I'm /W.A.L.K.I.N.G./ in the {{a.i.r.}}

[[[ShAdYCaUStI]]]

He smelled blood - fresh, warm blood. He licked his charcoal-coloured maw, blinked tawny eyes, shook a black hind foot and got gracefully to his feet. The early sun glimmered coolly over his silvery-mottled pelt and strong form as he wandered toward the scent of blood. It wasn't the freshkill pile; that was pitifully small. He ought to go hunting today and replenish it. If he had an apprentice, he would have thought today was the perfect day to take them out hunting. He would like having an apprentice; he'd have to talk to the leader about that. There were no other cats about; they would sleep for a while longer. Long enough for him to slip away and follow the blood-trace. He would find whatever had been killed and whoever had killed it; not so much out of any real purpose as out of idle curiosity. Today was a rather unusual day for him, in that he hadn't any particular mood at all. He wasn't really cheerful or grumpy today; he felt almost apathetic, which might have bothered him if the apathy hadn't kept him feeling so neutral about it. There - up ahead - a black pelt gleaming silvery, and something small beneath the lowered head. A vole, he thought, or a mouse - it didn't really matter which. A slight turn in his stomach reminded him that he would enjoy some breakfast; maybe whoever it was would share with him. That idea left as he drew closer. Witheredhollow's icy blue eyes looked him over coolly before the delicate black face bent once more to the pitifully small carcass on the ground. IgnitedClan's deputy did not share her kills - especially not with a warrior who irritated her the way Fallingecho did.

"Where are you going?" she asked after she had eaten a little more, running a pale tongue around the black fur at her mouth, her voice infinitely cold and somehow disinterested at the same time. Fallingecho did his best not to bristle under that tone; did his best to try acting friendly toward the cat who he disliked more than any other in the clan.

"Hunting," he said. "The freshkill pile is low." He turned and kept walking, past the black she-cat. His apathy was quickly turning into irritation, which meant he could be an a bad mood all day unless something happened to change it. He didn't like it when someone put him in a bad mood; it usually meant he would end up saying something to anger some other cat, and he'd find himself in a good mood before they forgave him, which meant his good days would be tainted with frustration as well.

[rainy]

The medicine cat padded through the terrain of the IgnitedClan's turf. Her tail flicked back and forth, she was a young cat. Rainybear glanced around, suddenly not remembering what she had been looking for, she had a tendency of having a bad memory which wasn't good for being a medicine cat. Though she did remembering things when they really mattered, this was a trip just to get things she needed for the den, usual stuff. She heard something. Listening closely the she-cat stood back up and moved forward. Tilting her head slightly. She saw two[?] cats in the slight clearing ahead. And of course being the clumsy cat she is tripped over a branch.

[/blockquote]

[Your post was a bit confusing to me. I don't know whos your cat. I'm reallyyy rusty btw.]

[[[ShAdYCaUStI]]]

ooc;;
Yes, two cats; I have Witheredhollow, who is the deputy of Ignited, and Fallingecho, who is a warrior. Their bios are posted under the IgnitedClan Intros page, so you can check them out if you want to. =)

bic::
Witheredhollow watched the warrior stalk away from her and flicked her black tail once. The sun glistened on the silver-brushed black fur as she turned back to her meal. Good thing someone in the clan took their duty seriously, she thought contemptuously. The freshkill pile was low - as a matter of fact, she had been out to replenish it herself, but stopped first to have some breakfast. Since Fallingecho was hunting today, though, perhaps she would get a few warriors together and lead a border patrol. Maybe they would run across some cats from a different clan - maybe even from despised TimberClan - and be able to get some practice drawing blood. She took another bite and licked the warm blood off her maw. The thought touched her heat with a hot spot of desire. The sound of leaves and underbrush rustling made the beatiful she-cat look up sharply from the mouse. That sound was made by another cat, she felt sure. She scented the air with a delicately-lifted nose and caught a familiar scent. She waited a moment, still, silent, making sure whose it was. Rainybear, she decided. It must be. She waited a moment to see whether the medicinecat would approach.

