OLD COUNTRY LANES // intruder

[Talonflame]

( PRETEND THAT YOU NEVER WENT TO SCHOOL )

Talon was well off his usual routes, but that was down to the panic stirred up by his little encounter with WindClan. Hunger twisted his gut in a painful manner, alongside the miserable burn of the deep claw marks down his flank. Together they threatened to muster up a splitting migraine in the stray's head. All he wanted to do was lay down somewhere safe so he could clean his wound and sleep off the exhaustion from all the running around he had been made to do.

The clans... he was beginning to hate them all the more.

Talon ended up crossing the twoleg bridge and he made his way down to hide by the solid stonework in a bid to shelter himself from the chilly breeze that passed. He was tired. So, so tired. He gave the claw marks a few licks before huddling himself down with a shiver. He was honestly regretting ever leaving twolegplace. At least there he was a master in his element and he always had bins to scavenge from. Out here there were instead greedy cats and bugger-all food to be had!
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( BUT STILL, YOU'LL NEVER GET IT RIGHT )

 

[HARTSPRING]

── 《INFO》 It wasn't so long ago when Hartspring lived a wanderer's life, such as it was. The only fortune to speak of was a cramping belly with teeth the likes of which no creature's laid eyes on. Cats behind fences talk prettily about freedom, but the freedom to starve is just open-air captivity. Not every soul's in a body meant to weather the many, many wants of a roamer's world. Hartspring had only managed as long as he did because, in the wise words of his dearly departed mother, his head's so full-up on mouse shit his body doesn't know when it's time to lie down and die.

He can't speak to the contents of this loner's skull, though there might be a turd or two if he's trying to get comfortable on clan land. From the looks of him, somebody's had a swipe at his hind already.

"Afraid you can't have a lie down just yet, my friend," Hartspring calls down just before his body follows his voice and he hops to the bottom of the bridge. There's WindClan on him, and he'd wager they're why he's bleeding on himself. Nasty little bastards, all. Nearly all. "If you're looking for someplace warm, might think about trying SkyClan. Their hackles are much flatter than WindClan's and they might even put some meat on your bones if you know your 'please' and 'thank yous.'"
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[CLAYFUR]

The border nearest to WindClan always makes Clayfur a bit nervous, even when he’s not close to it. Like, between the gigantic gorge that spells out death, and the ruthless WindClan mongrels, neither option is great when he steps near the border. He feels near feral, though, with the urge to do something stupid, when he’s nearest the old twoleg bridge. It would be so simple, to run across it, across the moors, and straight into the claws of the rat who’d nearly ripped Smokethroat to shreds.

He’s debating throwing himself to the wolves when he spots them; there, a huddled-up bunch of black near the bridge, tucked away from the wind. And with them is a clanmate, thank the stars. Hartspring is already telling them to get lost, and Clay trots over to stand a couple fox-lengths away from the bridge. The urge is still there, itching at his claws, fluttering in the back of his throat. What would stop him, except for his own physical limitations?

He shakes his head and grunts, eyeing the stranger. "What he’s saying is, get lost." His tone is tinged with venom, a harshness that he doesn’t intend to let slip. But there’s been one too many strikes from outside of the clan lately, and he’s on edge. There are fresh babies back at camp, and Smokethroat is still out of commission, and RiverClan feels dangerously unstable. They aren’t in a terrible place, but with the additions of Hyacinthbreath and Bonejaw plus their families, he’s been totally feeling the stress.

This stranger smells like WindClan and blood—another escapee from beneath Sootstar’s claws, maybe? But why would they hide, when Hyacinthbreath had shown herself so clearly? He doesn’t know. He just wants to go back to his comfortable nest and bury his face is soft blue fur and maybe sniffle just a little bit. He also still wants to make stupid decisions regarding WindClan, probably, so he keeps his paws firmly planted. "RiverClan doesn’t tolerate trespassers." Except for Cicadastar’s friends, he thinks, but the leader knows what he’s doing letting those two she-cats into their borders.
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[ WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? ]​

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[iciclefang]

( *+:｡.｡ ) She trails behind Clayfur, her expression stretched taut like a strand of fur being held at both ends. WindClan's scent turns her stomach now, knowing the kinds of treacherous felines they are, the kind who steal eyes over rabbits. There's not an ounce of fear in her body -- and her pale eyes glitter shrewdly as she examines the rogue on their lands.

