Tourists (Closed)

[sil]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true]

[atrb=width,350,true][atrb=background,http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g171/Sillvy/Qbg1.png] For a few days now, Quinn had been leading fellow loner, Ismo, along the outskirts of the Clan territories. It had taken them the better part of a day to traverse the Creeping Woods, and they had spent a few long days living along the edges of their boundaries, hunting, observing Warrior patrols. Quinn answered the tom’s seemingly endless questions (as bestas she could , anyway. She had never lived among the Warriors but had been a straggler at the fringes of their life for many seasons.). On the sunhigh of their fourth day together, Quinn was leading the half-wildcat through WestClan hunting grounds. She didn’t particularly enjoy the wetness on her paws and her belly fur, and couldn’t imagine her companion did, either, what with his thick, heavy fur. But Ismo wasn’t the complaining type so Quinn was never sure. The Snowshoe had brought the two of them well within the scent markers signaling the beginning of WestClan territory. Ismo seemed antsy to have some kind of interaction with the Clan cats, and Quinn couldn’t deny him that. She glanced back over her shoulder to her large escort, already feeling her spine tingle and her skin become warmer. The she-cat had become closer to Ismo, at least in the way Quinn got closer to other cats. She found the butterflies-feeling and the almost electrical sensations she felt while in his presence to be incredibly pleasant, and couldn’t deny otherwise. Of course, she went to extreme measures to make sure none of her feelings were obvious. As they went a few fox-lengths deeper into WestClan territory, she meowed in a teasing voice, “I hope you cleaned yourself up well this morning, wildcat. Wanna look good when you meet your first Warrior.”

[ghostwoodwarrior]

It was impossible to keep the muck from covering his paws and legs. His height helped keep the worst of the mud from his belly but he couldn’t avoid breaking the water’s surface at low points, causing his belly fur to clump at the ends. This situation however, had many upsides in Ismo’s mind. The water and mud was cool, if clingy and heavy. There was much more cover than he had anticipated but that could work to both their advantage and disadvantage. And the mud was slowing him down, but this too could work against any opponents they encounter. And Ismo was finally closing in on his dream of meeting the Warrior clans.

With all the possible places to set an ambush however, Ismo had to devote much of his energy to surveying his surroundings. This was made even more challenging by the extra effort needed to move and the fact that Quinn decided to stay just her tail length ahead of him; this distracted him, for he was finding it harder with each passing day not to devote all his attention to her graceful form and sarcastic personality. But it also made him nervous since any ambush put in place would spring as she passed instead of him as he preferred. But with all his attentions scattered, Ismo nearly missed Quinn tease. Once it registered he snorted loudly in response.

“I may be muddy, but you my short friend, are filthy. So I think I will be able to make a better impression should we truly be judged on our grooming.” Ismo stuck out his tongue good humouredly. ”Just keep your senses sharp…please. I have a bad feeling about what this terrain hides. I am anxious to meet these Warriors but, if they decide to fight first and question later like you have implied they tend to do, I want you to see it coming.” Though, if there are any scrappers hidden in the fronds, they will choose to strike the strange giant rather than the small guide. Ismo hoped to himself.

[sil]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true]

[atrb=width,350,true][atrb=background,http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g171/Sillvy/Qbg1.png] Quinn let out a mrrow of laughter, her chest rumbling with a low purr at his jabs. With a back paw, she deftly kicked up a clod of swampy mud and flung it back in Ismo’s direction. “I look great, even covered in swamp.” At his voiced concerns, the she-cat looked back, slowing her pace until her shoulders were only a mouse-length ahead of his. She looked at him seriously. “Don’t worry yourself, Ismo. I’m watching out for us. We won’t be caught unawares.” Her companion was right, though. Quinn didn’t know all that much about WestClan; she personally didn’t care for the territory. As a result, she did not know as much about the personality of the WestClan warriors as she might have the other Clans. Quickly returning to her joking self, Quinn gently bumped against his flank with her own. “So is this where you want to spend the rest of your living life, wildcat? Defending your smelly swamp, eating toads, fighting giant snakes?”

[ghostwoodwarrior]

Ismo ducked to the side, but the mud slowed his dodge so he caught the clod on his side. He was annoyed by how much the footing hindered him but figured that catching a mud ball on the side was better than the face. The wildcat nodded to the side, both in acknowledgment of this fact and the fact that his partner was right; she did look great despite the conditions.

Ismo felt more at ease as Quinn closed the distance between them and grunted at confirmation of her attentiveness. He was sure she was staying frosty; she wouldn’t have survived alone as long as she had if she had poor awareness. But he was still more worried about her being caught unawares than himself, especially after seeing just how impaired he was in a swamp. When Quinn bumped him however, his skin rippled in response and the brief shock to his system made him stumble slightly. He pulled himself together quickly though and started his response.

