private let your heart run child, like horses in the wild [Gray]


sugar, spice, and redbull
Jul 20, 2022


All things considered, Wildboy was still an extremely new face to the clan. The ex-kittypet had joined up with the group of wildcats after his twolegs had refused to let him back in the nest one day. Apparently he was 'too rambunctious' for them. What- had they expected him to just grow out of it or something?

It was fine though- that's what he told himself at least. If they didn't want him around then he didn't want them around. And really, he wasn't doing too bad at this whole 'wild cat' thing. Sure, he wasn't as big as most of the other cats, but he was fast and had more than enough energy to compensate for what he lacked in sheer brawn. Hunting was coming surprisingly easy to him, and there didn't seem to be a squirrel or bird that was fast enough to outmatch him in quickness.

Helping things along was the fact that the pretty tomcat was extremely sociable as well. Many of the other cats had already come to know him as the energetic, overly-affectionate, chaos-machine that he was, and to his luck the majority found it to be more on the endearing side than annoying. After all, it wasn't as if Wildboy was trying to upset anyone. That's just who he was.

Of course, not every cat was stoked that Wildboy was there.

He didn't quite understand why, if he was being perfectly honest. Sure, he didn't know all the stuff that the wildcats knew, but it wasn't like he wouldn't pick up on it over time. He could already snatch a bird clean out of the air and run straight up a tree after a squirrel, so surely the rest would manifest itself in him soon too, right?

He was sure it was, and maybe that was just his naive confidence talking, but he liked to think that the majority of the cats in the group were happy to have him around- and that sentiment went both ways. Wildboy truly enjoyed the short time he'd been out here with them. Not only was he kept far busier than he had been back in twoleg place, but there was a sense of community within these cats that hadn't existed in the strays or housepets back where he was from. It had it's downsides, sure- like predators, and even other cats- but something in pretty feline seemed to deem this the lesser of two evils.

Better to be at risk with cats you like, then safe in alone in a solitude that was nothing short of agony.

He had left camp that day to wander the territory by himself. While he'd become friendly with many of the cats living in the group, Wildboy couldn't say he was truely friends with anyone aside from Cotton, and unfortunately she didn't always have the energy to keep up with him. He'd never been good at sitting still, too ffidgetty and ready to move. The only exception to that rule was when he was being affectionate with someone. On top of an immature sense of humor, red-bull levels of energy, and a mischevious streak that was known to cause some occasional chaos, Wildboy was a touchy cat. If he liked you and conidered you a friend then he wasn't afraid to make that know, and a random cuddle-session after an impromptu play-fight wasn't abnormal for the tom. It was about the only time he was able to sit still, though it wasn't something he conciously noticed about himself. Like everything else, it was just a part of who Wildboy was.

And since he was still new and in desperate need of whatever help he could give himself, the angora was taking himself on another tour through the territory to try and get a better layout of the place. Maybe he could hunt on the way if th e oppurtunity arose? It was the one thing he'd proven to have some skill in, and he was eager to use it to contribute to the group. It made his heart warm with pride whenever someone told him he'd made a good catch or praised the way he was able to leap up and snatch things out of the air. Better than both of those things though, was the satisfaction of having done something meaningful whenever a hungry elder or queen chose the prey he'd brought in.

It made him feel helpful, like for the first time in his life he was doing something that actually mattered.

thunderclan - tom (afab) - 18 moons - turkish angora - homosexual - polyromantic - has blue and purple pawprints stained onto his fur from berries
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Of course, one of Rain's former followers would welcome kittypets into the clan with open arms. Gray expects nothing less of Ember, yet his lip still curls at each new plump pet who finds themselves in ThunderClan. One of which he stumbles across today, during a stroll he'd taken to stretch his legs. His eye is still healing, but he could not stay cooped up in that camp. He'd lose his mind.

He recognizes the berry-stained tom easily; Wildboy, he calls himself. Gray wonders if that is the name his twoleg or his mother had given to him. Either way, it's a fitting name for the whirlwind of a tom. "What're you doing?" Gray questions with a quirk of his brow, grimacing at the uncomfortable stretching of the healing scars along the left side of his face. He angles his head to bring Wildboy into full view, glancing at the colorful paw prints painting his fur. He's always wondered about those... He'd just never had a good opportunity to ask like he does now. "Why do you splatter berries all over yourself? Do kittypets do that to mask the stench of twolegs?" A wry grin spreads across his face. The dark-furred tom just couldn't resist peppering in a bit of snark.