We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Nov 10, 2012 8:47:46 GMT -5
How quickly the hunter could become the hunted and the tables were turned. It was an odd, if not ironic, twist of fate, that complete reversal of roles. The hunter was so focused on her prey that she did not notice her own shadow, creeping through the undergrowth behind her. After all, a mere apprentice, and a small one at that, was hardly any challenge for the cunning ways of an experienced fox. But thoughts of that were far from Littlepaw's mind; in fact, her thoughts were so focused on the rabbit wandering up ahead of her that stray ideas were a thing of the past.
Step lightly. Step quietly. Once she had gotten over her slight qualm with killing, hunting had never been particularly challenging for the apprentice of 9 moons. Though she had caught the most prey in Lionstar's hunting challenge, she would not claim to have a natural ability in hunting; modest to a fault, she explained most of her impressive catches as a result of luck rather than ability. The rabbit will be able to hear you. Paw in the air, she froze as her prey looked up, small black nose twitching as it sniffed the air. It's fluffy leaf-bare pelt made it look plump and healthy, but Littlepaw had been told that most of is bulk was that thick fur. Large ears twitched and the rabbit returned to hopping around, nose to the ground. She was not fooled; at any sign of a predator, it would disappear into the nearby bush.
Counting to 10 before she moved again, the apprentice kept her green gaze locked on the furry body. Unsheathed claws rested lightly on the hard, almost frozen soil as she waited there, crouched down low. The rabbit showed no sign of moving, as it seemed content with snuffling around the base of a nearby tree. She stilled, gathering up her strength and preparing to spring. As her hind paws left the ground, two things happened at once.
The first was that the rabbit looked up and zipped off to the side, barely missing the outstretched claws.
The second was that something collided with her back legs, sending her off course and land awkwardly.
Whipping around, Littlepaw came face to face with a large, auburn fox. Spittle flew from its mouth as it snarled at her, and it was only luck that the apprentice dodged the paw flying at the side of her head. Muscles froze up for a moment as panic caused her mind to blank, and a cold filled her as the blood left her face. Her hunter look advantage of this momentary stall and lunged at her again; this attack spurred Littlepaw into action, and she turned tail and fled.
Never had she run so fast in her entire life. As if they had sprouted wings, her small paws flew over the ground. Her tail streamed out behind her like a banner in the wind as she pelted forward, ears flat against her head. She refused to look behind her, since she knew what she would see: the snarling jaws snapping at her tail with spittle flying from the fangs, crazed wide eyes full of evil intent, agile paws adorned with long claws that slashed through the air. Its panting was barely audible over the sound of her own rapid breaths.
Tree! It was a low one, with branches within jumping height if she timed it just right. Foxes couldn't climb trees; it was the perfect refuge. Keeping her gaze locked on the branch, Littlepaw focused on the rhythm of her steps, getting the pattern down. If she aimed for the part where the bough joined the trunk, it would be the easiest to climb. To do so, she would have to jump... Now! Claws caught on the bark, scrambling for a hold. Muscles straining, she pulled herself up onto the branch, head turning as her eyes were drawn to the furious fox below her. It leapt up at her, jaws snapping far too close to her tail for comfort, and pulling it up out of reach, Littlepaw took the time to glance away from the predator at her surroundings.
With a start, she realized that she was perched in a tree on the outskirts of the dense forest that made up TreeClan's territory; it was practically inside StarClan's Claws, and sure enough, there were the distinctive stone spires, curving up into the sky. The tranquil atmosphere that the place usually held was torn apart by the furious snarl that the fox let loose, and carefully, Littlepaw looked back down again. She had hoped that the fox would leave upon realizing that she was not going to get down from the tree. But that did not seem to be the case. Trying to calm her racing heart, Littlepaw told herself that someone would come along and help her. Eventually.
