all but lonely {open}

[Ebony]

It wasn't about the noise, or being anti-social, Tigerstripe simply didn't feel comfortable in camp anymore. He came back to sleep and to eat, but what was there to come back to in the middle of the day other than cats he no longer saw eye to eye with? Since his friends had gone to RainClan so long ago, it was as if Tigerstripe had not sought any other friendship. He didn't mind the loneliness, in fact he rather appreciated the quiet, but he hated how all he ever did was think.

Think...

Think...

Think.

He lingered on subjects for days, anymore. "Was that the right mouse? It was a little dry, I should have picked the one on top. No, that would have been rude." "It might rain soon, it's looking pretty cloudy. I wonder if anyone else has noticed. Sure they have... Someone on patrol will surely come back and say so. It's nothing to worry about. We could use the rain, everything is looking a little bland." "Today would have been a good day to fish. I don't really know how to fish. I should try to learn, because I bet tomorrow will be just as good. It's a little wet though, maybe not. The shallows aren't too bad. What if I drown? I might get sick..."

But today Tigerstripe did indeed feel like fishing.

He perched at the edge of the small stream babbling in the shadow of the mountains. It was shallow enough to see the algae on the bottom, to see the tiny minnows darting around like flies underwater. He would never catch one of those, but they were fun to watch, and at last there was something to keep the tom from worrying.

Larger fish were downstream, ones that looked like large minnows but surely were not. They were bit enough to hang out of his jaws, if he could catch one, but silently Tigerstripe warned himself... not just yet.

He looked over the water, edging toward the surface with a sheathed paw. Quickly, he threw his foot into the water and felt the scaly flesh of a fish touch his pad, but he didn't aim to toss it out of the water. He touched them again and again, soaking his leg through.

A smile churned on his lips, and the young warrior felt a purr roll inside his chest for once in a long time.

[Feather]

DEWFLOWER .:

If at one time, Dewflower would have had no trouble over the splitting of StormClan, it was not the case now.  The gentle naïveté that had once characterized her actions was giving slightly to a newer, grimmer awareness of the world.  It was the vague anxiety that lurked in the back of her mind, the wondering what might happen next.

The world wasn’t set anymore, the future not expected.  Life had been rote before Rain had shattered the routine, and frankly, the blue-gray she-cat had liked it that way.  It allowed her happiness, and safety, the two things she prized above all.  When the time for courage had come, Dewflower had not taken it.

As she padded along the edge of the stream, that worried part of her mind squirmed uncomfortably.  It wasn’t even so much the event itself that had changed her, but the awareness of how she had reacted, compare to the others who had stepped up, either to fight against it or to speak for it.  She was learning about herself, learning how naïve she had been. 

And she couldn’t help but wonder what might have been.  Not, like other cats, what would have happened if she’d left StormClan.  What would have happened if nothing had, if everything had continued as normal.

And deep inside, that new awareness was ashamed that she wished for that life again.
It wasn’t even that life was so different—it was that it could be.

So Dewflower had escaped to her old haunt, the Pebblebeds, where she was most comfortable.  The weather was cooling, but it was still warm enough that she figured a swim wouldn’t hurt too badly.  Where the water grew shallower the she-cat slipped in, paddling with ease through the slow current.  Unlike many cats, she had a great love for the water.  The sun threw water-patterns onto her coat, until she seemed like one of the silver-scaled fish herself.  She could easily let her old self take over here.

A too-strong paddle sent a splash of water into her eye.  Biting back a mewl, Dewflower shook her head to throw off the water.  When she opened her eyes, she spotted Tigerstripe on the bank.

Quickly, she swam to the bank, only a few strokes, and pulled herself up, shaking the water from her coat.  Then she padded up towards where the tom was apparently fishing.

“Hey, Tigerstripe,” she greeted him quietly, not wanting to scare away his prey.

[Ebony]

ooc: LAME EXCUSE: DED DED DED!!!! ): is tigerstripe's fault

"Rats!" The young tom laughed, watching as the last of the minnows dived away beneath the rocks. He blinked at the ripples, staring as the muddy water drifted along in the current...

He was thinking again.

Gazing into the murky pool he had created, Tigerstripe was hardly aware of Dewflower approaching. "Oh, come back out," he muttered, ears pricked forward and eyes wide, hopeful, of the small fish. "I'm gone now, come out, come out little fish..."

The she-cat's quiet mew surprised him, but the young tom was not quite the jumper he used to be. His heart shook for a moment, and he steadied himself with a breath, before greeting Dewflower with a smile.

