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[RUNNINGLEAF]

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The white tom strode through the forest confidentely, nevermind this being his first time out alone. His mentor thought he was only going to get a couple mice. Well, he would later.

The snow falling gently down covered up the black patch right above his ear and at his flank, and a smile curved on his face. It seemed like he was almost invisible in this weather! Oh other cats must dread the cold, he wasn't fond of it himself, but the snow, oh the snow, gave him so much joy!

And now as he approached the island was in sight. Formerly in a Clan named BlazeClan, moving to this forest, he was a very good swimmer. Now he resided in the Clan of RussetClan, although he missed his old Clan dearly. he had such good times there... before the twolegs came.

He sighed lightly watching his breath dissapate into the air before his eyes. The bridge was far away from where he was walking, so he decided to take a risk. Bracing himself, he jumped into the water. and felt the icy chill run up his spine. Ok. Bad idea.

Fangpaw scrambled back up on land, shaking his fur free. Then walked to the bridge slowly, and crossed it. Darn cold. Maybe it wasn't so great after all.

Word Count : 216

[Blair ;;]

A strong, muscular black cat with glinted red eyes began to stride through the forest. She had her claws sheathed, but they looked like they could easily be unsheathed if it was necessary. Her whole body looked strong and could take out another within a second. A light snarl rippled through that muscular pelt. Any cat who saw her in these parts knew not to mess with her. She used to be in a clan called EmeraldClan, but it had all fallen down. The question as to why it fell was not running through anyone's mind when they spoke to her. Everyone, like I said before, knew who she was: Murderweapon. The name rang through kits ears like death berries: Most cats don't use her name with a happy, gleeful voice. They use it with a dark and meaningless voice. Murderweapon. Murderer of all things.

Murderweapon strode closer to what seemed to be an island. She sat on her hauches and stared at it with dark,meaningless red eyes. They looked like the blood of many others that she had killed in the past. A smirk appeared on her face. She had came from the west. Not even a whole clan dared to challenge her. She gritted her stainless white teeth and jumped into the water with a small splash! Small guppies and fish that had been swimming meaninglessly swam off at the sight of this cat in their terrain. The water stuck to her pelt. But Murderweapon was a good swimmer. She continued to swim as fast as she possibly could. Within minutes she was at the other edge of the island. A smirk appearing on her face again as she shook her pelt.

Murderweapon's pelt fluffed out as it was shook, and her red tongue rolled over it. It almost looked dyed with other cats' blood. When she was done her pelt was still slightly fluffy, but you could still see how strong her whole body looked. Her posture rose as she sat up. She looked absolutely fearless. A bird began to call, but then it fell silent. Murderweapon didn't lower her body. She looked around the terrain to see where and what she could conquer today..

Word Count ; 375

[Rσsєh]

It was just out of reach, teasing her. The mouse quietly nibbled on its seed as she crept closer, her white pelt blending in perfectly with the snow. Slowly reaching out her front paw, she crouched lower, tail twitching. “I’ve finally got you..”

Just then, there was a soft crunching and clicking within the frozen bush behind her. The mouse pricked its ears, and she tore from her spot on the side of the lake, cursing under her breath when her prey bolted away in a blur. Frustrated, she directed an angry yowel behind her. What had cost her this kill? Another brainless bird?

A low growl resonated in response, startling her. She swung around, plastering her ears to the side of her skull, and landed her gaze on a dark shadow emerging from the hedges bordering the lake’s edge.

She bared her teeth and snarled, panic slicing through her. Taking a step back, she hear a pop under her foot. Then another. A deep crack spiraled out from where she was standing, and a chorus of snaps echoed in her ears and groaned underneath her feet…

Water started spilling over the ice, cold and biting on her paws, right before she fell through. Her fur provided no protection from the freezing water, cutting like razors against her skin, choking her. She tried to swim up, but she was hurling down, screaming and slashing at nothing as water filled her lungs….

“IVVYYY!!!”

She woke with a start, screeching, tangled and clawing the blanket in her bed. Oh. It was just a dream.

“Ivy, get your dinner!! Ugh, that cat never listens.”

Ivy could smell food wafting in from the adjacent room. Must be mealtime. She flipped around, and after taking a minute to disentwine herself from her baby blanket, stretched. She was fully awake due to her nightmare, and took a few deep breaths to slow her heart before padding into the dimly lit kitchen. I'm fine...

She eyed the food on the floor, stomach in knots, still rattled from her dream. Even though it was tuna fish day, she was too shaken to eat.

She walked slowly over to the door, then meowed at Marlene to let her outside. The women looked at her, then to the bowl of the untouched food on the floor, and shook her head. “AFTER your dinner.”

