Warrior Cat Clans 2 (WCC2 aka Classic) is a roleplay site inspired by the Warrior series by Erin Hunter. Whether you are a fan of the books or new to the Warrior cats world, WCC2 offers a diverse environment with over a decade’s worth of lore for you - and your characters - to explore. Join us today and become a part of our ongoing story!
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“Hey — Duskpaw,” Brat greeted, sticking her head into the apprentices’ den and then, after a moment, walking un-self-consciously over to the Inferior’s nest. She smiled down at her, just to make sure she knew she was speaking specifically to her — that she was asking her out. “Wanna sneak out and see the stars? I hear there’s a gnarly moon tonight. Red, you know.” She leaned in closer, some estimation of Kier’s grin spreading across her face as her eyes widened. “Big.”
Brat was about the only cat in NightClan who could have approached the untouchable Duskpaw without fearing a blow to her reputation impossible to recover from. To everyone else, she was cursed, a leper, someone so publicly reviled by Kier that to speak to her, to be near her, was social suicide — maybe minus the social. Already, cruel ghost stories had started to circulate, whispered between kits and apprentices: Duskpaw had a curse; Duskpaw was sub-human; touch Duskpaw and she’d fade to a pile of dust on the stone floor; Duskpaw lived out in the gloomy forest and the she-cat you saw haunting the camp was a spectre. But to Brat, she was just someone else turned on by her dad, someone else suddenly out of favour because they’d stepped over some invisible, changing line that no one but he knew the rules of. It was that volatility that was so frightening; rewards were dished out, praise was lavished, the social ladder was climbed, you were nearing the top, you were the favourite — and then, suddenly, his smile was all teeth and his eyes were gallows nooses with your name on them. His opinion of someone was all that mattered, and the second the tide changed, you scrambled away from your dearest friend to avoid being seen with them. The bullied kit had grown up, and his influence reached into homes, into friendships and picture frames. But Brat was so used to it that she was immune; he was just dad.
She was just as much as a pariah as the other she-cat — except, she’d been one her whole life, long enough that she’d not only grown happily used to it, but also managed to infiltrate her way into a relatively normal social life. She couldn’t really sink much lower, and so she might as well offer a lifeline to the apprentice. She saw how lonely she was. Strictly speaking, Brat wasn’t supposed to leave the camp either — but for her the rules were always a bit more lax, and she hoped that with her by Duskpaw’s side, with her to take the heat and the blame if they were caught, the punishment would be minor. It wasn’t like Kier would kill Duskpaw; he’d already made it clear keeping her alive was some sort of thing for him, far more cruel and long-lasting than giving her what she wanted, far more personal because she was forced to be at his side and see what became of the fiery rubble of her home. Everyone knew that at least. Duskpaw was untouchable in so many ways. But still, Brat smiled down at her, open and patient and fearlessly friendly. It was heroic, in such a quiet way.
Her 'safe havens' — as safe as she could get them here, which already wasn't enough — had flip-flopped the past few days. Previously, she spent most of her time away from the apprentices' den, away from the judgmental eyes and whispers and occasional pitiful looks, away from her sisters who still shared it, and had roamed around the edges of camp, along the cave walls, peering into hidey-holes and crevices and wandering down solitary caverns. But her run-in with Kier had made her reluctant to leave her nest in fear she'd run into him again, and so the apprentices' den was where could usually be found. It wasn't like she was wanted anywhere else, and walking past others in the heart of camp always made her heart hammer, because every time she passed she could feel them staring, hear their hushed voices being passed around, talking all about her. Like she was walking down a hallway of lockers in a high school being judges by the popular kids or the jocks, movie-style. It was tiring. It was terrifying. It was lonely. And, the worst part about it all was the fact that she was inclined to believe half of their rumours, that she was bad luck or a curse or subhuman.
Hey — Duskpaw. She would have ignored it, rolled over in her nest, had she not been surprised that anyone dared approach her at all. She opened her eyes and peered over the side of her nest, finding Brat — Royalkit; she always found the first name cruel — before her. Her expression screamed Kier, told of their blood relation more than any words could, but it was without the cruelty, it was younger and softer. Duskpaw often found herself pitying her. As much as Kier was a just leader, he was a good father — not at all — and everybody was aware of his rocky relationship with his daughter, his dismissal of her, their arguments and, strangely enough, the way he let her get away with more than most.
