|
Post by Greymuzzles on Mar 6, 2018 21:42:18 GMT
He fell quiet again, then, but this was a more comfortable sort of hush—not the comfort of friends, yet, but something far more tolerable than the heavy silence that had accompanied them before. This time the lack of speech was a result of conversations finished, rather than a wariness to speak, and the difference was palpable – not least because it made it easier to focus on the foliage through which they walked. He didn’t feel the need to worry about the she-cat’s mood now, and that freed him to enjoy the forest as they pushed onwards; to more rapidly decide when they’d travelled far enough to make searching for further prey worthwhile.
Mossypath had fallen behind, by then, but he didn’t mind. A quick glance back towards her blue-grey frame told him that her pace was of one enjoying the sights, rather than brooding on darkened thoughts, and he soon turned from her again; began to hone in on the surrounding scents and sounds. She’d catch up when she was ready, he was sure, so though he slacked his steps a little he didn’t bother to make a fuss. Instead focused on finding something else to hunt.
It took a little longer than he might have liked, but even so, something eventually settled within his nose. He slowed even further then, dimly noting that the she-cat had caught up once more, and tilted his muzzle further into the air, trying to track the scent to its source. The distinct tang of quail was easy to recognise, but exactly where it lay, and whether it was worth tracking, was a harder matter to tell.
At last Leopardstrike stopped, parting his jaws to catch the scent more fully; trying to decide…
|
|
|
Post by Dreamgate on Mar 9, 2018 19:10:07 GMT
Mossypath tilted her head at Leopardstrike curiously before realising that he had scented something, and then she realised that she too scented something. She parted her jaws slightly and let the scents flow as she breathed in. Quail. She was certain that Leopardstrike could distinguish the scent too, but he didn't seem to be making any moves towards the source. Perhaps he didn't distinguish it - or maybe he couldn't? Whatever took him so long, she didn't ask. After all, she didn't know what the tom was doing. Maybe he was just... thinking about the Quail? Well, whatever he's doing, he better do it faster because Mossypath didn't want to miss the opportunity on catching a plump bird.
She waited a few moments for Leopardstrike before losing her patience and going against her previous decision on not asking Leopardstrike about the Quail. "So, should we catch it?" she asked, hoping that Leopardstrike knew that it was about the small bird. She also hoped that she didn't sound too pushy or bossy when indirectly telling the silver tom to hurry up. Most cats do dislike her for her controlling attitude, and she didn't want the Bird tom to get annoyed by her after having such a lovely day hunting together. She didn't want to lose a friend the same day she got one.
...
Friend. Is that what she should call Leopardstrike? Does he think of her as a friend? Surely he does - and if not then at least mutual. After today they definitely aren't strangers, but maybe the tom is picky on who he calls 'friends' and the only reason he is even interacting with her is because he can't just leave her behind on the hunt.
Mossypath sighed to herself as she tried to push the thoughts away. She didn't like going into detail like this and theorising everything, the important thing is she thinks of him as a friend and if he doesn't, then there's nothing to stop that.
|
|
|
Post by Greymuzzles on Mar 11, 2018 22:15:27 GMT
There was a breeze rustling through this part of the forest, and though it wasn’t strong it was enough to fray the scent he was drawing across his scent glands, making it a little harder to determine just where its source was. The Quail lay somewhere to their left—of that he much he could be sure—but whether it was in reach? That was harder to guess. He needed a little more time to answer that particular thought, and so he lingered a second or two more, considering—
And flicked an ear at Mossypath’s question, distracted by her voice.
“…Yes.” He slanted her a new, quiet look, half wondering if he’d decided the bird was within their reach – or if he was only answering to avoid embarrassment. Boars were not hunters, and so couldn’t truly appreciate the subtler aspects of hunting – and her enthusiastic praise still lingered within his mind. What a fall it would be, to go from that to seeming so bumbling prey-missing fool…
But that was not a good way to think. He knew as much almost as soon as the thought occurred, and though he dropped closer the ground, already beginning the careful forwards prowl, that same knowledge pushed out extra words. A quiet caution to explain his own pause – and, with luck, keep the she-cat patient.
