[Insidious]

He was the embodiment of nothingness, and yet he patrolled the border with a strictness, a firmness, that conveyed he was not without concern. He felt strongly about his clan and, sometimes, it was convincing that he cared about his clanmates, too. On some level he did. The number of bodies, after all, was directly related to the clan's success. He would keep them safe as he was able, of that he was certain. Ratfur - he didn't need to turn to know that the tom was behind him - wouldn't need to experience so much as an inflation in heartbeat while in Dimgaze's presence; if they happened upon a TreeClan patrol, he would take care of everything.

He could smell them, which was the only reason he was taking the likelihood of an encounter into consideration. He wanted to be prepared for the worst but would, of course, maintain peace if their neighbours didn't opt instead for fury. Wishing not to disturb the silence, Dimgaze acknowledged the thick TreeClan scent with the slice of his tail through the air, intending to reprimand any sounds from his clanmates without so much as a glance.

Dimgaze paused, then, examining the border with careful precision. He could've sworn that he saw signs of movement behind the concealment of shrubbery. It would be a waste of his time, as well as his clanmates' time, to wait for the TreeClan patrol to reveal themselves by their own doing. He would address them first, make them aware of his closeness, of Ratfur's, and would move forward from there in dependence on how they responded. "Greetings, TreeClan warriors." He spoke dryly, unenthusiastically, apathetically, as though he was discussing the weather and not balancing the delicate, unpleasant relationship between NightClan and TreeClan on the words off his tongue. He was uncannily still, the snowfall casting the undertones of his fur into that of an appealing silver; his eyes, unblinking, soulless and colourless, accounted for the number of bodies that approached from the other side of the border. "I assume all is well?" NightClan was in something of a dire situation, but he wouldn't make light of their temporary weakness.

Neither would his clanmates. He assured himself of this by looking at them. Ratfur's eyes were something he intended to hold, a silent warning, a hasty affirmation; in time for the Gathering all would be well, all would be as it was meant to be again, and their clan affairs were of no business of TreeClan's.

[Phoenix]

SOOTMASK & RATFUR

From a logical standpoint, the members of the patrol made sense. It was reasonable to assume that they would want one of NightClan’s more formidable warriors to accompany one of NightClan’s not-so-formidable warriors, particularly for patrolling the border of one of NightClan’s more irritating neighbors. But that didn’t make it sting any less, and if he was honest with himself – as he was only in the darkest corners of his mind – Ratfur had to wonder why it still stung at all. Perhaps it was the fact that rarely was his relative uselessness so blatantly acknowledged by a cat whose name was not Blackwolf. Or maybe he had simply grown used to the constant adoration he received from his former apprentice and for some unfathomable reason had expected the nonsensical praises of a nonsensical cat to affect his relationship with the rest of his clan. Whatever the motive, he was there, slinking quietly through the his clanmate’s shadow and knowing perfectly well that, if any confrontation arose – as he almost expected there might be, given the fresh TreeClan stench that hung in the air – the gray machine before him would leave Ratfur with very little to do but watch…

Peering through the near-skeletal branches of a persistent bush, Sootmask cast a cursory glance toward the thicket of evergreens that sat on the other side of the narrow trail in front of them. The scent of NightClan was more overwhelming than usual, which suggested that they would not be alone for much longer. This conclusion did not particularly thrill him. He was not worried about unsheathed claws nor did he care about upholding TreeClan’s honor against their more contentious neighbor, but rather, interactions with another clan’s patrol – particularly one that would likely contain a hot-headed, mouse-brained apprentice itching to sink his claws into the flesh of his enemies – were so tedious. Without the protection of his clan and the presence of wiser cats holding him back, such an apprentice would have probably become lynx food already, and he certainly did not need to be sharing his stupidity with the rest of his den mates – and in Sootmask’s opinion, stupidity was an affliction, and it was quite contagious. To the young warrior, it seemed like a waste of energy and resources to attempt to train any sense into those who were so clearly lacking. Why not cut them lose and leave them to fend for themselves? They could learn so much more when they weren’t being coddled.

Words, uttered in a dry but not altogether unpleasant tone, drifted to him on the slight breeze, and he turned to find a NightClan patrol approaching from their side of the invisible divide. Piercing blue eyes landed on a tall tom whose gray pelt nearly mirrored his own before shifting to the wiry feline lurking beside him, watching as the two exchanged a momentary glance. In greeting, he inclined his own head ever so slightly, never entirely looking away from the strangers, and responded shortly, “And you, NightClan.” A slight pause as he considered his next words. “TreeClan is well, and we hope the same can be said for you.” Such empty pleasantries and platitudes. It was music to which custom dictated they must dance, so dance he did.

Insidious

TREECLAN | NIGHTCLAN

[Insidious]

He inclined his head, briefly, curtly, eyes of white intense and bold in their fixation. It was a question in need of an answer, but one he couldn't answer without hinting towards the calamity that was his clan's leadership. He was expectant that Ratfur would remain silent for the entirety of the meeting, lest Dimgaze require his voice. The wiry tom wasn't much of a fighter, and he knew of the status he held under Blackwolf's branching of a reign in NightClan, but that didn't mean that, by association, Dimgaze belittled him. He thought highly of his clanmates until he had a reason not to. While Ratfur wasn't much of a success story - he had trained an apprentice, Dimgaze knew, which was beneficial to the clan - no part of him appeared disloyal to the eye, and his eye was rather sharp.

"NightClan fares as well as could be expected in these harsh months." He began carefully, treading around a subtle truth, protecting his clan by disguising their weakness behind something that affected all of the clans. "Changes are in the air. A clan needs to remain strong and fortified in leafbare." He would say no more. Changes had been mentioned, an indirect reference implemented into the conversation to avoid being dishonest and, undoubtedly, reaffirming the image he could only assume they already had through TreeClan's lenses when the Gathering occurred and light was made of what had happened to them.

What was happening to them, rather, because StarClan had yet to appoint their next leader. It was a curiosity how anyone could depend on their ancestors so diligently.

At least, until everything was sorted, until everything was as it should be again, their were cats like him afoot to enhance the organization of their clan. Each thought through his head was connected to NightClan, was based on the prosperity of NightClan - even staring into the eyes of a TreeClan cat, he thought of NightClan, and how peace was essential as to not risk their numbers when risk was unnecessary.