The persistent cat that she was, Ivy continued to yowl at the door until Marlene finally threw up her hands and opened the screen door. “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you.”

Ivy rubbed her head against Marlene’s leg in a brief thank you, and scooted outside into the evening air.

~ Word Count: 440 ~

[Clove]

Barkscratch raced through the forest. The wind whipped at his short fur. He felt free. His fears and anxieties melted away in an instant. He saw an Island up ahead and dashed toward it eagerly. What discoveries awaited him there?

His legs were suddenly gulped into cold water. He nearly yelped and hopped out. He glared at the frigid unfeeling element, then he slunk through the bushes. Thorns tugged at his brown tabby pelt. With a low growl, he pulled, and they released him. He stepped onto the island. He shook his pelt of water droplets.

He observed the area, his greenish eyes narrowed. There were trees and bushes all around, which was to be expected. The stiff snow took the weigh of his paws. He opened his jaws to take in the scents. He didn't recognize the smells very well. They smelled like clan cats. That wasn't too much to worry about.

There were other cats. He could see them. Did he dare approach them? They might be mean rogues who would kill him. Wait! He was a Warrior! He could fight off rogues easily. He unsheathed his claws. and his ears automatically became pinned against his head. He realized he shouldn't fret so much. He could handle this, no problem. He sheathed his claws and flattened his fur, which was beginning to rise. His ears sprang back up. They twitched, listening for any sounds.

He crouched and began to stalk closer. It was easy to be quiet on the smooth well-packed snow. He moved carefully when plants rustled as he crawled past them. He was careful to keep his breathing steady. He was quite good at stalking. He was a valuable hunter and fighter, he really didn't favor one over the other. However, he didn't like to fight. He preferred to talk, find out what's going on and why. What's the point of going into battle without having a cause? Many cats do. He thought that was reckless and mouse-brained. He almost chuckled.

A bird flitted on the branch of a solid, prickly-looking bush. He tensed instinctively and examined the specimen. Not particularly plump, which made sense, considering the cold season. He didn't feel like catching it, because he wasn't hungry. He had not eaten long ago. He left camp to get some fresh air. He was also bored, since he had already finished hunting for the day.

He felt his paw slip sideways on a patch of ice. He didn't have a moment to feel horror when he fell against a snow-coated, ragged bush. Sharp branches dug into his side. He sunk his claws into the snow to keep from yowling. He waited for a moment before pulling away. He was covered in snow. He sighed and shook it off. Surely whatever creatures were on the island knew he was there now.

He was prepared to face them. He jumped out from his cover. He landed with a thump in the snow, hissing and puffing out his fur in an attempt to look menacing. He relaxed slightly as he spotted an apprentice, and a warrior that appeared vaguely familiar. His eyes drifted over their forms. He slowly padded closer. Hesitance and uncertainty tugged at his paws. Would this be a mistake?

Word Count: 558

[Blair ;;]

Murderweapon's body wasn't turning at all at the hearing of another cat coming. Her black pelt whisked in the breeze. She had such a thick pelt she could barely feel the cold. She looked back at the small stream she had just crossed. There were still fish in it, swimming slowly across the small water source. If Murderweapon peered closer after she got out shards of crystalline ice was built up in her fur. She had just almost practically strode and swam through ice. Although it didn't matter. The ice was almost already frozen back over. She looked up at the sun. If she could find it, atleast. There was no source of heat in the height of winter. The sun was vaguely able to be seen behind a small cloud. She looked up in the sky and finally came to the realization that it was snowing. There were snow prints everywhere in the grass. She looked around, her ears prickled imperviously. Her claw unsheathed as she scraped it across the new fallen snow as it fell. It already had about an inch of snow on the ground, and it was falling in clumps.

Murderweapon then let her claw move around the snow, making a weird looking shape. She scratched it all out and looked back at the sky. It was oddly a lighter shade of blue than usual and not dark like it was in the summer. It looked.. Pretty. Heh. Murderweapon searched her mind for the last time she had identified anything as pretty. Or beautiful. Or anything positive. She wasn't the kind of person who looked up at anything. Murderweapon's slight smile turned into a scowl. The muscles in her right shoulder tensed as she stood,then shook the small shards of white snow off of her body. Her pelt was slicked wet. She snarled quietly. She had just licked her pelt clean, and now she had to clean it again? Stupidity at its finest. She looked around the island. She saw another, younger cat on the island, but she ignored him or her entirely.

