[BlooRey DVD]

What a wonderfully captivating day. The long-legged she-cat thought to herself as she pranced across unfamiliar territory. Stone-toughened pads relished in the softness of the grass beneath her paws, pale green eyes roving the never-ending horizon. Without the sheltered safety of the mountains, the world truly looked as though it carried on forever. No matter how far she walked, more ground stretched before her, begging her to continue exploring. The thrilling sensation was certainly responsible for the distance the Tribe Prey Hunter had traveled beneath the glaring heat of an unrelenting sun.

She'd begun the journey tailed by her sister, Rose With Crimson Petals. She was not supposed to be traveling alone, but the longer furred Cave Guard had rapidly grown tired of plodding about without reason on a day, how had she phrased it... Hotter than the rear-end of a kitting queen. The brown tabby she-cat twitched her whiskers upon recalling the rather vulgar terminology. Albeit a fascinatingly imaginative comparison. She mused to herself. Nevertheless, Rose had quickly grown cranky beneath all that fur, and hunkered down beneath an overhang to take shelter. Peregrine had continued on, promising not to venture too far.

Her gait slowed, the slope-faced she-cat hesitating as she recalled just where she and her sister had parted ways. The territory had still been primarily stone-based, only small hints of the grassy stretch to come visible. And then she'd found a tree, standing alone in a clearing. Such an astonishingly enchanting organism. She purred to herself, picking up a confident trot once more. The tree had guided her to a river, with water tumbling enthusiastically over itself despite the lack of direction provided by a feature as mountainous as her new home.

By then, she'd felt an insurmountable urge to know just what was on the opposite bank. It beckoned to her, and she'd searched the river for shallow water. Scouring the bank had certainly eaten up a considerable amount of time, but she'd been successful in identifying and navigating a path across the tumultuous waters. Her long legs proved advantageous in that scenario, as the water had barely reached the short fur of her belly before she clambered up the opposite bank. Another small spattering of trees greeted her there; those trees now bore the claw marks of a failed climbing attempt, which the inquisitive she-cat had abandoned when a small bird fluttered passed her nose. She'd chased the creature for several bounds, but it ultimately escaped her grasp.

Her pace slowed again as she recalled the adventure. Pale green eyes narrowed, as though scrutinizing something before her, though the subject of her analysis was invisible to all but herself. Their flight patterns differ from the birds inhabiting our skies. She noted. Ah! How silly of me, of course! These minuscule beings are accustomed to prey-like behavior, for they are more often hunted than the eagles and falcons of our home. Adjustments will be required if I am to be successful in my future endeavors. Satisfied with her discovery, she continued forth.

The trees unfolded before her with increasing frequency. Before long, she stumbled across a rather impressive grouping, their trunks blackened mysteriously by some long-passed event. Drawn by the unfamiliar setting, the mountain-dwelling Tribe she-cat pushed herself into a lope. She found herself weaving between the trunks, the wingbeats of fleeing birds nothing but white noise to her as she relished in the sights. She felt as though she could run forever.

That is... Until she crossed a rather odd scent-line. Slamming her body into a skidding halt, her round-tipped, triangular ears pricked in a reflection of her dubiety. Re-approaching the invisible marker, Peregrine parted her jaws to draw in the scent more clearly. There was a strange underlying and uniform tang to it, but she could also pick out very distinct scents. It is as though... There is another group of cats living together like a Tribe! She thought excitedly, her tail flowing to and fro at the revelation.

Wondering idly where this group resided, and why in the name of the Tribe of Endless Hunting they had marked the ground here, Peregrine picked up a trot once more. Though her gaze continued to flicker from tree to tree with a distant interest, she was also on the lookout for the mysterious group of cats. She traveled no more than a dozen pawsteps when a soft rustle drew her attention. A small furry creature rustled about at the base of a tree, not yet aware of her presence. Fascination glinted behind her eyes, the Prey Hunter more accustomed to hunting sky-bound prey.

