Muddy Paws

Kit

I have nothing to say.

Muddy Paws Posted Aug 9, 2021 21:53:40 GMT

Quote

Batstrike
Tom || 20 Moons || NightClan Warrior || Heterosexual

White paws skillfully skipped from root to tangled root of the cypress and willow trees that surrounded camp. Every NightClanner was used to navigating such terrain, but the long-legged warrior was particularly light on his feet as he traveled. His weight never seemed to fully shift into each step he spent so little time on each paw and he hardly glanced down for the next foothold. In the dense shadow cover of the swamp, bugs and birds hummed peacefully. An occasional frog would croak in response to sighting two warriors passing through. A smirk laced Batstrikes lips as he focused on the landscape ahead, but this peace wasn't his alone. His dark coat danced under the shadows of the swamp, leading quietly ahead of the other young warrior assigned to this patrol. He took one last big bound before landing gracefully with all four paws together on a sturdy root. His long tail lifted straight up to avoid hanging in a pool of stagnant water below as he turned his head, golden gaze falling on Pinkfish.

Batstrike wasn't one to seek out company and he already knew this she-cat was quite his opposite. He hadn't interacted with her much, but the tom often observed from his perch in camp and it was hard to miss when she was also present, usually alongside her brother. His other clanmates made it seem she was easy enough to get along with, but he found her a bit loud and rash for his taste. He had to hold his face from showing he wasn't looking forward to this patrol when they were called upon together. At least the territory near the abandoned water monster was drier he supposed. This would be a chance to learn more about her too, see if she behaved any differently when she wasn't surrounded by the clan.

He had gone silent since they left camp so he offered her a twitch of his dark whiskers in acknowledgment before turning and trekking on. Eventually, the trees thinned and the high sun beat down on the dark coated feline and the stinky mud. He let out a soft huff mostly to himself as the heat gathered in his fur and he high marched through mud and wet grass. Batstrikes tail lashed once in a wide arch behind him, brow furrowed before he hopped onto higher and drier earth. The pair were nearing their assigned patrol area so the tom paused again, this time to unsuccessfully flick his forepaws free of mud that clung to him. "How do you do it with all that fur?" he joked casually about the NightClan mud, hoping to create some calm small talk with the she-cat accompanying him.

Storm (She/Her)
Tracker: Storm Chaser
Batstrike: Tom || 20 Moons || NightClan Warrior || Heterosexual

Global Moderator

don't mind me, just crying over fictional cats

mew

Muddy Paws Posted Aug 10, 2021 19:32:27 GMT

Quote

Golden flecks of sunlight dappled the lazy green water of the swampy territory as it pierced through the dark canopy, occasionally illuminating the lean bodies of NightClan warriors as they went about their daily patrol. Of the two, a pale tabby seemed to fall a little behind as she leapt from tree root to damp tree root. It was grueling work and not how the young warrior had thought she’d be spending her afternoon.

Pinkfish had been pleased to be summoned for an earlier patrol- it meant that the rest of her evening would be free to relax as she pleased. She had thought she’d maybe risk a visit to the Lilypad Bridge out near OakClan or something else just as fun. But instead, Eveningstar had resigned her to the muddy and bloody long patrol around the abandoned water monster. The average patrol wasn’t too long, but the water monster was at the furthest corner of their territory and an arduous trek through the bog. And once it was over, she’d have the luxury of picking mud out of her fur for the rest of the night.

Grimacing at her poor luck, Pinkfish shook her silky head and sighed a little. She glanced out across the placid water while attempting to straight her footing against a particularly uncooperative willow root. With only the occasional dragonfly or swimming turtle to meet her gaze, the cream tabby turned her attention back to the task at hand. It appeared her travelling companion was getting to be a bit ahead of her, so she scrambled quickly after in as graceful a manner as she could muster.

She hadn’t said much after calling out goodbyes to her friends during their leaving camp, instead finding the silence to be less awkward. Batstrike was an older warrior than she was, though not by much, and one who seemed to keep to himself a lot of the time. At least, that was what Pinkfish deduced from the few times she had glimpsed him in between her social activities. She didn’t really know what sort of cat he was, but since he wasn’t too old, maybe he wouldn’t be as stuffy as the seniors in the clan. Newfound conviction in her steps as she came to land a little behind him, she followed him past the trees and into the wetlands.

