GREAT VACATION ♡ wandering

( ) His voice carries light over the forest, a sweet, siren's song in contrast to the odd warblings of this land. It was becoming somewhat of a routine: wandering into the great unknown only to return to his nest of angel's wings for the night. He thinks he'd much rather die than spend his nights outside where it's cold and dreary, to leave himself vulnerable to any sort of insect searching for meek prey. He would not be found in such a position, no, he's leaps and bounds ahead of such forest dwellers. The worms would rather tunnel in the dirt than use what has been given to them. Foolish. Pride higher than heavenly

This one has traveled here before (he thinks so, anyways), a deciduous forest marked by it's winding oaks. His paws carry him beneath the brush. Thickly-plumed tail waves behind him in a carefully crafted rhythm, swinging to the beat of his own song. The forest has left ample blessings for him, clearing the sky and allowing the sun to soak into his fur. The trees provided just enough shade to keep him cool whilst being able to indulge in the heat. Yes, perhaps not everything out here was so awful.

Of course, this thought is swiftly retracted the instant he's hit with quite-possibly, the foulest thing he's smelled in his entire life. Salt and bog and rot and— stars.

He visibly recoils, nose scrunching up upon his face in its best attempt to flee this mortal prison. Claws unsheathe to dig at the ground in a reflexive motion of defense. Something so foul could be described as nothing less than a bad omen, benevolent forces raining upon these cats swift and with vigor, cursing them with unspeakable horrors. Surely, surely it had not smelled of this before. He turns and turns and turns, searching for a source "Surely not—"

[ TL;DR wandering kittypet smells the new scent markers and starts shivering his fucking timbers and spinning in a circle because bad smell = plague is coming; open to all, marsh cats reply to be called foul </3; @ASH @KELP. ]
With tensions as high as they are - her soldiers had been reporting the hostile encounters they'd been having with the pine group ever since they'd turned bitter and colder towards them at Willow's expense, curse her - Briar knows she should not be out here alone. Though she is experienced with life as a wild cat, more than a lot of those twoleg pets could say for themselves, a patrol could easily finish her off if she wasn't careful. So, she stuck to the shadows, moving between them like a slithering snake along the forest floor, smooth, delicate, silent. Her mouth parts and tastes the air, hoping she doesn't encounter the pine cats on this outing. Her time is best spent hunting, not squabbling with those she soon hopes to push out of the forest (in what she desperately wants to be a peaceful manner).

She breathes in the forest air and the stench of kittypet fills her mouth and nose. Her maw wrinkles up in a disgusted snarl. The smell of the pine group did not accompany this one. Either a new recruit or a kittypet who is too far from home, meddling in things he does not understand, she thought bitterly. She approaches until she spots him, a speck of brown among a world of earthy tones, spinning in circles like he's caught some sort of illness of the mind. She steps into a patch of sunlight, materializing from shadows and foliage, eyes narrowed on the tom.
"You're a long way from the Twolegplace," she commented. Her voice was steady, not hostile but not kind either. "What are you doing out here, spinning like that?"

╰☆☆ Flicker had not followed Briar, but her paws had brought her to the same place. Her teeth itched to sink themselves into a kittypet scruff--especially after the flat-faced mongrel and his silly-talking friend had ganged up on her. She'd like to give them all a lesson they won't soon forget, and part of her hopes it will start with whoever has blundered so close to their marshes.

She sidles next to her leader, orange eyes glazed, mystified, at the sight before her. Not a cat hunting, or causing trouble--not intentionally, anyway--but a fool twirling in circles. "Is this frogbrain chasing his tail?" She asks, more to the universe at large than to Briar or the kittypet in question.