In an attempt to better understand the mechanisms on which this creature relied, the seasoned huntress stilled her body and quieted her breath, content to observe for as long as she went undetected.

Fawn Phoenix

[Fawn]

Hazeheart

42 Moons. Senior Warrior. NightClan.

Up until a moon ago, Darkblaze had been smothering him. The death of their littermate, Whitefeather, had been a shock to the whole family; his parents had grieved hard. Hazeheart, in the twilight hours of his sister's vigil, had privately asked why StarClan had taken a healthy young warrioress with her whole life ahead of her - instead of him.

He'd been having these thoughts lately. Somehow, he had survived greencough, despite being able to contribute only the bare minimum during the harsh winter seasons. The tortoiseshell tom believed any lenience he had with his Clan had disappeared moons ago, too many sunrises to count. He was not invited on patrols, unless they were organized by Foxfern. He was not asked to go on hunting trips; no one wanted to deal with a tom who couldn't stay awake.

So Hazeheart hunted alone. He still went to Smokefur each morning for his daily herb bundle of goatweed and chamomile, but for the first time in a while, Hazeheart no longer felt optimistic about his future. Darkblaze must have sensed his dwindling spirits, because his brother had become a shadow, always within a foxlength from him no matter where he chose to pass the time. At first, Hazeheart had been grateful for the company. But now, he just wanted to be left alone.

Hanging on the fringes of Clan life.

Hazeheart's unorthodox sleeping patterns kept him awake during sunhigh, a time - especially in greenleaf - when most of his Clan was asleep. That was fine. There were less cats to glance at him or roll their eyes on the mornings where he came back empty-pawed. Today would not be one of those days. Stalking a shrew near the base of a tree, he crept through the shadows of the black woods, cerulean eyes set with a sharp intensity on his prey.

I can't miss this. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest, but that was a trick of his hyper-focus. Hazeheart had come to learn when he was getting over-excited, and what the consequences of that actually was. Eager claws unsheathed, the lanky tom's tail tip twitching with the urge to lunge forward.

But he didn't. Not yet.

He counted to five. Then he pounced, and quickly dispatched the shrew before it could cry out and spoil any other hunting opportunities. Relief washed over him like the greenleaf heat, and a breeze seemed to blow through his splotchy coat - a reward for his patience. Hazeheart sighed. Thank you, StarClan. As he set the shrew down, intending to bury it for retrieval later, a foreign scent rode that same breeze, and Hazeheart stiffened.

It was like nothing he had ever smelled before - wait. There was a layer of familiarity. Mountains. Higher elevations, and landscapes so unlike NightClan... There's a cat from the mountains here. Hazeheart could not hope to successfully win a battle. His condition made him a poor, poor fighter. The tom cleared his throat, trying to appeal to reason.
"Hello? You're trespassing on NightClan territory. If it's a mistake, please leave." If not... What was he going to do about it? Hazeheart swallowed a bud of panic. Disappoint his Clan, that's what he was going to do.

That's what he always did.

Don't Give Up. Great Things Take Time.

540 Words // Phoenix BlooRey DVD // Notes

[BlooRey DVD]

Within the span of a few moments of observation, the most exhilarating and fascinating event occurred; from the undergrowth surged a tortoiseshell figure, carrying the same scent she'd noticed early. As wonderfully different as the tom's coat color was, his appearance was not what she found interesting. Instead, she was fascinated by his skill. For a she-cat most attuned to tearing birds out of the air or dropping upon unsuspecting prey from higher elevation, to see this tom emerge from the surroundings and strike the small creature before it had uttered a peep? Oh, it was absolutely wonderful!

As she replayed the fluidity and certainty of his movements in her head, the brownish she-cat couldn't help put wonder if she demonstrated the same apparent skill when hunting. She wasn't given much of an opportunity to dwell on this question, for his gaze snapped to her suddenly. Briefly, she wondered if she should greet him as she would a Tribe member, but her mind (taking on the scolding tone her sister often used) decided such a blatant set of actions might be perceived as a threat. Or, as her sister might say, it would be the stupidest decision Peregrine could make. Ever.

