In the Mist's Embrace [Frostleap]

[Greymuzzles]

A silvery mist hung across the camp, obscuring dens and cats alike and muffling all sound. It gave the wide, usually lively space an almost eerie air, chasing many of the clan inside and making the camp seem, at a glance, almost empty: almost dead. For Tigerheart, a veteran of the wild lands beyond the mountains, it was like being a lone again, and she found herself prowling through the hushed murky space on silent paws, every step placed to avoid even the smallest trace of noise. In the depths of her mind she was not in camp at all—not even in Treeclan, this land so plentiful and secure—but rather in the open fog-bound wastes tucked within her memory: a land ravaged by rogues at war. It wrapped her in the tensions of a loner expecting at any moment to be beset on all sides, and it made her manner more threatening: her reactions more raw.

It was at times like these when the foreign warrior was at her most dangerous: when she was less an asset and more a threat. Tigerheart knew it—understood it with a clarity that might have shocked her clanmates, were any close enough to her to know—and already she had taken the steps necessary to ensure that those most likely to approach her would not risk her claws. Her brother she had left tucked in his nest, informed simply that she intended to be alone, and her apprentice—the paw she had hardly begun to adapt to; could scarcely understand at all—had been given the day off: told to rest up for a long and gruelling outing to come. When the mist was gone. When every shape and sound and movement ceased to make her bare her claws and twang with the effort of not springing. When she was less a threat: more sure of sense and control.

But for now her inner wildness was on full show, masked only by the mist that obscured one and all. For now, too, she was a loner prowling in the guise of a warrior: a bred and trained killer who slunk for the camp’s exit, knowing that only the forest would grant the clan full safety from her teeth and her claws. Knowing that the forest, too, would tighten the past still more, wrapping her further in memory and heightening the threat she bore. But there she would be alone. And there she would stay until the mists had dwindled into their finest shreds; until she could trust herself once more.

[kiwi]

It was an absolutely dreadful day.

The incoming mist had fallen upon many TreeClanners like an owl; a silent fell swoop in the night that seemed to hold down most everything in it's place. It had been awfully miserable to wake up to, when her brother uncurled himself from his nest beside hers to go greet the day. With a miserable, wary yawn, Frostleap opened her eye to glance at him as he greeted her.

"You stay inside and rest; I'm getting up to do my duties." Crowfall was as dedicated to his role as ever, even though he was still unsure of what he was doing. His leader nearly terrified him. He was still doing his best, though.

Frostleap flicked her ear in mild disapproval, but said nothing. She gave him a nod, wanting to curl into her paws and go back to sleep. However, as the sound of her brother's pawsteps faded away into the misty clearing, she knew that she was up for the day. Despite the awful mist clinging to the air and dampening her fur, she was awake. Waiting until she couldn't hear his pawsteps anymore, Frostleap slowly rose, yawning and stretching before sighing, a bit internally.

Another day, another hunting exhibition. Her stomach gnawed with hunger, and she hadn't forgotten the little altercation she'd gotten into just a few days ago. It wouldn't really be right to eat something without hunting for it first; there was a Clan to feed. A Clan of giant, good-for-nothing Boars that could hardly take care of themselves let alone be worthwhile Clanmates. With that being said, most of the Boars would likely still be asleep save the ones currently guarding the camp, and she didn't like the idea of having to rouse one just to escort her out of camp.

What a mouse-brained rule that was anyway! Urgh, it just made her spitting mad that she had to be escorted around like a little apprentice. They were Birds for crying out loud; fully-trained TreeClan warriors. While they may have the bare basics of combat down (and I do mean bare basics) they weren't exactly sitting ducks. As she stepped into the clearing, her fur was already starting to bristle in anticipation for the arguments she was likely to have with whatever Boar she was with. It was so hard to hunt with a Boar constantly taunting or teasing her.

Into the clearing Frostleap snuck, the grey cloud of water doing work to mask her coat. It was quite hard to see, as distinct TreeClan camp landmarks became shapes in the mist. The once-busy Clan certainly felt worlds emptier. Hardly anyone was up or around it would seem, and it did little to ease her nerves. Instead, it only put her more on edge as she tried to navigate her way to the Boar den, hoping she would maybe catch one of the younger ones rising to greet the day. No such luck; she could hardly see in and from what she could see, many were either sleeping or up and doing.... something. Patrols, guard, whatever the case, there were some empty nests.

