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Birchfawn watched Twilightstar leap down beside him. He noticed some of the barn cats increasing hostility while some attempted to defuse the situation. He was ready however, at the slightest agreement of battle, to leap for a cat and bowl them over - however he kept his cool, eyes staying on all the barn cats. "Moorsong is right." He mewed to the barn cats. "I pity that you were taken from your home, but we have a much larger group of cats to care for - as well as young and old - to feed once the weather becomes cold and prey goes to ground." He really did pity them deeply, but he couldn't let that pity get in the way of what his clan needed. They always came first.
Birchfawn watched Twilightstar leap down beside him. He noticed some of the barn cats increasing hostility while some attempted to defuse the situation. He was ready however, at the slightest agreement of battle, to leap for a cat and bowl them over - however he kept his cool, eyes staying on all the barn cats. "Moorsong is right." He mewed to the barn cats. "I pity that you were taken from your home, but we have a much larger group of cats to care for - as well as young and old - to feed once the weather becomes cold and prey goes to ground." He really did pity them deeply, but he couldn't let that pity get in the way of what his clan needed. They always came first.
Wolf nodded thoughtfully at the tom's response.
"Perhaps we could come to an agreement. I would be willing to help you get rid of the no-furs, without severely injuring them, of course, and you would allow ourselves to prove we belong here. " He said, swishing his tail.
"Nnnnno, it's actually impossible to dog-hunt. In a very serious, fundamental way, even. Five cats, ten cats, plans or no plans, traps or no traps, wouldn't matter. It'd be like catching the sun, you know? Dogs are just different like that. So, I'm...essentially...here to keep you from wasting your time. Aren't I such a good helper?"
Really she just wants to do everything in her power to curb any thoughts of dog-catching, even in jest, in addition to staying where it's the safest. Whiterabbit's bravery has one hard limit and evidently it is roaming these hills someplace. All the more reason for that barn to go.
Stupid dog. Making it impossible to go see fun stuff. Ugh, they ruin everything.
Whiterabbit shakes herself, flinging the bad thoughts away like dust in her fur. She'll go crazy if she has to sit and think about what she's missing out on right now and why, so she grits her teeth and pours her focus into anything else that can hold it. Wind in the grass, light in the sky, soil between her toes, Lightningstorm hasn't eaten today—hey. Hey?
Whiterabbit makes a face, looking up from the ground that she's started picking at to see the medicine cat looking away and, she could swear, looking almost sheepish. What the heck. Whiterabbit's never considered herself the fussy, nurturing kind and—stars willing—that'll never change, but she'd like to think she's got some brains rattling around under her ears. Even if she doesn't, it doesn't take a genius to spot a problem so obvious as The Designated Herbsy-Healy Cat Doesn't(??) Eat(???). And she's still got to wonder: who fixes that?
Maybe she's making issues up in her head. Maybe she is. Maybe Lightningstorm is just a naturally-super-bony animal and not getting to eat today was a one-off fluke borne of these wildly unusual times. But. How embarrassing. Would it be. If their sole remaining medicine cat up and died one day. Because she hadn't been fed? The force of Whiterabbit's sudden cringe is bone-deep.
So, sure. Maybe this is all because the times are rough and everything's weird. Admittedly, and without any true remorse, Whiterabbit hadn't been paying attention to Lightningstorm back before all of The Obstacles. But she does, indeed, have just enough brains under those ears to know that drawing quiet conclusions and not doing anything means—well—nothing will be done.
"Yeeeeah, here's hoping it's all going over smoothly. If anything, those '''barn''' cats should really be paying up with a daily tribute to save us the trouble...but I don't mind getting in there and just taking what we're owed. You know, provided it's safe." And dogless. Stars, that'll be an issue. Whiterabbit stares off after where the patrol had gone before jumping directly into her next question so that she doesn't have time to catastrophize about any impending dog encounters: "Say! Should we be sending our apprentices to feed you?"
| Lightningstorm | 29 Moons - WindClan Medicine Cat Flock Together [Tier 3] - Active | Mind Reader - Active | Dreamwalker - Inactive | Katty Krueger - Inactive
Lightningstorm nodded along as Whiterabbit spoke, not entirely certain if oppressing the farm cats and having them give tribute was the smartest of plans, but certain that something had to be done. If the other clans found out that WindClan had suddenly let a band of kittypets take over a part of their territory, they would become easy pickings for sure. The twolegs giving them a hard time was fine. Twolegs were a threat every cat could understand. Barn cats, however, she had to assume the other clans would be far less understanding of. And then in an instant she was sputtering, large ears perked up as she stared in a mix of horror and apprehension at the pale she-cat, the mention of apprentices entering her den obviously not a welcomed one.
