August 5, 2019 at 4:36 pm #2724
Lurking in the shadows at the edge of the flats, the black tom was nearly invisible save for the light reflecting off his yellow eyes. There was no trace of the eerie premonitions that had occurred here at the last gathering, but that wasn’t to say that the flats were unaptly named. The constant wind made it difficult to scent or hear, and to venture out into the center of the clearing would leave a cat uncomfortably exposed to anything lurking at the edges or perhaps birds of prey flying above. No one would come here without a good reason.
With his clan on forced lockdown by Hornetstar, Finchtail had snuck out hoping for some solitude that was now absent in the bustling camp. As long as he returned with some prey, then he would be able to say he’d been out hunting– truthfully, of course. This was just an… extension on the errand.
The wind pulled at his short fur and Finchtail began to wonder if he’d made a mistake in coming here; certainly it was quieter but it wasn’t easy to relax in a place like this. He wasn’t even in Shadowclan at the moment, so he had to attempt extra vigilance in case there were any other cats who’d be here for whatever reason.August 6, 2019 at 8:36 pm #2732ChrisParticipant
Bearheart strolled over the sprawling desaturated landscape, where the wind barely blew and the dull horizon was only interrupted by a smattering of scraggly looking brush. Yes, well named were the ghost flats. One just might hope not to meet their namesake when the sun set.
Opening her muzzle, the old she-cat tasted the wind and sighed. No sight of Pollenfrost, damn. What was her runaway son up to now? StarClan only knew. Well, her matter wasn’t urgent. Turning to depart her eye caught the movement of a figure and she froze. Upon closer inspection, she was relieved to see it was no apparition. Though that was not cause to be entirely relaxed.
“StarClan’s hairballs, ya scared me boy.” Huffed the WindClanner crossly. “Whatcha doin’ out here all by your lonesome?”August 7, 2019 at 4:41 pm #2734
Noticing the Windclanner just as he was noticed himself, Finchtail sighed crossly as he rose to take a few steps towards the enemy warrior. Her sassy greeting made his whiskers twitch in amusement, though as usual his humour wasn’t the most developed and he merely flicked his tail for an initial reply. This was neutral territory, so a fight with this elderly queen seemed unlikely. Still, he halted several rabbit hops away as a precaution. Standing outside of the tree line left his fur prickling, but he made an attempt to look more at ease than he was.
After a few more moments of pause he answered, though it was more out of courtesy to an older warrior than desire to engage in a conversation. “I could ask you the same question. On my end, the camp in Shadowclan is very… full at the moment. I’m taking a break on a hunting mission to get some quiet.”
Don’t say too much. Windclan has no business knowing the going-ons of our territory.August 8, 2019 at 2:20 pm #2735ChrisParticipant
“It’s m’boy y’see.” The large she-cat plumped down, like an Elder fixing to tell a lengthy yarn. Perhaps she was, in a way. “He’s…..goin’ through some changes, ran outta camp….I’m sure he’s alright but with all this goin’ on I’d rather he not be wanderin’ around all willy nilly.” She sighed heavily, feeling no restraint about sharing all of this with a stranger much less one a rival faction. Bearheart saw borders as just ‘more nonsense’. What could ShadowClan do with this information, anyhow?
“Ya got kits?” Mewed the husky she-cat, looking up at the young tom.August 13, 2019 at 9:58 am #2739
“I’m assuming you tracked him out of Windclan territory? What a mouse-brain, is he still an apprentice?” Finchtail winced as the brown windclanner sat down; he’d seen this sort of settling in before and it looked like she was getting ready to keep him listening for a moon. At least if anyone came across them it wouldn’t look half as bad as it would if he was caught with another young warrior.
The question about having kits of his own was something that he was asked on occasion; being seven years old himself, it wouldn’t be abnormal at all for him to have had several litters at this point. However, even the thought of taking a mate one day hadn’t occurred to him since he was an apprentice dreaming of what it might be like as a warrior. This certainly wasn’t how he’d imagined things to go.
“I don’t have any kits, no. You don’t suppose yours has wandered into a different territory, do you?”
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