She had meant to keep pace with him, but it was easier said than done. While the older warrior had a more limber gait across, Pinkfish’s stature had her closer to the ground and each step felt as if it were oozing deeper. By the time she had reached the drier, firmer ground, Pinkfish was hissing curses under her breath with a light pant. She had paused in mild surprise when his voice met her ears, stopping her mud-shaking routine to look at the tom with a tilted head. She supposed it was a fair enough question given the unusual length of her pelt for their clan, so Pinkfish mused with a small snort, ”It’s not easy looking as good as I do.” She gave a cheeky grin before adding, ”But the occasional swim helps with the mud, if that’s what you mean.”

notes::
tags::

Last Edit: Aug 19, 2021 22:26:48 GMT by mew

Kit

I have nothing to say.

storm

Muddy Paws Posted Aug 11, 2021 2:14:09 GMT

Quote

Batstrike
Tom || 20 Moons || NightClan Warrior || Heterosexual

One of the toms large ears swung round to try and catch wind of what the queen mumbled to herself. Only as his head followed suite to catch sight of her now, mud clung to her long pelt, did he decide she must have been cursing about the situation. Perhaps she wouldn't mind if he complained a little about the heat that was beating down on him and that was getting absorbed into the moist ground. It wouldn't change anything though so what was the point? Batstrikes ear twitched before his head tilted in anticipation of her response. An unimpressed smirk tugged at the side of his face. His piercing yellow gaze drifted down Pinkfish's figure and met back up at her eyes. "Hmmph," the tom mused dryly. Batstrike had no right to call another cocky with how he viewed his own battle skills, but the thought still crossed his mind at her suggestion of her appearance. He didn't affirm or deny after his sweeping observation of her. He played off the gesture as theatrics with his next comment, "Well hopefully the swamp lizards think you look tastier too."

At that mention, he glanced out to the empty field of tall grass. He scanned carefully for any movement, not that the monster lizards would give their positions away easily if they were here. Batstrikes maw parted as he sucked in a deep breath, catching the stink of mud and little else. The monster lizards were likely to be closer to the deeper waters of the swamp, but one never knew if they may travel to dry ground to sun. The area seemingly safe enough for now, the tom turned back to his patrol partner with a questioning look.

"You swim?" He hummed dumbly, flinching slightly when he remembered he was speaking to a queen called Pinkfish. Of course the she-cat swam, though she must be brave (or mouse-brained) to do that in their waters. He was a capable swimmer himself, but there wasn't many good places to practice safely and as cats who spent a lot of time involuntarily wet it wasn't a top priority for him. A short chuckle escaped his chest, shrugging at his own silly mistake and moving on. "Makes sense you get used to dealing with all that fur, it's gotta be hot though." The tom gave a quick shake of his course coat to open space for air ventilation before angling his head for them to walk on. The quicker they got to work the quicker they could make the hike back home to the cool shade.

The feline dipped his head, using his dark nose to part the grass they were about to enter. Now his eyes fell to the ground, seeking out any traces of danger or wet spots that his weight would risk sinking in. Batstrikes long tail trailed behind him, unconsciously holding the swinging green strands out of the way for the warrior behind. Eventually the tom figured she'd join at his side to travel the rest of the way to the dead water monster, his tail slowly drifting down to sweep lazily behind him in rhythm with his gait.

Storm (She/Her)
Tracker: Storm Chaser
Batstrike: Tom || 20 Moons || NightClan Warrior || Heterosexual

Global Moderator

don't mind me, just crying over fictional cats

mew

Muddy Paws Posted Aug 16, 2021 19:23:02 GMT

Quote

Pinkfish had watched Batstrike study her with a swift scan before huffing something about being tastier, her green eyes twinkling deviously. It always amused her to see how others reacted to her candor, the warrior who didn’t seem to know her place. It kept things fresh around camp when the same seemed to drone on day after day. She chuckled and shook her fur a few more times before padding after the warrior. At least she did her job when it mattered, and that’s all that counted as far as the warrior code considered, right?

