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Post by Kenya on Apr 8, 2012 20:34:17 GMT -5
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Alaska took in a deep breath as her paws padded on the rough road her housefolk often left on. Her cloud fluffed tail waved excitedly behind her as she took off to explore. She hadn't been outside in moons! The bell tied to the pink color around her neck chimed sweetly as she jumped after a butterfly.
It flew so high! "I'll get you!" She meowed chasing after it, further and further from her housefolk's home. She ran after it until the breath left her lungs and she had to stop and drink from a small puddle. The water tasted so clean and pure! Unlike the stale metallic water her housefolk gave her. Purrs escaped her throat as she gazed around with her powdery blue eyes, looking for her next victim as the butterfly had gotten away.
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Post by ghostwoodwarrior on May 11, 2012 12:34:23 GMT -5
After almost two moons wandering the world, Ismo reached what his father had told him was territory ruled by the clans. Ismo had yet to succeed in locating anyone and determine where his lot would be. He had decided to stay a few dozen yards from the paths made by the two legs in order to increase his chances of finding one of the famed Warriors his father had spoken so highly of, but still keeping deep enough into the woods for a quick escape if needed.
Ismo stayed along this route for a few hours with uneventfully, until a white flash from the path caught his eye. Ismo froze, his large paws flattened against the earth. Then the flash appeared again, but this time he managed a better look at the figure, along with the faint ring of a bell. The figure was on the path for sure, and the shape appeared to be feline in dimension and movement. Ismo had to be cautious so as not to incite an attack, but his curiosity overcame him and he slowly made his way toward the unknown cat. Ismo is large for a cat because of his hybrid lineage, but his wide paws made his movements virtually silent.
As he reached a large bush near the path, his curiousity was answered. The figure in question was a small white cat with a collar and bell. That along with a coat which seemed well groomed and clean gave Ismo the impression this was a housepet that had escaped the two legs it lives with. Ismo also noticed the cat chasing various flying insects that went amongst the path and woods. His father's lessons came quickly to his mind and he gave his surroundings an even more thurough inspection in case any threats lay in ambush. Ismo noticed nothing amiss and then had a decision to make: confront this cat and possibly gain valuable information for his journey, or carry on and avoid any undetected danger.
After a very long moment, Ismo decided the better decision would be to risk danger, and see if this energetic cat could point him in the right direction. He emerged slowly from his hiding spot so as not to startle this stranger. Once he was noticed, the white cat made as if to run but seemed to change its mind and sat down on the spot, staring at Ismo. Ismo still decided to approach slowly, checking the far side of the path for signs of a threat.
Once he was only a few feet away he heard the she-cat purring, for now he could see it was indeed a female, and the sound of it relaxed him slightly. Her breathing was still on the heavy side from her exertions trying to leap and catch her flying quarry and the joy from it still radiated from her. Ismo sat down in front of her and realized he was purring himself ever so softly and his short tail was twitching with excitement. After all, this was the first conversation he could engage in after two moons of travel. So he spoke first.
"Hello there Little One. What is your name? And why are you out by the woods alone? It isn't safe."
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Post by Kenya on May 11, 2012 22:56:29 GMT -5
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Alaska turned sharply as she saw the tom approach, and almost bolted to the safety of her housefolk's garden. Before she found herself running back to a known safety and paused and studied him for a moment. He didn't seem dangerous. No prickled pelt, or outstretched claws. Alaska turned to him, purring. She pulled her cloud fluffed tail wrapping it neatly around her snowy paws.
"My name is Alaska!" She mewed, the bell dangling from her pink collar chimed as she spoke. Looking over his appearance more she couldn't help but start asking questions. "What are you called? Are you a wild cat? Do you hunt for food? Isn't it hard? What if it snows!" Alaska had to pause and pull in a big breath, her ears angling towards the stranger in awe of the adventures she was imagining now. Her biggest adventures always consisted of climbing the tree in her garden. Oh what it would be like to hunt for your own food! and fight for whats yours! The stories this cat might have of battle and glory!
"Do you fight other cats?" She blurted out before she could give him a chance to answer. Her soft pelt prickled with excitement. The other house cats always told her of encounters they had with wild cats, and the stories! Alaska started intently waiting for his answers.
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Post by ghostwoodwarrior on May 11, 2012 23:33:41 GMT -5
Ismo pulled his head back, startled by the onslaught of questions. When he was finally sure she had stopped to allow him to answer he rolled his shoulders and relaxed once more.
"My parents named me Ismo, Little One. And I am a cat that lives happily in the wild, but wild I am not I assure you. As for hunting my food, why no I do not hunt it, I simply invite it to dinner." With that Ismo purred out a laugh. "I only kid, calm down let me finish answering before you ask more of me Alaska. Yes, I do hunt my food and it is hard, but I was trained well by my father so I rarely go hungry when prey is available. But if it were to snow then I would be very happy, for hunting in the snow is in my very blood and my wide feet help me easily walk across that cold, white blanket."
Before answering Alaska's final question Ismo paused. This housepet's curiosity implied that she could know of other cats that fight...Warriors. If so, then this could very well have been an excellent gamble.
"And finally, I have yet to fight another cat, other than the lessons my father has taught me as I grew. And I wish to avoid fighting whenever I can for little good often comes from a battle. Both my parents agreed in that respect and I heed their knowledge and advice. But tell me Alaska, do you know of other cats that fight? I have searched for some time for those that call themselves Warriors, but have been unable to find a clue to guide my path. Could you help me?"