Murderweapon saw a large oak tree covered with snow. Under the oak tree, though, there wasn't as much snow than there was there. That made her hypothesis that the oak tree's leaves were keeping anything under it from getting snow on it correct. She stalked over to the oak tree. The whole territory seemed to quiet as she moved. A small, murderous and terrorizing glint brightened in her eyes. She smirked as she moved. Soon, she was under the supply of the tree. She plopped herself down on her large black hauches and scanned the large plain of the island again. She moved herself in a downward position after a while. The snow began to thicken. She hissed hatredly. She hated snow. She hated how it looked, how it felt. How cold it got. Even though she could barely feel the cold, other cats complaining. It got on her last nerves. So she was supposed to just sit there and take it? She was suppsoed to just sit there and let big old nature be the boss of everything? Hell, if she could do whatever she wanted the nature to do, she wouldn't make it snow. She wouldn't make everyone suffer through it. No. The people who were idiots and were too nice and were always mean to Murderweapon would be the ones that were snowed on. There would be a huge blizzard and hurricane and tornado on just them. Then they would feel her wrath. Her eyes glittered with hatred.

Westfall would get the tornado and the hurricane. No, he wouldn't even get that. She would kill him slowly and painfully with a huge blizzard to make him get really lost. Oh, and then. She knew what she'd do. She'd make him get sucked into the eye of a tornado and die. He would curse the day he ever left her and ignored her even though she was so in love with her. The shunning that he did to her that only lowered her self esteem. Her claws buried into the ground.

Word Count; 704.

[Windpelt]

Sun fell upon the young apprentice's face, waking her from a deep, relaxing slumber. Her eyes fluttered, halfway now between sleep and waking. Her body rolled itself over as she attempted to settle herself into a darker corner of her nest, her face turned away and curled into her body. It was to no avail; the sun still seemed to find her face, the usual darkness behind her closed eyes was dotted with light. She felt her lips pull back in a half - snarl; she so desperately sought sleep, after having being on the latest patrol only the evening before. However, it seemed she was to have no luck, for just as she had turned her nose and hidden it under her tail and paws, did she feel a sharp pricking in the lower half of her back. She threw herself over, expecting to find the mocking gaze of a fellow apprentice, however, there was none, though the sensation remained. She now stood, dust and moss falling from her pelt as she did so. A thorn loomed out, picked up from her careful, roving gaze. She gave it a look that would have frozen one's blood in their very veins, before swiping it out with her claws. Why had it only chosen now to become apparent? She was sure she had spent a rather unhassled night.

Though now was not the time to dwell on things. She could sense it was still early, therefore she could perhaps snag some time alone. Time for herself seemed to be growing rarer and rarer as she moved through the ranks of the clans. She did not particularly dislike this, for her chores seemed to be growing in sophistication and she was feeling as if she was more respected and worthied by her clanmates. However, she could not help but feel a sense of loss as she reflected back on the peaceful kithood she had undertaken, for the most part. New adventures could still arise, she thought, as she paced out of her den, careful not to disturb the sleeping figures or their crumpled piles of moss and plant matter. I could be in for an even better time, in my life, one that's filled with excitement and adventure. Especially adventure. Sparrowpaw had always longed to be one of those cats who did extraordinary things with their lives. Though there was no chance she would leave the clan if that was what it had to take to have such a life, but she knew she was not entirely satisfied with the warrior destiny set out before her. Everything just seemed too structred. .

At the entrance of the den she paused, wondering what on earth she could do with her rapidly receding hours. It would not be long, she assumed, before the rest of her clan stirred and made themselves present to her. Though she was a rather early riser, so perhaps this time would be longer than she expected. She had always slept little. Solidly, but little. She always felt she was missing out on experiences while she lay and slept. So disconnected from the world around her, while she did this, she could hardly stand it. Thus, she had almost made a sort of pledge to herself to experience as much time in her life awake as possible. Her paws moved briskly across the camp, until she was almost trotting. Her tail, she found, had moved to an almost upright position, the tip curled in a downward manner to express her excitement. This was a new day; an unknown dawn. Who knew what there could be to experience? She certainly did not. The grass was growing thicker now, and she knew this to be one of the first signs that she was getting toward the edge of the camp, though there were other, much more easily accesible visual signs. The trees were growing closer together, and she slipped into their gloomy embrace, glad of the cover they provided her and of her striped pelt.

She seemed to disappear, had she been given the ability to observe herself. Scents of prey and trees surrounded her now, the smells of the many cats still remaining in her beloved camp now fading. She was glad of this; it made her feel as if she could truly escape. Not that she wanted to do so for an extended period of time; she would simply miss them too much. Now, it seemed, only one question remained; where to go? There were simply so many options, she found herself becoming somewhat harried. She took the time to sit, her pelt grazing up against a broad trunk. The meadow? Too open. The pond? Water did not seem so appealing; not this early. The training area? She dismissed the thought almost immediately with a small smile. The abandoned Twoleg Nest? Now that had it's merits. . Another grin crossing her face, she picked herself up and began to move.

