SaltClan/Roleplay

It is currently *greenleaf* of Y1. SaltClan is in their *summer camp*, located on a dry lake bed in the middle of the shrub-covered dune landscape. The winter camp is vacant.
The water is warmer in the evening (but still awfully cold), and the sand is hot all day. Most animals who have had babies in the spring are less protective-young birds can fly, fawns don't need constant care, etc. The streams running from the eastern forest are full of water, as the summer has not been too harsh. Few fish run in these streams, so the bay is still the clans' primary source of food.
The Clan is active just before dawn until mid-morning for training and patrols, and sleeps through the heat of the day. A few hours before sunset, they become active again, to fish and hunt in warmer water.

*None*

Whalestar exited her den-the old fox den to the north of the dry lakebed-and let out stretch. She had been asleep since sun-high, and the warmest part of the day had just passed. Her clan was waking up from their mid-day rest, and she knew her deputies would begin to assign hunting patrols. With her grizzled, flecked pelt, the queen was a perfect candidate for both land patrols and water patrols, however, as leader, she was never assigned to one. She glanced around, hoping to see if one of her daughters was awake and interested in going out with her. However, both of them seemed to be out with their mentors, and Whalestar dropped the thought.
Crestleaf watched Pacifica slowly walk across the edge of camp from his spot outside of the healer's den. Her soggy, fishy-smelling pelt clung loosely to her body. She slunk along, with her head low to the ground and her shoulders hunched, and she seemed to show her age more than usual. *Her age.....what is her age?* The tom wondered, tilting his head to the side a little bit. Pacifica had been the oracle for as long as he could remember, and as long as his mother could remember, and as long as her mother before her, and so on and so forth. He, like the rest of the clan, had generally accepted that Pacifica was immortal. He wondered, himself, if she was divine, even, as only the gods could live such a long life. However, seeing her rotten fur, he knew what happened to her was *not* divine, and there was now way she was a goddess herself. Crestleaf straightened up, fluffed out his fur, and stood to walk into camp. Maybe going to the beach would clear his head, as he couldn't afford to waste all day wondering about his mentor.
Bluewatcher and Musselwatcher sat by the jetty, bristling their fur against the cold sea breeze. The wind blew spray from the choppy ocean into their fur, and both messengers looked rather cross. However, meeting on the jetty was the perfect spot, as no other warriors would be able to hear their conversation, and there was no way one could come and surprise them.
"Have you heard from the DryClanners?" Bluewatcher asked, his deep voice barely discernible over the roar of the ocean around them.
Musselwatcher shook her head. "Sandnose was my main contact, and I haven't seen her in a quarter moon. Coyotefang is always unpredictable, and I think they're just busy training Bone."
Bluewatcher nodded, remembering that the newest recruit wasn't so great at her job yet. He paused for a second, and replied, "The SmokeClanners are doing well. The clan welcomed them in very easily, and I heard they've established nests and are making acquaintances with other warriors. Pebbletail thinks he might have a shot at befriending Hailstar herself, but I don't want to mention that to Whalestar until it's a definite connection."
Musselwatcher snickered, nodding. "We wouldn't want her getting ahead of herself, that's true. You'll need to check on DryClan soon, though, because you have better luck with Coyotefang than I do."
Bluewatcher rolled his eyes, amused. "He's as stubborn as his sister, thank the gods they're not together here." Both of the messengers laughed at that, and after deciding not to report to the deputies or Whalestar yet, stood to walk back to camp. —Leggy 22:49, August 1, 2017 (UTC)
Shellnose entered camp just as Crestleaf was leaving. Catching a sharp scent of rotting fish and musky earth, she knew at once that Crestleaf was leaving to think about anything but the old Oracle, Pacifica. She'd been a mystery to Shellnose since her first days in the nursery, hearing tales about the tortoiseshell from many, many, many moons back, further back than any living cat can remember. It had sent chills down her spine as a kit, but now, as a healer herself, intrigued her. Though the ancient Oracle scared the dirt out of her, Shellnose was glad she was being mentored by Pacifica. As she watched Pacifica slink around the outer edge of camp, she felt a chill and her fur stand on end. *Note to self: don't watch Pacifica for too long, she'll creep you out without even looking your way,* she thought.
Riverstorm sat near the edge of the clearing, scratching at his left ear with his hind paw. The tabby was still getting used to life in the clan, having only joined a few seasons ago. He had already been given an apprentice, Pelicanpaw, so he assumed the rest of the clan liked him well enough. He sat upright, watching as the two healers passed by each other in the clearing's entrance. Hoping Pelicanpaw hadn't wandered off alone, he stood and padded to the apprentice's den, poking his head in quietly. "Pelicanpaw? Rise and shine. Time for some fishing," the warrior said softly. Pelicanpaw's tail tip twitched a few times before he lifted his head. "It's still so hot," he complained. Riverstorm rolled his eyes. "We're going fishing. You'll be plenty cool in the water. Let's go." The tabby left the apprentice's den and headed towards the camp's entrance, sitting and waiting for Pelicanpaw. The grey and white tom was soon by the tabby's side, and they set out toward the bay. Riverstorm secretly hoped the heat of the day had warmed the water more than it usually did, not wanting to seem like a wimp in front of his apprentice.
Pelicanpaw was the first to reach the water's edge. "Come on, you pile of shells!" the younger tom called to his mentor. Flicking an ear in amusement, Riverstorm picked up his pace a bit, but was careful not to use too much energy. "Alright. Your task is to catch five fish using the techniques I taught you last training session. Remember, be mindful of the waves. I'll be watching from above to make sure you're using what I taught you. Once I'm satisfied you're doing everything correctly, I'll join in on the fishing," Riverstorm instructed, watching his apprentice carefully. Pelicanpaw nodded, swishing his tail back and forth. "Got it. Five fish, pshh, no problem." The smaller tom launched himself into the water, with Riverstorm watching carefully. — nervousbreakdance 16:30, 08/3/2017
Rainpad was lying in a patch of shade near the nursery, her eyes half-lidded against the harsh sun. Her gently thumping tail tossed up clouds of dust as she watched her kits play close by. Baykit and Gulfkit were tussling nearby, their short claws sheathed as they batted at each other with fluffy paws. Cliffkit, on the other hand, was scampering about some distance away and scraping at the ground with his claws, as though searching for something. The latter of the kits' antics sometimes confused Rainpad herself, but she loved him dearly and adored him alongside his siblings- maybe a little biased; he did look strikingly like his mother.
Dappletide emerged from the warrior's den, stifling a cough. The patch-and-white tabby had been experiencing a sore throat for a few days, but it didn't seem serious to her. She definitely wouldn't be the one to make herself go see a medicine cat; in fact, the stubborn she-cat would likely deny any requests for her to go to begin with.
She made her way across the camp, taking a seat beside Rainpad. "Your kits are certainly... active," she mewed a bit awkwardly. Dappletide glanced over at Cliffkit, her thoughts puzzled about what the kit was up to, then back at Baykit and Gulfkit.
Rainpad purred. "Of course, they're still kits. Who knows how active they'll be by the time they're apprenticed?" The tabby queen licked a paw and drew it over her ear, then looked up as Baykit let out a sharp squeal. "Gulfkit! Don't be so rough!" - **kiddoi** *a brawl is surely brewing!* 22:47 Thu Sep 21