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Post by Fawn on Nov 10, 2012 17:07:01 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width:330; height: 470; background-color: #CECBB7; border: 0px solid #000000; text-align:center; padding: 4px;background-image: url(http://i52.tinypic.com/6e3yux.jpg); border-radius: 10px; -moz-border-radius: 10px; -webkit-box-shadow: 0 1px 5px #000000; -moz-box-shadow: 0 1px 5px #000000;][STYLE=color: #A73A3A; font-size: 18pt; font-family: gill; width: 360;margin-top: -220px; text-shadow: #634C4C 0px 0px 1px;]Just a crack in this castle of glass.[/style]
| [STYLE=color: #B48980; font-size: 16pt; font-family: terminal; border-top: 1px dotted #222222; text-align: center; width: 340; margin-top: -430;margin-left: 30px; padding-top: 5px; -webkit-box-shadow: 0 1px 5px #000000; -moz-box-shadow: 0 1px 5px #000000;] [/style] [STYLE=color: #A73A3A; font-size: 16pt; font-family: gill; width: 360;margin-top: 0px; text-shadow: #634C4C 0px 0px 1px; margin-left: 30px;]Granitepaw - 12 Moons - StoneClan[/style] [STYLE=color: #565656; background-color: #B0B0B0; width: 340px; height: 200px; border-top: 3px solid #000000; border-bottom: 1px dotted #000000; font-size:9px; overflow: auto; margin-left: 30px; margin-top: -20px;]
There was nothing in particular that had brought him back along StarClan's Claws. With a red-tailed hawk dangling from his jaws, Granitepaw had been acting perfectly normal, all things considered what with his recent tussle just a few days ago. Though the mere mention of Shadeclaw now made his throat burn like someone had poured hot coals into his mouth, so long as he didn't think about him, Granitepaw could keep it together. The scent of fox and fear made the young almost-warrior pause, his yellow-green eyes rounding with apprehension. What if someone's in trouble?
Before Granitepaw could come to a decision, however, he saw a small familiar tabby she-cat pelting up a tree with a ravenous fox scratching and snarling at the bark after her, evolution denying the red beast it's meal. Instinctive rather than sensible, Granitepaw dropped the hawk and charged for the border, hissing and spitting at the vulpine menace, his haunches wriggling as he launched himself upon the fox's back like he would a hawk. The creature barked with surprise, Granitepaw clinging for dear life as the fox bucked and rolled and whipped it's head around to try and gnaw him off, Granitepaw hissing and spitting with bravado turned fear, his fur fluffed up in shock.
Something weird happened, however. Lurching forward towards the beast's neck, Granitepaw's jaw tunked against the back of the fox's head, not enough to do very much damage, just produce a slight thud noise of impact. When his eyes met with the fox, the creature seemed to recognize him, and after giving one last massive shake, flung Granitepaw away from it. Winded from landing in the bushes, Granitepaw sprang to his paws, wheezing, but the fox had turned tail and was moving back off into the brush. HUH?
Wait...no way... Had they, er, bashed their skulls together before?
[/style]
[STYLE=color: #565656; background-color: #B0B0B0; width: 340px; border-top: 3px solid #000000; border-bottom: 1px dotted #000000; font-size: 6pt; margin-left: 30px; margin-top: -20px; line-height: 7px;]WORDS. 764 TAGGED. NOTES. MUSE. CREDITS. this template was created by rei-chan of btn[/style]
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We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Nov 11, 2012 0:15:16 GMT -5
As it turned out, waiting up in the branch was not as easy as she had originally anticipated. The sound of ripping bark and snarls split the air, causing her blood to race and her heart to pound despite the knowledge that she was relatively safe. The fox could not reach her up in her branch, as its ferocious actions proved. While it fought against the impossible, all she had to do was sit there, perched on her branch with claws clinging into the bark. Stay still. Stay balanced. And don't move. It should be simple. But trembling had taken hold of her nerves and remaining completely still was no longer in the picture; her limbs shook and the shaking accompanied by the rush of adrenaline made it harder to keep a hold on the tree branch. Will power and instinct kept her clinging to the branch, delicately balanced on the bough.
Then came her savior in the form of a familiar brown tom, pelting across the border and leaping at the fox. As it turned out, the predator did not enjoy becoming the prey, for its movements turned frantic as it struggled to buck the apprentice off. In an odd little dance, the two moved around the base of the tree. Littlepaw wanted to help - she really did - but her limbs refused to obey her commands, now oddly frozen to the branch. She could only watch, filled with forboding, as the apprentice looked as though he was about to be shaken off. And then they stopped.
What? The creature gave on final shake, loosening the StoneClan apprentice's grip and flinging him across the clearing, before pulling away. Littlepaw's jaw dropped, and it took her a moment before she regained the sense to descend from the tree. Claws unhooking themselves from the branch, she scrambled down the trunk, running over to the tom, who looked more than a little dazed. He was wheezing, and guilt mingled with relief. "Thank you! Are you ok?"
