VOICE GETS A LITTLE LOUD — thunderclan patrol

[FINCHCATCHER]

It's early.

The sun's hardly risen, the sky mottled with pinks and purples - hues that dapple Finchcatcher and his patrol's fur as they begin their trek.

He's nervous. Excited, but nervous. He's leading his first patrol, wants such a milestone to go smoothly. Though, his assignment - he fears - is enough of an opportunity for things to go haywire. WindClan. Keep watch for Cinderfrost. What could possibly go wrong?

The scarred warrior leads his patrol to their assigned border, glancing back at @duskmask and @GRAYSTORM as they approach what land divides their oak-forested territory from the moor-dwellers.

"If you see a WindClanner, be cordial with them," Finchcatcher tells them, a swish of his tail following. They didn't need more trouble. Not right now. "Remember, we're here to patrol and strengthen our scent, not to cause problems." He pauses, checks the air around him for any unfamiliar - or, perhaps, in Cinderfrost's case, familiar - scents.

"Keep an eye out for anything that doesn't belong."
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[Duskfire]

I WANT SOMETHING JUST LIKE THIS​

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Out with his own patrol, Duskfire could smell the Thunderclanners before he saw them. One of the benefits to being on the open moors was that scents tended to carry, and so even with the trees and brush to blend among, it wasn't hard for the large bengal tomcat to tell when the other clan was out doing their rounds.

"Thunderclan." the Deputy would call in greeting, offering the trio of cats a nod from his own side of the border. "How's leaf-fall treating you over in the forest?" he askedas he went about scenting his own side of the border, rubbing his chin along a clump of tall grass. "I imagine the trees are good for sheltering from the wind." he noted, though he couldn't say he knew for sure- the extense of Duskfires wild life had been spent in the open of the moors, so the usefulness of trees was really only speculation to him at that point.
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windclan deputy- male - 21 months - single - tall, strong bengal tomcat

 

[KESTRELTALON ^]

I KNOW THAT YOU MEAN SO WELL

At the sound of the voice across the border, Kestreltalon stopped in her tracks. Her one-eyed gaze swept across the figures on the other side, her expression unreadable. Since Sootstar had barred her from going from the gatherings, she knew precious little of the other clans, aside from what her clanmates had told her. Few of which she actually trusted the word of. So, she had questions.

Were all clans as cruel as hers?

Or, might they be persuaded to help her get rid of the snakeheart?

Kestreltalon was not, by nature, a social cat. An opportunity had been presented, however, and she was loathe to miss it. Rather than stick toward the tail end of the patrol as she usually might, she stepped up beside the Windclan deputy, bearing the scar across her useless eye proudly. She made her best attempt at a winning, sociable smile. For once, she actually cared about making a good impression. "What's up, fuckers?" she called over to the Thunderclanners.

Nailed it.​

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[GRAYSTORM]

Graystorm would be a liar if he said it didn't sting a little for his mother to choose Finchcatcher to lead over him. Did she not trust him? Sure, he could be... rowdy, at times; but Graystorm is perfectly capable of leading a patrol!

...

Isn't he?

They arrive at the border without a lick of trouble. Graystorm sniffs, face scrunching as if he'd just gotten a mouthful of lemon. "They don't smell any better each time we come," Graystorm comments, directly after Finchcatcher's warning to be cordial. It's whatever, though. The high-and-mighty patrol leader only said to not be rude to WindClan's faces.

Soon enough, the WindClanners find them. The first, Graystorm recognizes as WindClan's deputy. The warrior scrutinizes him with eyes narrowed, trying to find the reason why Sootstar had chosen him of all cats. He isn't impressive in the slightest. What had Sootstar seen in him, that Graystorm doesn't?

Oh, well. That's WindClan's problem, not his. Graystorm smirks, raising an eyebrow. Finchcatcher told them to be cordial, so cordial Graystorm will be. "Wow! Looks like we've got a pro at pointin' out the obvious, here!" Compliments are cordial, even if it is sarcastic.

The next WindClanner, Graystorm thinks would've made a better deputy. She calls out, fuckers, and the ThunderClan warrior laughs. Finally, someone who speaks his lingo! "Nothin' much, fucker! What's up with you fuckers?!"​

 

[WEASELCLAW]

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮​

Weaselclaw follows at Duskfire's heels, his nostrils flaring at the scent of leafmold and mouse piss. ThunderClan, of course. One of the weakling Clans. The tabby watches impassively as his deputy greets the patrol, but the faintest twitch of a surprised smile tugs at his maw at Kestreltalon's overt greeting.

