time is running out, no need to take it slow | meadow

Flycatcher had never spent so much time by the river before.When he and his family had still lived as rogues, they has passed by this river a few times, but had not lingered long, none of them being fond of the water or having much luck at fishing. How ironic it was then in the wake of the fire that Flycatcher and much of ThunderClan now saw the riverside camp as home. Despite his general apathy towards the river, he had to admit it was a sight to behold, He could not imagine living right next to it, yet alone building their whole clan life around it.

The blue tabby was on his way back from an unsuccessful hunt along the riverbank, trying and failing to catch some waterfowl, when he crashed into another cat heading the opposite direction. "H-Hey!" He stammered, shaking his head a little as he did so. When he had steadied himself, he realised he recognised the cream cat in front of him. "Sorry Meadowflame, I didn't mean to bump into you," He laughed awkwardly before giving her an appraising glance. "What are you doing?"

Oh, Meadowflame hates being here. It does not cross her mind that it's ungrateful of her to make faces when the fisher cats walk by her, when they breathe in her direction and she gets the overwhelming stink of the river water and the creatures that live within. She's the one who'd made it to the riverbank, who'd screamed to the water cats for help, but she only wishes someone had done it sooner so their camp hadn't been burned or ruined.

The cream tabby despises eating the fish others catch, refuses to try herself. She uses the excuse that she's still suffering from smoke inhalation, that the honey given to her by Beesong and Cinderfrost just isn't working quickly enough, so she can mope alone. A single whisker of hers had singed, and she feels ridiculous, simply foolish. She wants to hide her face in the reeds.

But hunger drives her away from camp, just once, and she snorts at the thought of the swimming felines bringing her anything but fish. No, she's had enough of trying to choke down the mealy mouthfuls she's already been brought. Perhaps a bird, a squirrel -- even a water vole.

She's barely left camp before she's crashing into some foolish cat, and she prepares to lash into them before she realizes she's talking to a fellow ThunderClanner. Her hackles smooth, and she forces herself to smile -- but it's tired. The mask is cracked. "Oh. Hi, Flycatcher. It's... okay." She steps back, pressing a damp paw to her face. "I was hoping to hunt, but honestly, I don't know... if I can." She sits on her rump, eyes limpid. "My throat, it's still scratchy, and my breathing is slow... and besides, all I can smell is fish." She laughs, but it's a bit hollow.


She says its okay but Flycatcher has his doubts. He raises a brow but decides against pressing her on things for now. Meadowflame expresses a desire to hunt but worries she might not be able to, something which Flycatcher emphasises with. Granted he doesn't know whether her doubts about hunting are an aftereffect of the fire or just simply just from the differences in hunting and the main prey they are in both clans. "I wouldn't recommend fishing," Flycatcher laughs. "I've tried hunting some of the waterfowl too but that doesn't work as well as I had hoped and I have no desire to wade into the river chasing after them." He looks behind Meadowflame for a moment and the sparse trees behind them and then back at her. "Have you thought about just sticking to the trees? There doesn't seem to be as many birds or squirrels here to catch but it's much more like home than spending hours by the river."

In regards to her sore throat, he ponders that issue for a moment. "Maybe you should ask one of the medicine cats for some honey? It would probably help eas your throat, even just a little bit."