OOC: rushed at the end, sorry. Gotta go
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Post by Fawn on Nov 11, 2012 13:21:54 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width:330; height: 470; background-color: #CECBB7; border: 0px solid #000000; text-align:center; padding: 4px;background-image: url(http://i52.tinypic.com/6e3yux.jpg); border-radius: 10px; -moz-border-radius: 10px; -webkit-box-shadow: 0 1px 5px #000000; -moz-box-shadow: 0 1px 5px #000000;][STYLE=color: #A73A3A; font-size: 18pt; font-family: gill; width: 360;margin-top: -220px; text-shadow: #634C4C 0px 0px 1px;]Just a crack in this castle of glass.[/style]
| [STYLE=color: #B48980; font-size: 16pt; font-family: terminal; border-top: 1px dotted #222222; text-align: center; width: 340; margin-top: -430;margin-left: 30px; padding-top: 5px; -webkit-box-shadow: 0 1px 5px #000000; -moz-box-shadow: 0 1px 5px #000000;] [/style] [STYLE=color: #A73A3A; font-size: 16pt; font-family: gill; width: 360;margin-top: 0px; text-shadow: #634C4C 0px 0px 1px; margin-left: 30px;]Granitepaw - 12 Moons - StoneClan[/style] [STYLE=color: #565656; background-color: #B0B0B0; width: 340px; height: 200px; border-top: 3px solid #000000; border-bottom: 1px dotted #000000; font-size:9px; overflow: auto; margin-left: 30px; margin-top: -20px;]
Catching sight of Littlepaw hurrying over to him, the fear scent still strongly clinging to her pelt, Granitepaw straightened, clearing his head of the fog of battle - though the adrenaline rush would just have to fade away on it's own. "You're welcome - and I'm fine. You?" Had that fox managed to injure her before she could safely scramble up that tree? Nah, couldn't have...he didn't smell any blood on her. Frowning with thought, Granitepaw got back on his feet, shaking any leafy, twiggy or dirt contents from the ticked gray and tan pelt clinging to his lithe frame.
Even if they'd seen each other only a few days ago, Granitepaw had already had another growth spurt. As if to prepare for his upcoming warrior ceremony, the young tom's body had been playing catch-up with his brain, his physical appearance determined to match the maturity he'd been (mostly) displaying since he was roughly 8 or 9 moons. With his leg injury a thing of the past, he was developing at a proportionate rate, Littlepaw now even smaller next to the StoneClan tom than she had been before. Though he wasn't likely to be of the leaner, more athletic build, he was long-legged and with a sprinter's physique, his fur close-lying and his paw-pads well accustomed to the rocky, challenging terrain upon which he hunted and survived.
As for as personal injuries went, Granitepaw had actually faired quite well considering his opponent had been a fully grown dog-fox; a few scratches and a nicked ear was all he had to worry about. Neither were that deep, so a quick paw wiped over his cheek and a tongue rasped over his chest had him looking a little better. Drawing his gaze back to Littlepaw, the StoneClan tom felt his tail-tip start to twitch with awkwardness. "So...er..."
What should he say? She wasn't kicking him out of TreeClan territory since he'd just saved her life (like a mousebrain, but still), and Granitepaw wasn't feeling that overwhelming sense of I shouldn't be here. They weren't exactly enemies, at least, they didn't harbor any sort of animosity towards one another, as far as he could tell. In fact, if Granitepaw had to guess, he would think that Littlepaw would've been someone he'd gotten along with had they been in the same Clan. Since they were more like odd acquaintances, the gray-furred warrior-to-be was a little tongue-tied on how to proceed, now that the heroics were over.
[/style]
[STYLE=color: #565656; background-color: #B0B0B0; width: 340px; border-top: 3px solid #000000; border-bottom: 1px dotted #000000; font-size: 6pt; margin-left: 30px; margin-top: -20px; line-height: 7px;]WORDS. TAGGED. NOTES. MUSE. CREDITS. this template was created by rei-chan of btn[/style]
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We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Nov 11, 2012 19:55:30 GMT -5
With her limbs still trembling slightly from the adrenaline and her heart still pounding, to say that she was fine would be a lie. But what else could she say? "I'm alright, thanks," She nodded, becoming aware of a stinging down toward her tail. Glancing back, she saw what looked like a fairly shallow scratch on her right leg, and turning to sniff it, she figured that it was from the fox's first attack. Experimentally, she moved her leg; the pain was ignorable, so the scrape could not be that bad. It did not even look like it was bleeding
Swallowing as she finished her quick assessment, Littlepaw turned her attention to the surrounding area, briefly glancing at Granitepaw. That fox had not given the impression that it had any plans to return, but she would rather not be caught off guard a second time. Green eyes landed on the other apprentice, and it struck her just how tall he was. Surely he hadn't been that tall the last time they'd met only a few days ago? She felt even smaller, standing in front of him. He made an awkward attempt at starting a conversation, but when Littlepaw turned expectantly toward him, his voice trailed off.
