Going Further (open)

Trickling languidly through the scaly bristling arms of the pines the sun’s light fell upon the forest floor in dappled pools of warm gold. Somewhere within the thinning foliage and scattered trunks a tree groaned. Its call was as if a warning, telling the birds and squirrels to flee from the ground’s reach in haste, but the territorial songs did not falter. No, indeed they seemed only to grow as a deep red squirrel speckled in grey chastised an approaching figure.

Upon paws kept reflexively silent Foxfang padded along the springy needle laden forest floor towards ThunderClan’s border. When the rodent called down in a sudden fit of fury the warrior, despite himself, flinched. Out in the farthest reaches of his clan’s territory he felt his muscles tighten. The twoleg dens where growing closer, and any forest cat with any sense would feel caution upon sighting such strange overwhelmingly large homes. It was unnerving at the least.

The ginger tom rounded the edges of a prickly juniper bush only to immediately freeze at the spectacle of another cat. She was cream and sleek, her form speaking of a soft life and easy meals. Upon her neck was a strange tendril of some sort, a collar if he remembered correctly in the teasing stories of the senior warriors. Kittypet. The unspoken word was almost enough to raise the tom’s hackles, but curiosity got the best of him. She was adventuring rather deep for a twoleg plaything, and a strange mark peeked out from her belly. Had she recently been injured? Was it possible the twolegs had turned on their own kittypet? No. She didn’t seem to be fleeing, and indeed the slight flickering of her tail indicated a good mood. Foxfang was utterly confused.

So baffled was the warrior, in fact, that he completely forgot to challenge the trespasser. He just stood there, staring.

Utterly astonished, the tabby ginger watched as the plump little kittypet not only failed to notice him, but padded past just a few foxlengths away. She was a strange cat, of that he was certain. With wide, curious eyes he observed as she disappeared behind a thorn bush only to reappear around a clump of bracken not more than a few heartbeats later. The growing scent of fear had begun to pool upon the humid forest air, and it gave away her panic.

Foxfang parted his maw to speak, but as he searched for the right words the twoleg’s play thing cornered herself feebly at the base of a tree. The poor thing was whimpering with fear, and in response to her pathetic state the warrior felt his heart strings pulled. Yes she was no one of his clan. Yes his duty was to chase her as far out of ThunderClan’s territory as her legs could manage. But this tom was not a stranger to breaking the code, especially out of kindness.

Clearing his throat so as to announce his presence, the warrior warily picked his way towards the other. Behind him he held his tail high as a reassurance of his relaxed state of mind. When he had drawn the length of his rather tall form just to the outside of a patch of filtering light, the clan cat deigned to sit upon the bed of pine needles which heavily blanketed this section of the forest by Tallpines.

For a moment he simple stared at the other. Foxfang was always struggling for words, even back in camp with cats he had grown up with. No, he certainly wasn’t one for long winded conversations, and his silence often came off as a prideful disdain. Perhaps he wore his face too void of emotion, or held his tail too stiff. Whatever the cause, the warrior often came off as cold and unkind, as he probably was now. A little furrow formed in the center of his brow as he concentrated upon saying something, anything at all.

“You’re a long way from home.” Meowed the stocky cat as he towered above the smaller feline. Was he appearing to the other as he had hoped? Probably not. Foxfang was indeed a strange cat as well.

Foxfang felt absolutely horrid. The poor little cream bundle of fluff had let out a low moan of terror, and the scent of fear had grown ever stronger. The musky odor felt as if it soaked his very fur. He wanted to apologize, to let her know he’d not meant to frighten the littler cat, but the words as always stuck in his throat. Instead he continued to stare, with sad green eyes.

Hesitantly, as if the very movement of a hair would send the kittypet into hysterics, he hunched his broad shoulders and lowered his head. Foxfang hoped, perhaps childishly, that by making himself slightly smaller he would appear as less of a threat. She was lucky that the cat to have found her was the gentle giant, even if he scared the living daylights out of her. But there was no way to communicate that point, unless of course he could manage to speak.

“Hey, it’s okay,” began the tabby in a slow and low meow, carefully trying to catch her eyes with his own. His eyes had always spoken for him when his words could not. Still, he tried to manage another greeting, something or anything to appear less intimidating. “Shhhhh, see? I’m not hurting you.” He hoped he was not at least, but from her appearance he feared she was about to have a seizure of some sort. Oh StarClan, please don't let her die out of fear alone. 

With sluggish movements he lifted his fluffy tail, hoping internally that she would let it touch her shoulder in reassurance.

