There was a long hesitance, a long silence. Bumblebeepaw had to debate what to do, they had yet to fully consider how to react in the situation they found themselves in. That was possibly something they should have done before they trailed out after Moonblight like this, but they hadn't even really thought they would get this far. They didn't quite know what would have stopped them; maybe losing Moonblight from sight, or maybe common sense -- those were the two that Bumblebeepaw had been betting on up until this point, but clearly, neither had come in clutch. They were back against the wall, do or die, except they didn't know what to do.

Nightclan had left cats like Bumblebeepaw in a very interesting situation. Sure, you could just keep your head down, ignore an opportunity based off of your gut instinct from indecisiveness, and go about your day. Or you could take risk, take a gamble on your own life - truly live a "go big or go home" mantra. Bumblebeepaw was inclined to the latter of the two options, and this had been what had dragged the apprentice all the way out there. It was common knowledge that Moonblight was a member of the Royal Guard, but equally, the tom hadn't been on Kier's good side. And with so many cats escaping Nightclan, with so many cat hunts going on, seeing the figure of Moonblight moving so swiftly towards the border of the league was immediate cause for suspicion. If this was an escape, if this was a betrayal, no doubt Moonblight's head would be an incredibly impressive bounty when he made it clear he was actually making a runaway attempt. Dragging back home the body of a notable traitor after a brazen little escape would only be cause for high praise.

But at the same time, he was a member of the Royal Guard. What if what he was doing had been commanded of him? What if this was far and above their own paygrade to know what was going on? To outright treat this as the start of a cat hunt, then, would be to humiliate themselves, to actually probably incriminate them as a traitor, or at least enough to accuse them of stepping their paws in places way above their station. They'd already managed to accidentally get dragged along with Druzyprince, the captain of the royal guard, after a stupid mishap before; did they really want to try their luck trailing after Moonblight as if their blood was some prize to be won, and face the immediate retribution if it was a mistake?

There was no good, singular, absolute answer, and Bumblebeepaw had tried the awkward middleground. Following, stalking, waiting for the tom to display a clear sign this was either a very swift meander through the forest in an incredibly alarming direction, or an escape. And so far, Bumblebeepaw had thought they had done a good job of doing so. It wasn't until the tom had snapped his head around and was staring practically right at their little hiding spot did Bumblebeepaw realize they weren't as slick as they'd thought they were.

And so, now they were certainly in a situation. One with no good way of really responding to it, but they had to respond to it nevertheless. Quietly rising to their full height from the ferns which, it truth, wasn't that imposing, the bengal apprentice warily took a step forward to fully unveil themselves; though they tried hard to appear calm, confident bold, anything but wracked with anxiety they actually felt.

"Bumblebeepaw, executioner." The rank and title was as much of a politness as it was a threat given their latter-mentioned status, and Bumblebeepaw was eager to see which was the tom took it; in hopes it would betray some insight into his intentions. "I noticed it looked like you were heading towards the league." The statement was simple, unaccusatory, because it served them better at the moment not to be. But they were ready for this to turn into anything; a reprimand, a chase, a fight; and they felt their heartrate increase with a sudden rush of adrenaline at the uncertainty of it all.

The mocking burned their ego, but more than it burned, it was a relief. It was at least an answer, as much of a sucky, humiliating answer it was, and it told them pretty clearly this wasn't someone doing an escape attempt. They did their best to hide any of the emotions flowing through them though, still standing tall and confidently, addressing Moonblight's response with a slow nod of understanding. The small twitch of their tail tip was the only thing that betray a hint of locked away emotion, just searching for some outlit to show itself.

But then came the offer, and Bumblebeepaw was a bit floored. Once more they did everything to hide that the comment had slightly surprised them, but their stoicness broke a bit; a glimmer of supsicion glinting in their eyes, a small lean forward from pure curiosity. How stupid would they have to be to trust something like this? Well, perhaps not very, but at least a little. An offer to follow a cat they barely knew on an unnamed mission into league territory screamed like the equivilent of signing away your life on a dotted line. It was dangerous, and it was risking your life for what was honestly nothing, and yet, Bumblebeepaw had already kind of done that, hadn't they? They had followed Moonblight out this far, they had risked it this much, why not chance this?