Teeth nibbled her bottom lip as she glanced down at her paws. Small talk had never been easy, as shown by her reputation as one of the quieter apprentices in the clan. Eyes flicked to a nearby pebble, watching it as if it were the most fascinating thing in the forest, before shifting back up to the tom's. Granitepaw was his name, right? The awkward silence prevailed, and Littlepaw wanted nothing more than to break it, to do something to stop the sheer uncomfortableness of the moment. "So... You're.. Granitepaw, right?" Of course he's Granitepaw, mousebrain. Did you not just refer to him as that a moment ago? "Um... so... how's StoneClan?"
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Post by Fawn on Nov 21, 2012 22:11:06 GMT -5
Awkwardly, the tan and gray apprentice bobbed his head, yes. He was Granitepaw. "StoneClan is...doing pretty well," he mewed, resisting the urge to say 'fine' so that their conversation had some variety to it. He didn't want to just walk back over to StoneClan, that would seem rude and make possible gatherings seem really really awkward. Besides, they were kind similar, in that socially illiterate kind of way. Fortunately, both apprentices were spared from continuing this odd conversation by a dark, spectral tom seeming to have appeared from nowhere, a literal shadow of the wind.
Granitepaw's fur stood on end as he gazed into the 'frightful' face of the LightningClan Medicine Cat, Rookfrost. Having never actually met the shadowy tom, he would have assumed him a TreeClan warrior - he certainly had the build for it, and that iron will flickering coldly behind storm-gray eyes - but Littlepaw looked just as surprised to see him as Granitepaw was. "W-Who are you?" He blurted, startled.
Rookfrost flicked an ear in his direction but otherwise didn't comment right away. Instead, his attention was focused almost eerily so upon the small tabby and white she-cat at Granitepaw's side. His pale gray eyes narrowed, and it was like a cloud covering the moon, the bright gleam in his eyes muffled only by the dark myriad of thoughts the two apprentices could not see swirling behind them. "...how old are you?" He mewed to Littlepaw. If she was young, then her size would mean nothing. If she were closer to Granitepaw's age - of whom he surmised was nearing warriorhood, if not already in his early days of it - then that would be a different story entirely.
Granitepaw's pelt prickled. "Er...why do you want to know that?" He mewed, feeling defensive of Littlepaw in the face of this...very sketchy individual. Again Rookfrost flicked an ear in his direction as though to prove he wasn't deaf, but the "ignoring you" game continued, much to Granitepaw's frustration.
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We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Nov 21, 2012 22:42:40 GMT -5
Littlepaw dipped her head in response, forcing a small smile on her face. Her tail flicked as she glanced away again, green gaze travelling from her paws to a nearby stone and back to her paws. Silence fell for a moment, in the wake of Granitepaw's single-sentence response. "That's good," She found herself saying idly, stalling. "I'm glad that your clan is doing well..." Immediately after the words left her mouth, the apprentice wished that she could take them back. Should she have said that? Was it right to be glad that another clan was thriving? A sense of betrayal ripped through her, tasting bitter on her tongue. "Well, TreeClan is too," The small figure added hastily in an attempt to redeem herself in the imaginary eyes of her clan. "Doing well, I mean... In case you were wondering, that is." Shut UP, you idiot! You're just making things worse. Willing anything to show up and break up this odd, hesitant conversation, Littlepaw found herself wondering if StarClan had any mercy. If they did, surely they would take pity on the pair of socially challenged apprentices and send something to intervene.
The sudden appearance of a new feline had the blood rushing from her face, and she could feel her features shifting into a rather startled expression. A quick glance to the side told Littlepaw that the other apprentice had not expected the arrival of this intimidating tom, and she unconsciously shifted closer to him. "When did he show up?" She hissed under her breath toward her companion, green eyes staring into cold gray ones. Straightening when she found herself under his analytical gaze, Littlepaw wished that she was anywhere but here. Why is he looking at me like that? And why isn't he staring at Granitepaw like that too? It was hard to conceal the trembling in her paws. If this tom was an enemy, it looked as though he could very easily take on both apprentices. And then he did something Littlepaw would not have expected in a million moons.
It set her on edge. Had anyone else asked her that question, she would have barely hesitated in volunteering the information. After all, what harm could knowing someone's age bring? But the look that had preceeded said question had Littlepaw wanting to skitter away and flee back to TreeClan. The cat was creepy! Beside her, Granitepaw seemed to have similar thoughts, for he voiced a hesitant question. Finding herself echoing his words, Littlepaw added her own quiet voice, "What does my age have to do with anything? Who're you?"
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Post by Fawn on Nov 21, 2012 23:37:24 GMT -5
Granitepaw had no clue how to answer her. He didn't know when the tom had shown up - he'd just shown up, as though every bad thought he'd ever had suddenly solidified into this malevolent looking tom as dark as hells' teeth. He had been about to protectively step into Rookfrost's line of sight, but then the creepy feline actually answered Littlepaw's question.