“Just keep in mind it mightn’t be as close as it seems.”
|
|
|
Post by Dreamgate on Mar 13, 2018 18:34:02 GMT
Mossypath realised that her question had distracted him - but what could he have been doing that needed him to be concentrating? Well, his comment following the response pretty much explained it all, Leopardstrike had been trying to figure out how close or far away the Quail was. She probably ruined his chance of figuring out this important detail, so she crouched down with Leopardstrike and whispered.
"Oh, sorry. I hadn't thought of that before" She isn't really used to being apologetic and sort of submissive, but it was better than annoying the tom and possibly losing a good piece of prey.
While the silver tom carefully crept forward, Mossypath lingered behind him - not really following him, just sort of took tiny steps forward as she was thinking of what to do while Leopardstrike located the Quail. She had never thought that hunting would be so... complex. So much different things needed to be done, and done right at that. But as she thought more about it, she realised that perhaps Birds feel the same way about fighting? Maybe they think that battling is just throwing a few hits and seeing how it goes - which isn't at all how it is. Battling required accuracy, being agile and able to dodge, being able to find an opening to attack - all while making sure the enemy doesn't find your opening.
Fighting is complex. And so is hunting. Both are equally complex. But it's hard to master both. So that's why there are Boars and Birds. Mossypath glanced at Leopardstrike. She was lost in thought, trying to figure something out with the information which is blatantly in the open yet so well hidden. She was probably wasting time connecting dots which were connected all along - but she couldn't help but think more and more about this. What if it's possible to master both? What if... she didn't know where she was going with this.
|
|
|
Post by Greymuzzles on Mar 13, 2018 20:34:30 GMT
‘Oh, sorry.’
He flicked an ear a second time, pausing just a few steps away from the she-cat as he caught her words. He’d not expected an apology, for he didn’t really expect her to understand the finer details of hunting—nor to have the humility required to recognise it might be needed—and that one simple fact dragged his golden gaze back towards her frame. For a moment he was silent, staring at her over his shoulder as if to confirm, by sight, that he’d heard what he’d thought, and then with a flickering, accepting smile he turned back to face front, half-purring a quiet “don’t worry about it” as he tried to turn his focus to the Quail once more.
Unfortunately, that goal was easier thought than reached. Mossypath remained a distraction even after she’d spoken, for he caught himself mulling over this latest conflict between his expectations and the reality – found his ears quivering at the shadows of steps that floated back from behind. But he knew that such distraction was no good for a hunt, so with an effort Leopardstrike forced himself to hone in on his task; to focus on the quick and quiet fall of his paws, and the scent he was tracking through the woods. He wasn’t willing to lose a bird to a simple distraction. That would be truly embarrassing.
But the closer he drew to the scent, the less convinced he grew that it was leading him to something he could catch. The quail was, indeed, not as close as he would have liked, and that fact alone vastly reduced his chances of making a kill; increased the likelihood that it would be gone long before he was near enough to pounce. Already he was on the verge of calling it quits, despite his audience, but he stuck to the task a little longer, just in case—
And paused, twitching his tail in silent frustration as he spied the bird; discovered it was not on the ground, but on a branch.
That might not have been a problem, had his speciality been different—or he closer from the start. As it was, however, he could see little chance of him managing to make the catch, and was obliged to crouch low to the ground whilst he weighed his options: stared at the branch. Had it been higher, he wouldn’t have considered it. But this was lower—just low enough, perhaps, for even him to reach in a good strong jump—and that meant it might be worth the attempt – if only he weren’t being watched by a Boar…
His tail twitched a second time, now answering the flickering irritation he suddenly felt for himself. There was some hope of success, and where he alone, he wouldn’t hesitate to try it: would have even welcome the opportunity to expand his skills. Were he with a fellow Bird, the result might have been just the same. So why let Mossypath’s presence stop him? That wouldn’t be fair to either of them.
Decided, Leopardstrike moved forwards at a quicker, swifter prowl, drawing almost level with the Quail-holding tree—
And leapt upwards, claws stretching for the branch.
A beat later he came down with a solid thwump, nothing to show for the attempt but a few clawsmarks in the bark, and the rapid flurry of the qual’s wings as it flew out of reach and sight. He’d failed, and though he stared, at first, after the passing bird, regretting the loss, it wasn’t long before he slanted a look back towards the she-cat’s form. Wasn’t long before he felt the embarrassment beginning to take hold.
|
|
|
Post by Dreamgate on Mar 14, 2018 20:53:26 GMT
She felt comforted at the fact that he tom wasn't annoyed or frustrated with her impatience. Instead, the tom purred to her a calming response which made her uch lest agitated about her own actions. She felt good knowing that the Bird was able to cope with her and still stay on friendly terms, the tom must have much more patience than she does.
