Reaching Stones Valley

[Pitou]

The laughter racking her body was beginning to make her unsteady on the flimsy branch they were perched on. She bounced, her claws still buried in the branch so the whole branch swayed beneath the two cats. She resituated herself with a twist to face Torro more directly.

"Of course! Wasn't it? That was more fun than I've had in my entire life! The way it came out of nowhere..." She paused, catching Torro's eyes with her own, "And you! That was so cool! The way you ran directly at the monster! And your turn...you turned so fast it looked like you were pulled back!" She sucked in a deep breath then continued in a sigh, "This was the best idea, Torro."

She sunk down into the branch, contendly gazing out over the expanse of green grass and grey stones.

( @Toodle )

[Toodle]

Seeing her so happy, Torro began to realize that his anxiety was slowly dissipating. His breathing slowed and a stillness took over his insides. His world shrunk down to their little branch. This little she-cat is absolutely insane. But in so short a time, he found he already couldn't imagine being without her. If he could make her feel as happy as she looked, maybe he could do anything.

"I think I should take you home before you get one of us killed." He threw an easy smile over his shoulder as he stretched his way towards the ground before sliding his hind end off the branch and landing in the grass below. He turned and looked up at her, hoping his emotions weren't as noticeable on his face as they were stirring inside him.
@Ravensong

[Pitou]

At his words, Tinker's face fell. Was he mad at her for what happened?

But then she caught the smile he flashed back at her and she purred beneath her giggle before following him down the tree.

( @Toodle )

[Willowfern]

Open-ish, looking mainly for cats who might be grieving or something.

Skulltooth
________

No one knew how long this cat had been here, he seemed to have always been there, part of the scenery, just as ancient as some of the smooth, weathered stones that grew from the earth in long, solemn rows.
Skulltooth, he was named, for that had been the name he had given himself however many moons ago he appeared here.
He had had other names too, first he was Squeak, then Grubby, then Jinx, names described you, once your name didn't fit, it was gone, simple as that.
Skulltooth had nicknames too, Grave Cat, Skeleton, The Cold One... his most famous nickname of all though, was The Graveside Ghost.
The nickname had been bestowed upon him moons ago, for the black tom was often seen by fresh graves where new stones were placed.
Watching.
Listening.
Silent.
Deathly Still.
He didn't mind affection from grieving Long-Limbs, who, in their state of utter sorrow, would cry into his fur, calling for the loved one being lowered into their forever bed.
He didn't mind.
Skulltooth saw things too, good things, bad things, heroic things, and things too vile to speak of.
Once he saw the body of a friend lowered into a grave alongside a Long-Limb, killed so that she could be with her owner forever in death, despite her wishes.
He also saw a cat, so broken with grief over the death of his Long-Limb, that he threw himself in the grave alongside them.
Two opposite sides of the spectrum, each equally as tragic.
Skulltooth had been here a long time, ask him how long and he won't utter a word, that was his way, and it always would be.

A cold, end of Hot Season wind blew through The Ghost's fur, ruffling it slightly, he raised his head, his frosty-blue eyes narrowed against the breeze.
Skulltooth stood up, his tail snapping from side to side.
Food.
A small mouse was eating by one of the older Flatstones, it was upwind from Skulltooth.
Good.
The black tom moved with trained precision, killing the mouse with a single bite to its feeble throat.
Stood no chance.
The Ghost gulped down the meal, savoring it with licks over his cracked lips.
Need water.
He plodded to a small creek that ran past the Graveyard and drank deeply before returning to lines of gray stone and curling up behind his favorite one, it had the stone craving of a cat, rather similar in appearance to him.
Life wasn't necessarily perfect in the Graveyard, it was hard and lonesome, but it was routine and orderly, and Skulltooth got to do what he liked, that was what mattered.
"It matters much. Yes." He grumbled aloud in his scratchy voice.
Skulltooth didn't talk much to other cats, and that suited him just fine, it was great even, as he himself was a cat of few words.
Yes, life wasn't perfect, but it was good.