Without even giving a yes or a now, Bumblebeepaw pressed a little closer, closing the small distance that sat between them and Moonblight as the other cat turned back to the league border. In their own head they were till wary, still careful, but it was hard to tell with the self-assuredness they carried themselves with, by the pure brazeness of walking up like it was nothing. "Sure." The respose was small and short, mostly because at this point they weren't looking to get started on their usual tirades and have their throat cut midways through; what a waste of such good ideas that would be. "What kind of mission are you doing?" We, they guessed now, though even in that they weren't so sure. There was still a clear increduality in their tone, still so ready for this to all be a lie, a way of buying time till they were surounded in league territory and Bumblebeepaw was up against him and whoever in the league the tom woud have to be in cahoots with to not be killed on sight.

If you fail, don't bother showing up in NightClan again. What a terrifying, horrifying, bone-chilling statement. What a nightmarish concept. And if they were wise, they would have treated it with the reverance such a sentence deserved. The implication of not being able to return home, their entire world being absolutely turned upside down in an instant from the mere failure of a mission they were never supposed to be on, should have been enough for Bumblebeepaw to take the out. They were no member of the royal gaurd, they were no "specialty assasin" with top-notch training. They were an executioner, a recent switch from reporter to executioner at that, who was no more special or different than any other apprentice in the clan. They hadn't even killed a cat before in spite of all their training, they hadn't even been able to sneak up on Moonblight without being caught. Who were they to think they could be of any aid at all?

But something bigger than danger glinted like gold behind all the chances of self-destruction, far behind all the chances of failure and the potential of their entire life being ruined at one stupid mistake: Opportunity. Because, at the end of the day, they were every bit the little sychophant Moonblight had guessed they were, more than willing to appease their terrifying dictator's every whims if it meant a chance to move up in rank, to become more than they had been before. Perhaps the easiest way would have been to grovel and compliment and socialize with the other Nightclan superiors, to fraternize with the upperclass and suck-up endlessly until the found the right one who would put in the word to raise them up. And they did do that, to some extent. But Bumblebeepaw was much more so a cat to want to gain merit, a cat of action. If this wasn't Nightclan, they might have been called a person of honor, valiant and loyal and willing to serve beyond just raising fancy dinner glasses and saying sweet nothings until they found themselves living the life they had been aiming towards.

And so here, faced with an opportunity to do something, to prove something, godforbid they say no. They were willing to take a loan out on their own life, they were willing to potentially chance losing everything, so they might get back even half of what put on the table. Even if they made it out successfully they would have been called a stupid gambler; dumb and hell of a lucky bastard, and if the didn't...

"I'll come along." It was as simple as that, curt and straightforward. In one small sentence that had either ruined their life or earned a dramatic increase in recognition. "Do you have a plan?"

Bumblebeepaw nodded along with the tom's words, trying to take it very seriously in a way that was rare to see; since Bumblebeepaw hardly took anything completely seriously. But if there was one thing Bumblebeepaw could force himself to take with a bit of the reverance it deserved, it was their work; and this was significant, life changing work that was being discussed. Call them foolhardy, call them impulsive; it was all very true, but equally true was the fact they were dedicated, they were hardworking, and this had become their work.

"Have you ever talked to the city cats?" Immediatly they felt slightly more useless. No, of course they hadn't... Well, no, that wasn't quite right, they had, but it was so long ago and in such short passing that they barely remembered it, and so they hesitantly shook their head no, trying the hide a small hint of shame that now bit at them."I haven't, but I'm good at talking to people." At least they thought the were, though even as they said it they wondered if that was pretty darn debatable. Was "way too extroverted and outgoing for your own good" considered being good at talking to people, or was that just considered completely and utterly annoying? Maybe now wasn't a good time to find out, but the words had came out of their mouth anyways so it was too late to take it back now. "And I can back you up on whatever you say or watch your back if you need it." They felt a little more confident in that answer, that they knew they could do at least.