This wasn't going to be a fun day.

Frostleap leaped away from the den to stalk towards the exits of the camp, hoping to find one of the Boars standing guard to come with her. It was a long shot, especially since she could hardly stand to be cordial with them let alone ask them to come with her, but she didn't really have a choice. She couldn't really defy the leader's orders, after all. There wasn't a Boar standing watch here, this time, and perhaps Frostleap questioned her memory then. Perhaps that is what caused her paws to go further past the camp's borders, thinking perhaps the mist was making her forget where things were.

And perhaps it was this that caused an unfortunate series of events where, as she was lost in her own angry thoughts about dealing with Boars, she found herself walking headfirst into the tail end of another cat; a large one at that. Jumping back with a defensive hiss, Frostleap almost immediately puffed up her fur, taking a defensive pose as her tail shot straight up.

"Name yourself!" She didn't recognize the cat at first, the large frame almost foreign to her. Was this another loner? Her heart was pounding as she waited for an answer; or something worse.

[Greymuzzles]

Ooc: This one's a smidge rambly, but hopefully you can work with it!

Bic:
The benefit of so open a camp, she supposed, was that it was easy to leave without another cat drawing too close. The borders of Treeclan’s camp were more in the mind than something drawn out with physical lines, so though she left by a well-used way—herself part-claimed by the clan’s own habits—it was relatively easy to keep other cats at bay. Or, more to the point, to keep herself away. Her careful prowling steps took her on a path that was empty of other warriors, her paws almost finding that trail of their own accord, and so the striped cat was able to leave that quiet place without any of the trouble that might have occurred. Therein lay a point of relief, for she knew that any encounter was likely to be bitter whilst the mists still held – and to be worsened still should she come face-to-face with a guard.

Guarding camp was a Boar duty, after all, and Boars were all-too-willing to turn to their claws. But Boars, at least, might have half a chance of withstanding her bloodier, wilder laws…

For a short time. If they were quicker than she.

It was not something Tigerheart wished to test—no more than she wanted to risk a Bird facing her claws—so as she stepped into the grey-bound forest she only quickened her tread, wishing to be far within its depths before too many of her clanmates stirred. Out there it would be easy to avoid them, whatever cost the past might claim of her, and out there she could, at least, let some of her worries go. But she had to get there first, and that was not to be as simple a goal as she had hoped.

Her ear flickered even as she slipped amongst the trees, imparting a warning that came a heartbeat too late. Another cat was near, and even as she registered the fact that same unseen cat barged into her, dragging a startled hiss from her jaws. The cobweb of control and reality twanged in the same instant, and she twisted without a thought: sent a heavy paw slashing for the offending form. Tendrils of mist curled away from her claws—extended; vicious; unrestrained—and even as they flashed harmlessly by she was gathering herself for another blow—

‘Name yourself!’

And faltering with a snick of teeth and a thud of paw as reality’s cobweb twanged once more, dragging a flicker of recognition through her form. It didn’t disarm her—her body remained tense; her head low; her teeth bared—but for a moment she was restrained: resisting the impulse put the enemy down and clinging, instead, to dim familiarity’s call. It was a battle, but even so she managed to loose a taut “Tiger’eart” upon a fractured growl: to make herself stare upon the mist-shrouded form rather than give in to the demand to attack once more.

[kiwi]

There was a hiss from the other cat with her as the two collided, adrenaline flowing through Frostleap's veins. She looked up at the figure in the mist; first, a simple greyish-bluish blob of a cat with no discernible features.There was a flash of claws, a flashing of teeth, a thud of a paw, all a sign of a threat. Frostleap was tempted, but hesitated, to pre-emptively lash out with her own claws. However, there was the briefest of hesitations in her, to wait, and she was almost grateful she did. Almost.