A sound behind him arrested Fallingecho in midstep. It was not a sound from Witheredhollow; the deputy was never clumsy and would never allow herself to make so much noise. There must be another cat back there. He turned and saw that Witheredhollow had also looked toward the sound. The deputy's cool demeanor and regally casual bearing made it difficult to guess, but some slight expectancy in her stance told him she was probably waiting with some subtly cutting remark for whoever was unlucky enough to embody the second disturbance to her morning meal. He sniffed and thought he caught Rainybear's scent; hers was always slightly distinctive in a way he couldn't quite grasp - something about being a medicinecat and being always surrounded by herbs and sick cats, he supposed. He had nothing against Rainybear; perhaps it would be kind to slip around silently and let her know that she ought to avoid interrupting the deputy. The word kind made him stiffen a little, but it was a little thing that might go over well; he stepped softly off to one side, sliding silently through the trees and low bushes, until he reached the medicinecat's side.

"Witheredhollow is up ahead," he murmured as low as he could. "I would recoment not attracting her notice or interrupting her breakfast."

[Smokeleaf]

"Take that! And that! Hiiiyah! Mrrrrow!"
Frostfoot batted the air, hopping around on his hind legs with his tail stuck straight out. "Ohh yeah? Is that so? Well, how about this? Hah! Hoyyyoh!"
His grunts and cries filled the air, and what few cats were awake and in camp looked at him like he was crazy. He fell to his forepaws; dust rose then settled on his starch white fur; he glared at the Pelts furiously. What was their problem? So he was a little obnoxious; he was training for battle! TimberClan could strike at any moment (or any one of the fiery Clans, for that matter), and they all had to be on their toes! Why wasn't any other cat preparing as he was?
"Lazy mouse brains," he muttered under his breath, padding away toward the shadows. Once he was just far enough out of sight, he rose up again and resumed his practice. Let them stare! They would all be meowing a different tune once IgnitedClan won the war!

Another Pelt crossed the center of camp, rolling his eyes at the first. This was Foxfoot, a red tom with a white face and a lot more brains than his Clan mate. What a nutcase, he thought, but dared not say a word for fear of upsetting someone. This was his way: quiet, self-concious, polite. He pricked his large ears, doing his best to tune out the white cat's yowls, and scanned the Clan. Where was his mentor?
"Wolfwing?" he called out, shy as always, and quickened his pace. She had to be in the nursery; she was much too far along to be on a patrol, and since she wasn't anywhere else in camp, there was only one place left to be.
Swiftly now, right foot, left foot, he hurried to the great silver fir tree, and stopped at its base. Several different bushes were scattered around its trunk, and he sniffed each. "Wolfwing? Are you here?"

The silver she-cat grunted and hauled herself out from under the bushes. "I was sleeping, you mousebrain," Wolfwing growled, but her heart was filled with warmth for her former apprentice. "What do you need, Foxfoot? And good morning to you, since I forget my manners."

[Darkie]

Fear coursed through him as he sprinted onward; it was the only thing keeping him on his exhausted paws. He could hear it crashing through the bushes behind him; he was running as fast as he could, trying to get away, but with every step it gained on him. It was no good, any second now it would catch him, rip him limb from limb. He tripped and fell in the underbrush; it was over; he could feel its hot breath on the back of his neck, smell its putrid stench-
Lightningfoot awoke suddenly, startled from his nightmare by the sound of Frostfoot’s obnoxious yowling. He’d never been more grateful to his Clanmate; that was the third time in the past moon that he’d had that exact same dream. It was driving him crazy not knowing what it was about. He felt that it was important, and that he should know why, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember.
He looked around, and, seeing that he was practically the last one in the den, got up and gave his pelt a few swift licks before padding into the clearing.
The first thing he noticed was that the fresh-kill pile was pathetically small, solving the problem of what exactly he should be doing today. He strode into the forest, stopping now and then to scent the air, still preoccupied with the reoccurring dream. He made it a point to avoid Fallingecho, and Witheredhollow when he spotted them in the forest, preferring to be alone with his thoughts. Luckily, he was downwind of them, so they didn’t notice him.
He wandered for a while longer, until the scent of mouse stirred him from his musings. He dispatched it quickly, then decided to go back the way he’d come, figuring he’d find some more prey on the way home. Turning around, he looked for one of the distinctive landmarks to tell him where he was; he hadn’t really been paying attention to where he was going, but he could find his way back if he was near something he recognized.
Mousedung, He thought. There wasn’t anything around this place that could tell him where he was. That meant he was going to have to go to the trouble of following his scent trail all the way back to camp. That was going to take forever. He probably wouldn’t be back until Sunset…
Was it just him, or was it unnaturally hot here? Either way, he decided, it was best to leave as quickly as possible.
Suddenly, he heard a strange sound nearby, something he’d never heard before. His insatiable curiosity taking over, he began to move towards the noise. It never occurred to him to turn back, even though it got progressively hotter as he proceeded. He just had to know what it was…