She blinked. "Sneak out? I can't do that. I —" she thought about it. Would that be the thing that made him snap and order her prompt execution? Or was he so determined to keep her alive, suffering, that even the obvious breach of simple rules would be overlooked just for her, and just for his daughter. And, even if it was the final straw, she wouldn't really be losing much other than her life. "Big red moon?" It sounded magical, and she'd always liked the thought of magic. Her voice lowered to a whisper, despite the vacant den, "I don't know if I should agree to this, I'm not sure if I will, but do you know a way out?"
Big red moon? “Mm-hm,” Brat agreed, still smiling, giving a single little nod like she were the calming older one and Duskpaw the skittish younger, like she were teasing her, tempting her. At her question, Brat opened her mouth and then closed it, frowning as she sat down in front of her on the stone floor. “Well— well, I was just planning to walk out the front door.” She laughed, casting Duskpaw a quick glance out of the corner of her eye like she was making sure that we can’t do that, right? At the obvious no, she laughed again and looked away, slightly more nervous, the kind of laugh that precedes a comedian’s tough crowd comment. But she was no less friendly, and the obstacle only made her more determined. “I guess…” She thought a moment, tipping her head back to the ceiling; she’d explored most of NightClan’s nooks and crannies. Kier had a numbers brain; Brat had an architect’s — despite her reputation for being a bit thick, she saw everything laid out like a blueprint. “Well…” She said again; the words her father peppered into sentences for dramatic effect, she used for stalling. She bit her lip. “Goin’ out the top of the cenote is probably more obvious than just using the camp entrance.” She laughed, again darting her eyes to the apprentice like she was checking that was, again, off the table. “But—“ She looked at Duskpaw properly now, like she knew she wasn’t going to like this suggestion. “My dad is out of his den, y’know, and so is Eris — and… Basically, how long can you hold your breath?” An excited, troublemaking grin slowly twitched across her face, her eyes glittering.
She rose to her paws and started for the exit of the apprentice’s den. “I found it by total accident, because I was snooping around and totally stealing his dinner — but I fell into the water and there’s this, like, complete thing down there. And I didn’t get a chance to go through it because I knew he’d be back any minute and then he’d go Brat!” It was a good estimation of the more unflattering of Kier’s shrieks; she wasn’t as good a mimic as he was, but she’d inherited a passing set of vocal chords, “but I have a feeling it leads out of camp. He probably knows it’s there — he knows everything — but I doubt he ever uses it. And he’s already had his early night swim. Soo…” She stopped and looked at Duskpaw, leaning in tentatively. Then she grinned, waggling her brows. “Wanna sneak into my dad’s den? If we get caught, I’ll totally just shove you in the water and he’ll never know you were there.” The promises came out in a gush, like a child giving all sorts of fail-safes to convince someone to do something they really shouldn’t be doing, her eyes widening like she was saying ‘oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I would never let you get in trouble!’ She laughed. “If that happens, make sure you get out, though, ‘cuz he totally does gross things with Eris.”
I was just planning to walk out the front door. Her face fell, half exasperated, half panicked. She tried to brighten her expression, wipe away all that pessimism and fear because all it did was get her into unintentional trouble, all it did was make her an easier target, and now she was, probably or probably not, risking her life on a silly little outing with a kit, the daughter of her tyrannical leader, whom she just met, so she may as well enjoy herself a little. But it was difficult. Her frown, though shallow, remained. Walk out the front door, she could have laughed at the ridiculousness of it, she wanted to, but she didn't. She watched her blink, silent, and with each suggestion she roused herself up a little, leaned a little closer, waiting for her eventual answer.
"Can I —" that got the laugh out of her, a stressed little sound, quick and confused, interrupting her sentence where it fell off, "I think. . . long enough? A little while, at least." Her paws fidgeted with each other from where they laid at her chest, like she still wasn't sure. ". . . it's in his den? What if it doesn't lead anywhere? What if —" she took in a breath, let it out slowly, and met Brat's eye, face drawn and unamused, like she was being dragged along instead of having agreed to their escapade. For a few long moments, she was silent, thinking, contemplating, going over every pro and con — the cons far outweighed the pros, by a longshot, a million to one, but she still found herself edging towards getting out of her nest, waltzing away and into Kier's den and throwing herself in a pool of water that may or may not have a secret exit. She wasn't convinced at all that Royalkit could keep her out of trouble, or was even strong enough to push her into the water to begin with (Duskpaw wasn't very big herself, but she was much older).
Duskpaw grimaced at her observation but, after a slight hesitation, nodded.