"Rookfrost."
[/color] he mewed, as though saying some sort of customary politeness like 'bless you' after someone had sneezed, not really meaning the words, just following through with the motions. "Your age has to do with everything. I am trying to determine if you are small for your age, or otherwise." He spoke so coldly and fluidly, Granitepaw wasn't entirely sure this cat was...well... all-feline. He seemed to be mixed with something Granitepaw couldn't place. Clearing his throat, the tan and gray tom's whiskers twitched as he frowned. "Er, You're a Clan cat then?"Rookfrost gaze him a patronizing stare. "Are you a tom?" he mewed with such rhetorical sarcasm that Granitepaw actually flushed beneath his fur, his tail fluffing out with indignation. Gaze swiveling back to Litttlepaw, Rookfrost regarded the small tabby and white she-cat, debating whether to wait for an explanation or just let things to go in favor of more... pressing matters. Granitepaw, who had been rubbed the wrong way since he'd met this tom, felt his temper rise up like hot water from a spring. "You're no TreeClan or StoneClan cat - so why are you here?""Collecting."Making a face, Granitepaw did not feel comforted by the truncated explanation, in fact, he had even more questions. Collecting WHAT exactly? For one frightful moment, Granitepaw glanced in Littlepaw's direction. No way... This weird black cat wasn't collecting apprentices, was he? Or was he collecting she-cats? Great StarClan, what on earth for? Bewildered, uncomfortable and more than a little intimidated, Granitepaw did not feel morally sound in leaving her behind with this Rookfrost, so he stayed, against every fiber of his body screaming at him to leave, he stayed. [/blockquote]
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We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Nov 23, 2012 10:50:27 GMT -5
Granitepaw's silence in response to her question was hardly reassuring. She had hoped that at least one of them would have noticed the arrival of the intimidating ebony tom, but it also reminded her just how far she had to go before she had the abilities associated with warriors. Though a warrior would have been able to answer that question, a warrior would not have needed to ask it in the first place. If she couldn't tell when she was being watched or whether or not she was alone... Littlepaw felt a shiver run down her spine as a thought struck her: what if he had been there the whole time? Could he have seen their whole exchange, just been sitting there in the shadows, and neither of them noticed it? She found herself pressing closer to the StoneClan apprentice.
The older tom did provide her with an answer, though it was short and dismissive, as if he deemed his identity an unworthy topic against others more deserving of his time. His cold words sparked something deep within Littlepaw, and a small indignant flicker began to grow. She could feel her jaw clenching as she looked at him through a slightly narrowed gaze. I don't like you. This was the first time they had ever seen each other, and he started off by asking her about her age, just to see whether or not she was small! Her size was not her most important quality! But the tom - Rookfrost - did not look as though he would appreciate a refusal to answer the question, and regardless of the irritation she felt, Littlepaw was not stupid enough to try the patience of a tom many times bigger than herself. "I am 9 moons old," She grumbled, tail tip twitching irritably. It would be best if both she and Granitepaw could return to their respective clans without any conflict and while they were still in one piece.
And then Granitepaw asked the question that she wanted an answer to as well. But the answer did nothing to reassure her that Rookfrost did not mean either of them any harm. A glance toward her companion told her that he felt the same discomfort spreading through him at the implications of the word. "We have to get out of here," She muttered to Granitepaw, muscles tensed and ready to flee. In a louder voice, the small apprentice addressed the intimidating tom, "Collecting what?"
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Post by Fawn on Nov 26, 2012 21:29:07 GMT -5
Granitepaw held his breath as the ebony tom seemed to stare at the two of them as though in deep concentration, something icy and lifeless in his look that had put the apprentice on edge. What is he thinking of? How to murder us both in our nests later tonight? Trying to keep his pelt from prickling and from releasing a fear scent, Granitepaw swallowed and shuffled his paws, casting a glance at Littlepaw. We have to get out of here.
Yeah we really do.
"Squirrels." Spoke the tom with such deadpan delivery that Granitepaw's mouth fell open. "You're...crazy!"
Rookfrost closed his eyes, as though trying to find a happy place within himself that didn't involve smiting down this idiot apprentices before him. "Use those brain cells you were born with, StoneClanner. What do you smell?"
Put off by his cryptic request, Granitepaw hesitantly craned his neck forward, gulping before concentrating on the scent coming off the tom's pelt. LightningClan! And...something else. "Is that...marigold?"
"Congratulations. You are not a complete failure to your species."