Hartspring is kinder than she would've been -- than Smokethroat would be -- but he recommends SkyClan, and Iciclepaw silently agrees. Clayfur himself tells the cat to get lost, and the tortoiseshell peels her lips back from her fangs in warning. "Don't think we won't chase you out, prey-thief," she hisses, bicolored tail lashing. She despises the cats Cicadastar has already allowed to cross their borders -- are they to keep suffering this indignity when they're all starving?​

( I HAVE THE ANSWER, SPREADING THE CANCER ; YOU ARE THE FAITH INSIDE ME )

 

[BONERIPPLE]

As swollen and visibly pregnant as she is the woman still finds herself moving and going. Her thin furred frame looks very much like she could explode at any moment. But still she moves, she keeps herself busy. She tries to do whatever she can for the clan that has taken her in. Her maw parts as she scents the air only to pick up other Riverclanners and then something else. Something foreign and the smell of Windclan with blood. It tells her a lot as she slips her way along the path, eyes of burning fire shifting befoee she finally sees what is going on. A loner. Her eyes are critical and sharp. Gaze pensive suddenly as she thinks about the situation and as she comes closer her eyes narrow slightly as she picks up the smell of blood stronger now. "You're hurt." But she can no longer do anything about it. She is no longer on that path and for that she is grateful.

Still she glances at the others who threaten and snap. Eyes looking away and she wonders if this is how she might have been treated. Guilt pulls at her stomach at the situation she used to get in and she takes in a deep breath before shaking her head. "Like Hartspring said, unfortunately you can not rest here. The river is a...stern place. But I do believe Skyclan is a good option. I can lead you there if you would like to go "​

 

[Talonflame]

( PRETEND THAT YOU NEVER WENT TO SCHOOL )

Great... more clanners.
Talon finds himself closing his eyes and bracing himself to be attacked, but no further physical harm comes. Only the threat of it, one he believes. He gives a brief flash of teeth as a warning for them to keep back, though it's evident that he doesn't have the energy to really back up any of his own threats. "Tch! I can't catch a bloody break anywhere..."

His ears twitch however as the first arrival mentions SkyClan, something seemingly backed by another who approaches. "That's the kittypet clan, yes? I'm no kittypet, I somewhat doubt they'll want someone like me." It wasn't like he was keen on being absorbed into the bizarre world of the clans either.

Though his ears snap back and he finds himself narrowing his eyes at the youngest feline, Iciclepaw, when he's accused of being a prey-thief. "Oh? I'm the prey-thief? I just had some fucking WindClan bastards chase me past their little border for a mouse! You clanners are all the same, just bullies running under different names for different leaders..." Admittedly he had been on WindClan territory, though the mouse hunt had started outside it. Though he didn't believe that the RiverClanners needed to know every little detail.

A low growl rumbled in his throat as he struggled to get back up onto his paws, though with every muscle screaming in protest it wasn't an easy feat. The first thought he had was to cross back over the bridge, but he honestly wasn't keen on going anywhere near WindClan again so soon. His hesitation was clear and he wore a look of defeat when he finally looked in the direction of Bonejaw. "... Fine. Show me where this SkyClan border is and I'll be on my way. I don't fancy going back that way. It wouldn't surprise me if they decide to start eating other cats soon. So word of warning to ya about your crazed neighbours."
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( BUT STILL, YOU'LL NEVER GET IT RIGHT )

 

[CLAYFUR]

Hearing the coldness of Iciclepaw’s voice reminds him that his niece is nearby, and Clayfur wheels around as far as he can without the stranger leaving his sight. He hopes this doesn’t devolve into fighting; she was there when Smokethroat was attacked, and she doesn’t need to watch anyone else get hurt. She’s going to be a warrior someday, he reminds himself, but it doesn’t help much. Just like Lilybloom, he’ll always see the need to defend his family from the hard parts of life. She labels the stranger a prey-thief, though, and the tabby-striped tom has to hide a smile behind his paw. She hasn’t lost her attitude, at least.

