Shrikepaw jumped slightly as Greypaw bumped into his tail, embarrassed for a moment that he had been so distracted that he didn't notice anyone else coming up the path behind him. "I shouldn't have been blocking the path anyway," he said, moving out of the way so that Greypaw could comfortably walk up beside him. "You going out to hunt too?"

It seemed that through-and-through, the ragged little she-cat was as far from a Nightclan cat any cat could possibly be. She looked the part; though her pelt was tattered, with fur-less blotches of moon-silver skin, it was otherwise black as the shadows of an abyss. Loonpaw melted into the night- she disappeared completely. Then again, the she-cat was never truly 'there' in the first place, even if a nimbus of sunlight had surrounded her like some mythical being. Nah. Loonpaw, to most of the forest, did not exist. She was uncomfortable to look at, uncomfortable to be around, and-- the greatest blight of all-- she was just plain uncomfortable existing.

As the sun was sinking, though, Loonpaw felt her most 'there'. "Imagine if I had all those colors," the slender she-cat murmured aloud. Her nose twitched at a slight breeze, and twitched again, sharply, as the sound of conversation breathed into her ears with the wind. She had been relaxing at the Land Bridge, and was slowly, slowly winding her way back along the trees, not back to camp, but perhaps the waterfall. But these voices. Guilt, then abrupt anger. Was it because she was out? She hadn't exactly asked for permission to leave-- sometimes she'd slip out, quite unnoticed, when there was still a bit of light-- but--

"Oh," she breathed out, panic rising off her pelt in waves. Surely those were toms' voices. Loonpaw nearly leaped to her paws, and lurched forward, away from the threat of masculine-anything, and promptly caught her little forepaw in a root. A jolt of pain shot up her leg, made her pelt fluff up, and a low but rising scream was flung from her throat. "Ugghhhhh--- oh, oww, oh OWW!" Her fear-scent rose in suffocating waves. A nearby mouse was so unnerved it scurried like lightning across the forest floor.

Shrikepaw grimaced a little at the thought of cleaning duty. He knew someone had to do it, but he couldn't help but feel like he was wasting time that he could be using to learn more important skills every time he got assigned to it. "Yeah, cleaning duty isn't as-" he was aprubtly cut off by Loonpaw's nearby yowl, his ears pricking up in alertness. The wind was blowing away from them, carrying their scents and voices towards Loonpaw, but making it hard to discern who could have made the sound as her scent was travelling the wrong way for Shrikepaw to pick up.

"We should be careful, it could be an intruder," he said, ears pricked forward as he fell into step alongside Greypaw. Adrenaline prickled at his stomach. Battle training was one thing, but Shrikepaw had never had cause to actually sink claws into a fellow cat's flesh and he felt a feeling almost like excitement at the prospect. Had he been alone, he might have raced towards the sound, but he matched Greypaw's slower pace.

After rounding a small boulder, Greypaw relaxed the fur that began to fluff out around his neck. This was no intruder. It was a denmate, an apprentice like him. "It's just Loonpaw," he told Shrikepaw over his shoulder. "And she's just sitting there staring." From his vantage point, the gray tom couldn't see she was stuck. He looked over the area quickly for any sign of danger. The cry he had heard was definitely one of distress. "Hey Loonpaw," he called as he came closer. "Is everything alright?"