[Willowfern]

// @North

Skulltooth
________

The black tom had been sleeping beside his favorite Flatstone when his ears perked up.
Cat.
He blinked open his icy blue eyes, yawning, and stood up.
A visiter, he hadn't had one in a hot minute.
The Ghost padded to the other side of the stone, his fur prickling against the slight chill in the air,
"Come," He rumbled, his tail snapping in the breeze, waiting patiently for the other cat to approach.

[North]

| @Willowfern |
Blueberrypaw certainly hadn't meant to stray so far from camp; what sort of trouble would he be when he returned? What would Shadowheart think? He supposed there was a chance nobody would notice; he could always lie and say he got lost. But he couldn't turn back: he was here for a reason. He didn't know much of his parents, only that they had been loyal to Thunderclan and good warriors. He could only remember the fond chuckle of his father, his deep booming voice but not his words, and his mother's undying love and warmth. He sometimes still believed he felt that love, and sometimes his own laugh reminded him of his father's. Perhaps he had been imagining those things, though. He prayed to Starclan sometimes, hoping they'll answer him. They didn't.
As he wandered through the oddly shaped stones, he was entirely lost in thought. Why had he come here? To grieve? His parents weren't even buried near here. Though, they hadn't died far. A monster had torn them both now only a short walk further into the twoleg place; Blueberrpaw had never got his answers as to what they had been doing here, especially with leaving such a small kit at the nursery to be watched by another queen. He was a little resentful about it all, truthfully. His silvery form paced nervously, before being stopped altogether by another...cat? Only, he didn't appear as a cat in the way Blueberrypaw did, he seemed almost ghostly. A phantom of some sorts. Blueberrypaw was almost afraid, but something drew him to the spirit and he stepped forward, unnerved but curious by the command to 'come'. "I-" He began, pausing to collect this confidence, "Are you a spirit?"

[Willowfern]

// @North

Skulltooth
________

The black tom stepped forward,
"I am no spirit," The tom said, a slight humorous lilt in his voice, "Merely the mist."
He ran his eyes over the smaller cat's form before saying more,
"Why are you here?"
He knew why this cat was here, grief pulled all kinds of cats to the Graveyard, though Skulltooth didn't know this exact cat's grief, he knew that this cat had suffered once, maybe in the past, maybe recently, grief had pulled them to him, and he was ready to help.
It was funny that he was mistaken for a spirit, he guessed that was another reason he had earned the nickname The Graveside Ghost.
Skulltooth was here.
The Graveside Ghost was ready to help.

[North]

| @Willowfern |
Blueberrypaw would be lying if he said he understood what that meant - the mist? Oh well, he supposed it didn't matter all too much. Before he could think about it too much, the cat was asking him a question. He had to pause to consider his answer, green eyes clouding over in thought. "Well, I don't really know...I started walking and then I kept walking and now I'm here," He explained, glancing around, "Where ever this is." He added, a shiver running up his spine at the cold. It was chillier here, but perhaps that had to do with the rather solemn atmosphere. He listened as somewhere in the distance the familiar roar of a monster called out, and the young tom sighed. "My parents died not far from here, though their bodies are buried back at my clan, so I still don't really know why I'm here, maybe I'm looking for some answers?" He wasn't really asking the other tom, after all, how would he know? He was speaking out loud, his thoughts all jumbled and all over the place. His apprenticeship was going pretty good; Shadowheart was a kind, patient she-cat, he would be totally lying if he said he could've asked for a better mentor! But still, he was struggling a bit. He had a reputation to live up to that he himself did not even fully know; other cats constantly reminding him he was the image of his mother, but had his father's deep green eyes. It was hard. How do you make cats who aren't even here, proud? His attention suddenly snapped back to the tom, clearly a little embarrassed to have been caught so in thought and so vulnerable, "What are you doing here?"

[dino.]

single post, please do not respond <3

>Goosefury + Tumblepaw<

So. Maybe Goosefury was regretting following this kid out just a little bit. It wasn't like he'd been able to convince him to stay in camp anyway, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let an apprentice wander off on their own, so he may as well follow, right? Except Tumblepaw was making it unnecessarily, excruciatingly difficult for everyone involved. Which included Goosefury. And now they were in some unrecognizable new plane of existence.

