It was a rare thing when she had the luxury of leaving the nursery, when she could shove her kits off to some other poor, hapless mother or somewhat respectable Waning cat who looked like they could be gentle enough to humor a few fledglings. But when she did, when she was allowed to wander and roam, she somehow felt more stifled that ever. There had been a time when Conjuringpaw would have happily wandered past the borders, have gone into the wild nowhere of Sunclan's lands or roamed into the deadly areas of Nightclan's tyranny and bloodshed. But now, now she was hesitant.

She was no spineless loyalist, she was no mindless follower, she was faithful and a believer, but that was where her loyalty (if one could even call it that) ended. But she'd heard rumors, soft implications spun in gossip of the clans upper and lower classes alike, that some sort of trouble was brewing. That cats who strayed out of line were just waiting to be made an example of. There was part of them that doubted there would be any consequences for her at least. She was risky for that reason, the chance of anything happening to her was improbable. If she was interesting enough, it she thought on her feet and was liked enough, it was impossible. 

But something told her, like a cold inkling in the back of her mind, like a suspicious second awareness, she wasn't any of the latter enough to save her completely. Not yet, at least.