all american reject l intro


good fences, good neighbors
Sep 10, 2022

I've no time for confession

Born a sickly kit and raised an apprentice that mostly kept to himself, it's like night and day to see the now thick maine coon mix stretched on the soft pine straw of camp like he's Starclan's gift to the marsh. Once an ugly child, his fever fur has finally dissipated to reveal his real silky black and white pelt. Unfortunately, along with yet another reason to be teased. If head first in a hole, his rump could be confused for a particularly big skunk because of the white stripe down either side of his long broom of a tail. Well, you win some and you lose some! It's better than looking like a mangy rat or even worse when he was Wolverinepaw, a gangly mangy rat.

It took determination and a lot of eating things even fringe for crowfood suckers to stomach. Grubs, beetles, waterbugs, crickets, and even stink bugs when he realized that if he drooled enough, he could ignore the stench. Dried bones, mushrooms, and moss soaked in prey blood in leafbare. He'd chew on twoleg trash if it smelled edible, resulting in many sick days and a broken tooth or two toward the back of his maw. He'd suck a snail out of its shell, if he could ever find one within it. It's very good then that he was so uncomely. That he avoided attention from shecats like the plague and found the wrath of elders instead who'd make him chew mint to cure his greedy breath. If it made them feel better, whatever. The last thing he'd want is a warrior name related to gagging down bugs and rubbish.

Lately, Wolverinefang has really blossomed into himself but that hasn't made any dent in his main philosophy: do as little as possible to get as much as possible. It's true that he can hunt more often and he's just a proficient as most other underachievers and could probably grow even larger if he would just put in the effort. Yet he always tells himself, 'I fought hard enough to just survive when I was a kit. It's time for me to find a mate and retire early.' What he'll do for the rest of his years, he hasn't quite figured out or even thought of yet really. Some might say he has a one track mind but he prefers to call it focused. Focused now on making sure he looks like a handsome catch for any girl to pass by but unfortunately, the paws shuffling toward him aren't the gals he had in mind.

The trek of elders that chastise him for lounging as such a large, able bodied cat (while others work, a detail he omits in his mind) is not the reaction he expected. Wolverinefang reluctantly drags himself up with a grunt to try to escape their complaining. "That's right you big lump! Get up" "You've got no reason to just be sitting around there!" "Shoo now!" The hefty tom smiles back. "Good morning to you too, ladies! I was only resting my paws. I've caught four frogs today, don't you know? Oh- did I say four! Haha, I meant five!" Wolverinefang is quick to usher himself away before they can verify that but he can still feel their keen eyes on him and the last thing he needs is to be tattled on for "not doing his part" (hogwash, in his opinion). So he sweeps his head around the camp, trotting to the outskirts in search of someone, anyone being productive. That's when he spots a cat waiting patiently by an algae-bloom puddle to catch a meal and decides that him running over there wouldn't be ruining their chances at all. No, no, it would be helping them!

Galumphing over, Wolverinefang smiles handsomely and plops down right beside that cat, almost knocking them over in the process because he's just not used to being so large yet. Surely he can just force himself through this whole, 'still socially awkward due to solitude' thing. "Need some help there..." He's blanking on the name hard but quickly recovers as though it were just a pause in familiar tenderness. "Friend?" Yes, good save.

/retro to fire, anyone can be the hunting cat!

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She's busy, damn it. She has already gotten a harsh glare from Briarstar once today, and she's not banking on another one. If she gets sent out on one more patrol, Flickerfire is liable to lose her shit. She wants to gnaw on bones and shoot the shit with her Clanmates, but Briarstar insists the fresh-kill pile be full at all times. Flickerfire personally resents having to feed the whole Clan... since when? She's always caught enough to fend for herself. Why is it now her problem to feed those who can't or won't?

So, she's grouchy when Wolverinefang plops himself next to her. The movement stirs the pool, but nothing emerges. Flickerfire gives the other tom a glare, but her grin is quick and easy. "What, you get told off too?" Her ear twitches. "Maybe you wanna catch an extra frog for me for makin' the pool ripple... friend." Flickerfire snickers to herself, turning her gaze back to the bog water.