Torn between being offended and being confused, Granitepaw again shuffled his paws against the earth, his claws catching on frost-bitten branches and dead plants underfoot, his expression warping into one of utter consternation. What did he mean 'your' species? What the heck is this guy?
"You're...a feline...right?" murmured Granitepaw, feeling like an idiot for asking, but this tom was so horrendously cryptic, he wanted to double check. He LOOKED feline, but he acted nothing like an average cat.
Much to his utter alarm, the cat with the hellishly black fur smiled. It was quiet, and for all the world to see it was perfectly natural, and yet something still didn't feel right about it. "Among other things." Spoke the tom, and he flicked his tail at the two apprentices.
"Now. Pleasantries aside, you two can either stand here dithering, or you can be of some use. What will it be, apprentices? My patience is not endless. Far from it." His gray eyes sparkled like ice, and his jet black pelt glittered in the light like the shiny black shell of a scarab beetle. What will it be? Care to go home and carry on with your irritatingly simple lives or be of some benefit?
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We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Nov 30, 2012 22:07:31 GMT -5
Squirrels. Really. Littlepaw eyed the inky tom standing before them, skepticism lurking in her gaze. If he had spoken the truth, a glance around him told her that he had not been too successful in his endeavors; however the blank slate that was his face and the emotionless tone that he had used set her even more on guard. This cat was strange. Something was definitely off about him, and honestly, the apprentice would not put it past him to collect something as odd as squirrels. Green eyes drifted up to his gray ones, causing another shiver to run down her spine. The TreeClan apprentice could not claim to know Rookfrost, but his actions had only strengthened the general air of creepiness about him. Besides, why would someone want to colle-- Oh.
Despite her lack of verbal response, Littlepaw felt herself flush at her naivety and attempted to make it up to herself by following the tom's instructions. Breathing in, the apprentice first noticed the distinctive scent of LightningClan, and her gaze flicked to the clan's open territory across StarClan's Claws. Another smell came off his fur, something that made her think of Spottedfeather's den back in camp. It was an herbal scent, and though she could not place the plant - Granitepaw did it for her a moment later, anyway - the smell told Littlepaw all she needed to know. "You're LightningClan's Medicine Cat," She breathed, torn between respect and admiration for his position and the strong dislike from her personal opinion of him. Beside her, the younger tom seemed to have a similar problem.
Something was off about Rookfrost's words to Granitepaw, just as something was off about the tom in general. There was a compliment mixed in there, spoken with the same amount of indifference as every other word that had left his mouth during the conversation. Though it was unexpected, that was not it. 'Your species'. Littlepaw could feel her features forming into an expression of confusion as she comprehended the implications of the statement. However, it was Granitepaw who voiced the question and worry that had begun to form in her mind. And, like every other time, the midnight black tom's reaction was far from reassuring.
Smiling, Littlepaw decided, did not fit the character that she had started to form for Rookfrost. The action looked natural, but once again, something was off. It was strange: that something usually comforting appeared so mutated and morphed on the tom's face that it unnerved her further. Or perhaps that was just her perception of the expression. In any case, it did nothing to prepare her for his next words. "You mean you'll let us go?" The TreeClan apprentice blurted before snapping her jaws shut with an audible click!. "Sorry!" Her voice was muffled by her tail, which she had brought around to cover her mouth. Wide eyes looked up at Rookfrost with apprehension as regret filled her; why did her mouth pick the most inopportune times to voice her thoughts?
Obligation and moons of respect drilled into her dictated that she offer her help to the Medicine Cat. He was, after all, of a higher rank and many moons her senior, and Rookfrost had offhandedly asked for assistance. Leafscar and Lionstar would be so disappointed in her if she refused to help; it was only courtesy to help another cat, regardless of clan, was it not? Littlepaw found her gaze drifting over to Granitepaw, wondering what he thought of this. Would his mentor, that blue-eyed she-cat who inspired similar feelings of wariness, be disappointed in him as well, if he did not offer his help? As much as she wanted to escape the tom's presense, TreeClan's apprentice feared disappointing others. "I mean... I guess..." She began hesitantly, mouth moving once more without her complete permission. "If you really need the help..."
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Post by Fawn on Dec 1, 2012 19:38:44 GMT -5
"You mean you'll let us go?"
They were under the impression that he was holding them captive? Amusing. Incorrect, but amusing. This was a reaction he wasn't at all unused to; though the cats of LightningClan knew him to be a very orderly, no nonsense sort of creature, Rookfrost made some effort (no matter how paltry) to give off the appearance of taking his job so seriously, he scarcely had time for other things or any form of socialization. He came off as a workaholic, a busybody who kept to himself though whose skills were exceptional and rare in the vast amount of knowledge he possessed. To those outside of LightningClan, this appearance of cold, dark harmlessness did not extend to those beyond the borders of the moorlands. He need not try so hard to hide his true personality, his true purpose and what he really thought of everyone.