Bonejaw offers to lead the outsider to SkyClan territory—a smart move, because he’d rather they see this tom off their land than leave him to go his own way. At least they can move him somewhere he won’t pose a threat to them. "They aren’t just pets. SkyClan is an accepting clan, they’re most likely not to run you off." And he may have a point—perhaps SkyClan doesn’t want a cat like him. But that isn’t really RiverClan’s problem, is it? Clay just wants him to leave, like, yesterday. The prickle under his fur is growing harder to ignore the longer he stands here, the urge to do something rash and horrible.

"We won’t, like, beat the grass outta you. We’re not that awful." RiverClan isn’t as insecure, either. The memory of a weak and bloodied Cicadastar hits him—injured by the claws of the same brute who’s taken Smokethroat’s eye. WindClan must not feel secure, safe, in their barren fields.

The other cat goes on a rant about WindClan and Clay is happy, at least, that the clan is horrible even to outsiders. He can’t fight the snicker he lets out when this stranger, outside of the clans’ relations, calls them bastards, crazed. "We know," he says—Cicadastar and Smokethroat and Hyacinthbreath and Spiritpaw. "Now, about that escort to SkyClan." He looks to Bonejaw, expecting her to lead the way. Clay sure doesn’t know how to get there.
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[ WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? ]​

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[Talonflame]

( PRETEND THAT YOU NEVER WENT TO SCHOOL )

Talon holds himself steady as he waits for the directions he needs, though as he follows where Clayfur is looking he finds himself wrinkling his nose with irritation. Was he seriously suggesting what he was suggesting? "You're going to make a pregnant she-cat traipse through the cold with a stray over to another border? Are you bloody serious?" What ever happened to chivalry? It seemed as though it was severely lacking at that moment and honestly Talon wasn't going to humour it, not when it conflicted with his own personal rules. "Escort me yourself." His gaze then slowly travelled to that of Bonejaw. "Sorry, but you look close to poppin' and it's making me uncomfortable about your safety."
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( BUT STILL, YOU'LL NEVER GET IT RIGHT )

 

[CICADASTAR]

GUTTA CAVAT LAPIDEM : a rogue. loner. the curls along his notched spine rises slow once icy eyes lock upon him from behind what flora remains to cloak his towering form, a ghost amidst the snow. the tom looked ragged, wind - whipped and brimming with the same hunger, starvation, exhaustion as he’d born only moons ago, what he bore now. only now, the lanky man finds little sympathy simmering beneath his sternum. only a fine, quiet annoyance that most of those gathered had allowed him to act so freely thus far. clayfur offers an escort and its then that he makes his move, splits waving reeds, pulls from the quivering stalks like a shadow, ivory - stricken. alongside boneripple he strides, whisks his thick plume of a tail across her side as the rogue — reeking, starving — speaks. its only then that his skull snaps sharply towards him, ears pinning, “ nein. “ says the river king, forthright and cold as the chill that frosts the lands around them, “ there will be no escorting. skyclan is not hard to find, i assure you. “ not to a grown cat, which the tom most certainly was. to send a warrior, pregnant or not, alone to skyclan borders with an outclanner? they must all believe him an idiot, “ head towards twolegplace, they will be amongst the pine. i advise you wait to cross their border. “ a pointed glance towards the stone bridge, irritable.

− ♱ information visual reference out of character translations ♱ −

• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−−−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• 
• none.

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[HARTSPRING]

── 《INFO》 It doesn't sound right sending her off as an escort— Boneripple is, as the stranger's aptly put it, close to poppin'. Best not risk it, and he intends to agree and lead the man there himself when their esteemed leader reveals himself in typical dramatic fashion. He wonders how long he's been lurking back there waiting for just the right moment to make his entrance. Timing is everything, isn't it?

He's not at all blindsided by the frosty shoulder aimed the loner's way. Friendliness is in short supply and, truth be told, Hartspring doubts it will be warming even after the ice thaws and newleaf blooms. "Ráiméis," he exhales, shaking his head and looking to the standoffish rogue. "Back over the bridge it is." The stones would take him more directly to SkyClan, but somehow Hartspring doubts Cicadastar will tolerate him here much longer, least of all for a little trek closer to camp.

Attempting to make pointed eye-contact with Talon to convey an upcoming conversation, the tall feline makes for the stony arch himself. "Might as well mark it again, just in case. Can never be too careful," he says, glancing at Clayfur and the other pair, all insouciant-like. It doesn't sit right with him to be so easily callous. Much as he agrees with the principle of protecting your own, there's no room for kindness in a world so narrow.
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