Keeping a wary distance between them, the long-legged she-cat tipped her head curiously to the side as the strange cat spoke to her. "Night...Clan..?" She responded, testing the weight of the word on her tongue. Her mouth turned down at its corners, a thoughtfulness flicking over her features. Unable to quell the curiosity fluttering in her chest any longer, the tall she-cat took a pawful of steps forward, her pale green gaze hyper-focused on the tortoiseshell tom before her. "Is that the name by which you refer to your Tribe?" She meowed, her tail weaving slowly behind her.

Without giving him much of an opportunity to answer, she glanced over her shoulder toward the strange invisible line she'd crossed. "And this territory of yours... Does it explain the odd scent line I stepped over not more than a spattering of falconlengths ago?" She blinked suddenly, realizing he was accusing her of trespassing. Trespassing was a foreign notion to her; she knew what it meant, but it wasn't necessarily enforced in the Tribe's lands. The only area they guarded heavily was the cave in which they resided. Why, then, did these cats mark such a large area?

"I assure you it was a mistake. ...My apologies if I have offended you or this... NightClan; such was not my intention. I mean no harm, as I seek only to understand." 

Fawn Phoenix

[Fawn]

Hazeheart

42 Moons. Senior Warrior. NightClan.

This she-cat might as well have walked out of the overactive imagination of a kit. She was different - long-legged, with peculiar features and a face that was unmistakably feline, but like no other face Hazeheart had ever seen before. Though they could not see it, the curiosity and bewilderment was mirrored in both cats. A tortoiseshell tom - an oddity in his own right - of NightClan, and a cat who referred to groups of cats as... Tribes, and spoke with the airy formality of someone who was not pretentious, just unusual.

Or maybe this was how Tribe cats spoke?

If not for her physical similarities to Ratfur, an elder of NightClan, Hazeheart would have been more astonished. He was still, admittedly, immensely captivated, but it had more to do with everything and not solely her appearance.

"NightClan is our... Tribe, yes," Hazeheart mewed slowly, getting himself used to the unusual terminology. The tortoiseshell tom felt himself begin to relax; she had a calming effect on him, or maybe that was the leftover relief from knowing her intentions on NightClan land had been benign. "I'm Hazeheart, a warrior of NightClan. The scent line you're talking about is one of our borders. It's meant to keep rogues, other Clans, and strangers," he gently dipped his muzzle towards her at the last one "out of NightClan's territory. May I walk with you back to the border? I'm not supposed to let anyone but NightClan cross it."

And I don't want anyone to find us talking. Hazeheart cautiously raked the forest of pine and oak behind him, half expecting the likes of Blackwolf or Bonetail to materialize at will. NightClan was a powerful Clan, but that was a double-edged fang; they were powerful, but they were also antagonistic. There was much to be proud of, but there was much to fear as well - especially if you were... different.

"What's your Tribe like?" Hazeheart took the first step (physically and verbally), his tail sweeping to guide her towards the border, hoping the lanky feline would not protest. Her immediate apology was a refreshing change, from the usual confrontations NightClan had with rogues and strangers. He'd been shocked to hear that not too long ago, Pinestar herself had nearly shredded a lost kit named Scrap for being on NightClan's territory.

Don't Give Up. Great Things Take Time.

383 Words // BlooRey DVD Phoenix // Notes

[BlooRey DVD]

Her head listed to the side as he spoke, the strange she-cat nearly forgetting to listen entirely the moment he revealed his name. Recognizing he had yet to finish speaking, however, she remained silent as the curiosity bubbled within the pit of her stomach. Pale green eyes watched his every movement, perfectly captivated by this tom she'd met only moments before. As he requested to escort her back to the border, the long-legged she-cat paused a moment, casting a distantly disappointed glance into the forest of which she'd see no more. But she followed him without a fuss, her long stride causing her to pull ahead of him as she moved.

