rivers in the soft dirt. Luckily for them, many a cave dotted the land, offering quick access to shelter for weather like this. Bronzeclaw lifted his muzzle into the air, staring up at the constantly darkening sky and watching as water droplets fell from the clouds. He was new to the position of deputy, after Frostheart went missing he'd been surprised by Eveningstar's choice, and getting used to the newfound authority he held was still in the works. Peering around camp, his leader's pale coat was nowhere to be seen, and they needed to get a move on. At this rate, Solclan would be the last to arrive. Excusing himself from Sagewater's company, Bronzeclaw hefted himself on top of the leader's den, broad paws finding footholds in the slick rock.
"Solclan, if I may have your attention please," His booming voice echoed through camp, pausing long enough to make sure he'd caught their attention, "Due to Eveningstar's absence, I will be leading the following cats to the Roaring Call; Grasspaw, Lilystream, Treewhisker, Fawnstep, Sagewater, and Nightpaw. We will be leaving shortly!" With that, he left his perch to join Sagewater beneath the Baobab branch once more. There was no point in getting soaked while waiting.

Brazenpaw| 13 Moons| Female African Lion| Apprentice| Mentions: Buzzardpaw, Sorrowwing [Directly]

The pretty she-cat's nose crinkled in disgust as her mentor padded away to rest. Training in the rain was all well and good, but hunting warthogs was tedious, dirty, and not as satisfying as it should be. The disgusting pigs liked to wallow in their own filth, especially during storms like this one. She would most definitely be coming back smelling like she had taken a bath in their excrement.
"I hate warthogs..." She said aloud, turning her face towards Buzzardpaw and giving him an expression betraying her hesitation. The other apprentice had been sad as of late, and with good reason, as his mentor had been missing for days now. Everyone couldn't help but think the worst. Frowning, Brazenpaw padded over to him, staying close enough to comfort but far enough away should he reject her sympathy.
"It isn't your fault Buzzardpaw," Her voice was soft but full of conviction, "I'm sure Frostheart is finding his way back to camp right now. He'll be back in no time." Always the optimist, the delicate fae gave him a firm nod and a bright smile, trying desperately to cheer her clan-mate up.
"If you want, you can come warthog hunting with Sorrowwing and I, should be oodles of fun." She joked, bumping him gently with her hip.

Lilystream | Female | Camp | Warrior | 31 Moons | Mentions: Fawnstep [Direct], Bronzeclaw, TRC [Minor]

As the sound of the deputy's baritone voice reached her ears, Lilystream's light brown gaze shifted rather anxiously towards the male, who had lifted himself onto the higher perch of the leader's den. His voice was sudden and rather intrusive but the lioness soon settled and listened to the names Bronzeclaw listed, hers among them. She kept her eyes on the broad male as he removed himself from the perch and proceeded to seek shelter from the rainfall. Confirming they weren't yet moving, Lilystream lifted her irises back to the male next to her, blinking slowly at his offer. "That would be lovely, thank-you. But we'll have to be quick about it." She replied politely around the noise of the constant sound of raindrops slapping the ground, she shifted her weight and distributed most easily onto her forelimbs as she rose from her previous sitting position. Her eyes were downcast and her expression was still a bit crestfallen but there was slight improvement. Lilystream was glad to have Fawnstep as company, even if just for a short while. It was a nice distraction in these dark, gloomy days. The lioness blinked rapidly to clear the beads of water from her lashes, then proceeded to glance towards the fresh-kill pile, where the recently placed gazelle was settled.

•
"Who cares what happens when we’re dead? We shouldn’t think that far ahead. The only latter day that matters is tomorrow."

Grasspaw • Male • 13 moons • Apprentice • Apprentice Den • Mentions: Treewhisker; Bronzeclaw; TRC Party

"Mom!," Grasspaw complained, drawing out the vowel, "The mane around my neck, obviously. See?" He pressed his neck into Treewhisker's face, tilting himself so far that he might tip over were anyone daring enough to try and knock him over. Bronzeclaw's resonant voice carried over the clan, beckoning him and his adoptive mother as well as a few select others. The yearling male perked up, the round ears atop his handsome head coming to attention before a grin broke out across his face. "We're going to the Roaring Call, Ma!," he cheered, roughly bumping the lioness's forehead with his own before catapulting to where the Deputy had made the announcement, sitting patiently.