Hunting Near The Clans.

[Finch]

Hoot trotted around the Pond of Truce, her jaw open for any sign of prey. She stopped moving when she scent of a crow. Her eyes scanned for the black creature until they landed on their target. The bird was drinking from the lake, oblivious to the young white furred she-cat. She dropped into a hunting crouch, trying to get as close as possible. Her coat did little to blend into her surroundings, which gave her trouble. She had tried hunting three times today only to fail because the prey had spotted her so easily. Not this time, she promised, this time she was going to catch her prey. When she was as close as she possibly dared to go she sprinted towards the crow. The crow must have noticed her because it began to take off. No! She jumped, stretching her out her forelegs in hopes for them to catch the black feathers. It’s times like these that she’s glad she has long legs. Her claws caught the wing, however, her success was short lived as she crashed into the lake. Luckily it was shallow and she managed to hang on to her prey while trying not to drown in the process. She gave the killing bite, its blood pouring into the once clear waters. She picked up her soaked prey with a heavy sigh. She was happy that she caught the prey but only now did she notice how scrawny the bird was. It was hardly more than bones. It was a messy kill too as Hoot was now soaking wet, cold, and tinted slightly pink with the crows blood. Once on shore she dropped the crow and began cleaning her fur. It was almost Leafbare. The worst season ever. Leafbare was cold and depressing and it was so easy to get sick. Her rouge group was small but even so food was always in demand. When leafbare comes it will only get worse. She huffed. Perhaps she would hunt for a bit longer before going back to camp. She picked up her prey and began digging a hole for her to put the crow in. Half way done digging a rustle caught her ears. She dropped the crow and opened her jaw to catch any scent of the clan cats. She had heard about them; that they were cats who lived in big groups with leaders, healers and warriors. In fact her mother was once a part of them until she had left one day when her lover went missing. The only smell that came to her was water and prey, which caused her to growl in frustration. “Is- is anyone out their? I… don’t mean any harm.” She did mean it. Clan cats were supposed to be her enemies but all Hoot wanted was to live in peace. After all just daily survival was hard enough.

Carotius

[Carotius]

Silverpaw resolved to leave the camp on his own, without the fussing of his Clanmates, who had always worried about his wellbeing ever since the attack by the rogue named Varuin. The intruder had first targeted him at the beginning of the ambush, pinning him onto the ground with his heavy weight and clawing his back, then proceeded to throw him around like a ragdoll. If he hadn't been with a patrol with Webpaw, Lightningflame, and the other two, he might have been dead for all he knew.

The silver apprentice had his right ear ripped down the middle, from Varuin being dragged off of him while the teeth was still clamped on it. It did hurt, and he would have wished for a different manner of dislodging his enemy, but Silverpaw was thankful that his ear was still relatively intact. Let's not move on to his other injuries. He did come all the our from Clan territories to unwind from the hustle and bustle of camp, and where he wouldn't be bothering any other Clans.

And so the Pond of Truce happened to be his choice of location. The fields between TalonClan and the rest of the Clans belonged to none in particular; it was the pathway to the Skyfield and the Pond of Truce, places regarded as sacred by all the cats. He'd find some respite there, most definitely. Sure, some loners lived there, but they were mostly friendly, so it wouldn't too much of a danger... What was that smell? Silverpaw didn't stop in time, causing his paws to brush aside a clump of long grass.

"Is-Is anyone there? I...don't mean any harm," such a meek and frightened voice.

Silverpaw scented the cool crisp air, digging past the leaf-fall taste to get a whiff of the cat. It wasn't any Clan scent he recognised. Then again, he only knew MidnightClan's and TalonClan's from border patrols...and maybe a little of LeafClan. but that was it. Maybe this was an intruder! but intruders wouldn't make themselves known, really. He blinked his yellow, spotted silver fur fluffed up. Okay, he better just go to find who it was.

"Silverpaw of StormClan present here. Who are you?" he made himself sound authoritative, head and tail high, ears erect. "Your scent tastes of no Clan here."

[Finch]

Hoot turned her head sharply towards the voice. The voice was strong, confident, and, Hoot assumed, belonged to a Tom.