"Hey there, what are you doing?" Deciding that, while he had company, he would allow the minnows a chance to recuperate, Tigerstripe turned away from the stream and eyed the sopping warrior.

"Did you fall in? I bet you caught more fish that way than I did." He offered another smile and subtle mrrow of laughter, somewhat glad to be talking again since Wolfstep had left...

[Feather]

Dewflower looked at Tigerstripe a bit quizzically, having caught just the tail end of his mutters as she approached. But Dewflower was nothing if not unwilling to hurt someone, and so she smoothed her features quickly, flowing easily into an answering laugh.

“No, nothing like an accident. I just went swimming.” She glanced quickly at the tom, wondering if he was a waterphobic cat who would regard her actions as downright strange. “Not too many fish upstream, though,” she added. “So I came down here.”

Twitching her tail, she added awkwardly (though her once-bright innocence would have dismissed any thought of awkwardness), “I’m sorry if I disturbed you—did you want to be alone?”

Ah, there she was, the old Dewflower emerging—or rather, the new one drawing away. This frankness was more carefully considered in these times. But here, where so many memories were, where she’d trained and laughed and played, it seemed all right to be the way she had been before.

To tell the truth, she wasn’t so sure how exactly the leap had been made from old to new. There was just that vague, nagging feeling.

[Ebony]

Tigerstripe, befuddled by Dewflower's response, simply looked at her with unblinking eyes. He tilted his head and quirked a brow, "You went swimming?" He asked, unsure that he'd heard her correctly. "You're the biggest water vole I've ever seen!" The young tom laughed, curling his lips in a mock sneer, purring deep in his chest.

"There aren't a lot of fish here either," he replied, still smiling. "Just small ones. The water's cold, so I guess they're all going away." Tigerstripe shrugged, content that he had batted at what fish were left. He glanced back at the muddy stream, mustering a toothy grin at his accomplishments.

Quickly, he looked back at the she-cat and shook his head. "Nah, it's okay. I'm not a good fisher anyway, they just looked like they needed a little excitement." He paused for a moment, contemplating a question, sure that he could use a little excitement in his own life.

"Do you want to go hunting?" The small tom began, tilting his head quizzically, "I bet I'd be better at that than fishing."

[Feather]

DEWFLOWER .:

Dewflower blinked a little hesitantly, not sure if Tigerstripe was being good-natured or a little scornful. But inclined to trust in the goodness of cats, and comforted by his purr, she grinned back, finding it hard to resist his infectious good humor.

Not that she’d have wanted to. Dewflower was never one to not prefer being happy, and today she was especially glad to have an opportunity to be so. It seemed rarer and rarer that she could snatch truly happy moments.

If the water’s too cold for this fish, what would that make me? the she-cat thought laughingly. She flicked her ears back and forth in response to her thought, and stilled an amused purr as she realized that Tigerstripe would have no idea why it occurred.

“Sure, I’d like that,” she replied, self-consciously licking her chest fur as she realized that her fur was wet. But she was blessed with a fairly water-repellant coat, and so only the fluffiest fur on her belly and chest was truly soaked. “After all, we wouldn’t want to lavish all the attention on the fish. The poor mice and voles must be feeling rather neglected.” She grinned, shaking some of the water from her fur and glancing about, nose attuned to the scent of prey.

[Ebony]

"Great!" The young tom purred, bouncing to his paws. "It's getting chilly anyway, a little hunting will keep us warm. You especially," he added, nodding toward Dewflower's sodden figure. He wrinkled his nose as she shook, and tensed as tiny cold droplets settled on his face. Tigerstripe flicked his head from side to side, and glared at Dewflower with laughter in his eyes.

Bounding a few rabbit hops away, tail in the air, the ginger warrior opened his jaws and drew the chilled breeze over the roof of his mouth. "Well, I hope they feel neglected," he began, casting a glance over his shoulders, "because I could definitely do with a mouse or two right now."

The cold, but relaxed, wind buffeted fur, and Tigerstripe managed to suppress a shiver.

"You want to lead the way?" He asked, not sure that an older warrior like her would appreciate being led by a relatively inexperienced warrior like himself.

[Ebony]

Finished, but I didn't add a whole lot. D;

[Feather]

DEWFLOWER .:

Dewflower shivered a little as the breeze ruffled through her fur, but only a laugh threatened to bubble up in her throat. Was this life, was this really living? It was so different, and yet she was doing the same as she always did.

She marveled at how much a few moons could change her, change how she viewed the world. She had been numb. Now she could feel.