As Batstrike scanned the grassy clearing for danger, it almost seemed he had been pondering something she had said, and his question caught Pinkfish by surprise as it pulled her from her thoughts. The pair of warriors shared a dumb look for a couple of seconds in silence before the black tom chuckled, with the cream tabby following suit. She giggled and nearly snorted, though she allowed herself to settle down long enough to reply in a voice tight with laughter, ”Rich coming from you; I couldn’t imagine having a pelt as dark as yours. I think it’d catch my head on fire if I weren’t the color I am.” She looked over her shoulder back the way they had come, though she could hardly glimpse the water over the wetland. She continued in a softer, more thoughtful voice, ”But it both helps cool me off and soften the mud in my fur if it’s too dry to get out.”

Sure the water was dangerous, but it was just as beautiful and bountiful. The young queen was proud to be named in such a way that she got to honor the water. It provides protection and prey for their clan, and while tepid and calm at times, it could be just as viscous as a warrior. Pinkfish often found an odd mix of peace and peril when she swam and it was something that allowed her, the socialite, to even be amenable to spending time alone. ”There’s just something so….cool about it.”

As she finished her thought and returned her gaze to her patrol partner, Pinkfish fell into step after Batstrike as they began their descent into the greenery. She was lucky that she was comfortable with their swampy world being taller than her as the grass tickled her whiskers and ears, though the black warrior’s long tail helped a bit. It took situations like these for Pinkfish to recognize that she wasn’t nearly as big and grand as she liked to boast at times as she found herself occasionally brushing past Batstrike’s leg as she moved up to try and reach his side. The dark warrior stood a fair bit taller than the stouter tabby and Pinkfish found her pelt a little warm with embarrassment at how small and green she suddenly felt as a warrior. Swallowing it down for fear of her pride, however, she fixed her golden-green eyes ahead in an effort to see the weathered old twoleg contraption from beyond the grass wall. It wouldn’t be too much longer before they would reach their destination and the she-cat striped tail lashed lightly behind her in impatience.

notes::
tags::

Last Edit: Aug 19, 2021 22:25:44 GMT by mew

Kit

I have nothing to say.

storm

Muddy Paws Posted Aug 18, 2021 16:37:59 GMT

Quote

Batstrike
Tom || 20 Moons || NightClan Warrior || Heterosexual

Catching the she-cat off guard with his slip had Batstrike easing in his pelt since he didn't think she mirrored his dumb look to embarrass him. However, her following laugh and still delighted voice as she spoke had the tom slinking down in the tall grass. One side of his face scrunched distastefully, lips scowling in a dramatic overreaction as he looked to her. Catch fire? Ha! The thought shifting his scowl into a grin. "May StarClan bless me to see you running for water when that happens." She'd managed to coaxed more words out of the tom than most already on this patrol and now he had fired a second light shot at her. Maybe his prior judgement of the younger warrior was to harsh. He thought he'd miss the quite of his usual patrols, but she seemed to fill it with easy banter. He still had the mind to stay clear of her social groups though, the crowd not quite to his taste.

His focus had shifted forward again, the grass hissing as the two stepped past. Batstrike side-eyed her as her voice finally chilled and she explained further, "Ahhh," The toms short pelt fluffed as if in response, venting the heat gathering in it. Mud had begin to dry and crackle on his own legs where it couldn't be shook free. Its clumps pulling at his flesh uncomfortably as he traveled. Despite it, a moment of peace passed between the two as thoughts seemed to find Pinkfish. Just as he had noted the calm, she spoke again. Batstrike considered her addition quietly, then offered her a fair nod. Usually he would have thought it something a silly apprentice would have said, but the way she said it made it seem like more, he wouldn't comment on it.