A heavy paw hit her, quite easily at that, and Frostleap's breath was knocked out of her body as her quite small body was sent skittering, tumbling in the grass. She scrambled up quickly, letting out a hiss of her own and a flash of her teeth as she prepared to launch herself at the cat. It was only as she was in the air that she heard the accent-laden name: 'Tiger'eart' that she realized that this was a Clanmate. She landed on the cat, and while a smarter cat might have done any amount of effort to get off of them, she decided that if she was going to fight she might as well dedicate to it. Claws sank into the thick fur of her opponent as she decided to just cling, a low growl escaping her.

"Frostleap," She muttered between thick fur. "What in StarClan's name are you doing out here?" she would attempt to say, if the other cat didn't throw her off or fight her in some way.

[Greymuzzles]

As it turned out, that moment of struggling restraint arrived a faction too late. The aborted swipe struck true, and though dim recognition had sheathed her claws—mostly—the blow lost none of its force. There was no missing the impact of paw against body, nor the stagger of the recipient, and for a heartbeat satisfaction and guilt rose up to tangle in the battle already fought by restraint. Together the conflicting fragments ensnared and bewildered her mind, twisting with mist and memory in a manner that left her seeing and yet blind. It was a dangerous moment, an unstable moment, and in that very beat of confused conflicted space her counterpart, too, was swung to action.

For a second time, Tigerheart was caught by surprise. Distraction shook her watchfulness, and by the time she realised that her counterpart had moved the cat was on her back: impossible to avoid. The shock of it brought an ugly snarly to her lips, but what was worse was the weight on her back and the prick of sharp claws – things she had known well in another place; in another world. Cues that slashed away thought, dragging reaction from her very core.

Tigerheart’s body dropped to the forest floor, and she rolled, forcing her enemy to release their hold. She was up the moment she felt the claws slip; twisting and rearing in a single fluid move—

Frostleap—

And driving heavy paws into empty earth as name and scent forced their way through.

Both were distantly familiar, passingly known, and together they drove her back one step and then two: sent her into a stiff ready crouch against the forest floor. Her muscles screamed with the need to fight, for here was an enemy; a cat slated for her claws – but she needed to think: needed to be sure—

So she hissed: a warning and a threat and a plea for a moment more.

[kiwi]

Tigerheart's response to Frostleap attacking her had been swift and calculated. A quick drop to the floor, rolling, forcing Frostleap's grip to slip and ultimately fade. Frostleap leapt away from the larger cat, panting a little while she tried to make out the outline of her opponent in the mist. The little grey-and-white bird heard the sound of thick, heavy paws slamming against the earth, followed by a hiss echoing into the thick fog. Finally, that seemed to clear the space and air between them - metaphorically speaking - as Frostleap felt a moment of pause. It was a warning, an inquiry for some time and space. And...as far as this cat wouldn't attack her more, Frostleap would let her stay unbothered. For now.

"You didn't answer my question. What are you doing out here? The fog's thicker than....well, it's thick." She didn't have a lot of clever words on her mind with her brain still in panic and attack mode. She panted, trying to calm down to little avail. She was still on high alert. Still ready to pounce, to fight, to defend or attack at a moment's notice. Her tail lashed angrily, though, and her claws threatened to sink into the soft earth beneath her.

((OOC: Sorry for the short response. Dialogue and all that .w. ))

[Greymuzzles]

Ooc: Not problem! There's still plenty there to work with~

Bic:
Tigerheart didn’t expect that wordless message to be properly understood – or indeed even for her counterpart to heed her hard-won pause. Battle had been started, and any Claw or Lone or even Boar would see that battle through, hearing only the aggression inherent in her hissing cue. She knew that, she didn’t even think to question that, so though she forced herself to stay still it was with the full expectation of finding herself faced with further retaliation: with an attack that would break her restraint in full. Indeed, even now that restraint was held by no more than a single strand of cobweb: a strand that had her claws biting deep into the earth as if to anchor her in her place.

That the other cat didn’t attack was more than she could ask; reason to be amazed. It was also their saving grace, for it leant a fragment more power to the part of her that screeched for her to be still; to wait; to think – and it let recognition further its struggling work. She didn’t know her counterpart properly, but the shared pause and the following words and the scent coiling over all were, at least, enough to pry open memory and instinct’s jaws…

This was a Treeclanner. This was not an enemy. And there had been a question, hadn’t there?