“This could be, if the Warriors here prove to still hold honor foremost in their hearts. This conflict you have spoken of can lead to many things becoming complicated for all. ‘But if a cat truly values their honor, then there is nothing that can replace it at the forefront of their heart and soul.’ That is what my father always told me and I believe it without a doubt. As for the food here, I am not picky. The smell can easily be adjusted to and concerning the threats to the territory...” Ismo turned to Quinn as he said this, locking his eyes with hers, his face solemn ”I will face them. When my home or those near me are put at risk I will do anything and everything in my power to keep them safe and eliminate the threat utterly. It would do me much greater harm to me to see others suffer because I failed to protect them than it would to have my limbs crushed by one of the giant snakes that you say roam this intimidating land.”

At that the hybrid looked forward again and asked “Do you believe we are close to a camp or patrol perhaps?”

[sil]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true]

[atrb=width,350,true][atrb=background,http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g171/Sillvy/Qbg1.png] Quinn listened to Ismo’s honorable words with interest. When she met this tom a few days ago, his noble personality had seemed old-fashioned, annoying, and, frankly, for a while she thought it was some ruse he used to gain her trust so he could kill her or something. Mostly, though, that was her own personality sneaking in and causing her to mistrust the stranger. She now understood as surely as her paws padded through WestClan muck that Ismo meant everything he said. It was just another of his many traits that Quinn wished she had. “I’m pretty sure you deserve to be amongst the Warriors more than most Warriors themselves,” she meowed, half to herself. The she-cat coughed when he asked his next question. “Well, see those bunch of fallen logs over there?” She gestured eastward with her tail to a spot still a considerable distance away. “I’m almost positive that’s their camp. And if we keep heading in that direction, we are more than bound to run into some cat.” That’s what the Snowshoe assumed, anyway. What’s going on with WestClan that we haven’t been stopped by at least a hunting party already? she thought with growing concern.

[Kenya]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=background,http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g171/Sillvy/NEbg.png] N I G H T E Y E Nighteye paused and lifted her nose. The smell of the swamp surrounded her and she found it familiar and comforting. The black pelted she-cat felt completely at home here, though many other warriors were deterred by the wetness and mud. Her dark pelt blended in perfectly against the marshy plants, and she walked swiftly and quietly along the squishy ground. As she brought in scents over her tongue something new caught her attention. It wasn't any clanmate or prey. She look towards her camp, quiet and calm. Nighteye's paws ached from the fox attack and her side still stung but this scent was to unusual not to investigate. Paying special attention to her surroundings now she expertly stalked towards the scent brushing the tall grass that grew in the swampy area purposely wetting her pelt to help hide her scent. Her pricked hears heard two voices getting closer. Nighteye crouched lower into the mud, welcoming its natural camouflage against her dark pelt. She flattened her ears as a huge wild looking tom stepped into view. Next to him was a much smaller she-cat. Her kittypet collar looked strange on her lean body. Fear made her fur stand on end and she forced it to lay flat along her back. These cats were so close to camp! What if there were more? Nighteye got to her paws and stalked swiftly around them, clearly more graceful in the mud then the strangers were. Pulling herself into the right angle, she bunched her muscles to lunge. Nighteye yowled and sprang from her hiding place. Her pelt bristling as she jumped at the smaller she-cat. Nighteye stretched out her claws in attempt to scratch the less threatening cat an jumped back to put some distance between them. After all, she was alone. Nighteye secretly hoped her yowl would call her clan together. "This is West clan territory! Get out or you'll feel my claws!" She spat, her bright blue eyes glowing with courage and anger against her black pelt. The large tom was intimidating but she couldn't risk either of them sneaking into camp. This has to be an attack, why else would they of crossed our scent markers? "You don't belong her!" She hissed, her needle sharp teeth bared, "Get out now and you'll be spared."

[sil]

(ooc: ghostwood asked me to post before him, if that's alright.)

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true]

[atrb=width,350,true][atrb=background,http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g171/Sillvy/Qbg1.png] Quinn heard the ambush before she saw it, and long before she ever smelled it. The she-cat’s dark ears twitched when she noticed a difference in the normal swashing of the swamp, an interruption in the normal sounds of the prey moving through the water and terrain. The Showshoe turned to the source. A black, mud-streaked flash leapt out of hiding with a furious yowl. If Quinn had been any other place that was a little more dry, she may have been able to get out in time. However, the muck of the swamp sucked at her paws, and the fatigue of several long days of travel only left her without enough time to brace herself before the full weight of the attacking Warrior crashed into her. Caterwauling, Quinn tried battering at the soft underbelly of the she-cat with her hind paws before Nighteye jumped off of her entirely. Quinn was worried and surprised that even face-to-face with a WestClan cat, she could only smell a faint trace of adrenaline-fueled fear scent. The Warrior left behind a few long scratches under Quinn’s eye that bled into the white fur of muzzle. She spat blood back into the swamp with a hiss. “Stop!” Quinn yowled sharply. As she padded closer to Ismo in an attempt to put herself between him and the Warrior, her blue eyes scanned the area, on the watch for any other WestClan cats. It was within her experience that Warriors rarely hunted alone. “There may be others,” she whispered a warning to her companion. Then to the Warrior she meowed, “Enough! We’re not here to harm you. I swear to StarClan.” Quinn hoped the appeal to the Clan cats’ deity would at least make the Warrior she-cat pause.