She got up and padded towards Tigerstripe, her jaws opening to scent the air better as his were. “Sure, if that’s all right with you,” she mewed, tasting the air, picking out scents. To her left and slightly forward a stream of mouse-scent came, and she turned her head, those blue-green eyes fixed on a loose pile of rocks near the base of a small tree.

Careful to make no sound, and with the lightest of steps, she stalked towards the rocks. As she grew closer, she heard a little scurrying noise, like tiny claws over stone. Abruptly, it stopped.

That was when she pounced, knowing the mouse had heard or felt her. Crouching, she leapt towards it, a sharp squeak of fear and surprise cutting the air. The mouse bolted, and Dewflower chased after it, but it dashed into the safety of a hollow at the base of a bush’s roots.

With a frustrated low growl, the blue-gray cat bounded back to Tigerstripe with an apologetic grimace. “Your turn,” she meowed brightly.

[Ebony]

ooc: I'm going to do something funny in this post, because I think he needs a good reason to have gotten sick. xD In a topic in camp he blames hunting with Dewflower for getting a cold, so I think I'll do something with that.

The young tom tensed as the older warrior darted ahead, ready to dart to Dewflower's side if her prey tried to escape. The tip of his tail twitched, and he sunk near the gravel, feeling an excited chatter well up in his chest. He watched with anticipation as she pounced, but at the sight of her empty jaws he felt his body relax immediately.

"Don't be so discouraged!" He purred, perhaps too lightheartedly, and bounced to his feet. The ginger warrior grinned and padded away, waving his tail jokingly.

Tigerstripe parted his jaws and scented the air again. It was musty and smelled of cold earth and stone, more than anything else, and it was difficult to pick prey from the frosted odor of the mountain. The dull smell of feathers came as a surprise after several moments, and the young warrior jerked his attention along a ridge on the mountain's face. A sparrow pecked among a scrubby bush growing out of the ledge, with its back to Tigerstripe.

Eagerly, the ginger tom scuttled forward, jumping the stream in a silent leap. The little bird was about three fox lengths away, not a hard distance to scale at all, and the warrior was confident he'd have a catch in no time.

The sparrow, blissfully unaware, hopped about the tangled branches of the scrub, too noisy in it's scurrying to notice Tigerstripe picking his way up the ledge. His steps were slow and quiet, his belly close to the cold stone below.

Anticipation welled up in his chest, and feeling he might lose his chance, the tom pounced. The sparrow squirmed beneath his paws, but before the warrior could bite it along its nape, his balanced wavered and he tumbled down the mountain's face. He plopped into the chilly stream, successfully soaking his belly fur and his legs right through.

The young tom hurried toward Dewflower's side, shaking water from his pelt with every few steps.

"Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant!" he muttered, scowling, furrowing his brows in obvious displeasure. "I clearly haven't learned anything!" Tigerstripe hissed, flopping to his haunches with a shiver to lick himself dry.

[Ebony]

Finished.

[Feather]

DEWFLOWER .:

Dewflower watched silently as Tigerstripe crept up upon the sparrow, stilling herself into stonelike quiet so as not to disturb his kill. At least one of them could catch something on their first try.

Or… maybe not. Dewflower’s immediate response, a light-hearted chuckle, was stilled as she saw the expression on his face as he stalked back towards her. She attempted to compose her features and thought she did a rather good job of putting on a sympathetic look. She was, of course, sorry for him, and he did look rather displeased, but after all it had been rather amusing.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” the she-cat meowed, her empathy triumphing over amusement. “We all make mistakes.” She grinned. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Taking in his expression again, she conceded, “All right, maybe it was. No doubt you still think I’m crazy.” At least her fur was drying now, and the wind had died down some. It was getting colder, that hint of leafbare lending a slight edge to the air, barely perceptible, and certainly to the water. It must have been quite a shock for Tigerstripe when he tumbled in.

“We can go back to camp if you’d like,” she offered. “Unless you’d rather see if we could get something for the fresh-kill pile before that.” She gave a noncommittal blink. “Whatever you feel like.” Personally, Dewflower could revel in the freshness of the open air for as long as the daylight hours, but at this moment Tigerstripe might not be feeling that way.

[Ebony]

The young tom scoffed, positive he could have done better. But, it wasn't his fault his mentor was lazy with him, it wasn't exactly his fault that Redclaw had agreed to the fact Tigerstripe was ready to become a warrior when, quite frankly, he obviously wasn't ready. There was hardly anything he could have said, though, he was much too soft-spoken and ambition was something Tigerstripe rarely knew anything about. If anything, the only thing his mentor had thought him was how to be completely unsuccessful.