He'd expected her to join him at his side, but he bristled in surprise the first time her long fur contacted his leg. Batstrike said nothing and ignored it as it continued. He went on, unaware of the plights of smaller warriors as his neck craned to peer keenly over the green blades. As his partners tail lashed, he spotted the peaks of the trashed boat. "We're close now," He hummed, angling his head forward to gesture it was just up ahead. The tom slowed to a stop and leaned back on his hindlegs, white forepaws lifting slightly as he stood and took a sweeping gaze across the upcoming landscape. Dropping back down with a quiet thump in the soft earth he shared what he surveyed. "I don't see anything alarming up ahead," he shrugged, "it'll take longer, but might as well stick together. Whatcha' think?" Batstrike tried not to express his own surprise at the suggestion. It wasn't likely anything exciting would happen though and he had found he was actually enjoying bits and pieces of her company on the patrol.

His yellow orbs fell on the younger she-cat to make the decision. At her response his white tail tip twitched, offering her to lead the way if he was to follow. He had the better vantage point to watch her back if they stayed together. If she declined he would opt to split after she chose which side of the territory to check.

Storm (She/Her)
Tracker: Storm Chaser
Batstrike: Tom || 20 Moons || NightClan Warrior || Heterosexual

Global Moderator

don't mind me, just crying over fictional cats

mew

Muddy Paws Posted Aug 19, 2021 5:24:56 GMT

Quote

The buzzing song of the cicadas filled the silence as the warriors further pushed through the grass, neither one finding many words between them, and yet it was pleasant enough in practice. The constant hum of the swamp kept Pinkfish’s toes inches forward and she practically jumped when Batstrike spoke up. The pale tabby’s eyes glittered as he mentioned their close proximity to the water monster carcass and the she-cat had to remember she wasn’t an apprentice anymore, dashing away her wishes to run off and peer out across the wreckage.

Pinkfish watched as Batstrike perched up to look out ahead of them, the younger NightClanner finding her impatience quickly coming back to nip at her heels. However, the dark tom seemed content in continuing to surprise the ruddy tabby as he offered an idea. It ruffled the she-cat’s fur in a way she couldn’t explain, but her eagerness appeared to take over as she bounced on her feet with an exaggerated nod of her head, long fur flouncing in the process. ”Suppose it can’t be helped, being the scenic route and all.”

In tandem with her excitement and words of grandeur, Pinkfish tipped her head to Batstrike as he took a step back for her to pass him with a jaunty step. Though she wouldn’t outwardly admit it, she knew it was likely he knew more about the area than she did. She would follow his lead, so long as it didn’t cramp her style. Parting her jaws to taste the air ahead of them, she noted that the breeze was a bit more apparent out here, with the faint scent of magnolias wafting through the acrid swamp musk. A few paces further and the cream queen turned right along a knotted root path cutting across the muddy banks of the river. While the trickier of the two sides, Pinkfish figured they would appreciate trekking down the gentler path as the sky darkened over time.

Cast a glance out to her side as the boat came into view, Pinkfish’s green gaze flashed as it roved the worn wood. Catching her paw on a wayward root as she gawked, the young warrior nearly tripped backwards into Batstrike before recovering her balance with a sheepish apology. Still, it did little to dampen her excitement as the visible signs of weathering and swamp lizard activity became clearer. In a cheeky grin, Pinkfish murmured in an almost conspiratorial mew, ”Do you think the swamp lizards make their dens in there?” She hoped that her facade would mask the adrenaline pumping through her paws. There was something to the elusivity of the whole ordeal that had Pinkfish eager to continue; contrary to how she felt at the beginning of the patrol, the tabby wondered how often she got the opportunity to pick the brain of one of the cats who kept more often to himself. Pinkfish prided herself for being in the know of all the hot gossip in the camp, but very little ever filtered in about the tuxedo tom and it had the ruddy queen practically chomping at the bit in a need-to-know way.