WORDS; 862, counted using the site's inbuilt counter.

[ Hope it's not too late for me to join; I only just logged in and saw this. D: ]

[RUNNINGLEAF]

The white tom cat still sat where he had been sitting, hearing the soft melody of a bird chirping. He smiled up to the bird, as it stop the melody abruptly, and he frowned. But he did hear something. It sounded like a freakin boat in the water. Turning his head, flicking some snow off of it in the process, he saw a black cat approaching the island shore with speed and precision. But dear StarClan she needed to learn some stealth.

As the cat got out of the water, she licked her pelt down, and Fangpaw wondered if she even saw him. Was this cat blind as well? He saw muscles ripping along her pelt, but the apprentice didn’t care about that. She didn’t seem to know how to approach anything with speed, and was wondering how she caught prey, and he thought she might be blind.

Yeah. A blind cat. Verrry scary wasn’t it? A curved smirk appeared on Fangpaw’s lips at that mention. That would be quite the scary moment wouldn’t it? He held back a laugh, and wove his tail through the snow in amusement. The soft glistening snow had to at least be a couple inches thick at this point. He smiled. If he laid down that black cat would probably never see him. He would see her however. She possessed the element of surprise at night. And he controlled it when it snowed. And it was snowing, and not night.

Fangpaw considered talking to her, but decided against it. She was probably a stuck up cat anyway he decided. Pretty though. He turned around to face the middle of the island, still listening for the crunch of the black cats pawsteps. He would surely know if she was approaching. All that muscle came with a price he reasoned.

Then he heard a little crash. But it came from a different direction than the black cat, which he had expected to make such a noise, and from where he was turned. Standing up, he turned around to see a bush, with little dots of fallen snow, and leaves trying to regain the snow they had collected before an interruption.

A lithe brown tom cat jumped out of the bushes, he guessed trying to scare them? His smirk remained as he tried to scare him. What did this cat think he was? Deaf? Well maybe the other cat was. But Fangpaw reasoned it was better that the black cat was left alone at this point. Maybe blind. Maybe deaf. But she could probably strike him down in a paw strike if he ever got into a battle with her.

The white tom was only an apprentice, but he had to admit, he was quite a good fighter. Maybe not so much with hunting… he dreaded getting those mice back to camp. But fighting was his forte. So he couldn’t express his distaste when he thought this warrior seemed to be realieved by seeing him. Why because I’m small? Fangpaw frowned. Another disappointment it seemed in his eyes. This cat needed stealth too. Was this the standard in the new forest he had come to join?

But however you put it, Fangpaw was getting tired of silence. If nobody else would talk, he decided he would strike up a conversation himself. The brown cat was looming closer as he formulated his sentence. He didn’t like talking without first examining his words. He didn’t know of other cats that did that, but he refused to not think before he talked. A trait he was proud of. Well I mean. Maybe he could be a little rude but, he could make a Darn good sentence!

”So . What has brought you to the island, tom, she-cat?” Fangpaw asked, turning around to trot around a couple steps, digging a slight hole in the snow, and sitting down, covering the land again where he now sat. He wasn’t going to include the she-cat in this conversation… but he guessed he would now.

But as it seemed the she-cat didn’t want to be included. Fangpaw rolled his eyes. How insolent cats could be sometimes. Everybody seemed quiet as the black cat crunched across snow like she owned all of nature. Again, insolence at its finest. He interrupted the silence with a drawn out sigh. Anything to make that cat feel like she wasn’t the ruler of them all. He glanced behind him, saw and saw she had made herself at home under the oak tree used for Gatherings. He wondered what StarClan thought of her. And he wondered himself, what Clan did StarClan put her in?

He started double crossing himself at that point. Maybe she just had a bad life. I mean, she had to have a horrible mentor if she crunched things with every step. Fangpaw’s mentor had died at an early age… something he didn’t really like talking about to other cats. Maybe this cat had been through the same ordeal or worse? But eager to make itself known, the snow started falling a bit faster on the white tom cat that was quickly getting buried in the snow.

But he had to laugh at that. Soon he would be just another part of nature it seemed. He ran a paw over his ear, revealing the black underneath the snow and the icy droplets that had begun to cling to his pelt. It seemed silent, once again though. So he stood up, shaking the loose snowflakes from his pelt, and ignoring the ones that wanted to stay.