It took another moment or two of adjustment before she found the right step to keep herself next to the tortoiseshell tom. When he inquired about her Tribe, the willowy she-cat's ears perked forward thoughtfully. "My Tribe? It is... Much smaller than it once was." She told him honestly. Not one for tact, Peregrine had no issue divulging their current predicament. "We traveled here from our home following the collapse of our previous one. Many lives were lost that day, but those of us who escaped are thankful for out fate nonetheless." She meowed as she moved.

"After all, the Tribe of Endless Hunting sent us Steps Like Feather to guide us here." Mentioning their guide's name snapped her back on the subject of names, and she found herself abandoning her train of thought for an earlier one. With a little bounce to her step, she shifted a curious stare his way. "Hazeheart, you indicated? You bare such a short, and... Odd name. How can anyone successfully shorten it? Do they simply refer to you as Haze? And does your name bare any associated meaning?"

Her barrage of question paused momentarily, the she-cat's long tail twitching from one side to the other. "How rude, yes rude indeed..." She tutted to herself, eyes upon the canopy above for a moment before she fixated on him once more. "You offered your name and I failed to return your politesse. I hope that you might forgive my misstep." With a slight inclination of her head, she continued. "I am Cry of Hunting Peregrine, though Peregrine suits just fine. I was named for the bird call alerting the Tribe members to my predicament some moons ago." She offered as explanation.

Her pawstep ceased momentarily, the she-cat hesitating with one paw raised and her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Had I been born in your NightClan Tribe... Would I have been Peregrinecry?" She mused, albeit mostly to herself. A soft giggle escaped her throat, an ear tipping in amusement as she finished. "How peculiar, peculiar indeed." Continuing on her path as though nothing had happened, she paid no attention to her lengthened stride. "Earlier you indicated yourself to be a Warrior of NightClan. Warrior seems to indicate battle, which would in turn indicate a Cave Guard. Yet I witnessed you hunt with the expertise of a seasoned Prey Hunter. What purpose does this Warrior status serve? Surely you must have duties?"

Fawn

[Fawn]

Hazeheart

42 Moons. Senior Warrior. NightClan.

Every other sentence out of the strange cat's mouth sent Hazeheart's thoughts retreating, stumbling over new questions as they appeared like a kit trying to take it's first steps. Tribe of Endless Hunting? Steps Like Feather? StarClan, the names were a mouthful! But they were... poetic, in a way that appealed to the tortoiseshell tom. He exhaled a soft laugh, a little overwhelmed.

"Cry of Hunting Peregrine," Hazeheart tested out the name, getting a taste for this Tribe culture. "I see why you go by Peregrine." He smiled. "That's my full name. We don't shorten our trib--sorry, Clan names for any reason. I was called Hazekit, before I became an apprentice - a kitten training to be a warrior. Then I was called Hazepaw. All apprentices have -paw at the end of their names until they finish training."

He deliberately glossed over the time he'd gotten chased out of NightClan territory by a dog and spent moons in the mountains, just trying to survive. Even if he didn't think she'd laugh at him, Hazeheart wasn't eager to shred his what he hoped was a good first impression. "After I became a warrior, our Clan leader named me Hazeheart." Peregrine had asked if his name had meant anything, and the question made him pause, steps slowing as he gave it some deep consideration.

Why had his parents named his Hazekit to begin with? His father, Shadowpelt, had joked that it was because he slept the most out of all their kits - that he'd been in a haze of drowsiness since birth. His mother, however, said his fur had reminded her of a hazy greenleaf evening, with the sunset glowing through dark branches. And as for -heart, Hazeheart wanted to believe that it was an acknowledgment of his struggles. Of the content of his character.

It had taken him twice as long as the average apprentice to become a warrior. Ravenstar had honored him with a name he could wear proudly, and Hazeheart would always feel gratitude for that. He easily could have been called Hazefur, and disappeared under the weight of better warriors with better names. With better skills who could contribute more to the Clan than he could.

