Escape My Fate | Joining

[Pinejaw]

The air—so thick and palpable from a brewing storm. Clouds lay thick across the horizon till overhead, churning with the promise of a hefty downpour. In the distance, thunder rolls and rumbles—a beast slumbering above the earth below, brooding and dark. Wind howls through the sparse trees of Two-Leg Place, lumbering bipedal beasts hurling for the safety if their mighty reinforced dens. Monsters slept along the stretch of thunder paths, all seem to await for what is to come. Along their sizable black paws, a figure dashes from beneath them and along stone paths. Barking can be heard, fierce with frustration as it slowly fades away the more he moves forwards. Trapped behind the terraces and wooden fences, forever a prisoner to the Two-Leg who cares for it. He was most likely safe, yet he does not stop his lengthy strides nor the wild beating of his heart against an ivory cage. Deep virdian eyes were honed in on the forest that enveloped before him. Just a bit further—further and he would be free. Nothing to touch him nor drive him from his nomadic widespread of dens, but a place where he could live a different type of life. A life that is not just of survival, but a purpose.
He had heard of the tales, had seen former loners from these wild cats that reign there. He wanted to be apart of that, wanted to get out of this dreaded city and be free from jagged clutches of city life. He'd survived there for seasons, but with much self-thought—finally he wished for something different.

A flash of deep cinnamon against the lush green, slipping behind a tall fence as he was hit with a hefty scent of cat and musk. He was there now, knowing the scent from where his curiosity had reeled him there to investigate. His jaw slacks, an open mouth pant to engulf more air into his lungs. His chest heaved rapidly with each inhale before huffing a soundful sigh in order to quell his bursting heart. Gave them the slip, a plumed tail flicks with a smirk at his wittiness. He had always been intelligent, street-smart and adaptable. Able to navigate the maze of streets and worn paths, always able to give danger the slip—well, mostly. The nick along his ear and crescent scars under his right eye were symbols of his failure and yet, of his survival. Paws would carry him to the very edge of the border, blushed nose craned in order for any fresh scent to cross over his glands. It was fresh, so that had to mean that someone was here—didn't it? Tall audits would flick, then pull forward to detect any amount of unusual noise—any sound of life besides fluttering birds or scuttling mice. "I know you're here somewhere..." A voice would rumble, a voice that almost didn't seem to fit his wedge-like features as he searches in the thickness of towering pines.

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[MALLOWLARK]

Since becoming a part of SkyClan, Mallowlark had found border patrols more interesting. Not only because he was more often placed on them, but also because there was a greater array of un-maimed strangers. Anyone who dared put even a centimetre of their claw over the scent-line would be ripped into ribbons by the ravenous moor-beings, and though SkyClan was still protective it was additionally a bit more welcoming. And, too... gave greater leave for entertainment.

Though hulking in size and bone-white in colour, Mallowlark did his best to hide among the undergrowth. Silver eyes peered lightless from the shadows- and though this little game-with-a-stranger tended to work better in the colder months, when his pelt blended in with the blanket upon the ground, it was not the sight of him that gave away his position but rather, it seemed, the sound of his shuffling.

He leapt from his hiding place, then, grinning fangs taking up half his face- grey eyes stared, stared, and were not moved with a blink even as he landed in front of the other cat and triumphantly shouted "Boo!"​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[Pinejaw]

His nose does not fail him, always a rather decent tracker since his kithood in 'finding' scraps, whether it be within the silver bins within narrow alleyways or rather—in a hiding place that someone else had made for their stored food for later—he had developed a knack for it. Always stealthy enough to slip away unnoticed, for the most part at least. But now, in a territory that was unfamiliar to him, he is quite unaware of the many hiding places that a cat could be. His guard is on high alert, the pricking sensation along his spine causing red whispy hairs to prickle with discomfort. Pine swallows the massive lump that builds in his throat, evergreen irises darting from every which way and his tail tip fidgets as he keeps along the wall.
A slight rustle of sound is made followed by a flash of alabaster that takes him completely by surprise now. A hulking tom, seemingly equal in height but dwarfs him in bulk leaps from the shadows of the boughs of pine. He drops down in front of him like a weighted boulder, a flash if gnashing teeth and pale eyes that match the moon's very essence. Pine's lengthy form arches immediately, prominent ears pinning against the nape of his helm in a defensive posture. He nearly jumps, but he was never a flighty lad—always willing to fight if ever struck in a corner. Boo! A shout from the other tom that has his paw lifting, coiled to strike at a moment's notice and pale lips pulled back into a hiss. "The hell are you doing?!" He shouts back, utterly puzzled that no sensation of tooth or claw graze his pelt. Surely if this cat was waiting for him to cross, he'd have prompted an attack—right? But he stared, stared at him with twin colored moons and a widespread grin that was a little bit—unsettling. The gnashing teeth were just a grin, but was this a genuine smile or a mere mask to lure the naive in for the kill? Pine doesn't dare move forward, his back still plastered against the fence behind him; albeit he lowers his coiled fore limb. "You—...sure surprised me there, lad." Pine can't help but to let his own smirk adorn his sharpened features now, this stranger's grin a bit contagious to him despite his thundering heart that roared to the tips of his ears.