Looking over to the black she-cat, which seemed disgruntled under the tree, he trotted over, picking up a little speed as he approached. But he went past her, clawing the tree, and dragging himself up into the leaves. He was sure this cat wouldn’t mind his presence there. And really, he didn’t care if she did or didn’t. He was going to stay in the tree.

”Anybody going to talk?” he half snarled out the words. He hated the silence. Loathed it. And it seemed the rest of the cats weren’t going to talk if the sky fell on them. Ok. Bad analogy when it’s snowing…

Word Count – 1024

[/size]

(Not too late to join, never too late c: But try and avoid using the insite counter for competitions... it's not right. - FAILS AT CODES- I might have to take it off the site if it doesn't start working right. )

[Clove]

Barkscratch reckoned the large black she-cat might be able to tear his small self apart. He kept a distance from her, but he did not sit down. He was too tense, so he stood there. He imagined he must look idiotic. 'Who cares what they think of me?' He thought. He sighed wistfully at the chill under his fur and the falling snow. It reminded him of his brother's quiet death. He felt an emptiness in his heart after that sorrowful day.

His brother, a small quiet tom who would've made a wise warrior. Barkscratch wanted to know who decided what cats live or die and- oh right. Apparently, that was Starclan's job. Why was one cat's life more valuable than another's? What right did they have to take a kit into Starclan? He sometimes wished it was he that died, not his brother. He felt like he didn't have much of a purpose other than serving the clan, which his brother could have surely done just fine.

The falling snow reminded him of his dead rival and a cat that could've been his mate, had she lived and loved him back. He believed flurry was some form of snow. He wasn't positive. There wasn't many things that he knew. He considered asking another cat, assuming any might know more than he about the term.

He couldn't help feeling enraged at Starclan in that moment. He had felt that way many times before. He had as much right to be angry and confused as they did to make him that way. He glanced at the large black she-cat. He could cause her to get infuriated and rake her claws through his throat. Then he could be with his family, friends, and the cats he knew that died. However, he would disgrace himself for doing something so foolish and desperate.

He listened closely for the sounds of creatures. They seemed to be in hiding, as their scents were faint, and he heard hardly a scrape across the snow-covered ground. He flexed his claws. They might have sensed his and the other cats' presence and took off. He would, if he was prey. Being killed and eaten wasn't an appealing idea. He silently apologized to all the lives he had taken, to any families he had destroyed the future of. At least it was just sickness and a weakened tree that had taken the lives of the ones he loved.

He saw another cat, a smaller white tom, approach from the corner of his eye. He pondered the question, staring into the blinding whiteness. He initially just had an impulse to run away. He would go back, of course. He figured he wanted to feel free, without duties, worries, and senior warriors bossing him around. He didn't know if he wanted to answer the strange cat that had appeared. He tried to place a name, but nothing came to mind.

Lost in thought, he was startled when he heard clawing sounds. His head snapped up. He flinched as the young tom climbed the tree. An intense pain hit him as he remembered how Flurrystream had been killed as an apprentice, during her assessment of all times, and didn't get to have an official ceremony. He felt many emotions, such as anger, sorrow, longing, and regret. He had to stop his lip from curling when the young tom spoke again. The emotions had overwhelmed him and he wanted to claw the cat's eyes out.

Bravery arose in his heart, and he strode to the two cats. He knew the black cat's name was Murderweapon. She had a very odd and disturbing name. He pushed his fear down aggressively when it threatened to show itself. A growl rumbled in his throat before he found his voice.

"I guess I should break the ice then," he meowed, snickering at his joke. Then, he silently reprimanding himself for saying that in front of cats he didn't know,"My name's Barkscratch, warrior of Russetclan, and you?"

He tried to imagine where the cat came from. Was he a clan cat? It was likely, as the smell was similar. It was possible the other tom was a loner. He didn't want to try and imagine being all alone. He could hunt and defend himself, sure, but he would miss the company and the support of his clanmates, even if he didn't like some of them. They gave him some purpose at least.

He would rather die than become a loner or rogue, trying hard to find food and a warm place to sleep. The only benefits were never having to answer to those above you, or have apprentices and kits under your paws. He wasn't one long ago, anyway, so he didn't think himself old enough to be grumpy. He considered himself to be unfathomably lucky to be a part of a clan, where cats worked together and supported each other with every breath they took. That was, if they were loyal and honorable, like he tried his hardest to be every sunfall that passed.

Were the strangers before him loyal and honorable? They didn't appear to posses the aura. He wasn't sure of Fangpaw. He would decide when the young tom answered. Certainly, Murderweapon's attitude were enough to question her traits. He barely knew them, so he didn't want to accuse them, in his mind or out loud, for it felt wrong, possibly mean.