And he surely does, Leopardstrike had began to carry on looking through the undergrowth for the Quail, suddenly she saw the tom's eyes glimmer and brighten up as he presumably caught a glance of the bird. But, as quickly as it came, the glimmer vanished. Did he find something alongside the Quail that meant danger? Was it too far away? Or too high up?
Before she could think of an answer, Leopardstrike leapt up into the air. Mossypath tensed up, she felt uneasy watching the tom soar through the air when just moments before he seemed to have been doubting the success of catching the Quail.
The tom came back down with a loud thump and with an equally terrified glance at the alerted Quail which had flown down from the branches and ran into the undergrowth. As Mossypath had been staring after the small bird, she realised that the silver tom is now looking at her with a horrified expression on his face - almost the exact same one as she had when she tried catching that mouse. The blue-grey he-cat felt sympathetic towards the tom, he must be feeling as awful as she did. With that, she gave a reassuring smile and him and purred. "Don't give me the same look that I gave you, you did no way near as bad!" She stood up and moved closer to the tom, getting a better look at where he was aiming for. There was a low-handing branch which must've been where the Quail was perched. Then on the bark were faint claw marks from Leopardstrike. He definitely was too far away to reach, but the attempt was much better than expected.
She glanced back at the tom, with the exact smile. "It was a great try! I wouldn't have been able to jump nearly as far, and besides, I'm sure that every hunter has had their fair share of accidents" She finished, sitting down and carrying on glancing in the same direction in which the Quail had run off. It was a shame, really, to lose such good piece of fresh-kill. But, as she said, everyone has their fair share of accidents, and this was just one of those accidents. Mossypath took note that she had actually caught her mouse even with the horrible performance, but she didn't say it outloud. It could've been just beginners luck after all, though were was the luck during her hunt?
|
|
|
Post by Greymuzzles on Mar 18, 2018 17:40:49 GMT
This, he was sure, was bound to earn him mockery and scorn. He knew that a fellow Bird would think nothing of it—unless counting it as a reason for a little light teasing—but Mossypath was no Bird; Mossypath was a Boar, and as a Boar there was no way she’d understand how easily a hunt could fail. To her, he was sure, he would only look like some bumbling fool, and it was that that lay behind his embarrassment, driving his gaze to her frame. He had no doubt that she would care only for the fact that the quail had escaped, ignoring the effort that had come before, and as she looked to him he braced himself for scathing words—
And blinked, caught entirely by surprise by her lighter purr; the sympathy that seemed to lurk within her eyes.
That was…quite the opposite of what he’d anticipated. There was understanding and encouragement in the she-cat’s talk, and he found his embarrassment melting as they washed over him, leaving only a faint residue of the initial awkwardness behind. But in their place came another emotion: shame. Again he had judged her by the typical Bird preconceptions, and again she had proved them unfounded: steered clear of the harshness so often associated with Boars. It was an unpleasant thing to realise, and is pelt prickled with the feeling; his gaze grew a little sheepish as he searched for suitable words.
“…I suppose you’re right,” he didn’t sound convincing – not even to himself. Still, he’d tried, and he even offered her a dim smile, not wishing to spoil her mood. Quietly telling himself that, if he could judge his sister by own behaviour—mostly—rather than the brusqueness everyone else connected to her, then he could surely do the same for this Boar. At any rate he’d have to try; have to take greater care not fall into those other inaccurate assumptions – just as he took care to avoid making her feel foolish or annoyed.
His gaze trailed after the lost quail a second time, seeking some means to hide his uncertainty—and guilt—from view. That feeling would be hard to shake, he supposed, just as it would be hard to stop thinking of Mossypath in terms of ‘what Boars are’.
“It’s not the first time I’ve lost prey, and it won’t be the last. It's a shame, though, he murmured, voice half a sigh as he tried to distract himself from his own shame – and keep her from realising that anything but the lost prey was on his mind.
|
|
|
Post by Dreamgate on Mar 22, 2018 16:37:39 GMT
She had hoped that her words soothed the tom's shock and embarrassment, but it seemed to only make him feel worse. She recognised the tom's lowered down gaze and lowered voice as he replied to her. The silver tom felt guilty, she was sure of it! Mossypath smiled at the tom - he shouldn't feel guilty for losing a piece of prey, everyone makes mistakes at times and Leopardstrike had admitted to losing catches in the past, he even made the assumption of losing some more in the future. But Mossypath suspected that it must be the first loss in a long time, so the blue-grey she-cat attempted to comfort the tom and sooth out his guilt.