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[APPLEFROST]

Apple Stem hadn't been very far behind Mallowlark, her own focus taken by the open summer sky. Clouds twisted and formed into vague shapes that she tried applying images to. This one looked like a lizard, this one was a malformed daisy- ooh, and the wind had made it unrecognizable now.

She hadn't realized Mallowlark was playing a hidden game with an outsider until the toms scent greeted her. Her gaze drew away from the sky and looked straight ahead, watching the snowy form of her Clanmate leap out at the other. Apple Stem chuckled in amusement, seeing Pine startled. Perhaps it was not the best way to approach a stranger, but at the very least they didn't use his lack of awareness to attack?

While Mallowlark was intimidating in size, Apple Stem was gentler to look at. If one didn't mind how her wide icy stare met their eyes, unblinking. "We live here." She answered matter-of-factly. What a strange question to ask, when Pine was the one outside their border. He clearly understood a colony resided on the other side. "What are you doing here, Mister Stranger? All by yourself?"​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

Satisfaction flooded from him in the skin of a peal of giggles, chittering from his grin as fast as sprinting paws. Though his body seized and shook with laughter, not a single blink dared cross his eye- wariness, even in a game, was important when it came to strangers. And... if it was a friendly stranger, it'd be impolite to break eye-contact, wouldn't it?

Still, he'd succeeded in ridding the tom of any intimidating air, fr what he heard over his own laughter was an admittance of his victory. Of success, someone scared- just as he'd intended! For behind him came a gentler voice, asking the more meaningful questions- but Mallowlark had opened the floodgates now, and was gasping for breath as if his own laughter was attacking him. He couldn't fathom why the other two had not doubled over in a fit, as well... but it boiled down to different senses of humour, he supposed.

The domino tom managed to regain enough composure to nod along with Apple Stem's words, dizzying himself a little in the process. "Oh- hah, yeah, you're- ah, tiptoeing a-hah-hah-all over our scent li-HAH-iiiine..." His lungs burned from strain, acidic-sting.​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[falcongaze]

❝ CALLIN' IT QUITS NOW ✧°.☀ ————————————
There was quite a strange collection of cat's here on the border. Mallowlark made up most of the strange in the literal sense of the word. This newcomer made up the other half of the definition- stranger. Strange and stranger. Falconpaw twitched his lips in amusement as he followed not far behind Apple Stem, the apprentice's head twitching. Eyes shifted and traveled over the street cat, the scent familiar to him. Falconpaw blinked for a moment, coming to a slow stop. It isn't Ver, or any of the other sewer cats. Not one that he knew, anyways, or remembered.

Falconpaw gave Mallowlark another sidelong glance, before stepping up to Apple Stem's flank. Just in case.

"SPEECH"

[penned by dallas - ☀]

———————————— ☀.°✧ BABY, I'M A WRECK ❞ ​

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[SLATESNARL]

The path that Pine had so hastily pursued was similar in nature to Slate's — both residents of the Twolegplace now searching for something better, something more purposeful than the lives they led on the streets. While he hadn't exactly gone seeking SkyClan out, having not given much of a damn about these forest-dwelling clans until a point, sometimes he was amazed at how fate had treated him that day. Had he not run into his brother on patrol, he likely wouldn't have joined SkyClan. Slate would still be a starving alleyway stray, pelt stinking of rubbish, stagnant puddles, and monster blood. He wouldn't have reunited with Ora or been bestowed the rank of a lead warrior.

There were still times when Slate struggled to truly and wholly see himself as a clan cat separated from the ways of a rogue, but he knew now that this life had more opportunities than a life in the city. He would work to defend his new home, especially from strangers upon their borders.

Next to rear his head, emerging from the shadows of the pines was the burly Maine Coon tom, a dulled amber stare glowering toward the cinnamon-hued male. The others have already interrogated him ( well, sort of anyway ) so he didn't feel much of a point in wasting his breath. He expectantly waits for Pine to open his jaws and explain himself... or else he'd take no issue in running him off from the border.​