Try as he might, Foxfang couldn’t help from letting a crooked grin stretch upon his muzzle. Eat the little cat? Stuff the ball of fluff that smelled of twolegs down his throat? He would never have considered the thought of course, but now as he was the warrior found it down right hilarious. A small chuckle escaped his maw, and rumbled from deep within his ginger chest.

If that was her fear then there truly was nothing for the cream cat to worry about, and this allowed the clan cat to relax a smidge. In a tender mew, though his humor colored it, he replied “I would never eat you, just as you certainly would not eat me.” As he spoke Foxfang drew his tail back towards his body and carefully wrapped it over his large paws.

While she was certainly no threat to ThunderClan, there was the concern that her fear scent and wailing would attract other cats. Many of the warriors from his clan would find too much joy in scaring the scrap of fur, and another kittypet or loner could cause more trouble then the ginger tom wanted to deal with. He had to get her to calm down. Please, for your own good.

The forest floor crinkled as he shifted his weight, one ear flicking back to check upon the sounds behind. “Let’s try this again, okay? What are you doing this far into the forest?”

“Following a scent?” Foxfang’s mew was heavily laden with disbelief, but his eyes remained open as if they alone trusted her words unerringly. Her body had stilled, though, and with it the overwhelming stench of fear. This was good, perhaps they would not attract unwanted attention after all.

While part of him knew it must be disconcerting, he never let his green gaze leave the kittypet. No matter how little a threat she posed, or how scared she seemed, he thought it unwise to give the other even a moment’s chance to run or strike. He was strong, but not overconfident. Such wariness was certain to save his hide one day.

“What scent were you following? Is there another cat here with you?” The tom lifted his muzzle and parted his maw to as to better scent the air, but while other scents clung to her pelt in a confusing jumble there did not seem to be a recent one of cat. Though, who knew if all cats even smelled like cats in the twolegplace? Perhaps they had taken the scent of twolegs for their own. Even worse, some might constantly stink of monster’s foul stench. It was no wonder she would want to leave to even just visit the forest, the life of a kittypet must be so unfavorable. Foxfang narrowed his eyes unconsciously upon her ribbon as thoughts tumbled within his mind.

The bed of mismatched needles crackled as the cream little cat finally sat down, and Foxfang hid his green eyes briefly behind their lids. Good. She was calming down, and it was giving him a chance to finally speak to her. She needed to be guided out of the forest, and soon. If she was in a state of panic, though, that wouldn’t happen. Trust me, please. As the warriors eyes opened once more they seemed to urgently beg to her. It wouldn't be long until another warrior found them, and when they did it was likely to not be a pleasant confrontation. 

When the kittypet had begun to speak, Foxfang drew back a bit to give her more space –his feet shuffling noisily upon the ground. She had followed a good scent into the forest? If she was chasing ThunderClan’s prey then she truly was a glutton for punishment. It was almost beginning to seem like the cat was trying to get herself killed, or just very naive. As she begged for her life the tom’s lids fell to half conceal his eyes and his ears lowered slightly upon his skill in a look that seemed to say “really?” He was a patient cat, and it wasn’t meant out of dislike. HE was simply displaying his own brand of humor.

After hesitating a moment to make sure she was done speaking, Foxfang let a soft sigh whistle through his teeth. “I won’t eat you. Really.” He paused to allow his words to sink in before continuing. “You don’t even smell that great. Whatever was rubbed on your belly reeks.” He was referring to the bare patch of skin that had become more noticeable when she sat down. It smelled strongly of something he had never scented before, and whatever it was was surely going to give him a headache if he concentrated on it a moment longer. 

Foxfang didn’t even try to hide the grin that covered his maw and softened his features. A rumbling slowly grew in his chest but before it could break the sound dissipated. This she-cat was funny, even if she didn’t intend to be. The way with which she chastised him was downright hilarious in comparison to her earlier show of utter complacency. Then she stuck out her nose as if smelling him in return, perhaps she had even intended to make fun of his scent. It was almost too much for the stoic warrior to take.

“Furhackers? They don’t sound pleasant, but I suppose the name makes sense with what they did to your belly.” The tom mewed his response with a hint of confusion cluttering his voice. He had never heard of these scary things that took off the fur of cats, but he most certainly didn’t like the thought of it. Perhaps it was a new threat to ThunderClan. If so this cat could give valuable information on how to avoid it. Then again, it was obvious she hadn’t been able too.

Is whatever it is affecting ShadowClan? Is Thistlefur and our kits alright? I have to see them, I have to make sure. What if they have been attacked by this thing, what if- but the warrior cut off his own thoughts before they could continue. He couldn’t hide the look of terror that had come unbidden to form, and which now left sadness in the green depths of his eyes. Fear still pulsed through his form, and it was now obvious to him how split his loyalty was. Could he become a liability to his clan?