"Don't feel so guilty!" She insisted, "Losing a piece of prey isn't something to feel guilty about - there's much more prey in the forest, you even said it yourself when I scared everything off." She explained to him, remembering the moment when she had caught the mouse, but with the cost of waking up the whole forest.
Though she didn't want Leopardstrike to feel guilty, she couldn't more with him that the loss of the Quail was, indeed, a shame. She wasn't sure whether or not the clan has seen such a plump bird the start of this Newleaf yet, and she already had been thinking of how delicious the Quail would be. But, she didn't dare say it aloud - scared she might make the silver tom feel more guilty than he already is.
|
|
|
Post by Greymuzzles on Mar 25, 2018 10:34:55 GMT
‘Don’t feel so guilty!’
Leopardstrike flicked an ear at her words, that very guilt only flaring stronger at the phrase; the confirmation that she had noted the shift in his look. That wasn’t good, he knew, but to his relief she didn’t seem to question it as he would have thought. No; instead she took his verbal cues and misinterpreted that feeling’s true source, apparently attaching it to the lost quail, as he’d half-hoped she would. The very fact of his deception, however small or necessary, only made the shame prickle at him all the more, but it was better than the alternatives. Better than having to explain that he’d misjudged her; kept expecting the least favourable response.
It didn’t help that he would have to keep up the charade; play along with the misunderstanding to keep her from realising that she’d read him a little wrong.
“True…” he drew the word out, uncomfortable with the situation but unwilling to let her know that the prey’s loss was not the main thing troubling him. She would take offence to what he’d really been thinking, she was sure. Who wouldn’t? “I guess it’s just embarrassing to fail at your own speciality – especially in front of someone who doesn’t share it.” That was the truth, at least, and he managed to bring his eyes back to her frame as he spoke: to confirm his honesty with that simple, still troubled gaze.
|
|
|
Post by Dreamgate on Mar 28, 2018 15:14:22 GMT
Mossypath nodded in sincere agreement. "I couldn't agree more," and it was true, she couldn't find anything as embarrassing as losing a simple fight in front of someone who was expecting her to succeed - as battle is her speciality. "Though you still shouldn't feel guilty about it, I'm not going to mock you for messing up something as small as that - what type of clanmate would I be if I used anything as small as a missed catch to be the excuse for my mockery." The blue and grey she-cat shook her head, almost as if she was telling herself off.
"No, that's no way a loyal and noble warrior would act. And it's no way a great hunter like you should feel guilty about a missed catch." She meowed, her amber gaze meeting Leopardstrike's. The young tom seemed upset, and perhaps troubled. Mossypath felt sorry for Leopardstrike - he was truly talented in the ways of hunting and it's a severe shame to having him guilt trip on a catch.
The she-cat then decided to switch the subject, hoping to make them both forget this had ever happened. Mossypath turned round and began padding the direction they were previously going in.
"C'mon, let's see if we can find another one of those Quails - or maybe catch the one that ran away if we're lucky!" She purred softly, pausing slightly to see if Leopardstrike continues onward with her.
|
|
|
Post by Greymuzzles on Mar 29, 2018 14:02:03 GMT
Despite the honesty that held to it, stripping some of the bitterness from the words, Leopardstrike still knew that it was little more than an excuse; remained a part of the deception he was forced to weave to keep her from realising the truth. That realisation, too, hung heavily upon him, but if his companion noticed she didn’t show it. In fact, the nod she passed him and the answer she then gave suggested all the more strongly that she believe what she was saying; wasn’t for a moment questioning the source of his guilt. He supposed that was good, in a way, for it spoke to a measure of trust that he wouldn’t quite have believed could belong to unrelated cats from opposing branches, but it did little to help that creeping sense of shame.
Even in that spoken truth there was the shape of a lie, and it felt unnatural to him; saw him shuffling his paws like some awkward apprentice as her attempted reassurances continued. But he still clung to the pieces of that charade, guilty as it made him feel: still tried to pretend that the core problem was nothing more than a little lost prey.