[ghostwoodwarrior]

As the yowl reached his ears Ismo froze and cursed himself and this foreign swamp; another cat should never have gotten as close as this. And as Quinn had warned him, there were no questions asked first, simply a black shadow leaping to Quinn claws drawn. They must have walked right into one of the patrols that had seemed absent. Of course they weren’t missing, Ismo thought, they have simply been stalking us and waiting for the ideal opportunity!

Expecting more attackers to leap from the bushes and scraggly weeds of the swamp, Ismo let out his most feral yowl in return. He widened his stance and all his muscles bunched, sending his skin to rippling. The scale pattern on his fur seemed to writhe with the motion before all the hairs stood on end. His head was put on a swivel, ears pinned back, claws showing white amongst his beige paws; but no further attack came.

Ismo was confused at first for surely the entire patrol would attack at once; there was no reason to keep members of the party hidden when the element of surprise was in their favor. But then Ismo’s mind began work through scenarios to explain the pieces of this puzzle he held. Even with the whispered words of warning Quinn gave him, only one scenario made any sense; this cat was alone. So he forced himself to relax, even if others waited in the bushes, better to show you mean no harm than to invite further violence upon himself and Quinn.

Quinn! Ismo’s heart stopped and his head whipped towards his companion. From where he stood he could see the blood running from her muzzle and he felt rage build within him faster than this strange cat had struck. But he would have to worry about Quinn’s wounds later, for at this moment he had to calm this West clan cat. Ismo moved purposefully and swapped places with Quinn so that he was now in the middle. If this cat truly meant to make a fight out of this encounter then so be it, but it would be with him and no one else. Ismo even moved to take a seat, then remembering the current terrain, thought better of it. So Ismo drew himself to his full height, allowing his muscles to ripple ever so slightly just to help discourage another lunge from this Warrior, and faced this new cat.

It took all his willpower to calm himself before he spoke, but even then rage was etched into Ismo’s voice as he addressed the West clan Warrior. “We have not come to do any harm to the cats of West clan. I simply wish to speak to Warriors such as yourself, and see if I may find a place among you. My friend, whom you so rashly attacked, is acting as my guide.” At that Ismo chanced a glance back towards Quinn to see if she needed any help but could not tell from new position either. “I understand Warrior that you are honor bound to defend your Clan at all costs, but to attack travelers who showed no signs of aggression by yourself is something I consider both ill-advised and a bit dishonorable. Now, what is your name and why would you strike at a weaker opponent when surprise was on your side?” He turned to Quinn quickly at that last remark, “No offense meant dear friend.” He said in way of apology. But Ismo’s own fighting instincts had him curious about why Quinn was indeed the target of the initial strike.

[Kenya]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=background,http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g171/Sillvy/NEbg.png] N I G H T E Y E Nighteye took a step to the side to help balance herself better, one black paw sinking into the mud. The loner with the kittypet color had managed to dig her claws into her belly before Nighteye could leap away. She felt blood stain her fur slightly, but she could tell with out a medicine cat it wasn't deep. Thank goodness for a black pelt! She thought thinking of her previous leg injury. It hides my wounds well. Nighteye flattened her ears and hissed at the large toms remarks and questions. "You question why I attacked and dare call me dishonorable? You and your guide " She meowed spitting at the word, "Have ignored out scent markers and invaded outr territory. You have no authority here Loner! You speak of Starclan and the warrior code, but do you even know the code? Do you know what it means?" Nighteye raised her tail as she spoke declaring her authority over the strangers. "The code states that a clan has the right to punish or fight off trespassers."Where are my clan mates? Nighteye scanned the area without moving her head, noting nothing unusual. Perhaps they are really alone? She paused thinking back to the she-cats claims for peace in the name of Starclan as she locked her deep blue eyes with the she-cat. Starclan. "Starclan has abandoned us." She growled lowering her head and her voice so it was barley audible. It was true, she along with many other cats tried to remain strong in their faith, but she couldn't deny it anymore. Starclan, was gone. Nighteye studied the aggression in his voice as he spoke to her and watched his bleeding companion. This cat seems to have feelings for her, and what use was a cat who had a feelings for one outside the clan? Half-clan cats cause to much trouble already. "Get out!" She hissed placing a paw forward, hackles raised. She ignored his last question as she would never admit to any cat, let alone a stranger that she attacked the more target-able opponent because she was alone and couldn't risk injury without back up.

