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pseudo for etherealblink and petrichor. Sorry for the poor start! Wasn't quite sure where to begin. :/
Many thought that she was a simple she-cat, some might even put her into a box as a loving mother like she-cat despite having no kits of her own. Being a nursery aid in Fallclan often lead to those outside the clan making assumptions about her whole life and personality. Even within Fallclan she was sometimes dismissed due to her position and main job consisting of helping out in the nursery and with the kits. Now, this wasn't something that bothered her and often she instead used it to her own benefit. Where others might be questioned as they left camp as to what they were up to, or joining by volunteers she only had herself. Those that saw her leaving just assuming the she-cat was going out briefly for a walk or some other simple task. She barley paid any attention for potential watchers as she slipped over the border, so unconcerned that anyone might have followed her or paid her any attention.
Not once had anyone ever wondered where Etherealblink went when she disappeared from camp, and not once had she ever had to lie her way out of such a question. This is not to say she didn't have a lie planned in case she was asked, but so far she had never had to use it. Left to her own devices which often consisted of little adventures. She didn't hunt or attempt to start any trouble, instead she often just wandered around. Trying to see life outside of Fallclan though not often going to far. It helped with the stories she told to entertain kits, and she liked being able to have a wider perspective of the world when she tried to impart all the knowledge she could to them before they left her care.
This morning had begun much like the last. And the one before that. And the one before that. There was a time when they weren't all the same-- when every day wasn't the same - but that felt like eons ago. He wasn't sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, the spring leaves went from brilliantly viridescent to plan old green, and his hard-earned feasts became nothing more than another squirrel or the occasional rabbit. It was something about the constant conflict and bloodlust he had grown up in that had dulled out his senses. It had become almost tedious milling about the camp, so he turned to his work, and found no comfort there either.
Regardless, he was back at it. Far beyond the Primal Instinct borders, he found his ginger fur caked in red clay, blending in closely to the rocks muddled around him. One of his preferred tactics of gathering intel recently was to avoid conversation all together; but to lie in wait. Listening, watching, and waiting. He no longer held it as an artform, as his younger, more arrogant self did. this area in particular was a bit of a hot spot for the region. Clan cats and rouges alike often milled about, sunning on the jagged red rocks or enjoying the stream. Today, however, had been quiet. That was of course, except for a tabby she-cat.
