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Post by Leopard on Nov 28, 2016 20:50:09 GMT 8
[This post starts in the mossy grove but Mothnose ends up in the Fir Forest. He’s up near the thunderpath running along the top of the clan territories. Open for any clan cat(s) to join in.]
The sky was a deep, brooding grey, heavy with rains to soften the worst of greenleaf’s bite. For now all the clouds managed was to trap the humid air and turn the still day into a sweltering mess. The acridness of the thunderpath mixed with the subtle wrongness of the border-scent tore through all the nice foresty smells and made the back of Mothnose’s neck prickle. At least the day tasted of rain. he limped his way through the forest. It was difficult going, the moss once so soft and soothing was coarse and prickly against his pawpads; the forest was crying out for rain. He could deal with the suffocating humidity if it meant the rains would revive the forest. The crinkling of his footsteps pierced through the silence. There was no point muffling his steps when all the prey had fled to the coolness of the creek. The skies broke open. A droplet hit his ear and then another; he turned his face upwards to drink in the coolness of the rain.
He missed the soft crack of a twigs under a roar from the thunderpath. Something brown darted in the corner of his eyes and his head snapped sideways to get a better view. Tongue lolling out to drip slobber down its neck, tail wagging fast enough to take someone’s fur off the beast approached. It was only meters away. Fear bristled along Mothnose’s spine. All reasonable thoughts but one fled him; he had to keep himself (and his tail) away from those gaping jaws. He threw himself up at the nearest tree. Something was terribly wrong. His claws scrabbled against the rain slicked bark and his uncooperative leg refused to give him the leverage. Hot breath lapped at his tail. His blood turned to ice; there wasn’t time. He threw himself off sideways and became a fast, roughly cat shaped bullet once more. Heat pounded through his skull, driving all pain from his leg away. He wove between trees and scrambled under sparse bushes instinctively. The undergrowth thinned out, allowing him to put on a burst of speed. Then his leg gave out completely, sending him tumbling down a bank. His body collided with mud and rocks and branches and he landed in a heap.
“Woof! Woof!”
The beast was still right behind him. He threw himself upwards and hobbled along. The sounds of rough footsteps and rabid breathing drove him onwards. After what felt like an eternity a small hollow at the base of a tree came into view. A searing pain across his cheeks and a flurry of blood stained fur around him and he was in. He was safe. Four big muddy paws stumbled to a stop before the opening and a series of low whimpers filled the air. The blood pounding in his skull receded. Safe. Agonizing minutes passed as the paws first scrabbled at the opening and then, when the tree held firm, the beast lowered its square ugly head to look at him. In the end a shrill twoleg cry cut the air and the dog trotted away.
Under the pounding rain outside, the nest was almost cozy apart from the mud seeping in and the blood stained fur littered about the entrance. As the adrenaline faded his body became a mess of aches and pains. The fur along the sides of his face and body had been torn out, leaving rough grazes and a pointed rock had been driven into one of his paws. He started towards the opening, his leg giving a painful twinge of protest. So much for a gentle stroll to help his recovery.
For a few moments he stood outside, waterlogged and bleeding, to take in the unfamiliar sparseness of the trees. He stood blinking stupidly in an attempt to keep the rain out of his eyes. Well, one thing was certain; Laurelheart wouldn’t claw his ears for doing further damaging his leg. The old medicine cat would never get the chance. Rookstar would beat him to it. Even with all the pain Mothnose couldn’t quite bite back a mrrow of laughter as he limped away. So this was what Roseclan territory looked like.
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Post by Hazelfoot on Nov 29, 2016 6:06:17 GMT 8
The sky promised rain to come later, and Hazelfoot scanned the skies anxiously for the first signs of its coming as she padded silently through the Fir Forest, nose and ears on high alert as the sounds and smells of prey filled the air with the coming of greenleaf. A muggy heat pervaded the forest and the silver tabby walked slowly, lacking the energy to move more purposefully. The day's weather was utterly intolerable to her; a cat who loved the cool mist and chilly breeze of leafbare, even if it did come with the penance of a scarcity of prey. It was better than this, this weather that sapped her of her strength and her cognitive ability.