Was he worried about some mouse-brained fool running off to go blab to the Clan that their so called "Medicine Cat" was a sociopath in the making? Hardly. He did not expect anyone to be seized by a sudden understanding of his true nature and a desire to go warn everyone about it. In most cases, no, in all cases, the cats he was around were more or less focused on getting as far away from him as possible, before he maimed them in some obtuse way made to look like an accident on their part.
He had no intention of press-ganging them into temporary servitude, but he could carry back more herbs with more mouths, an annoying little problem he had yet to figure out a permanent solution to. Realizing that fear was a powerful tool at his deposal, Rookfrost played a less threatening card - the little one was tense of muscle and suspicious, like a hare unsure of whether he was lurking there in the shadows or not. It was best not to frighten them too terribly. "In the moutanins are a large number of herbs that have not yet died off in from the cold spell. I cannot carry them all back with me."
Though he was openly admitting to having a fault, though it was one they all shared, his words were still as machine-like and controlled, and they made Granitepaw's ears fold back when the ink-black tom directed his gaze to him. Would Hailstrike want me to help him? He inwardly questioned, making no attempt to hide his frown. But that would mean giving LightningClan more herbs! Replied the mutinous little voice in the back of his mind. Still...he's a Medicine Cat, albeit a really weird one, but still important. He understands StarClan better than anyone. It would be wise not to give this mysterious tom any reason to think ill of him or his Clan. "I'll help," Granitepaw found himself saying, meeting Rookfrost's icy blank gray eyes, and he suppressed the urge to shift and shiver with unease. He didn't really want to go to the mountains - he didn't have the Medicine Cat's thick fur for such an excursion - but he didn't want Littlepaw to go there by herself, either.
Speaking of Littlepaw, the StoneClan tom threw a glance in her direction, stepping closer as though this were two against one in their funny, misfortunate little conversation. We'll have to watch each other's backs, I guess. I'll forget you're TreeClan if you forget I'm StoneClan.
The Clan this ebony feline belonged to was no friend of either of theirs.
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We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Dec 1, 2012 23:22:58 GMT -5
Did she really want to help him carry back his herbs? Did she really want to venture into the mountains and risk freezing? Did she really want to spend that much more time in his presense? No, no and definitely no. He wasn't even part of her clan; why did she feel so obligated to assist him? She would end up helping a rival clan gather more herbs, and she would put herself at personal discomfort in order to do so. Was it because of his position? As a medicine cat, he had special contact with StarClan; perhaps if she helped him, StarClan would see and grant TreeClan an easy leaf-bare? And did she really have anything to fe-- Yes, yes I do. He is a creepy cat, and I'm not sure why, but I don't like it.
Granitepaw agreed, sounding dubious, and Littlepaw found her head nodding as she reaffirmed her earlier words. Now she had to go; she wasn't about to leave Granitepaw alone with LightningClan's odd Medicine Cat. Feeling him shift closer to her, the she-cat copied the action. Comfort spread through her at the thought that she was not alone; the other tom was there, and even if he was from a different clan, she knew that she would not hesitate to help him should something happen and vise versa. Or so she hoped. At least with the two of them, they stood a chance. A chance against what? A small, persistent voice spoke in her head, trying to rationalize the situation. Apart from his unnatural creepiness, Rookfrost hasn't actually done anything to you. But he odd and the atmosphere about him automatically put her on her guard, and she did not like it. He was... unnerving, to say the least. No cat in TreeClan was like that.
But perhaps some good could come out of the trip. If there was a large number of herbs like Rookfrost implied, then maybe Littlepaw could show Spottedfeather the area. Maybe it would be close enough to make the trip worth the effort; the LightningClan tom would not be able to keep his stash a secret if he was going to bring them along, and nothing was stopping her from letting her own Medicine Cat know about the herbs. Littlepaw was not about to let LightningClan get the better of TreeClan. Rookfrost did not seem to have considered this yet, and the fact that she had made it all the more sweeter.
"How far into the mountains are we going?" Keeping her voice light and innocently curious was harder than the apprentice expected, but she could not let the tom guess that she would use the information to her clan's advantage. Littlepaw tore her gaze away from the ebony tom to glance around them. She did not know the mountains very well, apart from the fact that it was cold and probably very harsh. They said that Demon lived in the mountains. Her blood ran cold, and she could feel it leaving her face as she paled. Demon. Thoughts of Duskpaw and Noblepaw filled her mind: the she-cat's labored, painful breaths, and the tom's clawed face, forever scarred. Noblepaw was by far a better fighter than she, Duskpaw too, and if that was what happened when they met Demon... Littlepaw could feel herself shaking and unconsciously pressed back toward Granitepaw for support. "Demon's in the mountains," She commented, voice small. "If he finds us, we're all dead." And dying was definitely not on her to-do list. Not for a long, long time. If ever.