Brat, who had been leaning in in anticipation, did a squealing little skip in the air. “Great!” she exclaimed, then quietened. “Great!” she repeated, more hushed. She helped Duskpaw to her paws, like she thought she had bed sores, and brushed the moss from her fur like a little servant. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Duskpaw, I’ll look after you.”
Beckoning for her to follow, she hurried to the den entrance, peered out, her head turning slowly from side to side, then gestured for Duskpaw to stay put and waltzed out into the open. “Hi!” she greeted one of Kier’s lackeys, craning her head back to look up at him like a perfect, derelict princess. The lackey just looked down at her in a silence full of pinched, repressed dislike — resentment, even. She was like the mob boss’ daughter who all the big, scary killers had to be nice and polite to if she barged in during a meeting about offing someone — because even though Kier could scream at her and toss her out, if anyone else was rude to her they’d get a withering look and, in a few weeks or a few months, because Kier could be spectacularly patient, some terrible tragedy would befall them. “Hi,” she said again, for no apparent reason. “My dad said he wanted to talk to you by the,” she drew the word out as she thought, picking a place at random, “river! Not the big one, the one right by camp. Oh! Silly me,” she laughed, making a big show of it, and smacked the lackey on his thick foreleg, keeping it there, “I mean the stream.” She smiled up at him, unblinking. The best way to be a good liar was to seem like a bad one — that, or Brat was genuinely just a bad liar but no one really trusted that and gave her more credit than she deserved, and she just raked in the unearned winnings like she always did. He was clearly distrustful — immensely so — but what was the right choice? Anger Kier or… anger Kier? So, finally, he rumbled a growl and stalked off, up the slope and out of camp. Brat watched him go. “Bye!” she called after him.
Then, immediately, she turned back to Duskpaw. “C’mon, c’mon — man, they’re stupid, huh?” she laughed as she gestured with her paw for Duskpaw to join her. Turning, she strolled happily towards her father’s den, tail straight in the air. Stopping at the entrance, she looked around, and if she could’ve, she’d have had her hands on her hips and her feet set wide in a dominating stance. “Big, huh?” she commented, like she was seeing it for the first time. “It’s like, as big as the main cavern. And it’s only for two people! Not me, though.” She clicked her tongue and, as best she could, threw finger guns at Duskpaw, half-ticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth and squeezing one eye shut. “Eh-heh!” She always made jokes about being unloved and unwanted; a coping mechanism, probably.
The den had an eerie red glow about it, like the water were made of blood. The moonlight filtering down through the hole in the roof washed everything crimson, reflecting off the pool that wrapped around the mound of rock and making the shadows deeper. The air was cool and wet-tasting. Brat didn’t seem bothered at all. Striding over to the edge of the water, she looked down at it. “Wow! Looks cherry flavoured!” Like she had any idea what cherries tasted like. Sitting down, she slipped her satchel over her head — and then seemed to realise she’d have to leave it somewhere. “Oh, man,” she complained quietly to herself, still clasping all the little compartments that held her tarot cards shut with metallic little clicks, “he’s totally gonna smell me and then he’s gonna be pissed.” Letting out a sigh like she was committing herself to it, she hauled her bag over to a shadowy corner and set it down, leaning it against the wall. She stared at it for a moment, stepping back and from side to side like she was trying to see it from every angle. She put her paw over her eye with the blown pupil, trying to see if that made a difference, before remembering her dad had the same thing. “Oh yeah, he’s totally gonna see it,” she muttered, but gave up trying to hide it and padded back to Duskpaw. “So!” she exclaimed cheerfully, standing beside the water. “Ready?” She beamed up at her, close-mouthed.
Don’t you worry about a thing, Duskpaw, I’ll look after you. She knew it was just the too-tough words of a kit, but the words were nice to hear anyway, and a small, hesitant smile appeared on her face, and however brief it was, it was genuine.
She followed Royalkit to the den entrance, stopped and crouched slightly, watching as the kit made her way out and towards Kier's lackey. She couldn't hear what was being said, but his annoyance, tinged with distrust at her words, but as after a few words and a laugh from her, he was gone. She watched him until he disappeared completely, and only then did she move towards her companion, her pace a quickened trot, her head held low like she wasn't supposed to be out. Man, they’re stupid, huh? With a final glance to where the lackey disappeared, Duskpaw turned back to Royalkit and nodded, the smile returning. She tried to ignore the prickle of anxiety as she entered Kier's den, but she had to admit it was nice. Moonlight filtered in, a stream bubbled somewhere, and moss clung to the stones. A little ways off was a clear, shimmering pool of water. Taking a few steps forward, eyes cast around instead of on Royalkit, it almost seemed like she didn't hear her morbid joke at all — she did, of course, and her lips pressed into a thin line at it, but she wasn't exactly sure what reaction she was supposed to give.