Though they'd never admit it, the clan's distaste for kitty-pets, the way they all viewed them as soft and gentle and unable to defend themselves, had always confused Bumblebeepaw. Perhaps -- no, it almost certainly was because they had been born as a kitty-pet, because their earliest memories were inside a two-leg house with their mother and father, it was hard to see kitty-pets as truly these spoiled, pampered things. Maybe their father; they had vague memories of him, large enough to probably crush them under their paw even now and who walked around like they were god's gift to the earth. But their mother, she was a different story. Sharp tongued, rough, cold, unshakably harsh; even now there was the faint memory of her almost killing one of the family's smaller dogs when it had accidentally gotten too close to their small bedding, how she had lunged at it, how its blood had coated the floor in some scarlet mess, its violent whimpers and screams until the two-legs came in and seperated the two. And how their mother had slinked away, coated in blood, back to them, as distant and cold to them as always; as if she hadn't risked her life for just an iota of a chance at their little lives being in danger. Even back then, somewhere in their soul, they had known that violence was her love; the only way she knew to show love. But it meant they couldn't see kitty-pets in that same light, as the cute, measely things that lounged about all day. They knew too well that they were like them, like the cats of the clans all the same. Some were kind, weak, sweet, perfectly nice and willing to be as helpful as possible for near nothing at all; and others were heartless, cold, and ready to draw blood. They were all alike in that, all cats. Their point of origin was nothing but a label that divided the two.

But as they walked onward, they didn't share those thoughts; ignoring the faint whisps of memories that rose as they turned into the neighborhood not quite so different from where they had come from. Instead, the faked a straight face, completely undeterred and ready for whatever came next. "Gotcha'. I'm ready." And they were, as far as they knew. They tried to hold their head up high, potray an air of something larger, more menacing than they actually were, the way the always did. But for some reasons it felt extra hard here, perhaps because they looked in some ways like they could easily fit in with any pedigree cats on a fancy block, for perhaps obvious reasons.

"You lost, little ones?" That question alone was so mocking that Bumblebeepaw had to force themselves not to scowl or make a stupid statement in response. They were used to snide comments and pointed jabs; the Nightclan apprentice den was full of cats who had no problem making a thousand of them back and forth every day. But the difference was that they had always been allowed to snap back on of their own; and they considered themselves really good at it too. They already had about a thousand good quips to throw back at the stranger, but they forced not a single one to leave their lips. This was buisness. As much as they hated it, it was buisness.

"Not quite. We're here on buisness." It was simple, straighforward, not humoring the mocking with anything but a professional, if not slightly brusque response. They threw a small glance at Moonblight with a raised brow, a questioning sort of look that was clearly asking for reassurance on the fact that this was both the right cat and that their's was the right response. The couldn't see how something that uncontroversial could possibly be wrong, but unfortunately one could really never know. Working with people in dealings and tense situations wasn't as straighfowards as any other job; it required a level of insight and know-how and a fair amount of experience, and even that didn't completely prevent any faux pas.

It was funny how different their persepctives were on things. It was funny how much Nightclan had warped the sheer lens of reality that Bumblebeepaw addressed the world with. "Tell me, young one, are you planning to fight in a war too? I always enjoy meeting the brave ones; they have so many stories to tell if they manage to survive." The apprentice hadn't gotten a chance to even answer the question before the next one arrived, but it slightly dumbfounded them. The concept of going to war, the though that it was brave, it was all, in some ways, rather new. They hadn't considered the fact that this would lead to a war, they hadn't even thought about the full repercussions. It made sense of course -- in fact it was logical really that that was how it would end -- but the idea had never graced them. But even now, even now accepting the realization that yes, this would in all likelihood lead to war, it barely shook them. War felt natural, death felt natural. The trials, the gore, the bloodshed, that was daily life in Nightclan. The mention of it being brave was odd in and of itself. It didn't feel brave to fight, it didn't feel brave to survive death and bloodshed; it felt like every day, it felt mundane. Perhaps it was because they couldn't fully grasp the concept of war. They considered that a moment, and if someone had said as much to them right then, the probably would have agreed. They couldn't grasp it; no more than at their age they could really even grasp a sense of their own mortality, or the fact that they wouldn't always make it out alive and unscathed. If anything, war felt like sport, a spicier version of the sort of suffering that happened on the daily in Nightclan; and above all, chance to prove their worth. And they were nothing if not ambitious, nothing if not constantly looking for an opportunity to prove something.

But that odd moment of two realities colliding, of two very different views, passed with the kitty-pet's new question; one that Bumblebeepaw was even more hesitant to answer. There was no telling the truth, was there? They knew this kitty-pet would sell them down the river in a heartbeat if it was better for him, so it was better for them to tell him any but what would pinpoint back to the two them.