She had barely heard it in the moment, blinded as she’d been by the presence on her back, but now it forced its way through in fullest form, underlining recognition all the more. She had heard this cat before, and she parted her jaws in an effort to draw in more of her scent: to let that clue drive the shadows still further from her form.

“…That’s why.” She huffed, forcing herself to relax as much as she could: digging her claws still deeper into the yielding earth. This was not a cat to fight. She was not out here to fight.

[kiwi]

There was a few moments before Frostleap's question got a reaction, though, with the circumstance even someone like Frostleap could interpret why. She begrudgingly didn't hold the pause against her counterpart. Rather, she took the time to try to assess the figure. Not going closer of course, but trying to make out the outline of the cat in question. A Boar no doubt, and it was obvious just by how the cat had reacted let alone the frame of the other.

The knowledge of being in the presence of a Boar made her anger flash and moons of resentment flare up in her once more. Boars had the audacity to exist, let alone interact with her, and the want to fight with this one was strong. But this one wasn't one she fought with before, and that is what kept her from doing more than letting her claws sink into the earth. She was running out of TreeClanners to escort her on hunts. She couldn't keep doing this, not if she wanted a chance at serving her Clan.

She received her answer, and it was the fog that had gotten this cat so far out. Why would a cat willingly be out here in such thick fog? This produced more questions, but Frostleap couldn't understand it.

"You Boars don't make sense. Are you intending to fight the mist?" Frostleap inquired, her voice half-taunting as her audible disdain for the branch filled it's every note.

[Greymuzzles]

She repeated it again and again within the tangle of her mind, turning the reminder into a silent mantra meant to help her ground herself within the reality: push past that moment of aggression. This was not a cat to fight. And oh, how important that reminder was. Mist and memory combined such that the shape before her failed to register as it ought, but the moment Frostleap spoke again realisation clawed at Tigerheart’s frame. ‘You Boars,’ the other she quipped. ‘You Boars…’

The stripped warrior’s eyes widened as the phrase fragment sank in, dragging with it what she had, through the mist, entirely missed. This was not some slim snarling loner: this was a Bird, weakest of the clan that had accepted her into its midst. Had she not been distracted, had she not stopped herself so swiftly, the other she-cat would have been shredded.

“No…”

The monosyllabic answer was uncharacteristically soft; quietened and shaken by that realisation: by her knowledge of what could have happened had sense not retained a tenuous clawhold. If her counterpart had at least been a Boar it might not be so bad, for they knew how to defend themselves, even if they did not have the same training – but a Bird. The true nature of her opponent sent a cold shudder through her spine, robbing the tension from her body: twisting it to horror. Had the moment played out a little different…

Better not to think of it.

“You picked a poor time to go wanderin’ with your eyes shut.” she made a concerted effort to steady and strengthen her voice: to adopt the icy detachment she so often reached to when she needed to cover what was really in her mind. Better a half-barbed comment than anything that might reaffirm, to both of them, how serious that moment of fight really was. “Even a kit ‘as more sense than that.”

[kiwi]

The other's response, at least at first, was surprisingly soft for a Boar. This threw Frostleap for a loop; made her give pause for a few moments on what was going on here, and who she was out in the mist with. For a few solid moments, while the other cat was thinking, Frostleap too was turning over her words, feeling a bit of the hairs on her back start to lower, if only a little bit. However, the cool, icy detachment in the Boar's voice when they next spoke was enough to make Frostleap be on the defense again.

Tigerheart chose words that, to Frostleap, were an absolute threat. Frostleap felt a growl rising in her throat, her tail lashing in impending anger. And -- yep, there it was, the condescension that Frostleap was oh-so very familiar with.

"Shut it! You and I both can see the fog's thicker than usual!" Frostleap spat at her, cutting her off as soon as she spoke "Even a kit has" because she didn't need to hear the rest. She wasn't about to let some Boar condescend to her for not seeing them in the mist. "And you can spare me your condescension, thanks. I've been a warrior far longer than I've not been." She huffed.

"You picked a poor time to go blundering through the mist like a fool. What are you even doing out here anyway? Up to no good I bet." Frostleap didn't often think before she spoke, honestly, and at this point, she was pulling anything she could think of to fight the other cat;; if not with her claws, then her words.