Tigerstripe heaved a sigh, and looked to the older warrior with regret. "I'm sorry," he began, gloom filling his eyes. "I shouldn't have asked if you wanted to go hunting, I knew I wouldn't have been able to get anything. It's not really worth another try unless you'd like to give it ago, I really don't know what I'm doing. I bet I was too loud, or slow, or maybe I wasn't stepping right. I don't know." He hung his head and plopped to his haunches, sitting silently for a moment before he decided to begin licking his fur dry along his chest and belly.

"We could go back to camp," he added between licks, but not looking up. "I can always say we were chased by a fox and fell into the river, then it stole all our prey. They shouldn't ask questions..." Tigerstripe didn't know if he was joking or not, but secretly he thought that, maybe, he might get away with it for once.

Discouraged and tired by a sudden depression, the ginger tom finally looked up from his brisk wash. He sighed again, deeply wondering what Dewflower thought about him now. She was much older than him, and it was no question that younger warriors admired those with more experience. He did not doubt her skills, and saw her defeat today as a simple mistake that any cat could make. His mistakes, however, could not have been so quickly thrown away.

Tigerstripe knew, he just knew, how completely worthless he was as a warrior.

[Feather]

DEWFLOWER .

Dewflower settled herself next to Tigerstripe, slightly to one side and facing him on a slight angle, letting him get out what he wanted to say while she listened in silence. In her face was nothing judgmental, or scornful. She even managed to keep pity out of her expression, though she indeed pitied the young warrior. But she thought that perhaps he would not appreciate it, in the state of mind he was in.

Instead, she kept a softly understanding look, waiting until he had finished his melancholy speech. She felt desperately sorry for him, whatever was prompting this gloom. She understood the feeling herself, but thought that perhaps Tigerstripe was being too hard on himself. After all, any cat, as she had told him before, could make mistakes.

“Great StarClan, Tigerstripe,” she mewed bracingly, giving him an encouraging nudge in the shoulder with her nose. “It’s not so bad as all that. You were doing brilliantly. Better than me, at the very least; that sparrow had no idea at all that you were coming.” She gave him a sympathetic blink. “It happens to us all. You have no idea how many times I’ve tripped over my own paws.”

She watched him as he licked his fur dry, then suggested, in a way that might be a joke but seemed rather too unenthusiastic for one, that they go back to the StormClan camp.

“It’s an idea,” she replied, with an amused purr, “and no doubt would make a good story. But I think you should try again to catch something.” She studied him carefully, then looked off, seemingly idly, over the stream, opening her mouth to better drink in the scents around her. It was a prey-rich place, and she didn’t doubt the young tom’s success at some time or another. But again, if he truly did not want to, she’d leave him the choice. “If you’d really like to go back to camp, though, I’m fine with it.” She looked back at him as she said it, to make sure her words weren’t misconstrued, as mocking or careless.

[Ebony]

Dewflower's words, however comforting they seemed, appeared empty to him. The she-cat spoke in what Tigerstripe thought was quite a motherly tone, and he couldn't contend with her authority. Though he felt no better, he didn't bicker, and merely remained silent for some time. He continued to listen to her, flicking his eyes up every so often to catch a glimpse of her moving lips, or the sympathetic blink of an eye.

He desperately wanted to say, But you're loads older than I am! I've tripped over my paws more times than you and you're twice my age! but he didn't. He stopped himself, and looked back at the pebbles at his feet as if they intrigued him.

Though he felt the need to return to camp and mope, Tigerstripe nodded innocently and agreed to stay. "Just one more try," he said with a sigh, and pushed himself to his paws. He highly doubted that, even if he could catch something, it would improve his already worsening mood. Perhaps a good nap would make him feel better, but he had so little confidence in himself, he simply could not see himself catching something in the first place.

"I'll look in the bushes," the tom said slowly, getting to his paws and stretching a bit. He padded hesitantly to a patch of sun-bathed gorse, and though he was overwhelmed by the foliage's scent at first, he detected the quiet fragrance of game.

A scrawny mouse sat hunched over a limb, one eye looking at Tigerstripe, beady and still. The mouse was stiff, hardly daring to breathe, and the warrior darted forward with little hesitation. He put aside the rules of ambush and light steps, for the mouse had already seen him, and he had already seen the mouse.

It darted away, rushing toward a hole visible beneath the shadow of a tall stone. Tigerstripe kicked his legs faster, sure that the weary mouse would not make it. It's stomach was small, its legs thin, and it looked ragged and malnourished--but it was still a mouse, and Tigerstripe was on top of it in moments. He snatched it up by the throat and carried it, still squealing, back to Dewflower.