"No! No no. No apprentices! I mean... I'm sure they won't mean any harm but... no cats coming in and out of my den as they please. Last thing I need is another pair of paws using my herbs to try and kill my patients while attempting to let me take the fall," the herbalist responded, her voice slowly turning bitter at the memory.
Lightningstorm still remembered it. The lighter, happier days of her apprenticeship. When Cowtuft would allow anyone to enter his den for herbs when necessary. When patrols could simply deposit their found herbs in with the rest of the storage. He worked on a trust based system. One that someone broke... and to this day it still ate at her that she didn't know who that someone had been. She'd had... doubts. Ideas. But nothing concrete. No evidence outside of her gut instinct on the matter. Not that it would have mattered. WindClan didn't care. They were content and satisfied seeing the medicine cat that had lived and burned for them take the fall, almost giddy in their relish of seeing one who had held a position of power falter, even if that position had only ever been used for their benefit.
They had turned on her as well, claiming that she had been the one to set him up. There had been no evidence to this... impossible to find any when the stories they spouted were nothing more than lies. Fabrications created by boredom, paranoia, bloodlust, and the need to have their moment in the light. But the betrayal upon her had left its mark. The medicine cat might have moved on some from her initial, deep rooted hatred of the cats of WindClan. Her paranoia that they would turn on her again at her first mistake.
Well... she was still certain they would turn on her. They had proved to care little for her in all her moons as a medicine cat. If anything, she was certain she knew more of every individual cat within the clan than they all knew of her with their knowledge combined. She was a tool and nothing more. But she was... content in a way now. She wasn't happy. Not really. It was hard to be truly joyful when one felt so distant from every single cat that surrounded them. Even Crowtooth, whom she considered a friend, she kept a healthy distance away. But it was what she wanted. It was easier that way, or so she'd convinced herself.
Ear twitching, Lightningstorm shook herself, unwilling to go down that rabbit hole any longer. Instead, she grinned, turning to Whiterabbit as she turned the conversation back onto more comfortable territory. That of dog hunting and how possible - or impossible - it might just be.
"You say it's impossible, then? To dog hunt? I wouldn't know about that... Impossible things, I mean. I think everything is possible, in some way. Well... maybe not everything. Don't see a cat walkin' on two legs themselves and suddenly livin' it up like one of them twolegs. But I like to think that most things that are thought up or imagined can be made reality within the scopes of what is possible in our world. We just don't know enough about these things, I think. Haven't learned enough to know just how to make it possible.
It's what makes us afraid, innit? That lack of knowledge and certainty that it is impossible? That thing that makes us freeze up and convince ourselves that nothin' can be done about it. I mean, don't get me wrong. You might very well be right but... I just think it's always better to assume that maybe we just don't know how to yet than to give it up as a lost cause," Lightningstorm mewed cheerily, her eyes alight with a sense of wonder as she looked to the clouds.
She would always have a thirst for knowledge. A hope that those things that petrified her and had no good answer weren't so... she just hadn't found the right way to tackle it yet. And maybe she never would. But some cat somewhere else, someday, would. Perhaps it was a silly notion, but it somehow made life just a little less gray sometimes.
Archipelago ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ The Shark ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
He/Him | Barn Cat | 45 moons | Outsider
'Maybe if i were to kill the most important people in your life- everyone you ever loved, maybe you'll have some idea how I feel!'
``That's a good hypothesis, but you're already too late.``
'What..?'
``Everyone you're talking about has already been killed. I've been around longer than you have, kid. I've seen my share of troubles. Taken my own revenge too, it leads nowhere.``
Purrks: Kitty Softpaws (T1) [INACTIVE] Bilingual (T2) [INACTIVE] One with the Warren [INACTIVE]
Killer Aptitude (T2) [INACTIVE]
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The huge, scarred siamese snorted at the words that flew by, pupils slitted and claws naturally unsheathed, too long to be sheathe fully, as the tips always stuck out. He raised his head, his booming voice carrying through the barn.
"These clan cats have no intention of letting some soft kittypets share their territory, and I doubt they'll get off their pedestals and see that this small portion of the territory can be shared. We have ten cats here ourselves, and that's not including cats who come in and stay for bits and pieces of time. Your offer, although amicable on your end, is just not so for us." The gentle demeanor the first patrol had experienced from the tom was gone. These cats wanted them to pack up and leave because it didn't suit them.
"Some of us have tried to escape, and have been brought back here." He said, glaring at Birchfawn, the scarred tom Assessing each and every cat of this patrol heavily. If they called Lassie, he, lassie and Cobra could probably take these cats. Their leader would be trouble though. Twilightstar meant 8 lives from what his mother explained. The apprentices would be easy pickings though. Archipelago had to shake the thought from his head. He wasn't that cat anymore.
@/everyone
Re: Windy Hills