It was a good job that she was walking slowly, for if she hadn't been then she would have missed the deep sound of barking emanating from the middle distance. The slender cat raised her head, eyes, ears and nose working in harmony in a desperate, futile attempt to identify the source of the noise. It sent shivers down her spine and a cold sensation into her extremities.
Her nose may have failed to identify the source of her terror, but it did give her some other interesting information. The unfamiliar note among the harmony of scents that made up the forest created discord and drew her attention straight away. It sent one solitary message into the centre of her brain, and left her with an absolute certainty over one fact.
There was an Ivyclan cat in her territory.
Soft paws carried her over the forest floor toward the source of the smell. Hazelfoot was scarcely aware that she was moving, so absolute was her concentration. Within a very short space of time, she had emerged from the depths of the forest and come into the lighter areas around its edge.
It was raining; great, heavy droplets that saturated her silky fur and weighed her down, slowing her progress. She did her best to ignore it, but she loved the cool sensation that the water brought to her hot body. As she caught her first sight of the intruder, she had to maintain firm control over her body to prevent herself from giving a little shiver of pure relief and delight at the relief from the unrelenting humidity in the air.
The other cat stood in the open, not attempting to conceal himself, and was obviously badly injured. It was a fair assumption that whatever had been responsible for the terrible noise had also been responsible for the cat's terrible injuries, and Hazelfoot almost gave another shiver, this one of terror, as she contemplated the possibility that the attacker might still be in the area. But these thoughts had no place in the mind of a Roseclan cat, and so Hazelfoot put them away.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" she enquired, attempting to inject some bravado into her voice.
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Post by Leopard on Nov 29, 2016 13:20:18 GMT 8
Something in the forest was changing. Apart from the rain drumming on the canopy the silence held but something was approaching. His fur prickled and slowly the young ticked tabby froze in his tracks. There was a quiet wash of Roseclan scent and then a stranger spoke.
Mothnose shivered, it hadn’t taken long for them to find him. Roseclan was good. He shifted to look at his would be attackers. Relief washed through him. Just one and she wasn’t even hissing at spitting at him. She looked familiar, a young warrior he’d seen but never spoken to at a gathering. If he was thinking of the same cat she’d seemed bigger then, more dangerous. Then again it was hard to look intimidating when drowning in your own wet fur. He didn’t run away; he was far too shaky to run even with four working legs
“Debating whether to return to camp or not. They’re going to murder me.” It took him a moment to process his words and what they implied coming from a cat in his condition. “Wait. Um, I mean… They’re not actually going to murder me and even if they were I wouldn’t stay in your territory.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Look, if you’re going to claw my ears for trespassing go right ahead.”
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Post by Hazelfoot on Dec 1, 2016 5:59:17 GMT 8
Her head tilted slightly to the left, Hazelfoot circled the intruder cautiously. He was an Ivyclan cat; that was obvious. She had a vague recollection that she'd seen him somewhere before- probably at a Gathering. That was where she met most cats. The scent on him was somewhat damped by the rain, but was nevertheless definitely that of Ivyclan- it was what had first led her to him. He certainly didn't look like a threat to either her or the Clan as a whole, but then, you never could tell. Perhaps he was a spy, checking out their patrol schedules... or something. She doubted it, to be honest. He didn't look the type.
Shaking off her wet coat (a few droplets landed on the Ivyclan cat, but in his condition she doubted it would make much difference to him), she came to a halt directly in front of him. Blood pooled around him, and he altogether looked like he was due more for the attentions of a medicine cat than an enemy warrior. Still, she couldn't let that affect her actions towards him. He was still an enemy warrior in her territory, and she had to treat him as such.
"I don't think I need to claw your ears." she remarked drily. "Something else has already done a pretty good job of that. I could probably take lessons." The tabby paused for a moment, thinking. She probably shouldn't do this, but she was going to anyway. "Look, if you tell me where that... that thing that was chasing you went, I might consider letting you get out of here with your tail still attached."
It was stupid talk, she knew. She wasn't entirely sure whether she was even capable of removing the other warrior's tail, and she didn't fancy trying it with him in his current condition. Still, she had to make some kind of impression. Otherwise she'd look useless and ineffectual.
