-Wandering- Open

[Hollystar]

The small, thin silver tabby she-cat padded along a narrow path on the ground, her small paws hardly skimming the ground. She was completely unaware of her surroundings, as she crouched down, her eyes narrowed, fixing on the twoleg that was stumbling down the otherwise, deserted Thunderpath, holding a bag in his giant paws. The stench was awful, but it probably would be the only food she will have had for days. As the twoleg threw the bag, unceremoniously to the ground, and turned away, Rayne thought of how careless and stupid the twolegs were. The never cared about what they did, and what they did it to. She shook the thought of her mind. At least there would be some food in the bag. She waited in the bush, her hiding spot, until the twoleg disappeared from site, then padded cautiously out of the bush, onto the Thunderpath. The hard, unevenly broken ground scratched her paw pads, and burned her paws because the sun pounded down on the rough material. Carefully she padded over to the bag to sniff it, and took one claw and ripped the strange material open. Many items tumbled out. She sniffed one of them, which was a bone with small strings of leftover meat on it. The strench of twoleg was almost overwhelming, but she nipped off the remaining tendrels anyways, then stepped away. Another cat could scavenge through the rest of the bag. She turned around and began to pad away, back to her burrow, which she hade made her home when she finished training.

[+ + Cace]

A black tom slid through the underbrush. The stench of blood clinging to his black fur as he moved. When he stood underneath nearby shafts of light, the slight red tinted edge shone with his black pelt. His smaller, yet muscular body slung forward as he moved with a graceful pace. He walked with a confident edge as he moved. He was the leader of Bloodclan, after all. Meaning he was just perfection. The black pelted tom moved through the underbrush with a surprising amount of grace for the slight muscular tom. His smaller ears perked slightly at a sound that not many catds could hear in the distance, blinking, he moved quicker, pink nose sniffing the air infront of him. Unlike most Bloodclan cats, this tom's stomach was full and he was quite well-fed with a gleaming black coat. A perk of being the leader, many owed dues and would bring him some good food. His black tail brushed against the ground as he moved behind a bush, his pale yellow eyes watching forward as he saw a small silver tabby eating from a bag. Rayne, that was her name if he remembered correctly.

Rouge wasn't usually bothered with remembering names, but lately he was trying to learn a bit more. He vaugly remembered the she-cat, mainly because two of her siblings had slunk away to live with the disgusting clan cats, he had killed her oher sibling, Silver, out of revenge. Well, he himself hadn't killed the cat, but he had ordered it done. Rouge moved forward out of the larger bush, his dark black pelt shining against the rays of sunlight that escaped through the trees. His voice was a deadly purr as he spoke. "Well well, if it isn't our own little Rayne. Have you payed your dues, little Rayne?" He gave a deadly smile and he purred again, he moved forward and sniffed the bag. Nothing good was left in it, really, some scraps, but they weren't worth his time. He was Rouge, after all, and scraps weren't anything that he could taint his good stomach. He moved so he was next to the she-cat and ran his tail against her back. He purred slightly, not out of joy, but more a deadly, savage knives-on-rocks purr.

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[Hollystar]

Rayne flinched, feeling the fur along her back rising as Rouge walked over to her. She flattened one ear nervously, her muscles going stiff when he spoke, his voice setting her heart pounding with fear. Her paws scuffled on the ground as she stared down at them, trying to flatten her fur. "Yes, I have Rouge," she murmured, her voice low, quiet, trying to hide the fear that pulsed inside her. She felt his tail brushing down her back, and flinched again, lowering her head and looking at the ground. She was almost sure her sister had died because of him, and she did not trust him, nor anyone else, for that matter. Her claws dug into the ground, and she felt some of her fear die away as anger built up in her chest.

[Emma (: [one]]

"Mousedung!" Silver snarled aloud in frustration, watching the dark blur that had previously been a fat, squeaking rat dart away through a slim crack in a nearby wall, screaming out its panic in loud, mocking squeals. Scrambling to her paws from where she had fallen to the ground, the silver she-cat sorely edged herself over to the rodent's escape route, and crouched down before it. The crack was far too small for any adult cat to enter, and certainly impossible for Silver to squeeze her way through. It extended off into damp, mysterious shadows, but the smell drifting out from it suggested some sort of unimpressive human dwelling, particuarily one which probably didn't see much upkeep. Common preferenes of the crafty rats.

Uttering an unhappy growl, Silver shoved herself away from the hole and padded stiffly out of the alley which the rat her drawn her down. Her stomach ached unpleasantly in its hollow cavern, symmetric to the soreness of her right forepaw, which was still paining her since she had stabbed a clear shard of sharp, human substance deep into the pad. That day had not been her best ever, and since then, the she-cat had been unable to hunt any sort of fitting food within the dank alleys of BloodClan territory. Neither could she fight successfully, which had pinned her in a permanently disgruntled mood.

For a short while, she wandered aimlessly down the quiet Thunderpaths that crossed throughout the human place, too distressed to care where she turned, or when. She certainly didn't know why.

It was the smell of other cats upon the air that first drew Silver's attention. She hesitated on the side of a silent Thunderpath, distracted by the foreign trace in the air. Raising her head, Silver suddenly found herself standing not far off from where two of her fellow BloodClan cats lingered, for some mousebrained reason in the straight middle of the Thunderpath. In fact, as Silver peered closer with her heavy green gaze, she realized she was in the vicinity of one very distinct member of BloodClan: the ruthless leader, Rogue. Even the thought of his name sent a faint shiver skittering down her back.

Flattening her ears in a mixture of alarm and dislike, Silver raised a paw, and readied to turn around and quickly abandon her 'leader' and who she now recognized as the she-cat, Rayne. But something within her hesitated, as Rogue suddenly moved toward the smaller gray she-cat, and stroked his long, ebony tail with twisted gentleness down Rayne's thin tabby spine. Despite herself, Silver's thick tail began to fluff out, a habit that displayed itself every time she was greatly concerned. At the sickening sight of Rogue's action, Silver could feel her memory tugging at her consious, trying to lead her back to another time that Rogue had 'comforted' a young gray she-cat. The very presence of the memory had Silver's claws unsheathed and scraping agitatedly against the black surface of the Thunderpath. Concern for Rayne and fear for herself warred within Silver; as she stood to the side of the road, her even green gaze fixated upon the pair of BloodClan cats, she couldn't help but notice that Rayne looked somewhat alike Silver's small sister, Feather. The she-cat's heart twisted at the thought.

Swallowing thickly, Silver lowered her paw back to the ground and hovered there on the deserted roadside, near a thick cluster of shadowy bushes. If the chance arose for her to be the help Silver had once desperately needed, she only hoped she could find the courage within herself to do so.


|words: 622
|muse: pretty good
|contains: silver
|company: rayne, rogue?