Golden-green eyes darkened in a devilish glint as the queen deepened her smirk, tipping her face down and her expression hooded by a long ruff of fur. However, she quickly snapped back up to face the warrior with a sing-songy tone on her tongue as dangerous words danced off them. ”Wanna go explore it, Batstrike?” Surely that would count as part of the patrol, right? Even if it didn’t, it was something Pinkfish felt she needed to do with every fiber of her being, igniting every nerve and sensation with the need to delve into the waterlogged dungeon.

notes:: someone stop this girl's terrible influence
tags:: storm

Last Edit: Aug 19, 2021 22:23:31 GMT by mew

Kit

I have nothing to say.

storm

Muddy Paws Posted Aug 20, 2021 14:01:05 GMT

Quote

Batstrike
Tom || 20 Moons || NightClan Warrior || Heterosexual

Batstrike felt his weight shift back, leaning slightly away from the warrior now bouncing with excitement. His yellow gaze may have hardened a tone on her as regret fluttered through his fur. Maybe he had made a mistake with that suggestion. Pinkfish seemed to relish in the fact they'd arrived to their destination. Was this showy performance a call for attention, to reward her for her patience? He rolled his eyes as she stepped by him. At least she got to work quickly now that she had taken the lead.

The long tom shortened his stride and followed her steps. His skull swiveled side to side as he scanned their surroundings diligently. His focus broke for a second as she picked out their path, but he'd offered her the lead so he didn't judge her decision. Batstrike found his gaze on the weathered boat as well when the she-cat suddenly surged backwards at him. The warrior went stiff as the bones in his build in a flash, his short pelt ruffling. His mind had jumped to the conclusion she spotted danger so a scowl crawled across his face when he noted her apologetic expression. He found his muscles were still hardened while she returned so easily to herself and spoke again. Batstrike huffed out a purposeful sigh in response, he didn't intend to feed her imagination.

Paw reaching forward, he found his own stride again and carefully stepped over the root that had previously startled her. He'd stepped around her in an attempt to keep the patrol moving. He would have kept padding right by her, claiming the lead for himself while her head was down, but something changed suddenly. She moved and he halted when they were shoulder to shoulder, her quick look made the tom minorly flinch under his fur. His eyes narrowed on her, dark lips pulling taught into a thin frown at her suggestion. He could feel his expression pulling on the two thin scars gracing his upper lip. Such trouble.

His head turned away from her to observe the boat in silence as he thought. Batstrike had never wandered into the dead monsters carcass before in a patrol, but he had caught wind of the apprentice-tales of a ghost present there. Not one highly sensitive to StarClan or its dealings, Batstrike put little faith into the idea of a phantom feline. He leaned more towards there being outsider lurking in their lands who scared the apprentices away to preserve their own peace. His whiskers twitched as he considered that while the swamp lizards probably didn't make their home here, an unwelcome intruder in their territory likely could.

The tom turned back to Pinkfish after the long pause. He hated that he played into her game, but he truly did plan to patrol. "If we make it quick," he responded briefly his honeyed voice slightly quieter and tenser than before.

Storm (She/Her)
Tracker: Storm Chaser
Batstrike: Tom || 20 Moons || NightClan Warrior || Heterosexual

Global Moderator

don't mind me, just crying over fictional cats

mew

Muddy Paws Posted Aug 21, 2021 0:35:32 GMT

Quote

The patrol had been moving along swimmingly, if not for the occasional hiccup, or Pinkfish had thought. Things had been light in the air, at least to her, but now she wondered if maybe she had pressed the quiet tom a bit too much as the weight of awkwardness began to settle in the small of her back. As they neared their destination, Batstrike’s expressions seemed to stiffen some and turn more serious. It had elicited a light back-and-forth reaction in the she-cat as she mentally flipped back and forth between the idea that perhaps there was a danger here that she hadn’t been privy to, and whether or not to sweat or be excited at the opportunity.

As a cat more focused on the tangible, Pinkfish fixated on daily dramas around camp and gossip from other clans that she could decipher, but cared little for kit-tales and myths. The stories hardly ever kept her attention in her youth, instead finding herself in physical trouble rather than ghastly peril. However, her reminiscing and fickle thoughts were halted as the boat had caught her eyes and replaced everything with a kittish need to explore.