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Post by Leopard on Dec 4, 2016 18:01:05 GMT 8
Mothnose looked down at his scratched up paws, just another souveneir from his mad dash from the dog, and waited for the blow. He could sense the stranger weaving around him like a hunter creeping in for the kill. No, not quite, a hunter would have taken the shot as soon as he presented the top of his neck. The pawsteps stopped. He looked up to find her dead in front of him and staring straight at him. He went back to his paws before he took his glance for aggression.
As she spoke he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding; if she was going to hurt him she wouldn’t be stopping to make small talk; unless she liked watching a cat shake in his fur. If he wasn’t so waterlogged his fur would have laid flat against his neck as the remaining tension fled him. He sat half upwards and ran a white paw along his ear. Nope. No blood.
“Actually, I think you’ll find my ears are the only part of me not clawed.” Technically the worst of his injuries came from a careless step into a rabbit warren and a tree (which hardly counted as clawing) but somehow he doubted she would make that distinction. “The dog… it went away with a twoleg, up towards the thunderpath. I think it’s gone but…. Hey! Do you think it could have been the thing taking prey over that way?”
The tom shot to his feet, not caring if the loss of prey was news to Roseclan or if he had just made his clan look weak to the enemy. Had the twoleg taken the prey thief for good? All would be forgiven if he went back to camp bearing such good news.
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Post by Hazelfoot on Dec 5, 2016 1:55:18 GMT 8
The cat fascinated Hazelfoot. The way that he surveyed his paws suggested docility, even deference, but somehow she doubted that this warrior was even the slightest bit intimidated by her. She knew very well that she wasn't the most physically impressive cat around, what with her slim build, and even in his injured state, this warrior still looked more capable of winning a fight than she did. Still, if he was going to be submissive, so much the better. It would make things much easier. She'd just have to keep a careful eye on him. He might well be waiting for her to drop her guard, and if she went ahead and did it, she wouldn't be too popular with the Clan.
"I see. And tell me..." Hazelfoot practically purred, a touch of sarcasm creeping into her voice. "Would you like to keep it that way? Clawed ears have a certain... rugged look, don't you think?"
This wasn't getting her anywhere fast, so she dropped the act. No more Miss Nice Cat. She doubted that this cat would be easily intimidated, so she went straight for bluntness and the naked truth.
"Don't ask me. Our prey has been fine. No problems at all. Do dogs generally eat voles?" The silver tabby had had very little experience with dogs, despite the worrying signs of them that had been emerging more and more frequently lately. She'd always had the luck- whether it was good or bad luck depended on your point of view- to be elsewhere. "Now sit down, stranger. You're not going anywhere just yet."
She'd certainly be unpopular with the Clan if she let this intruder get away without so much as a scratched nose. Though she didn't have to tell anyone, of course. It might well be best, for both her sake and that of this warrior, not to. But that had yet to be seen. She knew nothing about the cat as of yet; not even his name. So, might as well start with that.
"Who are you?" she asked bluntly. Wouldn't win any awards for public speaking, but hey, it got the job done.
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Post by Leopard on Dec 5, 2016 18:04:27 GMT 8
Why was she almost purring? Mothnose shot a terrified glance up around the trees. Was she trying to lull him into a false sense of security or worse… trying to seduce him? Why would she do a thing like that? Then again, why would she change her voice like that and start talking about ruggedness? Bewildered he opened his mouth and then shut it again. Weaselfur had taught him many things, he could extract himself from a fight no problem, but trapped by a Roseclan cat who was doing no more than keeping him from licking his wounds… now that was something he wasn’t trained for.
When she dropped the niceties and got all sarcastic and snarly, he actually sighed softly with relief. Thank Starclan that’s over. He listened carefully but her words didn’t make sense. Why did she care if dogs ate voles or not if her prey was fine? She didn’t. She was lying. For once in his life Mothnose bit his tongue, no good actually goading her into clawing him, but he was far too tired and torn up to actually play along with her little game.