It was all cast red, making the leader's den seem more menacing than it would have been under any other light, but she thought it was just fitting for him. Making her way towards the pool, she peered down at it, nodding at Royalkit's observation even though she had no idea what cherry flavour tasted like. It was red flavoured, she'd object, but she didn't say anything.
"We could. . . go, if you're worried." The kit didn't exactly sound worried, and it was probably Duskpaw who cared the most, but it was too late, she was already back at the pool, asking if Duskpaw was ready. She took a breath, eyeing her reddened reflection in the water. "I don't know. . . yeah?" The last sound was dragged out, noncommittal and unsure, like she was asking instead of responding.
“What’s the point of being worried?” Brat replied immediately, throwing Duskpaw a wide, encouraging smile. “If you’re gonna die, you’re gonna die, huh? Drownin’, gettin’ done in by my dad,” she gave a great shrug, looking back down at the red water like she was soaking in the momentousness of what they were going to do, “same thing, ain’t it? Gonna die,” she sucked in a slow, deep breath, finishing with her voice tight and full, “gonna die.”
Letting out a loud cry to pump herself out that almost certainly wasted most of her air, she threw herself into the water. She vanished for a few seconds beneath the uncommonly warm water, long enough that the ripples began to still — and then popped her head back up, gasping for air. “Oh yeah — follow me.” She laughed, treading water in front of her. “It gets real dark down there, so maybe you should, like, bite my tail or summat’. Not that I totally know where I’m goin’, but that way, at least if we die, we die together!” She beamed up at her, her smile thin and close-mouthed and wide, pushing up her cheeks. Her pale grey fur looked red in the moonlight as well; blood and more blood. “And once we’re out there, we can go anywhere — there’s no patrol scheduled, and the Inferiors out huntin’ never like to go too far from the camp, y’know, in case someone sees them and thinks they’re tryna creep away. They all just look like sheep millin’ around — it’s no wonder they never catch nothin’, they just stand there like they’re in a trance. All scared stiff.” She knew everything that happened in NightClan, every schedule and every meeting. “So—“ She smiled up at Duskpaw again. “C’mon! Live brave! Say ‘screw you, baby!’ to authority!”
She gave a wary look. "That doesn't sound very promising — but. . ." she shrugged instead, staring into the depths of the water and trying to pinpoint their escape route. In the darkness, plus the bath of red moonlight, she couldn't see it. She grimaced again. "You're very optimistic." If her tone wasn't so soft, so worried, it would have been sarcastic, but somehow Duskpaw managed to miss the mark, make it sound more anxious about Royalkit than the weighing fear of their possible death. She startled at the yell, hardly expecting her to jump in so early, but before she could even think once more on turning back, the kit was gone under the surface, sending a cascade of ripples. They stilled. Duskpaw leaned forward, frantically searching, tail bushed and flicking. And then she resurfaced. Duskpaw leaned back, letting her fur settle, if only slightly. She eyed the kit, then the water, back and forth like she were still deciding, before reaching a single paw out, toes spread to touch the surface of the water, sending a ripple of her own. She climbed onto the edge of the pool.
With a final look at Royalkit, she squeezed her eyes shut and half stepped, half jumped into the water. She wasn't the strongest swimmer, hadn't ever found any interest in it and, for the most part, hated how the water felt on her fur. But, as she swam forward, she was able to keep herself afloat as the ground disappeared underneath her short legs, clumsily paddling far enough to reach Royalkit.
THIS ms paint rendition is what i imagine happening right now
LASBDGOUIASGDUASKDVKUAGSVDSAG i was literally thinking 'wouldn't that be funny', absolute hivemind. everyone's rub a dub dubbin. i also very much enjoy how pointy kier is and just absolutely everything about your rendition, i'm going into the nc camp right now to hang it up on the wall <3 this is love. love wins. also i just saw that it's called cuties.png. wow. fellas.......