~
~

Pinkfish would have wondered if Batstrike had perhaps missed what she had said at first when the warrior had attempted to move around her and continue their patrol. It was only when his steps appeared to hesitate and green eyes locked onto gold that she knew she had his attention. Was there a flash of regret she saw? She felt the weight in her back grow heavier when Batstrike’s dark features pulled back in grim contemplation. For the second time a little too recently for her comfort, the fiery tabby felt eclipsed and small by her clanmate. Batstrike was a respectable warrior for his age, already with a new apprentice again, and seemed to be doggedly loyal to his clan through his work. She wondered if Eveningstar had any favorite warriors in his clan, and was reluctant to envision how far the gap was between the patrol partners.

She watched with intent as he took his time to mull over her question by examining the area. The quiet in the air only amplified the static of her nerves as she tried to follow his gaze out across the water, though where his enigmatic gaze wandered Pinkfish was unable to pinpoint past the wrecked boat. The tight cords of Batstrike’s voice as he finally conceded had Pinkfish’s already ebbing excitement sufficiently mellowed. She was no stranger to the combination of those words often shared by her clanmates when she had forced their paws and had them fold to her whims. It always left a bitter taste in her mouth, but one that she would take back home and wash out with freshkill before sleeping it off and starting fresh in the morning.

With a more level-head, the tabby dipped her head in a quick nod, and began to pad a bit more passively as she relinquished the lead of the patrol. She knew better than to push her luck and would instead follow his guide for fear of stepping on too many more toes. However, she worried a bit if the same tense air would continue to hang over them for the rest of the patrol, and if Batstrike would revoke conversation privileges. At least for now, Pinkfish didn’t have the bravery to try and ask.

notes::
tags:: storm

Last Edit: Aug 21, 2021 0:35:54 GMT by mew

Kit

I have nothing to say.

storm

Muddy Paws Posted Aug 28, 2021 12:13:05 GMT

Quote

Batstrike
Tom || 20 Moons || NightClan Warrior || Heterosexual

He noticed the change in Pinkfish's demeanor before the awkwardness of the situation fully hit the tom. Was the sun beating down hotter on him suddenly or was this uncomfortable heat rising from within him? Batstrike held an expression of stone, hoping this strange feeling would pass quicker if he refused to acknowledge it. It wasn't his intention to shift their dynamic so drastically. Sure, the she-cat had him out of his comfort zone and there were moments where she pawed at his nerves, but to this point he hadn't grown tired of her yet. Perhaps he had spent to long weighing his options and led to this situation... This was probably something a more social cat would have shrugged off, but Batstrike felt there was nothing to be done now.

A twinge of guilt shuddered in his soul as he turned to lead them into the looming structure. Pinkfish had seemed so excited before and he'd certainly tamed down that spirit. She probably thought him a boring tom or a warrior trying to hard to please his leader. His ears swiveled back loosely on his skull when he swallowed. Batstrike was always quieter on patrols but he never felt so awkward before. It had to be that he'd grown accustomed to the pink tabby with him filling the space between them.

In his previous survey of the dead monster he noted the position it had died in. Half out into the murky river waters and the closer end slightly beached on the soft border. It's back was slanted, like it rested more on one side, but was still to high to leap up onto. Instead they'd have to crawl or hop through one of the few punctures into the beasts gut. He wondered if those were how it died long ago or if they just appeared as it decomposed. The lean feline approached slowly, lifting his mud-crusted paws high as the ground became wet again. He opted to crouch and squeeze through a lower hole rather than jump through a larger one that was higher to his side. The wood splinters grabbed at his pelt, eating him up, as he entered. He faltered slightly on the curved floor, blinking his eyes to adjust to the dark cave that had light filtering through its many damages. With a few steps the textured wood under his paws flattened and he found himself standing in a few inches of stagnant water. He paused here for Pinkfish to enter so the two could stay close in the strange place.

Batstrikes face scrunched at the musty smell here. He scanned the level carefully. It was long and semi-narrow. His view of the entire length was obscured by the various things the beast had eaten before its end. He stole a glance back to catch Pinkfish's face. Strange things were littered here, unnatural shapes and twoleg items, he was sure she'd find them interesting. He knew it was best to be more serious now, but he secretly had hope it would coax her back into her previous antics.

