[Fate Admin]

Maverick stood at the edge of the mountain spring that kept MountainClan hydrated and looked around at the gathered cats. Ever since he had come upon StoneClan sheltering in the mountains and offered them a place to stay with MountainClan, Maverick had been talking to them and trying to learn their names. There were quite a lot of new faces after all. Some of the other MountainClan cats hadn’t been entirely happy with the Clan moving in, but Maverick had been able to bring most of them around with the simple logic that there was safety in numbers. The more cats around, the less likely they were to be attacked by anyone or anything. The few that still didn’t like it after that had just chosen to leave for the time being, a couple rogues who had something against the Clans, or something or another.

“C’mon then. First lesson about hunting in the mountains!” He swept his plumed tail out beside him to beckon the StoneClanners closer to the water’s edge. He swiped his paws into the water, splashing it farther up into the dirt and creating a decent amount of mud before flopping down into it and rolling about until his fur was quite thoroughly caked in the sticky concoction. He stood and stepped aside, surveying the cats who would be coming out on his hunting trip with him. Wolfclaw he remembered, he was one of the higher ranking cats in the Clan… the deputy. He had learned Wolfclaw’s name within the first day of the Clan staying here. The others… no he couldn’t recall their names yet. Eaglesomething. He sorta knew that one. The two she-cats… well he’d be sure to get to know them better in time.

“Not only does the mud help to mute your scent, but it helps you blend in with your surroundings. As you can see, there’s not a lot of cover up in here in the mountains, little to hide behind. This is the best and easiest solution,” he looked them all over once and nodded, “Who wants to go first?” His yellow-green gaze sparkled with amusement. He was fairly certain most of the StoneClanners would find this part of mountain hunting to be rather unpleasant, since nearly all the loners and rogues of MountainClan had felt the same way and some still refused to use the tactic, and caught less prey for their stubbornness. In the mountains, a little mud could mean the difference between a full belly or an empty one.

[Fawn]

[smear:dbb623]EAGLETALON![/smear:cc380a]

41 Moons // Tom // Senior Warrior // StoneClan

"I will."

The pounding drums of war were still sounding roll-call inside the sand-colored tom's head, his burnt golden pelt gleaming in the sunlight, appearing almost like a beacon next to the much more muted shades of his Clanmates. Even though his thoughts were shrouded in red mist, his body, mind and spirit still healing from the atrocious battle that had occurred several sunrises ago, Eagletalon had refused to rest for any extended period of time. Arguing with Ivypaw all the while, the battle scarred warrior was now getting scars over his scars from just how violent his battles had been; still fighting, covered in blood both his and his enemies', Eagletalon had reluctantly retreated when Wolfclaw had sounded the alarm. That sound still haunted his dreams, along with Cricketleap's shrill warning in the night.

He would not be quick to get over so colossal a defeat, he would never forgive LightningClan and RainClan for the lives they took that day and the brutality he had been forced to witness. Adjusting to the new environment was tricky, but he had embraced the change with as much acceptance as any soldier dropped into a new location; he had a job to do, whether there was sand beneath his paws, stone, water, grass or mud, and there would be nothing that could stop him from providing for his tattered Clan. Eagletalon had processed Maverick's lesson via sight rather than sound, having tuned out the strange tom's voice subconsciously, his mind lapsing into a state that was more mechanical than socially-oriented, highly responsive but with not much to add to the conversation.

The mud would possibly cool his inflamed battle injuries, so it was with eagerness and the knowledge that it would provide good camouflage that Eagletalon strode forward confidently, a ghost of a grin on his muzzle as he watched the muddy water drip from Maverick's unruly whiskers. The tom had literally just dived in, but his joins were sore in places, and even he knew better than to overexert or strain something trying to copy another cat's movements. Lowering down into the mud, he rolled over it several times, holding his breath to douse his golden head in the sticky mess, displeased by feeling 'filthy' but knowing it was for a good cause.

Besides.
Mud was better than the blood of his Clanmates. He'd take to rolling in mud over a battle like the one they'd just fought any day.

[Deleted]

a silver lining sometimes isn't enough to make some wrongs seem right

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Memories of the battle still haunted his mind. It had been just a few sunrises ago that StoneClan had been chased out. Just a few sunrises since a voice, his voice, sounded the retreat. Hawkstar was recovering from his lost life, and Blackeagle, their medicine cat, had been killed. StoneClan cats were dropping like flies, and there was no way they would have made it out alive. Calling the retreat had been the right thing to do, but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

'StoneClan! To the mountains! Retreat!' A shadow darkened his eyes as his own words echoed in his mind again. Breaking off their battles, his warriors began to flee, with the warriors of RainClan and LightningClan following, assuring their departure. Wolfclaw had been one of the last to leave, unable to say goodbye to his fallen mother. On his way out, a kit wailing next to her own dead mother found its way into his jaws, and with her he ran. Cloudkit, it was; her mother had been killed as she tried to escape the nursery.

Eagletalon's voice brought him back to the present, and he watched as the sandy tom rolled in the mud. His own green-gold eyes flicked to the tom teaching them, Maverick, he recalled. His whiskers twitched in amusement at the mud dripping from his impossibly long whiskers. WolfClaw even remembered a few apprentices, and even some of the younger warriors, naming him Crazywhiskers. While the name wasn't very flattering, not many could contest that it wasn't at least a little fitting.

After Eagletalon had finished rolling in the mud, Wolfclaw stepped forward. Stepping into the muck, mud squished up between his toes, and he just barely stopped himself from making a disgusted face. He carefully lowered his body, rolling his shoulder into the mud, his body following. The massive tom twisted and writhed, thoroughly covering every inch of his two-toned pelt in the sticky brown stuff. Closing his eyes and holding his breath, he rolled his head through the muck before standing.

He padded off to the side, watching and waiting for the final two members of their patrol, Crowdance and Valleyfall, to take their turn coating their pelts.His ears flicked constantly, unused to the thick layer of mud over and in them. It was getting progressively harder not to dunk his head under the water nearby, and he settled for sporadic little shakes of his head, attempting to remove some of the mud that had gotten into his ears.

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