He was reminded of his short pelt when a shiver ran through him. He hoped they wouldn't think him weak; it was simply a way for the body to warm. The frightening she-cat had the luxury of a long pelt, although it was surely a pain in the tail during the hot and rainy seasons, as rain made mud. Long fur tended to attract mud. He wondered if she lived in a field. That way, plants that liked to attach themselves to cat's fur wouldn't get all caught up in hers. He bit back the urge to laugh. That would be quite a sight.

He stared at the unknown cats. He was afraid if he were to so much to turn his back, he would wake up in Starclan. He wasn't eager to die, despite his occasional sad, dark thoughts. He regretted them now. What if they both attacked him? He would put up a good fight, but he wasn't confident about his ability to fight both of them off. He would concentrate on the she-cat, since she appeared to be the larger and stronger of the two. He would have to try and defeat her first. An apprentice, meanwhile couldn't present too much of a challenge.

He had to admit it, if only to himself, that his paranoia was getting out of control at that moment. He wished for Starclan to somehow remove it from him and deposit the annoying problem on some cat that deserved such a punishment. Would his paranoia go away when he died and joined Starclan? He looked at the characteristic as being just as much an ailment as any. He despised his jumpy mind, why couldn't he, for the sake of Starclan, be a normal cat? He dreamed of the appointment of "Deputy", a position he doubted he would achieve.

Word Count: 1250, without blockquote, italics, and bold, and this note ;P

[RUNNINGLEAF]

Silence. Wow. Rude cats in this forest were they? He swung his tail lazily from the tree branch he had occupied, and waited. The black cat didn’t seem to have much going through her head but angry thoughts, as he noted the unsheathed claws that were scraping the ground as he thought. And then the brown tom spoke.

”I guess I will break the ice then.” he spoke with a chuckle, like it was funny or something. Didn’t Fangpaw already try and get them to talk? Yeah. Rude cats in this forest. Just like he thought. And the introduction to Barkscratch was made. Hah! He was glad he didn’t have a name like that. Although he wasn’t sure what his warrior name would be, he was sure it wouldn’t be… Barkscratch. He felt a laugh fly up his throat at the mention, which he smothered quickly, yet the smirk remained on his face.

Having been looking at the brown toms approach the whole way, he moved his head upwards to avert his gaze. He instead focused on tiny particles of snow making their descent down to the land. He wondered if they knew of their fate, that they would be melted soon and tossed in the river. Giving them all water to drink from, keeping the forest alive. He remembered back in BlazeClan, Flurrypelt, the medicine cat of RainClan, who taught one of his best friends, Runningpaw. He sighed as he thought about her. She never cared for the young tom. And now they were dead. All of them dead. Just a couple cats escaped the few Clans before the twolegs took over.

He even heard rumors of some cats being pushed in cages before being taken away. He wondered what happened to those cats some days, days like this.

He sighed, now his anger level was down at that brown tom. ”I believe the ice was already broken, although, do you have some reason you don’t want to reply to my own question?” the white tom prevented himself from glaring, and instead only peered down from the branch he was lolling on. Snow flakes still drifted down, one landing on his nose that he sniffed away, more of his breathes drifting away on the air before his eyes.

Fangpaw sighed; he guessed he should answer the cats question though after all. He didn’t feel like he owed the cat an answer, but Barkscratch was such an odd name… hah. He still couldn’t get over that name. Barkscratch…

He wondered what the she-cat under him name was? ”My name is Fangpaw. Former apprentice of BlazeClan, and now I reside in RussetClan as well… how come I do not know you…?” he asked. What luck! This odd named cat was in the same Clan as he! Hah. Fat chance. Maybe he would become a loner after he got his warrior name. And if he didn’t like it… he could just go by Fang. Hah, that would be quite the name… just Fang. Maybe he would change his name to that anyway.

He glanced down once again underneath him to where the she-cat was. Snow seemed to still reach her, even underneath the enormous oak he was perched precariously in. What’s her name? Darkblood? he laughed again at the stupid name. This was buckets and buckets of fun! Oh but maybe too much. He was getting ahead of himself again like he so often did. Fangpaw was quite thingyy indeed, not to his pleasure sometimes. He had gotten a couple scars for speaking out of turn… and he didn’t like it.

He let out a little yawn, rolling over on the branch, and sending a couple snowflakes spiraling down onto the ground. He smirked, using his tail to throw some snowflakes just aft of his branch, sending them on a slow descent down towards the black she-cat. Maybe that would cheer her up a little. Or maybe it would make her want to rip his throat out. Hey, whatever worked right?