He swings his head to stare incredulously at the big gray warrior who returns it. Similar to Kestreltalon in that he seemed to have a scarred, useless eye -- was it also from insubordination, disloyalty? Or had he earned it in a proper battle? Weaselclaw snorts at the vulgarity.

"Duskfire is just being polite, though I don't know how he can stand to." Weaselclaw flicks the pale tip of his tail -- it twitches as though it's bug-infested. "Move along, ThunderClan. We don't have time to throw curses around with you." He stares first at the gray tom, then at the scarred ginger tom who leads the patrol. He seems young, nervous. Weaselclaw bares his teeth in a grin. Good.

- ,,​

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[KESTRELTALON ^]

I KNOW THAT YOU MEAN SO WELL

The laugh that left Kestreltalon at the response she got from across the border was loud and joyful. Especially because the tom that called back to her had taken a pot shot at Duskfire. She liked this guy already.

The prey thief, unfortunately, saw fit to ruin her fun. He told the Thunderclanners to get lost in no uncertain terms, claiming they didn't have time to talk.

He could speak for himself frankly, Kestreltalon had all day.

By now she had learned that the snake heart's lackeys were toothless without their beloved leader to boss them around. If that leader were actually here, it might have been another story, but without her Kestreltalon had no issue ignoring the tom beside her.

"Apparently, we've all got sticks up our asses over here." She stated dryly with a pointed glance at the prey thief. "They stick 'em up yours in Thunderclan too?" It was only half a joke. Any information she could get about the other clans was good information.​

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[Galeforce]

↞ RACE THE WINDS

The young warrior trailed his way over to join the other WindClanners as they addressed the patrolling ThunderClanners. It felt strange being out and about without naturally seeking the supervision of a warrior, but he wasn't an apprentice anymore. Yet he still sought to follow those who were senior to him, even if they were acting like bratty kits. The tabby was quiet as he sidled up and he exchanged glances between the cats who were present. "Really? Spitting insults?" He muttered under his breath as he angled his ears back.
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[FINCHCATCHER]

The WindClanners find them, interact with Finchcatcher's patrol first. A spotted tom is the first on the moor-dweller's side to greet them, a feline that - if Finchcatcher recalls, from what he'd heard from speak after various gatherings - is their deputy. Cordial. Diplomatic. Finchcatcher doesn't want to mess this up.

"Greetings," he replies, a dip of his head as Duskfire continues to speak, asks about ThunderClan's leaf-fall, "We're doing well, in ThunderClan. The leaves have turned color, and are, well, falling, but --"

"What's up, fuckers?"

He blinks in a mixture of confusion and shock, head turning to look at the feline beside the deputy.

"Fucker?" Finchcatcher echoes, dumbfounded. How could... She could just say that? With... With her deputy beside her like that?

And then, of course, Graystorm speaks, repeats the... insult...? back to the WindClanner that uttered it first. Great. This was great. It was downhill from here - it had to be. A spiral of chaos ultimately tangling Finchcatcher in its grasp.

A brown tom is next, one more intimidating than the deputy, or even the fucker beside him. Tells them to move along, that they don't have time for... whatever this is. A poor excuse of a patrol, held together by an exchange of curses and a false-pretense of cordiality. That's what it was. How was he ever going to report any of this back to Howling Wind?

"Forgive me - and Graystorm - here," he starts, "But, certainly you have plenty of time, since your side started it."
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[SUNSETBREEZE]

Sunsetbreeze was rather unimpressed as she took a place beside Galepaw actually agreeing with what they just had said. In fact she had been thinking the same thing. Kestraltalon was acting more like a kit then an actual warrior right now. She felt embarassed with them even.... But since neither Duskfire or Weaselclaw pointed out her behavior Sunsetbreeze would have to assume that this was a appropriate behavior for a warrior to have even if it made her whiskers twitch in bemusement. She wouldn't speak up against thier deputy or lead warrior knowing full well they where not suppose to act friendly with thunderclan so she stood put and silent beside the other new promoted warrior. For being her first day outside as a warrior Sunsetbreeze had to admit...she had expected a little bit more for some reason. A more mature behavior perhaps. Oh well. The day was not over yet.


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