“A poor one, I’d guess,” it was a little easier to answer her, now that the topic had shifted a step further from his guilt, and a step closer to some other topic. The two subjects were still connected, it was true, but at least this trail was backed by something more honest, even if it were founded on deception. “I think you give me too much credit, though. I’m no ‘great’ hunter—just a hunter,” he shuffled his paws again, awkwardness growing at the praise—its timing—but that phrase’s presence at least marked a turning in the conversation; a reason to be vaguely relieved. Mossypath was dismissing the entire thing even then, and though Leopardstrike was aware that he could have said more on how a ‘loyal and noble warrior’ should act—on how he himself had strayed from that standard mere moments before, and how so many in the clan did much the same—he couldn’t bring himself to further that talk. In fact, his very mind shied from the idea, for though their peers fought constantly, he couldn’t think of them as anything but noble; loyal; great warriors one and all. So he let that subject fade behind him, stepping forwards to follow the she-cat’s lead; hoping that his moment’s deception, too, might be left back beyond their reach.
“If we’re lucky,” and with those words he knew he spoke not just an agreement, but an answer to his secret thoughts.
|
|
|
Post by Dreamgate on Mar 29, 2018 15:07:41 GMT
Despite her attempt at making the tom feel better - giving him honest praises and then a change of subject - Mossypath still felt the awkwardness and guilt cling in the air, though it was definitely lighter and more relieved. However, the tom insisted that his skills and efforts were only average as he explained how he's 'no great hunter - just a hunter'. The she-cat shook her head, "Say all you want, but in my eyes you are great. Your skills, effort and determination are things that I'm proud to say belong to a fellow clanmate" She argued back with praise. Mossypath had only just begun to realise how much she was praising the tom. The she-cat generally loved encouraging her clanmates, especially when they're feeling down. However, this just went beyond what she normally does and says.
Finally, she decided to fully disband the previous conversation and focus on now; catching a quail (hopefully). This was much better than worrying about over-encouraging a clanmate.
Sniffing the cold, brisk air Mossypath scented a horribly familiar scent. At first, the blue-grey she-cat was severely confused, thinking whether or not her nose is playing tricks on her. Because she had, indeed, scented Treeclan. But there was something else - a faint scent of milk followed the Treeclan smell.
Horrified, she looked back at Leopardstrike with wide eyes. "Do you scent that? Doesn't it remind you of the nursery? Treeclan scent along with a hint of milk". Mossypath knew the tom would think she's going mad, because in all honesty, she believed that she was going insane.
As the tom replied she had already began padding quickly in the direction of the source. Mossypath's mind had drifted to the worst ideas - that a clan kit had strayed this far.
The large she-cat had come to a sandy clearing which was outlined by thick bushes and ferns when she noticed flickering movement from the corner of her eye. The ferns furthest from her were rustling wildly before a dusty-brown head with golden eyes popped out and soon stared at her in horror. Mossypath's fur rising, she stomped over to the kit, glaring furiously. "What do you think you're doing this far from camp, Dustykit?" She hissed hysterically. The blue she-cat has a soft spot for kits, however this behaviour was not acceptable! Dustykit has stayed far, far from camp and was in the densest part of the forest. It's a true miracle that Mossypath even caught a hint of his scent.
(OOC : Sorry for bringing Dustykit into this - I just wanted to roleplay with him a bit. I also sorta have a reason as to why he came so far, it links to my roleplay with Heavens (the nursery one). When Dustykit disappeared in that roleplay, he left camp as he's extremely shy and introverted and didn't want to be asked or mocked by the others for bumping into Beekit. So, he left camp and got lost. Since it was very early in that roleplay, it practically took all morning for Dustykit to travel so far. I know, this is all very extreme, but I just wanted to bring him in... somehow..)
|
|
|
Post by Greymuzzles on Mar 31, 2018 8:29:36 GMT
As it turned out, contradicting her initial praise was a mistake. Leopardstrike had been speaking from the heart, knowing that the chosen phrase didn’t fit him as she seemed to think, but somehow that contradiction only pushed her to praise him still more – and more highly, in a way, than before. He had no doubts that Mossypath meant well in passing him such words, but the compliments only made the shame prickle still greater within his fur, and before too long he was practically squirming with the awkwardness of it: no longer able to hold nor meet her gaze. He never would have thought a Boar could speak so highly of a Bird, and that made it awkward enough, but his lingering guilt just made it worse…
Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice. In fact, it soon became apparent that something else had arisen to distract her from his own ashamed frame, and he was relieved for that. Relieved to be given a respite in which to organise his thoughts; find some way to push further from his clinging guilt. But it seemed he needn’t search too hard, for that, for even as he sought some new topic he found the she-cat providing one of her one: one of far greater concern that his own silent troubles.