In anticipation, just in case the latter, happened, he readjusted on the tree branch, making sure he could dart nimbly through the branches if need be. With his lithe small form and this cat’s muscular one, it would almost be like a game of cat and mouse. If she caught him first well, Fangpaw would soon be dead. But if he got high enough or far enough out on a tree branch, there was no way that cat could get enough room to follow him.

His blue eyes lit up with playfulness just like a kit, making more snow fall on the she-cat. ”And you never answered my question. What brings you here?” he said, looking directly at the she-cat, but making it clear to the brown tom with his tail that the question referred to him too. Well I mean, he hadn’t even noticed the first time he had said anything.

But he was quite interested in his new playmate, this she-cat. He could sense he would probably die at the end of the night if he continued, but then again he shouldn’t read a book by its cover. Maybe this she-cat was nice, and didn’t want to hurt anyone. Not likely by the way she was boat cat in the water back there.

The tom had already lost his interest seeming to be one of those ‘I’m bigger than you!’ cats, but hey. At least he didn’t shove the fact he was bigger than Fangpaw in his face. That would be a fatal flaw. Well, unless this she-cat and the tom were friends too. Then Fangpaw would run, and swim, as fast as he could. Although boat cat might follow him…

He silently again wondered about her name. Boat cat seemed to have a ring to it. A smile grew on his face, and his blue eyes twinkled again a little. Yeah. He was gonna be dead. Be hey, he was just having a little fun! At least he was snarling and lashing at this cat. He didn’t think he was brave enough to do that…

Directly his full attention to Boat cat beneath him, he scooped up a rather large portion of snow, and made it spiral gently around her, some snow flakes clinging onto her pelt while others drifted past her making no impact at all. ”Boat cat? Are you going to answer?” he said, with a little laugh. Not a mean laugh, just one to make sure she recognized he wasn’t trying to insult her. Ok. He was trying to insult her. But just poke a little fun. That wasn’t harmful!

But now, it seemed once again these cats weren’t talking. But he didn’t seem to think he would be killed, so he relaxed on the branch again, moving the snow that had fallen off of it, and laying down once again only to feel a couple more wet snow flakes land on his back as he rested. He was gazing past the tom and she-cat now onto the icy water, surface now completely covered and ice, and he spotted the tracks they had made coming to the island. Wow, they should have been more careful.

The snow was all out of place… he cursed himself for not swimming. He hated to see snow ruined… but I guess it was too late now. The serene water distracted him as he awaited a reply, wondering what the black she-cats voice would sound like. He had a clear idea of what it would sound like, but he would never know until he actually heard it.

Maybe Boat Cat had a pretty voice. And maybe that ignorant tom would actually answer his question this time instead of ignoring him. He hated to be ignored, Fangpaw really did. Well Fangpaw also hated a lot of things, but being ignored was high up on his list! The snow never ignored him… the water never ignored him. Though… the water or snow couldn’t talk either. Well that was probably a good thing anyway.

The snow would probably insult him if it could talk, like the rest of the cats he’d ever talked to.

Word Count – 1361

[Windpelt]

The young she cat felt she was moving abnormally fast, perhaps she was more eager than she had realized to reach this rather unknown place. She was aware that out of all the different places in her territory, the Twoleg Nest was definitely the one she had least visited in her brief moons as an apprentice. This day would change that, she assumed, especially if she managed to stay a little longer than the beginning of the sunrise. Though that thought was tempting, extremely tempting actually, she was not prepared to commit to it. Who knows how her clan would react, finding her out of her nest, the moss long cold. She could not predict their reactions, both during and after their possible search for her. No, she would have to be back at her usual time. The snow was thicker than she had realized it would be and her paws were forced to slow, picking themselves up higher from the ground than she was used to, to compensate for the icy layer underneath. She looked up, suddenly, realizing that she had gone off track a little. She peered around her, for the first time, feeling some kind of mild apprehension. How had she strayed this far off her chosen path? She had not wanted to end up-- Water? She was further off her course than she had originally thought. Unhappy with herself, she felt her tail begin to flick behind her. It was a somewhat uncomfortable sensation, though usually she would have known no different. What had gotten into her, this morning? She was sure she had been in a fine mood when she had awoken. Her feeling of discontent increased as she moved herself further forward; aiming to reach the water's edge so she could get a better gauge of her surroundings.