This last question Ismo posed with a feeling of deep excitement and a growing hope.
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Post by Kenya on May 12, 2012 11:19:07 GMT -5
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Alaska listened intently, her ears angled towards Ismo and hanging on his every word. When he finished talking with a question she opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. Did she know where the wild cats lived? "Why would you want to find them? They sharpen their claws on bones! They can eat an entire rabbit! In ONE BITE!" She meowed loudly, setting one white paw forward to balance herself. The bell around her neck chimed as she did so.
"If you really want to find them," She meowed feeling very important now, "I've heard there are four of them, and they live in the forests and mountains not far from here. Sometimes at night, when my housefolk leave the window open I can hear them yowling!" Now what she said might of been a tad exaggerated, but the rumors of the four clans was indeed true. Her and the other house cats loved to get together and tell stories of them, they made for good tales to get kits inside at night.
Alaska pointed with her cloud fluffed tail to a path of ferns, "If you want to look, That's probably the clearest way into the forest. Everywhere else has to many thorns and brambles!" As if she could imagine her long fur getting snagged, she turned her head and gave her side a few swift licks.
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Post by ghostwoodwarrior on May 12, 2012 14:29:20 GMT -5
The only sound was the ringing of Alaska's bell as she cleaned herself. Ismo sat and absorbed what he had just been told. He knew stories tend to grow with each telling, but treating this information as a fact instead of rumor may be a wise thing to do. Ismo is larger than most cats, but relying on his size to intimidate and protect him likely would end up landing him in trouble.
Finally, after he felt he felt he had thought long enough, Ismo spoke.
"If that is the path I must take, then so be it. And I will be wary on my travels and try to avoid losing a large chunk of myself to these ferocious fellows. But before I continue that quest, I must first ask if I can escort you back to your home. I do not wish harm to come to you should you run across another cat not as gentle as I."
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Post by Kenya on May 13, 2012 14:19:19 GMT -5
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Alaska paused from her washing, lifting her pink tongue from her paw and setting it lightly on the ground. "Well if you must." She meowed getting to her paws. Alaska was not at all excited to return home, but her house folk would be missing her terribly by now.
"I don't live far, in the small blue house on the corner. It has a lovely garden! Full of butterflies and flowers!" She meowed padding out of the trail, flicking her tail for Ismo to follow. Alaska's fluffy soft silver tail waved behind her as she hopped down the trail. Her paws hardly left prints behind her. As she emerged onto the streets where her housefolk left in the mornings, she looked back to see if her new friend was following. "Isn't this place great?" she meowed excitedly, oblivious to any other way of living.
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Post by ghostwoodwarrior on May 13, 2012 14:56:00 GMT -5
Ismo padded along behind Alaska, following in her paw prints for a short time before slipping back into the bushes along the trail, still favoring caution in his travel. The trip was short, but once the two unlikely companions reached the streets of the twoleg camp Ismo paused. He could hear Alaska still talking and looked up to see her staring back at him.
"I'm sorry my little friend, but I can go no further. I have been told by my father what the twolegs tend to do when they find wildcats in their midst. And this place is far too open and...," he pressed one large paw onto the street, "cold for my tastes."
Ismo looked back up to Alaska and gave her a bright, toothy grin. "I can see the home you described from here, and I will watch and ensure you arrive safe. Then I must continue on my quest, but I hope we will meet again in the future." Ismo finished with a small bow of his bearded head.
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Post by Kenya on May 13, 2012 15:09:30 GMT -5
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Alaska turned back towards him, aware he had not heard what she said. She tilted her head but didn't say anything. There was no danger here! This is a strange cat. She thought. "Okay, if you're sure" she meowed making the bell around her neck chime once more. "well, Goodbye, I sure hope you find what you're looking for!" Alaska touched the street with her paw as he had done. What was so wrong with the street? Looking back, she meowed her goodbyes, "Maybe We'll see each other again one day!"
Alaska waved her thick silver tail and started bounded across the road. Once her paws reached the smooth stones that lead to the door of her house she turned back and waved her tail in a last goodbye. Padding up to the door, she scratched at it, meowing loudly. Her twolegs would be there to welcome her back soon, she could hear them stir inside.
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Post by ghostwoodwarrior on May 13, 2012 15:39:05 GMT -5
Ismo was sad to see his newfound friend go, but knew it was what had to be done. As Alaska waved goodbye he wished he had enough tail to return the gesture. Instead though he contented himself with giving another, deeper bow before turning back into the trees.
As Ismo retraced his steps back to the path in the ferns Alaska pointed out, he thought of the encounter. She was very curious, and likely thought him odd for not joining her with the twolegs. But there were so many reasons why he could not. Twolegs would never accept a wildcat that just appeared in their home, and would likely try and kill him. Even if he was welcomed with joy, his place was in the open wild, not confined inside those homes and fences. He needed the trees, the rocks and the feel of leaves or snow beneath his paws. The wild was freedom; hard earned freedom. As Ismo continued to let his thoughts wander he began to run, covering the short distance to the trail with great bounds and then began to follow it.
The trees flew by around Ismo as he hurried along the trail, his thoughts of the wild turning to great tales of the Warriors past down by his father, and his father's father and his before that. Deeds of honor, strength and courage. Ismo felt he could not reach the Clans soon enough!
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