Hazeheart grunted in surprise as Peregrine outpaced him easily - taking the lead both in conversation and in their calm walk as she caught him up in another spider's web of questions. Hazeheart quickened his pace, marveling at the she-cat's long, thin legs before looking back to her face. "A Cave-Guard? Prey-Hunter?" His black and ginger coat prickled with astonishment. "Are you saying your duties are separate, in the Tribe? All warriors are expected to hunt and fight and patrol. We don't divide our roles." Now that was the strangest thing he'd heard all day.

Wouldn't they get more done, if everyone shared the labor? Or were they more efficient, because they only had to focus on one job for the rest of their lives? Hazeheart tilted his head in thought, feeling shocked by how taken he was with that idea. I'd never have to fight again, if my only role was to hunt. Hazeheart forced a laugh, feeling his chest ache. "I think I should have been born a Tribe cat. I'm not much of a fighter."

Don't Give Up. Great Things Take Time.

530 Words // BlooRey DVD // Notes

[BlooRey DVD]

The prospect of these... Rotating names was both fascinating and confusing to the Tribe cat. Why would names be changed to frequently? Does it not become... Perplexing to such young minds, having to learn to respond to a new name? Despite her desire to understand this strange phenomenon, the sylphlike she-cat remained silent as Hazeheart expressed his own dubiety surrounding the Tribe's division of duties. Nodding her head in brief acknowledgment of his initial question, Peregrine soon found herself distracted as he revealed all these so-called Warriors were expected to perform both hunting and defensive tasks.

Listing her head in wonder, Peregrine flicked her lithe tail. "No role separation? How puzzling... Surely there are differing skills amongst the members of your Tr-... Clan, just as in my Tribe? Is it not more efficient to divide duties based on strengths? I certainly would be rather lackluster in a battle, thus the Tribe has no reason to teach me the ways of a Cave Guard. My sister, however, is quite the reverse. I cannot say she would provide the same... Prowess while hunting as she does in the face of an enemy. Seems a waste of expertise... No matter, it must work to an extent. After all, this NightClan continues to thrive, yes?"

His next comment intrigued her all the more. Coming to a complete stop once more, she let her gaze rove over Hazeheart. "Would this leader of yours not take kindly to a request to drop the battling half of your duties? If your strength lies in hunting, as you have already proved to me, I perceive it a waste of your talent to not dedicate the entirety of your time to what you enjoy." Nodding assuredly to herself, she continued on her way.

After a brief pause, another thought occurred to her, prompting a continuation of her speech. "Is there nothing in your NightClan that binds your being to it? Birth has little to do with becoming a Tribe cat. I certainly was not born to the Tribe, yet now I am a full-fledged Prey Hunter for the Tribe of Ru-..." She paused, a frown pulling at the edges of her mouth. "The Tribe of Forgotten Waters." Peregrine corrected herself. The waterfall-hidden cavern they'd once called home was no more, and as such a decision had been made to change the Tribe's name to match.

For a reason she could not fathom, the long-legged she-cat was forced to swallow a bizarre discomfort in her throat at the thought of their old home.

Fawn

[Fawn]

Hazeheart

42 Moons. Senior Warrior. NightClan.

The Tribe must not have many enemies, Hazeheart realized as they both puzzled over each other's differing ways of life. NightClan did not have the luxury of assigning specific tasks to specific warriors. "We often have conflicts with the neighboring Clans, so we can't afford to have cats who only know how to hunt. Everyone must be able to fight." The logic of his own argument made his heart clench tight, as if trying to shrink in on itself. "Pinestar would shred me for bedding if I refused to fight for my Clan." Hazeheart's posture seemed to shrink a little, deflating.