[Smokeleaf]

Frostfoot looked up, surprised to see Lightningfoot slipping past him. Where was he going? The white tom got the sudden urge to follow him, but as he took a step forward, he was overwhelmed with second thoughts and plopped down. Something was clearly bothering his Clan mate; he could practically smell the fear. "Perhaps," he said, very quitely and to himself, "he would like to talk about it. Perhaps he needs to talk about it before he goes mad!"
Lightningfoot was a very good Pelt, and Frostfoot would hate to see his potential insanity prematurely putting him in the elders' den (or worse). He needed a hero, and Frostfoot knew he was just the cat for the job. Finally convinced, he stood up and began to follow the scent. His ponderings had delayed him, and it could be a while before he managed to catch up. Hopefully I'l get there in time!

"No need to apologize," Foxfoot purred, happy that he finally found her. "Sorry to wake you. How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," Wolfwing snapped. "Stopped beating around the bush. What'd you bother me for?"
He gulped, then sat down and swished his tail. "I wanted to know how the kits were."
She pointedly rolled her eyes. "How should I know? It's not like I can see them, mousebrain. If you really want to know, get the medicine cat."
For a moment, he was tempted, but the medicine cat was such a busy and powerful cat that he decided it was best to wait. "Do you have names for them yet?" he asked hopefully.
"I have to see them first. How many, what color, tom or she-kit... you can't just suddenly decide: your name is Leafkit!"
"Leafkit would be a nice name."
"Be patient, Foxfoot. They'll be here soon enough."

[[[ShAdYCaUStI]]]

ooc;; So with Rainy gone, .... my cats need something to do. Shall I wait for someone to stumble on them or pretend the thing with Rainy didn't happen or ....?

[Smokeleaf]

ooc: I'll have Frostfoot run into them instead, since I think Darkie has other ideas... He just needed something to do. I still don't have much time to write now... grr... I'll get it done by tomorrow, promise!

[Smokeleaf]

As he ran, the scent of his IgnitedClan grew closer, which only caused him to pick up the pace. He knew his Clan mate was near; if only he had bothered to check the scent.
Instead of Lightningfoot, Frostfoot nearly ran into the deputy, Whitheredhollow. His paws flailed beneath him as he tried to stop, then came to a halt only a tail-length away from the she-cat. He panted, looking directly into her eyes, and cleared his throat.
"Good morning, Whitheredhollow. That's a lovely piece of prey you have there. Good catch, good catch."

[[[ShAdYCaUStI]]]