[Greymuzzles]

Perhaps she should have found other words, swapping the barbed comment for something more reasonable; less inflammatory. Perhaps, had her mind been clearer, she would have better read all the currents within the moment and recognised that her chosen phrase would only sweep them back into unwanted conflict. But Tigerheart was not thinking so clearly now, and it wasn’t until the words were passing from her jaws—the other she-cat responding—that she recognised her mistake. And by then it was too late.

‘Shut it!’ The little Bird spat, and in an instant a low growl was twisting from the striped warrior’s jaws once more, answering the aggression of that tone. Typical of a Treeclanner to pick fight over talk. Typical of a rogue, too. And right now, Tigerheart was finding it difficult to keep the lean shapes of enemy and clanmate from overlapping in her mind. Already she was bristling where she crouched, muscles tensing anew as the anger in the air warned her of an impending fight, and claws scouring deep into the earth as she battled against the impulse to strike. One did not waste words on an enemy: one simply cut them down before they could turn to tooth and claw. But this was not an enemy, whatever mind and memory might be saying, and she had to remember that. She had to.

“Blunderin’? And who ran into who?” Her words were half growl and half rasp, betraying the silent battle she fought; the tension tightening like a snare about her form. But the conversation was important, she knew, and remained so no matter the nature or tone – for enemies did not talk. If she could cling to this biting exchange then perhaps she would have time enough to push the rogue-spectre’s from her brain. Perhaps her own threat would fade.

“You ‘ave a ‘igh opinion of yourself, little Bird, if you think you can ram someone and demand all the answers in the world.”

[kiwi]

The large, imposing Boar certainly knew how to get underneath Frostleap's pelt; whether intentional or unintentional, it didn't matter. She was seeing red in this cloudy mist, and she knew that wouldn't be the smartest thing. If it wasn't for the fact she needed to limit the amount of Boar enemies she had, she would likely be throwing claws at her again. While her conversation companion was figuring out how to keep this from turning into a fight (not that Frostleap knew), Frostleap was trying to figure out how to fight with things other than her Claws.

If only because she was sure the medicine cat didn't want to see her again.

"You ran into me. End of question there." Frostleap huffed, a scoff of indignation at the other cat's words. "You still haven't told me your name, either."

She was huffy, and let the words fall into the mist between them for a few moments. Finally, she took a deep breath and answered her companion.

"Don't think one needs to think highly of themselves to demand the name of who they're speaking to; unless, of course, you're less friend than you are foe?" Frostleap looked at the towering figure with a glower, tail lashing in anger.

[Greymuzzles]

She was half aware, still, that her words were far too harsh for the moment—that they would only encourage further hostility, tilting them more towards aggression—but they also succeeded in their main intent. She needed to keep her counterpart talking so that she could cling to the shaky anchor it gave, and harsh though they were, her words were enough to bring a response leaping her way. It wasn’t a friendly response—far from it—but it was still talk, and for the moment that was enough.

“The mist ‘as addled both our minds, Bird. You ran into me, and I ‘ave given my name.”

It was, again, probably not the most sensible of replies, but it was too hard to consider her answers properly: too much to modulate her tone. Most of her mind was still fighting to keep the spectre of rogues from swamping the reality of the Bird, so there wasn’t enough to keep the growl or the incredulity from her voice; to even attempt a softening of tone. Beneath the bubbling aggression—the call to fight before she could be clawed—she dimly recognised that each new word passed between them was only feeding the hostility more, but her mind was fogged, making it difficult to stop that coming war. A part of her knew that she needed to explain, but she had kept those truths locked inside of herself, and she wasn’t sure how to crack that inner door.

“I am foe, in the fog,” Tigerheart tried, claws scraping at the earth as she forced herself back another step; fought against the renewed tension in her form. That wasn’t the right phrase, struggling sense told her. That was just another reason for the Bird to attack her. “I’m—confused. Not fully ‘ere.”

The words stuck in her throat, past conditioning and broken trust making it all too difficult to admit. Her pelt bristled, answering the unease that swept her at even that poor attempt to explain.