"Oh yeah," Brat sputtered as she treaded water in front of her, "I should mention that I don't really know how to swi— okay, nevermind." The apprentice had already plunged in and Brat just smiled at her, full of confidence like she hadn't just admitted to being a total fraud. "Good job, team!" Still sputtering, she turned clumsily in the water, barely able to keep her muzzle in the air as she tipped her head back as far as it would go, her ear tips lost to the red. "Wow!" she laughed, weak and self-conscious, like she were the guide of a tour into the Amazon that was going to come back with half the number of guests it left with: she didn't have her guiding license, she was on the run from three countries' police, everything in her first aid kit was seven years out of date, and if they got into a squabble with local guerilla fighters, she would throw the guests into making molotov cocktails and say 'yeah, that's it, great job, keep goin'!' while she slowly backed away and knotted rope around her waist and jumped off the edge of the treehouse they were in. Because they were in a treehouse in this extensive allegory — keep up, dear. "What an adventure, huh!"
Paddling just as clumsily as Duskpaw, she led the way over to the wall rising from somewhere below the water. She still couldn't see the tunnel from up here, much as she craned her neck and peered — everything was just black-red water, reflecting everything in the cave but revealing nothing below — but she knew it was there. So, with another too-easy grin tossed over her shoulder to Duskpaw that was meant to be reassuring and 'I got this!' but that just reaffirmed why she had lost her touring license, she looked back down at the glossy red water, hesitated for a few seconds while she muttered something in a high voice and made out a strange sort of laugh — and then, sucking in a breath, dove down. As soon as she was under, she tapped her tail with soft insistence against Duskpaw's foreleg, making sure she could follow. Then, she swam down further. Deeper. Deeper — impossibly deeper. She'd forgotten how deep this pool was — she hadn't banked on it — she hadn't taken enough air. She reached out with her paws and felt along the wall, but there was no opening. It was rough and solid. There was nothing — she felt along more desperately, dragging herself to the side along the wall and then going lower, her lungs beginning to burn with panic and the bubbles streaming from her mouth popping on the surface in frantic flurries.
And then, finally, her paw touched nothing. The water was suddenly colder, a surge from somewhere darker, deeper. It had become blacker and blacker from the initial red — now this was the blackest of them all. Hoping Duskpaw was still with her — she couldn't see, couldn't feel — she pushed out into the tunnel, feeling her way along it with increasing desperation. It stretched out impossibly far, growing colder, colder, blacker, blacker, narrower, until she thought she would get stuck, until she thought she would run out of air and drown down there. And then, finally, the walls fell away. The tunnel opened up. There was moonlight far above and she swam towards it, pushing out of the cold, cold darkness until she finally erupted from the surface. Gasping for air and laughing in disbelief at the fact they'd actually made it, she looked around the unbroken surface for Duskpaw. Slowly, the initial jubilation gave way to worry. She turned in the water, looking for a hint of ripple. "Duskpaw?" she called quietly, and her voice was uncommonly distressed. Her ears slowly fell. Black pines and ferns rose around the pool she'd come through; crickets and other night insects sang so loudly it was like wild music; but she hardly heard any of it.
Duskpaw gave a horrified stare at her cutoff words, shooing away the urge to pick her up by the scruff and drag her out of the water, but before she could act on it, Royalkit had already moved on. When the kit's head ducked under the water, her anxiety once again reared its head, amplified by the words she had spoken before, but the insistent tapping on her paddling foreleg kept her quiet, and with a large, painful gasp of air, she let her head fall below the surface. It was much too dark to see, even when she pried open her eyes against her better judgement (that couldn't be done in the main caverns water, it was much too salty), but Royalkit was a surprisingly good guide. She risked a glance up. The water was bright, a stark contrast to the dark depths below her, reflecting a light red, shimmering and rippling with their previous movement. It was almost nice, being below the surface. The water filled her ears, but the roaring silence was comforting. She wondered how close it felt like to what death was; the floating tranquility, the inevitable darkness, the last of the light above her — but perhaps she was just close to drowning. Her air supply was running dangerously close, and her mouth was begging to open, her lungs were begging for air, but she tried to ignore it.
Royalkit moved ahead, into a space just below her, and in a panic Duskpaw reached down to catch the feel of her tail, but she was surprised to find nothing at all. The edge of a wall, the crumble of a tunnel. She ducked down and into it, swimming faster to catch up to Royalkit and to reach whatever air source was up there before her lungs gave up. It was freezing. She couldn't tell if her eyes were opened or closed.