“Well, it did just try to eat me. Voles are small and furry and don’t like the idea of being eaten, much like me. And I suppose if a dog was desperate enough it would eat anything it could get his teeth into.” Finally his brain caught up with him. Would a dog be able to get it's teeth into anything small and furry? The dog had thundered through the forest sending prey scattering before it; there was no way it could stalk anything. He opened his mouth and tasted the air. It still reeked of dog but this dog was different to the scent along the river; harsher and tainted with twolegs. “No, you're right. This dog hasn’t been eating voles but your nose is busted if you think our little prey thief isn’t canine.”
"Now sit down, stranger. You're not going anywhere just yet." Without thinking he obeyed her, sort of. He lay down rather than sitting, his bad leg sprawled out to the side. She'd have to forgive him. She wouldn’t take kindly to him being unable to stand when she finally ordered him off her territory and his leg would give out if he put all his weight on his haunches. Besides, if he was going to be vulnerable and cornered he may as well be comfortable.
“Mothnose.” He racked his brains trying to place her name. Hazelfur? Hollyfoot? When he came up blank he kept his mouth shut; if one thing was clear it was that she was in control here.
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Post by Hazelfoot on Dec 6, 2016 5:00:00 GMT 8
"And you needn't bother looking for sympathy. It won't get you anywhere." Despite Hazelfoot's words, she was beginning to feel a little sorry for this cat. Not much, but a little. It couldn't be fun, barely avoiding being eaten by a dog, only to come up against her and be trapped in a corner. Still, she had a job to do. And she couldn't let herself forget about it. While this was certainly an unusual situation, to say the least, that didn't mean that she could just let things slip.There were standards to maintain. The honour of the Clan to protect. Not to mention her own reputation.
Dogs weren't something that Hazelfoot had a whole lot of experience with. She'd never had to fight one, which she guessed from the state of the warrior before her was something to be thankful for. So their diet was just as much of a mystery to her as their methods of combat, and she wasn't especially anxious to learn more about either. Just so long as they kept well away from her and her Clan, she was perfectly happy, thank you so very much.
"There's nothing whatsoever wrong with my nose, thank you!" she retorted indignantly to the Ivyclan warrior's comment. "I could smell your stink from halfway back to camp, and I'm surprised that no one else has come across the scent yet. It's quite likely that we'll have company in a few minutes or so." Which meant that if she was going to let this cat go, she'd better make her mind up about it sharpish. The dog certainly hadn't been along the river; at least, not for any significant amount of time. She could at least be sure of that, and this animal in particular wasn't likely to be the one causing all of their troubles. Not the only one , at least. That wasn't a particularly useful piece of information, but it was information nevertheless and so it had value.
"Hazelfoot." the silver tabby responded curtly to the tom's introduction. He was, after all, an intruder in her territory, and, as such, she saw no reason why she should exercise any excess of politeness towards him.
She couldn't resist another opportunity to ridicule the cat before her. Hazelfoot had seen how uncomfortable she had made him earlier (not that the tom had made any effot to hide it) and she figured that any chance of humiliating an Ivyclan warrior was a chance that she should take, and explore as fully as possible. Accordingly, she returned that slight hint of purr to her voice and took a step or two closer to him.
"So, tell me." she began. "What have you done to your Clanmates to make them so eager to kill you, hmm?"
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Post by Leopard on Dec 7, 2016 21:06:05 GMT 8
Sympathy? It’s not like my pelt is torn to shreds or anything. Judging from how this cat had responded to the slight insinuation that she may have a busted nose, responding to her protest would result in getting clawed so he kept his mouth firmly shut. More roseclan cats coming? He couldn’t help but taste the air, if a patrol showed up things would move much quicker. It would be worth losing a few clumps of fur over but Mothnose wasn’t sure how much he had left to spare.
Hazelfoot…The name was very familiar; Laurelheart brought up the name often. But why would the old tom have such close dealings with a cat this much younger. Heat flushed to his cheeks; this was no ordinary warrior. He swallowed.
“My apologies Hazelfoot, I didn’t mean to insinuate…” Mothnose began a little stiffly. “I mean I’m sure your nose works fine.”
