Miles from Nowhere [Open]

[Willowfern]

Roosterflame
He/Him - Outsider, ex-ThunderClan
Sunburnt - Flock Together [Tier Three] - Bilingual [Tier Three]

Miles from nowhere
Not a soul in sight
Oh yeah, but it's alright
I have my freedom
I can make my own rules
Oh yes, the ones that I choose

Stiff golden grass crunched underpaw as Roosterflame padded through the field outside the large red barn he inhabited with his mother- who was not speaking to him at the moment.

Ever since Roosterflame had returned to his old home, he’d been out of sorts, his formerly cheerful, excitable self somewhat muted by what the clans had impressed upon him, though he was still himself, if a bit more muted and less eager to trust and engage.

Still, Roosterflame wouldn’t be adverse to conversation, though he wouldn’t go out looking for it.

He heard the sound of a mouse in the grass and his stomach growled despite himself. He flattened his ears and grimaced slightly before pursuing the creature, quickly finding it and catching it, his warrior training sharp as ever.

The mouse let out a rather nasty mouse oath before Roosterflame ended its life as swiftly and (hopefully) painlessly as possible. Understanding other animals to a certain degree came as both a blessing and a curse. Still, it hadn’t made Roosterflame a vegetarian, he wasn’t an idiot. He knew how the food chain worked. It just made hunting a little more troublesome to the psyche.

He settled down under a small shrub along the fence line to enjoy his meal, wrapping his tail over his paws and trying not to remind himself of how lonely he really was.

[Luminous]

Wyvern

Still-growing muscles tensed under the spotted fur as Wyvern lowered herself into the grass. Corvin's words echoed in her mind, advice on hunting techniques, tips on stalking, and she had zeroed in on the scent of vole, familiar to her from the first time her mother had taught her to hunt. It was somewhere not too far ahead of her, rummaging around in the golden grass, hopefully still unaware of the fact that it was being stalked.

Wyvern had not been sent on a whole lot of hunting trips, as her young age had mostly confined her to guard-duty, but there was hardly anything left to guard now, and she could feel the beginnings of hunger clawing at her stomach - at least it had the good graces to remain quiet while she was hunting.

Finally she got within leaping-distance of her prey, repositioning her paws under her and shifting her weight back, before pouncing. She had nearly miscalculated the exact location of the vole but managed to slam down a paw on it nonetheless and end its life. It would be her dinner for today, and she picked it up without noticing the brightly coloured cat not too far away.

______________________________
@Willowfern <33

[Dolomedes]

White Wolf
| He/Him | The Executor | Outsider |
"Fear is the deadliest illness"
+ Heavily scarred, Mainecoon + Norwegian Forest cat mix, snow white though his work has left his front paws tinted slightly pink +

He wouldn't ever admit it. No. Never. Though for some reason he found himself missing his Lark's chatter. The other tom never stopping in his songs and talk and cheer, it was annoying and grating in the ears, not too mention a distraction. It was though the self proclaimed 'poet' ( whatever that means, kittypets and their strange words ) wanted White Wolf to get caught off guard and then die, and then get killed himself. It really made the wolf want to batter at his...companion's ears. Though it was the off season, the one where his Lark returned to his home territory within the upwalker nests and then sat and 'taught the new generation.' Strange. Not like the world needed any new larks. One was annoying enough.

But still, that meant he didn't need to stop by any upwalker nests for his companion to rest more comfortably and could be off trail as much as possible during his 'rest' time. He suppressed a sigh and instead, yellow eyes investigated the area. The scents were loud. Almost terribly so, but he had yet to determine if it was from someone walking through or if they remained. It wasn't a bad spot, it had prey, and it didn't seem claimed. He never understood that. Owning land that doesn't belong to you. It's nature, why does it matter, half the time its just one cat on land that can sustain countless more. It was greed. The wolf hated greed, it bred the worse kind of monsters, many that he hadn't even bothered to bury after they met his claws.

It was the sound of mice screams that immediately caught his attention and his pupils turned to slits, pin prick thin among golden iris. Cats. That could mean trouble or work. White Wolf padded towards the noise, keeping an ear out for any of the tell signs of a predator... No, it was another cat. They weren't even aware that he was staring at them yet, were they? A vole was caught in their jaws. That couldn't be right, the wolf had heard a mouse, not a vole. That meant that this cat powered that mouse down and then had time to catch a vole... or... golden eyes swept the area and eventually they landed on orange and ember, what terrible pelt colors, beneath a bush. Oh great. As his Lark would say "2 is company, but 3 is a party," even more social interaction that the wolf didn't want.

"Hm." It was a little hum, no words, but the wolf didn't want the unaware cat to turn and fright at such a large cat suddenly being behind them. "You have company." Terribly dull, but most cats were. Most cats were stuck being executors. A job that has left White Wolf without a moment of peace. There was always something, and in this profession letting down your guard was just asking for someone to slit your throat while asleep. There were many that would pay to see him ripped apart. Pathetic really, the cat kind. They act higher than others when in the end they were nothing more than mice on a track to their burrow from predators lurking. Some are just more aware than others. "And I don't mean me."

[ @Luminous - Wyvern | Who Wolf is talking to! | @Willowfern - Roosterflame ]

[Willowfern]

Roosterflame
He/Him - Outsider, ex-ThunderClan
Sunburnt - Flock Together [Tier Three] - Bilingual [Tier Three]

Roosterflame’s amber eyes flicked upward as he spotted two cats a little way across the field from him. He cocked his head to the side curiously and took a last bite of his mouse before hiding it under some leaves for later.

The lanky tom stood up and shook out his mane of fur before trotting over to the other two cats, waving his tail in greeting, slightly cautious but still friendly.

“Good afternoon,” He said pleasantly, coming to a safe distance, on guard ever-so-slightly, his warrior training reminding him that hostile cats weren’t always obvious about it. He reminded himself that he was well-trained and skilled enough, and that he’d probably be fine either way.

One thing he regretted about his time in ThunderClan was that it had made him suspicious.

“I’m Roosterflame,” He offered, shooting them both a grin, “What brings you two around? Passing through?” He arched a brow, his eyes roving over them both, noting the many scars on the larger of the two. He looked similarly to some of Roosterflame’s former clanmates, though he was doubtlessly a rogue.

The other cat, a she-cat, looked quite young, and, if Roosterflame had to guess, he’d say she was around the same age as he had been when he’d left to join ThunderClan.

Roosterflame himself looked unlike a warrior, acted unlike a warrior, really. He only had a few scars, which were under the fluff around his neck. This usually worked as a small advantage, with cats underestimating him and thinking he was naïve. If it came to a fight- Roosterflame hoped not. He hadn’t had a civil conversation in moons, really, and he was in a chatty mood- Roosterflame wouldn’t be too out of his depths.

[ @Luminous @Dolomedes ]