[Ghost the Undead Goddess]

Graywolf

NightClan She-Cat 30 Moons

The only downside to being nocturnal is that the temperature always dropped once the sun went down, the wind always seemed to pick up once nighttime settled over the mountain like a slinking shadow that ate away the warmth and light of daylight. 

Granted, that never seemed to stop the cavern dwelling warriors of Nightclan. Natural elements and horrendous weather never prevented each cat from preforming their duties expected of them, whether that meant hunting, patrolling or training youngsters in a similar fashion.

The vixen like feline had spent most of that night beside the spotted form of her own apprentice, Bramblepaw, working and adjusting her hunting style for scarcer prey during the harsher Leafbare moons. However, now her slender gray form was slinking through the fleeting shadows as the sun once again peaked over the rise of the mountainous wall surrounding the valley. 

Her paws, nimble and swift were cold from the amount of snow upon the ground as she left prints behind her. Memories in the soft, white powder waiting to once again be covered by falling flurries. In all honesty, the feathered feline wasn't entirely sure what her plan was, but she felt like stirring up a little bit of trouble. 

Graywolf had been left out of the fight with Treeclan, leaving her with the irritated feeling of needing to stretch her claws. Not to mention Ghostshadow and Bonetail had kept the temperamental she-cat from barging back into the forest dwelling clan's camp to get her mother back from their claws before Lionstar released the few Nightclan prisoners.

To say she was feeling a little pent up aggression and flooding emotions was an understatement as her feathered tail lashed back and forth. It wasn't often her mood stayed sour but there was a restlessness continuously bubbling beneath the soft, gray coat of Graywolf. She needed a good spat or squabble. 

Something to get her blood racing a little, and since Treeclan was currently taboo, there was no need for her to seek annoying Brackenstride. Perhaps Rainclan's neutral border could provide her with some amusement and chaos. Though, it would have been more fun had Gracklestrike been at her side but Graywolf wasn't entirely sure where the larger feline was at the moment. 

The fishy scent of Rainclan quickly met her nose, it was foul compared to the delightful scent of her own pine dwelling clan. The ground softer here though still just as cold and frozen as the rest of the pine forests. Ears flickered atop the pretty she-cat's head as mischievous green pools scanned the area from her spot hidden among tree roots and shadows. 

Feathered tail swished nearly silently behind her as her interest was peaked due to the arrival of a new, yet familiar scent as well as the rather obvious spotted pelt of a certain Bengal. A devious purr rose from Graywolf's chest as she slipped from the undergrowth, letting the remaining shadows lick at her pelt upon her appearance from her side of the border. 

"So we meet again, Little Fish..." Her tone was silky sweet as always, like dripping honey from a bee's nest as she kept her emerald gaze fixated upon Waspstrike's similarly shaped form. She only knew of his warrior status because of Gracklestrike upon her return from the most recent gathering. 

Graywolf was a little salty she hadn't been able to join that occasion either.

I'm Trouble, Y'all

576 Words || Ginger Hellion || Notes

[Ginger]

It was colder than a frozen fish fished out of a still lake. Shivers raked through Waspstrike's body, but he persisted. While he enjoyed the fish diet of RainClan, the new warrior had noticed that land-prey was being eaten from the fresh-kill pile almost as quickly as it had been deposited onto it. 

Therefore, he and Waverunner often found themselves on either solo or duo patrols in which they looked for land prey to add to the pile, diversifying the food source. It was odd. Waspstrike felt more like a warrior from TreeClan or NightClan with all the mice (however meager and thin they were) he had been catching.

Tonight was just one of those nights. Waverunner had offered to come with Waspstrike to hunt, but the bengal tom had -- surprisingly -- politely rejected him.

He needed to be alone. His heart was still hurting, his mother's recent death still weighing him down. Everywhere he turned in RainClan's camp, he would see Emberlight. Or at least hear about him. Even Waverunner seemed entranced by the charismatic deputy. But he couldn't fool Waspstrike. Emberlight would forever be the cat responsible for his mother's death.

It was always easier to put the blame on someone else.

These solo hunts seemed to be the only times that Waspstrike could truly escape the deputy's sphere of influence. It was refreshing. Freeing. 

A rustling noise made Waspstrike's ears flick to and fro. And then the rustling was accompanied by an all-too-familiar voice. Graywolf.