Stormclan. Hoot was hoping it was a loner or even a piece of prey but her fears were true. However, Silverpaw, if what he said was true, didn't seem to recognize her. Should she lie? Lying about her name would be useless if he had seen her. If he ever hunted her down he would probably recognize her from appearance rather than name. No she should lie about where she came from. The clans, she knew, took up huge amounts of land and they probably wouldn’t treat kindly to mini rogue groups. “My names Hoot,” She answered in the same tone as Silverpaw. If she seemed weak now the clanner would probably find her an easy meal. Wait, would clanners eat other cats. Don’t be silly she scolded herself. If they ate their own kind they wouldn’t even trust each other… right? “And I’m a loner who lives in a small group near the twolegplace.” Loner… That was the term right? That the clans used? Oh well, it wasn’t a complete lie. She did live in a group but in the opposite direction. Since Hoot was wet, she hoped the smell of other cats washed away from her but just in case she added the ‘living in a group’ to the lie. Hoot walked carefully around the voice, in hopes to catch a glimpse of who it belonged to. Finally she caught the appearance of the cat. It was tom, probably around her age, with a white coat sprinkled with silver. Two things that caught her eye though was the claw marks across his side and his ripped ear. Wounds from an obvious battle. Hoot contrary had no wounds or scars from battle because she’d never fought an actually adversary. Sure she’s gotten a few scratches and bruises from training but never anything that didn’t go away in two days. She found that it angered her slightly. He should be resting and letting that medic cat or whatever take care of him. He was no use to his clan in leafbare if he was still injured.

 
“You know their some dock near here. I heard they were good for healing scratches” She commented. She didn’t know a lot about herbs, only a few snip it’s of what she found was important. Like that the dock was good for scratches and that cobwebs were good for bleeding. Were Dandelion’s good for pain or rat bites? She couldn’t remember. She wondered for a second if the clan cat was medicine cat and could teach her about herbs, but dismissed the thought with the fact that clan cats would probably chose to die than to help outsiders.

 
“So what are you doing out here? Am I trespassing on land?” She asked coolly. It was best to remain calm and collected, she figured. If you’re not aggressive then he won’t be aggressive.

[Carotius]

Tags: Finch
OOC: Sorry for the delay! Anyway, this is the last thread where Silverpaw is an apprentice - he was made a warrior just yesterday (17 hours ago for me XD)

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A loner out here in the fields of the Pond of Truce wasn't anything new. Every cat in the Clans knew that loners, even rogues, frequented the fields for its open space. Some of them even made their homes there, but it was mostly the harmless loners who did so. In fact, there had been talk of one such cat named Milkdud who lived near the Skyfield - cats travelling to meet StarClan would always meet him. He seemed a nice guy.

This cat here admitted to being a loner, and being part group. A group? Since when did loners live in groups? That was quite a defeat in purpose to their names; a group of cats normally meant they were bound to cause trouble some way or another. The thought of it caused Silverpaw's tail to bush out in apprehension. This Hoot character seemed likely to cause trouble if she came to hunt within Clan territories! but this isn't any Clan's territory. He pondered the thought for a moment, until the she-cat mentioned about applying dock to his wounds.

He bristled his fur. "I've been taken care of by my medicine cat already. I don't need any more fussing!"

For the love of StarClan, he couldn't go ANYWHERE without someone mentioning his injuries. Okay, admittedly, it looked and even felt bad, but StormClan's medicine cat had done whatever possible to stop the bleeding and to ensure its speediest recovery, and Silverpaw was contented with that. It was just the constant fussing by the other StormClanners that irritated him - he wasn't as weak and battered as when he had returned, so they should have had more than enough reason NOT to bother him. Then again, he didn't need to last out at the stranger. He sighed.

"So what are you doing out here? Am I trespassing on land?" Hoot was trying to act cool in the face of a Clan cat. Huh, brave bugger.

"Yes...no, not really. The fields belong to no one but StarClan, but StarClan shares it territories with all Clans, so...I don't think you're trespassing at all. Am I even making sense?" he responded, the question at the end making him shake his head. Pawing at the ground, he watched the loner with his yellow eyes. "Sorry for lashing out at you. I've been trying to get away from the needless fussing my Clanmates have been smothering me with. Not a very nice feeling when you want some alone time."