He watched her carefully, did she really not understand that his clanmates weren’t actually going to murder him? No, there was that purr back, she was dropping between her normal voice and the half purr; she was playing with him. She was so different to Laurelheart, he would never toy with an enemy like that.
“As I said before they’re not actually going to murder me.” He said in a flat voice. He wouldn't let the purr get to him this time but coming from a medicine cat it was twice as unsettling. “How would you feel if you sent a patient on a ‘gentle stroll’ to rehabilitate a sprain only for them to tear through the forest on it and manage to rip out patches of fur along their cheeks?” He didn’t add in the part about potentially doing the leg a serious injury when he fell. To a medicine cat and a friend of Laurelheart it would be a safe confession but Hazelfoot was unlike any medicine cat Mothnose had ever met. “Rookstar’s reasoning will probably hinge on the fact I’m deep into enemy territory and just lost a fight with a tree.”
“The way I see it you have three choices. Claw me, kill me or let me go.” He said. “I’m sure you have herbs to hunt and I have cats at camp waiting to yell at me.”
If you were going to claw me you would have done it already. Emboldened by this thought he propped himelf upwards on his forepaws. He hovered for a moment and dimly he was aware that this attempt to gather his strength may look like he was asking permission to move. He didn’t much care what she thought at this point. All the adrenaline was gone from him now, leaving him weak and oddly cold. He just wanted to limp home and have a nice long sleep.
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Post by Hazelfoot on Dec 8, 2016 4:16:50 GMT 8
Hazelfoot tilted her head thoughtfully at the other cat's change in manner. All of a sudden, he seemed almost formal. And apologetic, which had to be a first from an Ivyclan warrior that she'd just caught in Roseclan territory. Still, she wasn't complaining.
Now it seemed that he'd got a grip on himself. Mothnose sounded flat, unemotional, almost bored. So, there was no further amusement to be gleaned there, then. It was a bad habit, admittedly, but any form of entertainment was welcome in these uneasy times. Everyone seemed just a little on edge, and the feeling in the air was one of... expectation. Not the cheerful feel that was caused by the Clans looking forward to more prey and warm weather during the long moons of green-leaf, but a feel of impeding danger that was difficult to describe or explain. But it was there, and Hazelfoot could sense it. She had some form of sixth sense that was finely attuned to the mood of her Clanmates, most of whom had been her patients at some time or another.
"Well, there's a disappointment." she murmured lightly. She was, of course, fully aware that the Ivyclan cats were extremely unlikely to murder one of their own, whatever the provocation, but she was fishing for information and this seemed the best way to get hold of it. Unfortunately, she had been proved wrong in this respect. Still, she wasn't going to give up so easily. "I'm not in the habit of sending patients on 'gentle strolls' alone, and certainly not miles out of camp. Five or six laps of the camp has the same effect, without the danger of them collapsing and being stranded in the middle of nowhere." She paused. "Also, of course, there is rather less danger of a dog attack."
Hazelfoot surveyed the cat before her through sharp eyes. He was a rather sorry sight. "And I suppose it is these patches of missing fur that cause the limp." she remarked sardonically. She wasn't trying to humiliate the cat any more, but now that he had realised who she actually was and what position she held (as evidenced by his sudden change in demeanour), she didn't want him to think that she was useless as a medicine cat. Admittedly, a lot of what she'd just done wasn't exactly what one would expect from a medicine cat, but she thought it best to demonstrate that she was at least competent.
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Post by Leopard on Dec 13, 2016 20:17:38 GMT 8
[Sorry for taking so long to get back to you, I'm having a little trouble keeping him in character at the moment]
Disappointment? Mothnose’s eyes went wide. She’d just admitted it. She was toying with him and was sad to see this game of hers come to an end. He supressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the icy fingers of water trailing along his spine; you couldn’t just toy with a cat like that. It wasn’t right, especially not coming from a medicine cat. He stood awkwardly half propped upwards on his forepaws, oddly defenseless. He had exactly one choice worth taking; be the mouse that didn’t run from the hunter and keep his mouth firmly shut. Of course, Hazelfoot shattered his vow of silence with her very next breath. He stood up putting full weight on his injured leg; whether his leg could support him or not he could no longer bear the vulnerable position. Anger, soreness in his leg and leftover shock intermingled to leave him a shaking, drenched cat-shaped mess.