"What's the matter, toadstool? NightClan's toms not enough for you?" A quick response, though it lacked the aggressive tone that Waspstrike had intended for it. While Waspstrike did long to be alone, maybe it would make him feel better to take some frustration out on this NightClanner. 

He did always feel so proud of himself after a fight. The large scar over his eye, that Graywolf had given him, was his favorite part about his appearance. The young ones always seemed so intimidated by him now. 

This banter would be good for him. This potential fight could be great for him. His claws were itching for something.

---

354 words
Ghost the Undead Goddess

[Ghost the Undead Goddess]

Graywolf

NightClan She-Cat 33 Moons

The sleek pelted tom's response was not what she had been expecting. Upon their other two encounters, he had been quick tempered and full of rebellious life. Now, it just seemed like his heart wasn't into the grumble thrown towards the slender gray molly across the border.

Though, as green hues slowly ran over the seemingly deflated Bengal, the warrioress was able to spot that shattered light within Waspstrike's gaze. It was a familiar look, a well known feeling that still somewhat haunted the young Nightclanner despite the passing of seasons. 

Graywolf could easily remember the haughty look of herself within the reflection of Brackenstride's amber gaze back when she had confronted him. Her claws ached to shred him for killing her grandfather, for taking the life of Nightclan's own Blackwolf. 

Though, in reality, the vixen like female didn't really want to kill him. Her heart was broken, that powerful ache wrapping around her body and squeezing. She honesty thought she'd never find the ability to laugh and smile again, and every memory was like a heavy kick to her soft belly. 

Of course, looking back on it now, Graywolf almost felt the need to snort at how silly that sounded. It was as if she had forgotten who was still there and present within her life, but she was well aware of the darkness that could easily engulf the heart due to such a harsh, terrible occurrence

"Certain toms are more fun than others." Graywolf responded in a quirky purr before padding forwards. There wasn't any outward aggression within the posture of the small, pretty feline as she grew closer to where Waspstrike sat in almost a dejected fashion. 

Lowering her haunches to sit, the normally troublesome she-cat merely sat there quietly for a moment. It was almost as if she were observing him, though she wasn't a very strategical feline so it was more like the gray warrioress was giving her fellow cat some peace and quiet for but a moment before her dilute jaw parted. 

"Who was it?" Graywolf finally asked in that silky tone of hers, emerald pools watching Waspstrike with a rather gentle expression. It wasn't uncommon that her feisty guard came down when emotions were at play. Hell, she had even broken down and talked to Brakcenstride over on the Treeclan border many times. 

He was also in mourning, and sometimes similar events only brought cats closer together rather than tear them apart. 

"Of course, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." She continued after a moment, not sure how he would actually respond to her sudden prying into his more personal life. After all, up until now their only interactions had been heated, tension filled battles that proved to be quite enjoyable on her end. 

I'm Trouble, Y'all

475 Words || Ginger Fawn (Brackenstride) || Notes

[Ginger]

Graywolf's response caught the sulking tom off guard. Was she actually showing concern? She wasn't making fun of his apparent weakness or throwing an aggressive jab at him? Startled, Waspstrike rose his eyes to look directly into hers. He couldn't control himself anymore. He couldn't do anything about the droplets of salty water forming in his eyes, blurring his vision. 

He blinked them away, but they kept coming back. How he wanted to just yell at Graywolf, to be angry at her, to let her take the blame for everything. But he couldn't do it. He didn't have the energy to do that tonight. Maybe it would actually help him to be vulnerable for once.

"My mother," he said, his voice raspy from holding back sobs. "She was ...special."

Special was an understatement. Sparrowfoot was the only warrior in all of RainClan who ever viewed him as good. To others, Waspstrike was a nuisance, a liability, a hothead, or a deviant. But to his mother, he was simply Waspstrike, her son whom she loved and who loved her back. The simplicity of that relationship was something Waspstrike had never realized he had cherished so much until it was gone.

"She made me feel like I was more than just a miscreant. Without her, I'm just some hotheaded jerk who isn't taken seriously by anyone in his clan." 

Why was he telling her this? Why was it so easy to tell her this? Why did he want to tell her more?

---

249 words
Ghost the Undead Goddess