Duskpaw didn't realize she hit the surface until air tickled her nose, and with the realization she took another great, gasping breath, breathing in like she would never get enough air again. She shook her head out, spraying droplets into the surrounding water, blinking open her eyes — which she must have closed sometime in the water — to focus on the voice that had called her name. The water in her ears made everything sound muted. "Yes — yes!" Royalkit's laughter made her laugh too, slightly panicked, slightly manic, slightly in disbelief. "That was terrifying and — and fun! I can't believe — " She breathed in again, cutting herself off. Her glee, she wasn't sure where it had come from. Perhaps it was the small rush of adrenaline, perhaps it was genuine joy. Her legs were so, so tired, but she swam to Royalkit anyway, nudging her to the shore. The water around them reflected a similar hue as the one in Kier's den.
Brat whipped around at the shout, at the laughter, spraying water everywhere as she turned. A wide, open-mouthed smile spread across her face, indescribably relieved, indescribably joyful. She joined in the laughter as well, hopping up and down in the water in pure excitement. She listened eagerly, nodding along. "We did it! We did it!" she exclaimed through Duskpaw's own exclamations, still bouncing and sending ripples towards the apprentice. She was still grinning as Duskpaw nudged her towards the shore, babbling away as she let herself be pushed. "That was so cool! I was so sure I was gonna run out of air, and I didn't even know where you were, but you were right behind me, you must have been! You were right there! I wanna do that a million more times — I should tell Bumblebeepaw about it!" As soon as she was pushed up onto dry land, she whipped around and threw herself at Duskpaw in a hug, wrapping her forepaws around the bulkier she-cat's shoulders and pressing her sopping wet cheek against her chest. "You did it! Well done, Duskpaw! You—"
"I just don't get why he's the favourite. He shows up out of nowhere, he doesn't bother to socialise, he doesn't even look like he could kill a guy — and he gets promoted?"
Brat's eyes widened at the male voices. Immediately hooking her paw over Duskpaw's shoulder more forcefully, she pushed her down behind the dripping wet ferns; everything was black, just shadows against a red forest, no details and no leaves. After the rain at the start of the night, everything smelled wet. For a few moments, Brat just crouched there beside Duskpaw, trying to keep her breathing quiet as she peered out through the ferns — and then, finally, two toms came into view, walking along the path between the trees in no obvious hurry, clearly dawdling before having to go back to camp.
"Have you ever even talked to him?" the warrior continued.
"Nah, man, I'm like you — he doesn't even look at you when you walk past. He always just hangs out around Kier. He thinks he's better than us, that's what I think. He's— what's the word—"
"Arrogant?"
"Arrogant, man. He's arrogant. Someone ought'a bring him down a notch, that's what I think."
Brat watched them as they passed, trying to keep her tail-tip still against the leaf litter, breathing through her mouth. Finally, they disappeared from view and their voices began to fade into the distance. Brat pushed herself out, letting out a breathless laugh and grinning down at Duskpaw. "Close call! But they're stupid, like I said. We're a million times smarter. So — where da'ya wanna go?" She beamed at her, filled with tireless excitement for the night ahead. And then she realised something, her eyes widening. "Wait — have you even been out? You must've been, right? You were an apprentice for a bit before your mom was arrested, weren't you?"
With a grin, she paddled to the edge of the water after Royalkit, crawling out onto the bank amidst tall, thick ferns, shaking out her sopping pelt. She didn't join in on the cheering any longer, though her face was bright and joyous, laughing as she was hugged. The moment was golden, a happiness she hadn't been able to feel in the moons since Kier had taken over, a freedom that she craved and feared at the same time — it was nearly perfect, she'd nearly gotten over her nerves completely before she heard the voices. I just don't get why he's the favourite. She stopped and crouched at the same time that Royalkit pulled her down, hiding behind the cover of the ferns, eyes hardly a glint in the shadows.
The toms were partially obscured from where a frond crossed her vision, but it was enough to make out that they were warriors, probably finishing up a patrol. She blinked curiously as their conversation continued. Someone ought'a bring him down a notch, that's what I think. And with that, they had walked past, voices fading into the night and letting a moonlit quiet take its place, nothing else but the shift of the water and the song of crickets.
She stood up, carefully stepping out past the ferns and halfway into the open, looking around as if someone else was going to suddenly appear, but it appeared as though they were utterly alone. "That didn't sound too good," she fretted, but let the conversation quickly move on. She didn't want to get wrapped up in anything else.
"I have," she looked down at Royalkit, "and I was." She hadn't been out enough to get a good feel for the territory, and she supposed she could remember some landmarks — at least what they were, but perhaps not where. She looked around at the landscape showered in red light, but the pine trees obscured the moon. She stepped ahead. "How about some place clearer — and further?"