“And you’ve been a medicine cat for what? A season? Two? I-“ In the place of his carefully cultivated boredom a hiss clung to the edges of his words. He swallowed, forcing it back down. It wasn’t Laurelheart’s fault. Anyone who sent an injured cat along a border was a few mice short of a freshkill pile. Heat flushed to Mothnose’s cheeks and he dipped his head. He was the fool here. A good warrior, one who stuck close to camp rather than putting an injured leg through hell wouldn’t be having this conversation. He picked his next words carefully and kept his tone light. “I think you underestimate how hard it is to strand me. I’ll claw my way back to camp with my teeth if I have to.”
”…. these patches of missing fur that cause the limp” Mothnose couldn’t help contorting his body to stare at his injured leg, as if searching for some flashing neon sign pointing to the cause of his injury. While it throbbed painfully and was swollen compared to his face and sides his leg was in remarkably good shape. “Missing fur?” His eyes slunk down again, he’d fallen into her game once more. “I twisted it on a hunt. I guess Laurelheart and I have different opinions on ‘taking it easy’, otherwise it would have cleared up by now. You wouldn’t happen to have some sort of miracle cure for sprains in there would you?”
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Post by Hazelfoot on Dec 15, 2016 5:23:06 GMT 8
[That's no problem; I may not get back for a while either since it's my busy period coming up to Christmas]
Pricking her ears, Hazelfoot detected the gentle rustling of a bird moving through the leaves of a tree, but she discounted it as unimportant and kept her eyes on the cat before her, Even injured, he still posed a not inconsiderable threat to her. Especially since she was standing closer to him than might be thought advisable in the circumstances. An injured cat was often more dangerous than a healthy cat, given the right opportunity. She would just have to hope that this wasn't the case for this particular cat. Though it would be just her luck if it was.
The silver tabby's tail flicked irritably as the other cat insinuated that she was inexperienced. She wasn't the one who was badly injured in another cat's territory, after all. Reminding herself that she held the advantage; that she was in the right here, the medicine cat simply restrained herself and said nothing for once- something which her mother would have called a miracle, and her mentor would have said was impossible. She could hold her tongue. She could wait. Fools rush in, after all.
"Claw your way back with your teeth?" Hazelfoot queried. "Now that would be a sight worth seeing." OK, so her silent period hadn't lasted long. But it had been there, and that was the point.
The medicine cat raised an eyebrow and nodded at the cat's comment. That made sense; from what she knew of Laurelheart, he wasn't the kind of cat who would be foolish enough to send an injured cat for a stroll along a border, especially during... uncertain times such as these. She tilted her head at the warrior's request. Miracle cures were hard to come by in the forest, and she wasn't sure she'd be throwing them away on an Ivyclan cat even if she had them- which she wasn't at all sure that she did.
"I might have. And then again, I might not. Either way, I'll have to go back to my stores for it, and probably face some pretty searching questions. Generally, one takes herbs in to camp. Not out of it."
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Post by Leopard on Dec 16, 2016 21:33:07 GMT 8
The only answer to his ill placed words was a flick of her tail. Mothnose shivered. The silence seemed to stretch on and on, giving way to a fresh wave of tension along his spine. He slumped forwards and shifted his weight uncomfortable. He’d done it now. She was going to call a patrol or worse send for Rookstar any moment now. When her tone was no more hostile than before relief washed over him. It all sounded so much sillier coming from Hazelfoot’s mouth (clawing his way back with his teeth, what was he thinking?). Today he would take a cat thinking he was a blundering fool; cats tended not to attack blundering fools. “Ahh, um… yeah! Picture a dragging motion but instead of hooking your claws in to pull yourself along you use your mouth. Well teeth really.” Explaining his reasoning didn't seem to be helping his case so he promptly gave up
The soft puttering of rain on leaves and against the dry earth ebbed away to nothing, making the day feel more open. It seemed she didn’t have a miracle cure (and wouldn’t offer it to him in any case) which was hardly surprising. Would a medicine cat really keep something that would save that much pain and suffering to themselves? Would any clan cat share something that big with another clan? Surely she would be more conflicted if she had access to it. The ticked tabby nodded. “It never hurts to try.”