Yeah, he wasn't happy about this turn events.

Tumblepaw, face shrouded in shadows cast by the dark clouds hanging in the sky, finally decided to pause next to one of the strange stones, eyeing his surroundings cautiously. A Twoleg was crouched nearby, a bouquet of flowers clutched in its forepaws, but it took no notice of the two cats. Tumblepaw sat down, tail curled around his feet, ears falling as he finally realized the gravity of this situation. But it was too late to go scurrying back so soon - he'd look like a fool in front of Goosefury.

The scarred tom followed suit, single green eye gazing blankly out over the stones as the pale light of dawn began to peek through the clouds. "So," he said after a moment, "you told Kestrelstar you'd stay and give him another chance, and then you decided to leave anyway."

Tumblepaw winced. The warrior's monotone voice gave none of his thoughts away. "I didn't mean to lie," he answered quietly. "I just needed some time to think. I know he promised to be better, but... I still don't know if I can trust him." A pause, and then, "You didn't have to come with me, you know."

Goosefury's thoughts on the whole situation were different vastly from Tumblepaw's, but... "Well, I can't just up and let you go off on your own, now, can I?" he countered, snorting. "You'd get yourself killed. And, besides, how are you going to know if you can trust him if you're not around to talk with him?" He closed his eye with a sigh as Tumblepaw looked away and continued, voice growing softer. "Look, I know how you feel about this. And I'm never going to force you or anyone else to change their feelings about something. But from what you told me about your conversation, he clearly cares about you, and he's probably worried sick."

A few heartbeats of silence passed, and then Tumblepaw sighed through his nose and slumped against Goosefury’s shoulder. The gray tom jerked at the sudden contact. but made no move to sidle away. "I know," Tumblepaw mumbled in Goosefury's fur. "This was probably a stupid decision-"

Goosefury twisted and smacked Tumblepaw in the nose with a forepaw, making the tom jerk back with a yelp. "It's not a stupid decision," he chided. "You're doing what you believe to be best for you, at this moment in time. Doesn't mean it won't come back to bite you later, but for right now, it's important to you. So don't talk like that anymore. We can take as much time away from everything as you feel necessary, all right? I'll be here for as long as you need me."

Tumblepaw's scowl of betrayal faded, and he leaned against Goosefury once more. "All right," he muttered. Then, quieter, "Thank you."

One ear fell to the side as Goosefury peered down at the apprentice, and then he sighed as he turned to face the rising sun again. The pale rays warmed his face as they stretched further over the stones, chasing away the shadows, and he closed his eye again. Tumblepaw shifted against him, cheek resting on his shoulder. Beside them, the Twoleg set down the bouquet, rose to its feet, and began to depart.

Maybe a break wouldn't be so bad, after all.

[Pine'Paw]

A pair of twolegs trekked into the valley. They were holding a bouquet of flowers and a cat. He had dark grey fur with black stripes. His eyes were strikingly orange, but his collar was a dark blue with a silver tag that said 'Dewie'. He had came here with the twolegs since they didn't want to leave him home alone.

They finally stopped at a large rock that was inscribed with odd words. Beside it was a smaller rock with a black collar that said 'Polar'. This was the grave of Dewie's mother. She had been buried by the man that originally got her, the she-twoleg's father. Polar had adopted him after his father just left him at the house one day. Since Polar had recently lost her litter of kits at that time, she was extremely joyous to take baby Dewie in.

She had died from brain damage after a hard twoleg ball hit her on the head a moon ago. Dewie remembered first crying when she wouldn't move or get up. He had pleaded with her, but she was dead for real.

Now here he was, standing there, looking like he had just lost her and it was the day she died. That was still a moon ago, but it still felt so recent. Maybe his grieving had made it feel that way. It should be. He wanted to grieve for his mother, to let her know he would never miss her and she would always be loved by her son. Even if they weren't related by blood, he would always call her his mother.