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Most of the time she's been keeping to herself. Slowly becoming isolated in her own position that she has been given by the dead ancestors of a battle that has changed everything. A part of her wonders if she will go mad, if she will truly become insane after seeing the dead. It's a reasonable question to have on her mind. She's seen them, heard them, they've touched her and commanded her. She's now a connection for those dead cats to be able to speak to Shadowclan. It's all surreal and the possibilities of it weight heavy on her mind. A breath of frustration eases from her throat as she finally forces herself to push up from her den, to leave her nest behind and to face another day. It's not like things are bad but they aren't good either. Somewhere in the middle with their struggle for survival. Blinking her molten eyes the long legged molly shifts from the opening of her den and she slowly begins to make her way to the freshkill pile as if she is about to eat. But she doesn't, instead she sees some of the elders shooing one of their warriors off. Telling him he should be doing something with his time. Which she completely agrees with if he has not been doing all that he can for Shadowclan.

Her gaze narrows slightly upon the familiar stripped figure and she almost inwardly groans. Wolverinefang. It's always him messing around and not doing as he is told. Being lazy, doing the bare minimum. Shaking her head she turns her gaze away as he bumps into Flickerfire ad she hopes that he can keep her busy. They are almost alike in the way they act, almost, but there are deviations. She doesn't feel the need to actually go over there and converse herself. There isn't much she will say and she is sure that Flicker will have some smart comment to lash against her face. so she sticks to where she wants to be, at the freshkill pile, digging her paws through it and pulling out some old sodden crowfood. Ugh.
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I've no time for confession
Oh, a likeminded soul huh. A slacker from another queen. Wolverinepaw doesn't mean to look so dumb when he smiles but his chunky teeth don't really help him, especially when he's all enthralled to have found someone of a like mind (and a girl at that!). Yeah, a... girl. Wolverinefang swallows thickly, all of his earlier bravado sinking deep down into a hollow pit in his stomach out of nowhere. For someone who was fantasizing about having a mate, maybe he should think of the fact that he doesn't know the first thing about talking to the opposite sex. In fact, he's never spoken more than a sentence or two to a shecat that wasn't a granny and not for want of trying. The large tom makes a noise like a wheeze and nods slowly, as if he has to catch up with the incredibly short conversation. "Uhhh, yeah, but it's not a big deal! I can do that easy. No problem."

Wolverinefang wiggles his hind and lifts his large skunk tail in a showy fashion, like he's zeroing in on a frog that he's magically spotted only for his breath to get caught in his throat. He pauses, wincing subconsciously, as yet another shecat shows up. This one he recognizes right away but only because of all of the time he spent in the company of those trying their best at healing despite their limited knowledge. Having someone dedicated to healing now, some master of the arts, sounds like a good idea these days but she looks barely older than him. What could she know that's so important compared to everyone else huh? The old crows, as grouchy as they are, did right by him and he's still alive today to show it.

His eyes flick back down to the water, sweating from not being able to instantly catch a frog. Apparently, he seems to think actually hunting and not immediately swiping up the biggest amphibian in the marsh isn't good enough in front of ladies. Wolve needs a scapegoat and Bonejaw being a novice seems to supersede in his thick skull (at least temporarily) that she's a shecat. The big tom aims to nudge at Flickerfire with a lopsided smirk on his big maw. "Hey, what's she making that ugly face for? What we caught isn't good enough?" He doesn't shout it but his words aren't exactly quiet either.
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Of course she is within earshot to hear his words and she pauses upon tossing the sodden rotten food away from the pile. Blinking those molten hues of her's she turns her piercing gaze upon the black and white tom cat. For a moment it is as if she will not say anything to him before she finally snorts a little and flicks her tail. "If you think rotten crowfood is good enough then you have an issue to deal with." Her words are sharp and jagged as she rolls her eyes and finally she moves to pick up the disgusting piece of prey and she takes it off to be buried somewhere outside of camp. It's a job that most warriors have to do anyway, and despite not being on herself anymore she still performs these tasks like they are still her duties. Digging a hole she drops the unwanted morsel within it before she then kicks dirt to fill it all back in again. Once done she pads her way back into camp and she glowers at the two before she looks to the pile once more.

"I suggest you both get moving on catching prey. The longer you take the hungrier the clan gets." And she is sure they don't want more problems to spring up. Knowing their natures she can sure there will be more complaining than is necessary. With a flick of an ear she turns away from the pair and she starts to dig through the pile again, double checking her work to make sure she has not missed anything else that needs to be thrown away.