Now that he was on his feet and the rain had stopped he was out of reasons for staying put. The biggest reason for staying, fear of facing his clanmates, held but he had to face them sooner or later. Tentatively he turned and took a step towards the border. Was he meant to ask for permission or was he free to leave at any time? He glanced back at Hazelfoot. He wouldn’t ask for permission but he should say something, after all she hadn't made a move to harm him. “Thanks.” He muttered. “Are there any herbs you’re running short on? Maybe I-“ The rest of the words died in his throat. He'd crossed another line there, even if the offer was a genuine one.
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Post by Hazelfoot on Dec 17, 2016 3:35:47 GMT 8
As the silence stretched on, Hazelfoot began casually grooming a paw, trying not to show how awkward she felt. Silence had always been something that she'd struggled to cope with; not that it was something which was in abundant supply when she was around. Possibly that was the cause of her discomfort with it- lack of experience. But silence was boring. Yes, there were some cats who could tell you what another cat was thinking purely by their body language, but she personally thrived on the verbal cues- the tiny changes in tone and inflection- which were just as interesting.
Concealing her relief when the warrior broke the prolonged silence, Hazelfoot merely raised an eyebrow at his words. With any luck, she'd appear cool and unruffled. "That sounds rather dangerous to me. You must have strong teeth." she remarked, deadpan. The silver tabby winced inwardly at the thought of pulling herself along the ground by her teeth, and as she thought of the mud and leaves which would make their way into her mouth and onto her tongue, she almost gagged.
The medicine cat looked up at the clearing sky as the rain faded away. That was a blessing, at least. She hated the rain; it soaked into her fur, making her feel slow and waterlogged. A disgusting damp feeling would hang around her stomach for a while, she was sure, but that was nothing that she couldn't deal with. She'd felt it many times before.
She gave a curt nod in response to the warrior's remark. She'd forgotten his name already. It started with Moth. Moth...nose? -claw? -tail? One of those, probably. She'd just avoid using his name, and then she wouldn't embarrass herself. That was a good plan. The simple plans were always the best.
Hazelfoot involuntarily lashed her tail at the question. It was probably well-intentioned, but she was still finding her feet in the job. She was having enough trouble getting her Clanmates to trust her, without having her abilities, at either healing or gathering herbs, questioned by some cat from Ivyclan who was on HER territory. That was more than she could stand. "I'm just fine, thank you." she responded coldly. "Now go on, before another dog attacks you."
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Last Online: Nov 3, 2022 21:01:00 GMT 8
End up dreaming instead of sleeping.
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Post by Leopard on Dec 19, 2016 11:55:19 GMT 8
He shuffled his paws uncomfortably. He got that he was the enemy here and if he wasn’t getting clawed being humiliated was a good compromise but did she really have to keep picking it apart like that? He was an idiot, he didn’t think things through and he knew that better than anyone.
Mothnose had braced himself for a scolding from his clanmates for offering to help the enemy like that but it was as if she was insulted by the offer. He shrunk down. He’d only been trying to help. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean….” He let the words trail away. She’d rejected it and that was that. Laurelheart always jumped at the chance to have a cat gather catmint from twolegplace or search for herbs if they had to venture into the unclaimed woods but the dynamic between him and Hazelfoot was different. They weren’t friends. They weren’t allies. It was natural for her to reject his offer.
It didn’t need to be said twice and the ticked tabby hobbled along towards the border as fast as his injured leg could carry him. Every step shot a fresh wave of pain up through his hip but he kept moving and didn’t look bat. A warrior, especially a retreating warrior, shouldn’t show weakness in enemy territory. If his leg could handle the run here (it couldn’t really but it was still attached so close enough) it could handle a little weight on his way home. While the rain had replaced the dog-scent with an earthy richness and washed away the massive pawprints, a trampled track of undergrowth remained. Mothnose swallowed his pride and followed it back; it was easier than forging his own path through enemy territory.
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