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Post by Fawn on Dec 10, 2012 4:49:25 GMT -5
"As far as necessary. If you're afraid of the lynx that dwells in the mountains, don't be. He will not attack a group this size, even if one of you is roughly the same proportions as a mountain rabbit..."
[/color] There was no mistaking whom the black feline was referring to, and he need not glance behind to tip off Littlepaw, it was obvious enough. To be blunt, he found her worry completely unnecessary, as he had already conducted more than enough research on their feline-devouring fiend up there amidst the mountains and all that snow. He spoke with a peculiar accent, from what he'd gleaned of the survivors he had discovered, an tended to attack when the groups were smaller than three - which wasn't really a group at all, it was a pair - but that wasn't his reasoning for bringing along the StoneClan cat and the TreeClan cat. He really did intend to turn them into pack mules for the morning, having their jaws full-to-bursting with all the precious herbs he would scrounge up. It did ghost across his mind, the idea of sending a few small bundles of herbs back with each apprentice to their respective Clans, but after a few minutes of considering this, the idea was shoved out of his head by more important matters. Take the herbs home, don't take the herbs home, it didn't matter, really. If he himself did not have enough to last the leafbare out, then he would just have to improvise, which was more than half the actual fun of being a Medicine Cat. He got a certain thrill out of stuffing strange plants down the throats of his patients and watching, waiting, breathless for the side effects - which sometimes were more internal than external, which then involved a bit of careful questioning and prodding, if his victim patient was still with him, that is. Granitepaw trudged along after the ebony tom dutifully, his ears pinning back against his skull at mention of demon - not that Rookfrost's words were actually any help. "He might get bold, considering the weather." murmured the tom under his breath, and as expected, the black shadow in front of them didn't humor them with an answer, he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, which Granitepaw for once, was absolutely grateful he couldn't read. He really didn't want to know what went on inside the mind of this cat. He was likely a brilliant fellow, Granitepaw had heard the rumors, but it looked as though this brilliance had a dark side a mile wide. "Well make this quick, and then go back to our Clans," mewed the stone-furred tom, trying to sound confident now that he had some semblance of a game plan. They'd go into the mountains, get what they needed, and then leave as though their paws had been set on fire. [/blockquote]
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We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Dec 14, 2012 21:57:36 GMT -5
Perhaps it had been too much hoping for the dark tom to see the reason behind her words. While she had not expected to be given a mouse and herded back to her own camp with words of comfort, she had clung to the desperate belief that this machine of a cat had the sense to recognize the threat that the lynx posed. And she had most certainly not been looking for another snide comment about her size. The tabby fur along her spine bristled with annoyance as she plodded along behind Rookfrost, paws matching Granitepaw's longer strides, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she did not address the remark. "Look," Littlepaw spoke to the large black back of LightningClan's Medicine Cat. "I've seen the end result of a meeting with Demon." Her words were blunt, and she worked to keep her voice respectful, though it grew harder with the passing moment. Desperation took root inside of her, and she willed Rookfrost to understand. "It's not pretty. It's not nice."
Still, she could not ignore the surprise - and the slight pride - she felt at expressing her opinion in such an upfront way. "I don't think you understand-- Well you probably do, but I think you might be underestimating Demon." She gave a nod toward Granitepaw. "And the weather might cause him to get bold. Even if he doesn't usually attack a patrol this size..." Even as the words left her mouth, Littlepaw found herself wondering if the tom was even listening to her. He seemed rather lost in thought, but she hoped that her arguments would have some effect on his opinion. Still, it felt as though she was talking to a rock. He might as well be, The apprentice thought, for all of the emotion that he shows.
Having made her point, the she-cat turned her attention to the StoneClan apprentice pacing along beside her. She heard his attempt at a confident mew and gave him a small smile, appreciating the effort even if it did little to boost her own confidence. The instinctive terror she had of Demon had only increased after seeing the mess that the lynx had made of Noblepaw's face and the lasting effects of his attack on Duskpaw. It would take something big to combat that. But she gave her own attempt at sounding confident, hoping that her response would help Granitepaw. "Alright. We'll quickly get his herbs and then go home." Her heart fell a little; had she sounded confident enough? Had that little waver at the beginning undermined everything? Deciding that it would probably be best to change the subject, Littlepaw asked, "How's training going for you?"
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