I am not fit to be a warrior. He would always be half a warrior. Even the apprentices were more capable than he was, and he ate as much as any other full grown cat. Yes, he brought in his fair share of hunting, but he could never fight to protect NightClan, not the way he wanted to. If something calamitous happened, he would sleep through it.

Only to wake up when it was over, and pray to StarClan none of his friends or family members had died.

What a wretched way to be.

But all hope was not gone. The tortoiseshell's ears pricked forward, as if trying to funnel Peregrine's words right into his brain. "You mean you don't have to be born a Tribe cat? Anyone can join, if they prove themselves?" By all the stars in the sky, how much easier would his life be if he could just... step away from NightClan, and join Peregrine? NightClan would thrive without me, and I would thrive without NightClan. Sometimes the place you were born was not the place you were meant to be, he was starting to realize that now.

"Wouldn't your leader or deputy--if you have one--object to just anyone joining?" Hazeheart tried to mask the eagerness in his tone, afraid to come on too strong and risk exposing the crazy plan already beginning to form in his head.

Don't Give Up. Great Things Take Time.

323 Words // BlooRey DVD // Notes

[BlooRey DVD]

Peregrine flicked an ear in acknowledgment of his words, her pale green gaze busy surveying the lay of the land. She failed to immediately realize just how captivated Hazeheart was with tales of her Tribe, for she herself was far too enchanted by NightClan. Eventually, her eyes travelled back to the tortoiseshell tom, whom she studied a moment longer before filling the silence that had settled over them in her distracted state. Beginning with the first comment she could recall, the willowy she-cat nodded her head as she padded along. "Of course. I presume anyone might join the Tribe, within reason of course."

Her long tail weaved slowly behind her as she maneuvered the unfamiliar territory with surprising ease. "For you, I figure there would exist a trial period, a time of learning for you. You have developed in a world far different than ours, but you have skills that the Tribe would be daft not to appreciate." She meowed definitively. A question brewed in her mind, but she mentally steered herself toward his second inquiry before she allowed herself to be distracted. "I know not of this.. Deputy position you speak of, but I am certain that Skyteller, the one who leads us, would allow you a spot amongst us. Especially now that our numbers are small."

Her paw steps drifted gracefully over the terrain, and her mind began picking out familiar landmarks, things she'd noticed upon first crossing the border. Naturally, this meant Hazeheart's task was nearly complete. Before they could part ways, however, Peregrine wanted to ask a question plaguing her mind since she'd registered his surprise at non-Tribe born cats joining the Tribe. With an inquisitive tilt of her muzzle, Peregrine slowed her pace to better focus on the tom next to her.

"Does NightClan fail to see the value in granting outsiders access?" Flicking her ear thoughtfully, the brown tabby glanced toward the coming border. "New blood... It keeps a group strong, does it not? Without outsiders, eventually the same blood circulates among all members, Tribe or Clan. Without new blood, without outside minds... How does NightClan expect to learn, and grow, and thrive?" Perhaps it was a strange and forward question for her to ask a tom she'd only recently met, but the question burned within her. To Peregrine, bringing outsiders into the Tribe had always made sense. Perhaps she was biased, and perhaps not all Tribe members agreed. But logically? It seemed the best option for the Tribe's survival.

How could Hazeheart's NightClan fail to recognize this?

Fawn

[Fawn]

Hazeheart

42 Moons. Senior Warrior. NightClan.

Skyteller.

These unfamiliar words sent a thrill of discovery through Hazeheart that he couldn't remember feeling before. Still trying to be loyal to his birth Clan, however, Hazeheart cleared his throat a little uncomfortably. "It's... usually a sign of disloyalty, of betrayal, to have kits with a cat outside your birth Clan - especially if it's with a rival Clan. It complicates things tremendously. A cat born with a RainClan parent and a NightClan parent will have to choose one or the other. Outsiders are unpredictable, too. Most Clans don't trust them. Please be careful if you end up in another Clan's territory, Peregrine."