“Nursery?” His eyes tracked back to her, at that, momentarily finding the ability to look on her once more – but she was already moving; heading, he assumed for the source. Even so the spotted tom hesitated where he’d paused, for it was such an unlikely thing; too hard to believe. Queens didn’t often stray this far from camp, and kits wouldn’t—would they?
Doubt trickled into his mind as his paws trailed Mossypath, and he parted his jaws, taking in the scent-laden air. As soon as he did he knew that there was no mistake: there was someone from the nursery here, and he quickened his pace in response, worried eyes scanning the underbrush—
Locking onto a small, dusty head…
“Starclan,” he breathed, worry and disbelief making the word—a curse—quiet; seeing him pause a moment a few steps back. Then with an uneasy tail-flick he came forwards again, moving to stand at Mossypath’s shoulder and stare down at the kitten; to be the quietly disapproving counterpart to the she-cat’s fury. “This is no place for a kit, little one. Ooc: Pretty unusual for a kit to be so far from camp, but I have no real problem with it. If nothing else, this turn of events gives us a little something more to write about!
|
|
|
Post by Dreamgate on Apr 2, 2018 20:35:51 GMT
Mossypath saw the kit tremble, open his mouth to speak, but quickly close it and look down, still trembling. It was most likely a shock for him, to be found and then wildly shouted at. However, this wasn't an accident or mistake - Dustykit purposely left camp, and he knows its wrong.
The blue-grey she-cat narrowed her eyes at the brown kit, who's eyes wide as full moons, and shook her head. "What would your mother say of this? How about Ashstar? If it wasn't for us, a fox could've come and swallowed you in one bite!" She scolded, her voice still loud and furious, yet it was softer and calmer now that the situation sunk in for her. Casting a glance at the kit Mossypath sighed, angry shouting wouldn't take her anywhere - knowing how shy and quiet Dustykit is. She usually sees him lurking around camp rather than interacting and playing with other kits, which she found peculiar. It was definitely strange behaviour for a kit, however she just assumes that Dustykit is shy - or maybe he likes his peace. Either way, she would've never taken the tom-kit for a troublemaker, leaving camp unattended.
She turned her head towards Leopardstrike, who seemed to be much calmer, and looked at him, as if asking for an opinion.
What should they do? How would they explain all of this to everyone else? Dustykit was found far away from camp? That would be the obvious thing to do, but why did he leave exactly? He most likely won't answer anything in camp, so should they try getting it out of him now rather than later?
|
|
|
Post by Greymuzzles on Apr 10, 2018 14:33:39 GMT
…Was Dustykit scared of them? It seemed fairly unlikely, for neither of them had a particularly ferocious reputation—at least as far as he knew—and yet the kit was trembling as if he were faced with a rogue; expecting to be clawed. The very thought sat poorly with him, and he found his disapproval fading, softening, at the sight; found himself regarding the little cat with something closer to sympathetic concern. He couldn’t exactly blame Mossypath for her aggressive approach to the matter, for Dustykit was far from camp and it would have been relatively easy for him to come to harm, but he didn’t want him to be afraid; not of them. Not of anyone from the clan.
“Perhaps Ashstar can be kept out of this,” he spoke gently, shooting the she-cat a quick look before he lowered himself to his stomach, trying to make himself seem a little less ‘scary’. If such a word could even be applied to him. But of course, the suggestion they might tell the leader of this was probably frightening enough by itself, for though he was a strong, noble cat he was also intimidating. And probably more so for a kit. With luck, easing that threat aside might help put the little tom at ease…
“But you do need to tell us what you’re doing out here. You must know by now that kits have to stay in camp.” He kept his eyes on Dustykit, hoping that he’d explain; that Mossypath might soften up before the little tom fled her wrath – a situation that would only make the problem worse.
Ooc: Please remember to bold your character's speech, Dreamgate!
|
|