Fortunately the medicinecat didn't interrupt breakfast. Two interruptions during one meal would have been too much. Witheredhollow glanced around and then turned back to the swiftly-cooling mouse with a delicate flick of her tail. Somewhere to the east a bird's cadenza rose to a trilling high note. Birds... she thought, licking her teeth hungrily. Birds were good. Difficult to catch, but quite worth the bother. For now, however, the mouse would have to do. She would bring back enough prey for the freshkill pile and then finish sating her hunger.
She barely had time to notice the new scent before her meal was interrupted. Again. Frostfoot's clumsy entrance might have made another cat laugh; it left Witheredhollow more inclined to claw his face and teach him not to be so thoughtless next time. She sat up primly and her icy blue eyes narrowed. The mousebrained warrior cleared his throat nervously, another habit that made the deputy's tail tingle with irritation.
"Good morning, Whitheredhollow. That's a lovely piece of prey you have there. Good catch, good catch." What an idiot.
"I would suggest leaving before I decide to remind you of the manners you seem to have left behind you." She dropped her head and dug into the mouse again. "If you have any aspirations to usefulness," she added coldly, lifting her head and glaring at the tom, "you might go hunting and help replenish the freshkill pile instead of playing ridiculous kits' games with yourself." Another sharp twitch of her tail indicated that the conversation was closed. Of course, Frostfoot is hardly likely to take a hint... No matter. If he returned to camp with blood oozing from a few deep slashes across the maw, it wouldn't be the end of the world...

[Smokeleaf]

Just as expected, Frostfoot did not comprehend.
"So, Witheredhollow," he mewed casually, plopping down somewhat lazily onto the ground. "Did Lightningfoot pass by recently? He looked a little... ah, what's the word... crazy, and I thought he might need some help." My help! he thought, and puffed out his chest. He could practically see Whitheredhollow swelling with pride! I must look so regal! he added gaily. In actuality, he looked more like an overgrown toad, but that's beside the point.

[[[ShAdYCaUStI]]]

The idiot didn't take the hint. I hardly expected any better, the deputy reminded herself scornfully as Frostfoot settled down, apparently permanently, nearby. Lightningfoot? Who cared whether Lightningfoot had passed by? He was as competent as any of their warriors, which was hardly a compliment. Compared to this mousebrained lout, of course, he was brilliant... Crazy... Yes, it was quite possible. It was possible that they were all crazy. She wouldn't doubt it. In Frostfoot's upside-down world of lunacy, he was probably the only sane one. What a mess. The ridiculous creature was trying to look proud and heroic, she supposed; he looked as if he had bad gas. One sharp claw slit open the mouse's hip and she glared at Frostfoot.

"Lightningfoot had the sense to pass by instead of stopping. I would recommend you follow his example."

[Smokeleaf]

"I would love to, but I need to know where he went," Frostfoot replied. "I lost his scent a moment ago once I got near that mouse of yours. That looks tasty, by the way. Good catch. Are there any more nearby, you suppose?" He flicked his tail merrily, believing that he was impressing the deputy with his determination and humble nature.

[[[ShAdYCaUStI]]]

ooc:: I love how I totally just ditched Fallingecho somewhere along the lines!

bic::
In another moment, a few more words dripping stupidity, Frostfoot was going to find himself on his back with a lot of blood that should have been inside him staining the pretty forest floor.

"I would love to, but I need to know where he went. I lost his scent a moment ago once I got near that mouse of yours." I just bet you did, she thought deprecatorily. Idiot cat. "That looks tasty, by the way. Good catch. Are there any more nearby, you suppose?" The delusional creature thought she would share! A slice of cold amusement passed through Witheredhollow.

"Only if you intend to catch them yourself." She gave him a measuring glare. "You are capable of catching your own prey, aren't you?" she added in a tone rich with doubt.

[Smokeleaf]

"Of course!" he replied without detecting her sarcasm. "I love hunting. Anything to help the Clan." Secretly, he was about to say that he could catch anything, but thought that would be boastful. After all, everything was done for the Clan; why ignore that?
He took a deep sniff and exhaled loudly. Just to show off his hunting prowess, he crouched over on his front paws in a brilliant hunting move and stepped lightly on his feet. Hopefully, the deputy would notice and learn from him--not that she needed to learn. She was a very good. I'm just, erm... better.
It's possible that the mouse hiding under a nearby bush saw a brilliant hunter, but most likely, all he saw was an overweight lump of cat lumbering around aimlessly with his hindquarters sticking straight up and a fat, plumy tail waving around like a white flag of surrender. Either way, the particular mouse did not flee, and Frostfoot did not notice him.


ooc: Yeah, I totally forgot about Wolfwing and Foxfoot. They were going to be interesting characters. Maybe next post.