FROM EDEN [ riverclan patrol ]

( ) every patrol has its' importance, after all marking the borders is how the clan keeps itself safe. still, willowroot finds themself rather preoccupied as they lead the small patrol towards the steppingstones that look off into skyclan territory. they've tried to take a route that avoids any twoleg infested areas, but there's twoleg scent nonetheless, and it sets their mind on edge. still, a border patrol is important, so they try to ignore it, even if every minute or so they're scenting the air, muscles tensed to defend her patrol if necessary. skyclan are fairly far away from camp, so riverclan has not interacted with them much, but from what willow has gathered through brief meetings, they consist of house cats and wild combined, an odd thing in their opinion, but wil has never been one to judge.

stopping just short of the river, she stares across into the pines and grasses on the other side. around her, @HOUNDSNARL. and @CLAYFUR , along with the their apprentices (//ignore if not), gather, and willow will nod to each. "we can make this fast. let's just mark and check out the river over here. tell me at once if you see any twoleg activity." trusting the two warriors will get to work, she turns to @Steeppaw . "as you know, we're at the skyclan border. can you scent the air and tell me how long ago a patrol might've come by?"

//tiny little rc patrol thread! feel free to reply before those tagged
also gonna tag @𝓛𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓹𝓪𝔀 in case she wants to reply as well.

INFO Ikaros knows woefully little about the other smatterings of cats living in the surrounding area— apart from those in the streets and a few who wear collars. He knows they fought a great battle and many lives were lost, but how they came to be divided has yet to be explained to him. He supposes he could ask one of the many SkyClan cats, but Ikaros is wary of prodding any sore spots; from personal experience, not everyone is willing to share the stories behind their scars.

So he hasn't asked yet, and he has also been careful not to crowd the young Sparrowpaw given her own wariness of him. He knows no other way of proving that he bears her no ill-will for her thievery.

It's as he's exploring more of the river that he notices a group of cats gathered across the river. Some among them seem a little cautious, but it's hard to tell for certain without being slightly closer. "Hello!" He greets loudly, his voice carrying. "Fine day for fishing, yes?"
Steeppaw knew patrols were a serious business. Her usually colourful portrayal was diminished as they paced along the scent marking of Skyclan. The pine trees were tall and willowy, laying shadow thick along the forest floor. It lacked the airiness and clarity of the river territory. At Willowroot's instruction, the apprentice tipped her snout to the breeze, trying to make out the scent of cats. The direction of the wind carried the scents across the river, a crush of pine needles that was smothering."Not sure, not long? There's someth- oh, woah!"

The sudden appearance of a cat between the grassy fringes cut off her response, the molly lifting her head to get a good look. Stories passed back to camp normally held tension around borders, but the feline that spoke out to them was friendly. Her face fell into an uneven uncertainty, trying to grasp at the right response.

"Sure is! Hey, you sound nice- tell us some Skyclan secrets!" Voice a round echo, just a little too loud, Steeppaw bounced on her haunches. It probably wouldn't work, but hey might as well try.

A calm patrol. He's glad that Smokethroat seems to have taken mercy on him—by putting him on a patrol to the SkyClan border, of all places. Clayfur is partial to the kittypet clan; he remembers many of them from when he and his family had lived in Rain's group. His loyalty, of course, lies with RiverClan alone, now and forever. But he finds that treks out to the SkyClan border are much easier than their borders with the other clans.

He trails along behind Willowroot as they travel to the border, jolting every time the scent of twoleg grows stronger. He's remembering the twoleg nest and the sharp object and the look on Cicada's face and the fact that Clearsight will be going directly to the twoleg camp soon. Lost in spiraling thoughts and worries, it seems to take no time at all to reach the border shared with SkyClan.

There's a SkyClanner there rather quickly, and the chocolate tabby steps closer to the other members of the patrol. SkyClanners don't tend to pick fights, but in case this one does, he's ready to step between the handsome tom and his clanmates at the first sign of trouble. "Hiya," he greets, offering the SkyClanner a broad grin. The guy seems nice enough, so he allows himself to relax where he stands astride his clanmates. "It would be a nice day to fish, I think. Have you ever tried it?" SkyClan probably doesn't catch fish often, but surely they've tried it before, he thinks.
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INFO He's pleased that they seem to return his friendliness, even if they –understandably– remain careful. Ikaros never could be too pleasant with street cats and loners, who didn't have the same security of certain resources that the clan cats do. Scarcity breeds desperation, which can in turn lock the desperate into a kind of survival dependent on violence. Not generally the sort of ground fertile for friendships.

"Secrets?" He echoes, and he walks a slow, unhurried circuit, thoughtful. Obviously he cannot reveal any true secrets, in part because he is not privvy to them— or rather, he doesn't know what might be considered a secret to the cats of surrounding clans. At his route's conclusion, he faces the younger feline at the opposite riverbank and answers, "SkyClan cats can fly, but not all of them land very well!" It isn't a complete exaggeration; some do climb so skillfully they might as well be birds taking flight. And while most can stick their landings, he has seen a few fumbles.

A dark tabby steps closer, not to the water's edge, but to his fellows. Ikaros cannot begrudge him that, if it is an instinctive motion of caution. Still, he wishes that wariness could be absent from the gazes that find him; he's spent much of his life under careful eyes and it is...lonely, truly.

"I have, and often. Are there cats who haven't? From your clan?" Whatever said clan is.
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From behind the tabby comes a fluffy torbie with a glossy, well-kept pelt. Silken lavender strands fly from the ribbon tied at her neck as she shakes her head with laughter. "Why, you've just given our biggest one away!" Tallulah flicks her tail affectionately against Ikaros' shoulder. "Soon, they'll be learnin' to fly like we do..." Pale golden eyes find the black and white kitten across the river. "Well, we must as well tell you... eat lots of birds, and you'll be able to do the same." She nods airily before turning her attention to the black smoke and the dusky tom.

Fishing! She glances fitfully at the water. These are the swimming cats, she remembers. Oh, how dreadful to imagine herself pulling through mud and having to shake water from her whiskers. Again, she gives Ikaros a look. "Speak for yourself, darlin'. I've never fished in my life, and I don't plan on it!" Tallulah gives the tabby across the water a wide-eyed look. "I'll stick to flying after my birds!"


Redstorm had to admit he had been less than thrilled to have run into River Clanners, they were all traitors as far as he was concerned, mainly the ones who had been a part of the group when his father still led. How any of them would willingly choose to follow a murderer like Cicadastar, he could not fathom. He supposes, though, that it is not much worse than the cats who followed Sootstar, who had killed an actual child. Regardless of if they had been a battle or not, he found the act to be truly horrendous. Emberstar, after all, still possessed enough decency and self-control to show mercy.

As he approaches the voices in the distance, he scans their faces. Searching. Had he known any of them? He believes one to be vaguely familiar but he is uncertain. Regardless, he digs his claws into the muddy earth. It takes everything in him to not be outright hostile to the small group. He has to remind himself that they did not deserve it. He listens to his clan-mates stories about flying and lets out a small huff of light amusement. Stories his father might have once told him. Stories meant for kits. He remembers fondly when his brothers had shown him how to leap from branch to branch, back in the day. He did feel like he was a bird, back then.

"yea you guys can keep your fish" he says in agreement with Tallulah. He can only imagine, by how gross their border scents smelled, what fish tasted like. He wrinkles his nose at the mere thought of it.