- May 17, 2023
- 298
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Howlingstar, Little Wolf, and Orangeblossom are moving on to on to greyer pastures of conversation. Their new topics include things like new litters (she had enough of kits when she'd been a kit), how the prey is faring (as long as it ends up in her mouth, she's good), and what the latest ThunderClan news is (she doesn't even know any of these cats). They're starting to talk about adult things, like what the warriors talk about over shared tongues or during quiet lapses on patrol. Now, they're just doing it at the Gathering instead of at home. Cherrypaw thinks she's already heard enough of it, so she politely chirps an excusal—"It's nice to meet you, Howlingstar and Little Wolf!"—and ducks back into the congregation.
The little wanderer drifts through the dark again. Shadows cling to every surface they can, outlined in silver, rippling along patchworked pelts, stretching over the paw-trodden turf. The warmth of so many bodies, and the atmosphere of a clear Greenleaf night, ebbs and flows against her flanks. The brief reunion with her mother had been like sticking her head into a pocket of cool air, a breath to save in her lungs before plunging back into the heat of the crowd.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spots a firefly. No, a flicker? Of a flame, something like a burning wisp. It drifts between two tall, strange shadows, moving away with a motion too fluid for fire. Curious, she hurries after it.
It's a cat. She's about Cherrypaw's size and Cherrypaw's age. Thick orange ribbons course through her pelt, burning through the sea of black and white that'd hidden the rest of her from Cherrypaw. A butterfly wing like Eggpaw's winks at her in the moonlight, afternoon blue shot through with streaks of silver. The scent drifting off her pelt is entirely foreign. She smells of no trees at all, just the roar of an open sky and the kiss of unfettered wind. She smells like she swims through grass and the very earth, parting it before her as easily as twisting aside a branch.
She taps the girl's shoulder with her tail. "Hi," Cherrypaw meows brightly. "Your fur is sooo pretty." Moon yellow eyes sweep over her fur again; her markings seem to billow when she turns, like a fire smoldering into the night. "I'm Cherrypaw." Her smile is pearly and guileless. "What's your name?" Head cocked, Cherrypaw blinks expectantly at the stranger.
@SCORCHPAW
The little wanderer drifts through the dark again. Shadows cling to every surface they can, outlined in silver, rippling along patchworked pelts, stretching over the paw-trodden turf. The warmth of so many bodies, and the atmosphere of a clear Greenleaf night, ebbs and flows against her flanks. The brief reunion with her mother had been like sticking her head into a pocket of cool air, a breath to save in her lungs before plunging back into the heat of the crowd.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spots a firefly. No, a flicker? Of a flame, something like a burning wisp. It drifts between two tall, strange shadows, moving away with a motion too fluid for fire. Curious, she hurries after it.
It's a cat. She's about Cherrypaw's size and Cherrypaw's age. Thick orange ribbons course through her pelt, burning through the sea of black and white that'd hidden the rest of her from Cherrypaw. A butterfly wing like Eggpaw's winks at her in the moonlight, afternoon blue shot through with streaks of silver. The scent drifting off her pelt is entirely foreign. She smells of no trees at all, just the roar of an open sky and the kiss of unfettered wind. She smells like she swims through grass and the very earth, parting it before her as easily as twisting aside a branch.
She taps the girl's shoulder with her tail. "Hi," Cherrypaw meows brightly. "Your fur is sooo pretty." Moon yellow eyes sweep over her fur again; her markings seem to billow when she turns, like a fire smoldering into the night. "I'm Cherrypaw." Her smile is pearly and guileless. "What's your name?" Head cocked, Cherrypaw blinks expectantly at the stranger.
@SCORCHPAW