"Prey, herbs, general resources. It's still cold where we are, we're low." It was a blunt, straighforward answer, and within it hidden small things to hopefully throw off the trail if they the league came trying to get infomation. Nightclan certainly wasn't still cold, spring had done its work plenty in the forest clans, but such a subtle misdirection would hopefully perhaps lead eyes towards colder places like Winterclan or Fallclan. It was unlikely to change much if they were caught; after all, Nightclan and the League had had rising tensions for a while, and to think they wouldn't place them as their first guess would be rather foolish, but they figured it was at least shot.

There was a moment of stiff silence. In all fairness, Bumblebeepaw had been smart enough to know that maybe herbs and prey were too low of stakes, but equally, there had been the hope that a kitty-pet of all things wouldn't know it. As generous as Bumblebeepaw was to the fact that kitty-pets and loners were as skilled in combat as any clan-cat -- or at the very least, believed they could be -- they also were fully aware just how comfortable they had it. Would it really be so crazy for a pampered house cat with all the luxuries they could ever want to presume that they would start a war of this size over herbs and prey? They'd even heard of clans that desperate before, but Ezekiel was probably keen enough on clan affairs to know that the league was one of the scarier groups to mess with when in dire straights, and one of the most likely to retaliate back. Certainly, it would be easier to throw a scuffle with Dayclan or Fallclan, or any of those softer sorts who might not send back a fight half a vicious as the league would; even if you only knew a lick of clan politics, the fact that the league was one of the worst groups you could start a fight with in order to re-fill your suplies was probably more than evident.

With an air of hesitance, Bumblebeepaw threw one more glance at Moonblight. Honesty still didn't feel fitting; not blunt, brutal honesty at least, not the kind of honesty that made it absolutely clear that what they planned to do. Although, the more they considered it, the more they realized that it wouldn't really matter if they were liars or honest at this point, Ezekiel probably knew. The way the other tom was looking at them implied heavily they knew exactly where they were from, that he knew too well what they were to bother fully lying through their teeth any further. And so, Bumblebeepaw was stuck with the only good (or perhaps only functional; it was hard to call it, or anything in this situation, good) solution. A half-truth.

"We might be taking some lives too. We know who we're looking for." Even that felt like it betrayed too much, or was a hollow lie. It in some ways contraditced their whole plan, to steal something and leave. But perhaps that only bolstered it, because it meant not only were they stealing paltry things, but had the intention of killing some important figures in the chaos. That would ruin them, that was fitting, in-line with their words. Or perhaps Ezekiel was keen enough to catch the double entendre, and he'd be very amused, or spitefully disgusted, with the play. Either way, Bumblebeepaw could at least say they had covered all their bases. It wasn't a lie, it wasn't the truth, it laid in that odd, read-in-between-the-lines style middleground of the two.

"And remember, you owe us one." That was possibly the last thing in the world Bumblebeepaw wanted to hear. It was an odd feeling to them, having to owe anyone anything; at least having to owe anyone anything legitimately. And something told them that Ezekiel was certainly the type to make good on the flip-side of deals, on getting back what he was owed, which unnerved them even more. They certainly didn't have the means to give back anything to the tom worth while, and neither, given the other tom's current relationship with Kier, did Moonblight. Even still, if — when — eventually the time for that deal to be payed back ever came, they hoped it would be Ezekiel knocking at Moonblight's door and not their's — not that they would ever admit that, of course.

Turning back to Moonblight, they gave a sharp nod to his words. They didn't necessarily know if they would call what they had managed "good work", they had sort of proved publicly they probably shouldn't be trusted to lie if anyone's life depended on it, but it was done, deals had been made, and at the very least it seemed like they hadn't royally screwed it up. "Gotcha'. I can do that." Bumblebeepaw agreed, following along behind; though a certain level of unease hit them. They weren't necessarily afraid of actually grabbing the kits; that seemed like the easy part. No — the real hard part sounded like it would be corralling a bunch of kittens who probably wouldn't want to be dragged along off to some unknown location far away from their parents; especially if they did get seperated from Moondblight in the chaos. Then they would be handeling a bunch of kitten alone. "By the way, now's probably the best time to ask I guess: What do these kittens look like? And how old are they?" Bumblebeepaw asked, the question was straighforward, slightly cold, but it was only to hide the prickling of nerves at the idea of a potentially very unruly trip back home.