She planned to allow herself a better view, hoping that the clear area around the pond or lake or stream - she was not sure which, yet, the trees were still far too thick - would give her a clear indication of where she had landed herself. She knew it couldn't be too far off; she was still in her territory, surely. She had never really thought of it as being so large, but now, with no mentor to give her any kind of guidance, she found herself feeling a little out of it. She searched deep inside of herself, questioning her every thought about the situation she had suddenly been thrust into. Why was she feeling so at ease? She was sure this never usually occurred. These were her fun times; the times she took just for herself! So why did she feel so anxious? No amount of probing could help, not even in the slightest. In fact, it only succeeded in making her crouch down, as if she were hunting. Hunting; just the mere word made her stomach growl and her senses heighten. Suddenly, she was darted looks around herself, peering through the undergrowth in search of some kind of sign of a mere morsel. She shook her head, suddenly, brought out of her seeking state by a voice. Before registering the words she had just heard spoken aloud, the first she had heard for nearly a full sunrise, now, she could not help but feel a little ashamed at the way her mind had jumped at the thought of prey. She had never really thought of herself as a greedy sort of cat, but her recent reaction had served to sway her mind.

It was only upon thinking this that she remembered she had not eaten the previous night, for she had felt so utterly exhausted. That was it. And a little sick, too, if she recalled correctly. Everything seemed to fall into place; relief swept over her body. It was then that she was suddenly jerked out of a train of thought for the second time that very same morning. Cursing her mind and it's tendency to wander so, she listened in for more words. What exactly had the cat said? It had sounded more like a tom's voice to her, though she could be judging to quickly. After all, no shape was yet in view. She continued forward, every piece of undergrowth her paws brushed seeming to crackle so loudly it was a wonder the whole forest had not arisen in surprise. She was unaware of just how quietly she was moving. New words drifted toward her, floating across the water, though uttered with a little force and confidence. It was an interesting question, though one she knew was not directed at her. Her answer would have been rather plain; she was not sure. She really wasn't. She had certainly not planned to bring herself here and experience this. Then something new grabbed her attention. It sounded as if she had been misguided in thinking there was one cat here, for surely his words proved there were more. Suddenly, she was gripped with desire; she had to know everything about the situation. This was more like the Sparrowpaw she knew; inquisitive to the end, no matter the consequences! She stepped forward and in rather good timing too, for she was able to give a reply to his next question, both breaking the silence and announcing herself also. 'I'm not sure who're you're meaning is 'Boat Cat', but I'm here sort of by accident.' A sheepish grin passed her face, followed by an almost instantaneous look of dread.

Why had she just said that? It was almost as if she had just told him her sense of direction was hopeless and that she could be rather stupid too! She found her teeth had begun grinding themselves together in a circular motion with her growing frustration and she forced herself to stop; she had always hated that sound. She remembered her youngest moons, nearly halfway through her kithood. Her younger brother had performed such an act, in his sleep. She had found it utterly frustrating, especially as her attempts to wake him and stop him from such acts had proved useless; he had never stirred. Now, in the new den, she was not so hassled by the noise. Again, she realized she had completely zoned out, and in the presence of another too! 'Er, anyway, I'm Sparrowpaw. Sparrowpaw of RussetClan. And yourself?' She held her head high, acting rather pompous, which indeed she felt, for some unknown reason. Perhaps it was to do with being able to introduce herself as a member of a clan, though she was a mere apprentice, the words still seemed to hold high value, at least, to her. She turned her gaze to the rest of the clearing, her eyes widening as she saw, to her surprise and relief, the familiar form of Barkscratch. Though she knew him little; his name being one of the few pieces of information she happened to remember, he was still a clan member and a source of comfort in this rather tense situation.

She stepped closer to him, unsure of how he would react, but needed his reassurance, even if it were a simple glance, right now, in this moment. She felt her tail begin to fluff itself, the feeling spreading and growing along her back, as the rest of her fur followed suit. Sparrowpaw so desperately wanted to quell the feeling, though she seemed unable. Her green gaze continued to flick toward the other cats, taking in their forms and stances; she could never be too sure of what could happen to her, here. For all she knew, she could have stumbled into some kind of unusual fight or meeting. The young apprentice, in her nervousness, had already forgotten the majority of the words spoken. If perhaps, she had been able to keep her head a little better, though on the outside she was not showing any signs, she would have allowed herself to feel much more at ease. Still, it was out of her control now; all she could do was wait. Waiting was hard for one of her age, though, and she soon felt her paws itching to relive themselves in some way. Better to do so on the snow, than on some other cat, she mused, as she dug at the thick powdery substance underneath her. 'Oh, I do so hate snow. .' She half - muttered to herself, half to the company around her. She let the remark fall into the silence, knowing that they would most probably ignore her. Already, in the time she had sat here, they had been looked at her. Of course, if she had had a more accurate measuring of the time, she would have realized that she had barely been in their presence and that neither of them were caring to break the silence, either.

WORDS; 1471 <3