Storm (She/Her)
Tracker: Storm Chaser
Batstrike: Tom || 20 Moons || NightClan Warrior || Heterosexual

Global Moderator

don't mind me, just crying over fictional cats

mew

Muddy Paws Posted Aug 28, 2021 22:17:26 GMT

Quote

PINKFISH
she/her • nightclan warrior

With the air palpable and the sun beaming down seemingly more aggressively than before, Pinkfish was keen to keep going in an effort to quash whatever turmoil roiled within her. The ruddy tabby made sure to not fall too far behind as she padded after Batstrike, though she did take some time to taste the air as they went. The scent of birds could be detected over the area, but the young she-cat had been rather surprised to note that she couldn’t taste any lizard monster around. Partly disappointed that her theory had already been disproven, she at least was comforted by the supposed extension of safety. Regardless of where the massive creatures actually resided, it at least sparked a little flicker of curiosity in Pinkfish as the gravity of a completely different threat appeared to sink in. After all, why had
Batstrike seemed caught off-guard by her request? She could only think there was something of interest inside.

By the time that the pair had reached the boat’s weathered flank, Pinkfish’s steps had become a bit more excited and hurried as the younger warrior had found her way padding alongside the tuxedo tom as she had done before, eyes burning like green fire into the splintered wood. Her fluffy tail lashed and her whiskers gave the occasional eager twitch, but she had done her best to remain as composed as she could. She had only ever toured around the abandoned water monster in her training and chores, and as her friends usually wanted to avoid the area, Pinkfish couldn’t recall being given the opportunity to explore it within.

The she-cat followed Batstrike as the dark warrior cleverly navigated his way around the wet and soft spots in the muddy terrain, doing her best to make note of where exactly he placed his paws in an effort to keep from sinking in herself. Batstrike seemed to find what he had been looking for- a variety of gashes bore into the side of the boat, leaving the swamp water to seep and ooze into its rotting body. Among these holes, the dark tom picked out an entrance closer to them than Pinkfish had expected. Granted, the shorter warrior had been thankful Batstrike hadn’t decided to leap up into one of the harder to reach openings even when she was sure he could have. Did he do that to help me? The smoldering little flame in her belly sparked up at the thought, as if the sleek black and white tom had just dropped a few sticks of kindling into its weak blaze. She felt some of her confidence surge back into her paws as Batstrike pushed into the boat through the low gap, Pinkfish following in close suit.

The process had been a bit trickier than the tabby had expected, finding that despite her height, the opening had been a tight squeeze to pass. The wood was warped and snagged on her long pelt rather frequently, resulting in her bumping softly into her clanmate as she yanked herself free. ”Mmphff- ahh! Sorry,” she offered in a sheepish voice, attempting to mind her volume as they spilled into the boat, though the quivering quality to her tone threatened to betray her thoughtfulness.

Rather, the beckoning urge had returned, tugging idly at her toes to keep moving forward as oblong shapes played foreign shadows across the ominous, narrow hall. Batstrike had been considerate enough to stay close by as he waited for her to get her bearings, and it only helped to fuel the fiery tabby as she trembled with excitement beside him. She bounced on the balls of her paws, unbothered by the gentle sloshing of the standing water as she gawked around at the unfamiliar scenery. The air smelled acrid and stale, and yet golden-green eyes twinkled in delighted awe as she took an eager step forward. As she felt her sticky pelt brush against Batstrike’s within their somewhat cramped situation, Pinkfish refocused her attention back on the tuxedo tom with bright eyes. She nibbled her lip a bit, as if she were caught between wanting to keep quiet and gushing like an apprentice. However, if the tom had a keen eye, he’d likely be able to make out the corners of her lips as they quirked up in the faintest of cheeky smiles.

Releasing a trapped breath, Pinkfish finally eased back into her trademark leisure and chirped up warmly, ”Okay! This place is weird, but that’s cool.” She gave the tom’s shoulder a playful prod with her foreleg before adding, ”So, lead the way- just make sure to show me everything.”

notes:: n/a
tags:: storm

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