The tortoiseshell mimicked the tilt of her head, faintly realizing they had crossed the border into unclaimed territory though his focus was clearly on her words. "Sometimes we have to get creative, to keep the Clans strong. If I... If I ever see you again, I'll tell you about Dimstar's breeding regulations." That was quite a tale to tell. Strangely enough, Hazeheart felt deeply saddened by this encounter coming to an end.

He hadn't wanted it to.

For once, he felt as if he wasn't being judged - though she had yet to see his condition in full effect. She had been kind nonetheless, and her interest in the world at large was infectious. "If I wanted to visit you and your Tribe, where would I have to go?" Were they far? Hazeheart was not confident of his traveling abilities, but he had survived living on his own in the mountains for several long moons. Those had been the loneliest moons of his life - or so he'd thought.

Hazeheart found himself looking past her to the mountains, NightClan's pine forest behind him, the rising crests and ridges encircling the valley to his front. What if I went with her? No goodbye, nothing. Just left. It would be a grossly selfish thing to do, and Hazeheart was torn between disgust and wistfulness, wishing he could drop everything to leave with Peregrine. It frightened the tom to think that he could give up NightClan so easily - because it meant giving up his best friend, Sunpulse, Smokefur and his kin - but there was exhilaration there too. He could feel it in the air like an oncoming storm.

I can't rush this decision. I need to sleep on it. Sleeping, fortunately, was something he was very good at.

Don't Give Up. Great Things Take Time.

400 Words // BlooRey DVD // Notes

[BlooRey DVD]

A sign of disloyalty... She mulled those words over, considering their value in terms of what she and Hazeheart were discussing. She supposed she could see the merit in NightClan's concern. And yet, she could not dismiss her own point of view: new blood was essential for long term survival. Her tail swayed slowly behind her, intrigue reflecting behind her pale gaze as the tortoiseshell tom mentioned something he called 'Dimstar's breeding regulations'. Though she did not understand the details, the understanding she did succeed in piecing together (assuming Dimstar was another of these NightClan cats) was certainly interesting.

"I await the day you enlighten me, then." She mewed easily, canting her head fractionally. His next statement brought a curious and rather pleased look to her features. Her intentions were not malicious: she had not been concocting a plan to attract Hazeheart to the ways of the Tribe, stealing him from his Clan. Rather, she'd been exchanging information, wanting to learn about this strange entity he called NightClan. She was pleased with what she'd learnt, for curiosity's sake alone, and was pleased that Hazeheart seemed so captivated with her Tribe. She'd enjoyed her conversation with Hazeheart, and sincerely hoped they would speak again in the future.

She thought a moment, her gaze drifting to the sky sprawling out above them. Her sloped muzzle remained tilted toward the expanse of blue for several heartbeats as she calculated the distance between the Tribe and this NightClan, and how often she could realistically travel this length before it became tiresome. And then, she thought of the moon in the sky, its changing shape as sunrises ticked by. Pensive eyes slid toward the direction she'd come, spotting the spattering of trees she'd paused at near the river's edge in the distance.

Motioning with her tail, the Tribe Prey Hunter kept her attention focused on the area in question. "Just beyond your territory, at the river's nearest edge there is a small group of trees. Beyond there, it is half a day's walk to where we reside, nestled in a mountain trough." Her exotically shaped muzzle shifted so she might meet his gaze once more, offering him a patient smile. "Should you wish to see our lands as you allowed me to see part of yours, meet me at the river's edge and I shall take you to our home. Arrive by sunhigh on the day of the half moon, and I will be there to guide you."

A single trip every half moon would do nothing to wear her out. She would have to find a way to convince her Cave Guard escort to venture that far with her, but she would find a way, once on every half moon. "I will venture there, until the half moon where this land beyond the mountains is coated with snowfall." She told him, wondering if he would still agree. Peregrine wasn't certain how far he might have originally thought the Tribe lands to be. Would he still be willing, despite the destination being in excess of half a day's journey?

Only patience would reveal the answer.

Fawn