[sil]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true]

[atrb=width,350,true][atrb=background,http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g171/Sillvy/Qbg1.png] With a twinge, Quinn watched the black Warrior shift her weight to favor a leg. Quinn sincerely thought that she hadn’t caused any harm to the younger she-cat; she had fought back—briefly—out of instinct and defense, but had she actually done that much injury…? The Showshoe hid an expression of surprise when Ismo moved in front of her. Honestly, she shouldn’t have been so shocked, considering Ismo’s naturally protective personality, but Quinn couldn’t help but wish that there were something more behind the action. “No offense taken,” she mewed lowly to her companion. Turning to address the WestClan cat, Quinn kept her claws sheathed, and her tail and head low. She wanted to show that she was not a threat—that they would come and leave completely in peace. She remained this way as Nighteye spoke, praying that Ismo would stay quiet and display less aggressiveness. The Warrior spoke to them with anger and conviction, which only dampened Quinn’s spirits more. It didn’t appear that the black she-cat cared for their motives; she had no reason to to begin with. “Starclan has abandoned us," the Warrior then muttered, nearly too quietly for her to hear. Stunned, Quinn locked eyes with the younger she-cat, searching for anything strange in her expression. Maybe she’s just a dissenter of their faith, she thought, but Nighteye spoke with abandonment and sorrow, as if she were guilty or angry about having admitted it. Suddenly, everything made much more sense. The Clan cats truly believed that StarClan had disappeared. Quinn dipped her head lower, her metallic tags clinking softly together and the feathers along her collar sticking straight into the air. “We apologize for intruding onto your territory. We did not mean to intrude,” she meowed, “but we have been traveling along your scent-markers for some time without coming across any of your rank.” Quinn knew that the Warrior’s lengthy speech was just a ploy to stall for time, so she cut to the chase, “All we want is to speak to you as a representative of your Clan. My companion has traveled very far to meet the Clan cats. He—we—mean you no harm by coming into your land."

[ghostwoodwarrior]

Ismo snorted in contempt at the Warrior. As he drew another breath the smell of blood reached him and he immediately assumed it was Quinn’s, but after another moment he realized the wind was blowing from the direction of the West clan cat. Quinn must have wounded her in return when she was struck. Ismo felt a tinge of pride in his companion, for landing a blow when ambushed is no easy task. So as the West clan cat stepped forth, continuing her aggressive posturing, he knew it was simply that.

He turned and moved towards Quinn as he spoke again to their attacker, this time in full control of his emotions even though he still feared for Quinn’s well being. “We are hardly an invasion force, Warrior. Two cats could do little against an entire clan, even if we had reached your camp undetected. And what would you have had us do instead of venturing into your borders? Wait a moon for one of your non-existent patrols to find us and then ask permission? As my friend has told you, you are the first West clan member we have encountered since we passed your markers. And if we had meant you harm I promise you it would have been readily known to you as I take great offense to the wound you have inflicted on my friend” Ismo locked his silver eyes with Quinn’s blue, and gave her a smirk and small nod. “It is an offense I still would wish to avenge if I did not know the score had already been matched.”

Ismo then bent to inspect Quinn’s wound more closely, half expecting his she-cat companion to swat him away out of sheer stubbornness. He couldn’t keep all of his concern from his voice when he spoke though. “I hope you are alright dear friend. Forgive me for letting someone get so close, I should have been more attentive.” He dropped his voice then, willing the wind not to shift directions and carry his words farther than Quinn’s ears. “I do not know much of this Starclan, Quinn. But from the tone I heard our host utter it in I am under the impression things are not well where it is concerned. We must speak of it later if you are able.”

Ismo shifted once more, this time directly to the side of Quinn. This time however, he did sit despite the extreme discomfort he initially felt. After his hackles flattened out again he realized he was much closer to Quinn than he had judged and could feel her at the tips of his fur. The thought warmed him and fought off some of the cold seeping into him. But he brought himself back to the task at hand and met the Warrior’s glare. “Again, we mean you and your clan mates no harm. I simply wish to speak, and learn if I am comfortable and welcome amongst you. From your gracious welcome I feel that is not so, but my friend has sacrificed much to guide me here and I will not have her efforts wasted because of a misunderstanding. So, if you wish to be a representative of your clan or take me to someone who will, then it would be very much appreciated. If not, then I understand and will leave along with my companion if she is in agreement with me.”

[Kenya]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=background,http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g171/Sillvy/NEbg.png] N I G H T E Y E Nighteye caught the look in their eyes as she shifted her weight. They knew she was injured now. Stupid fox.. Shifting her weight so she was completely balanced made her leg ache but it seemed necessary. "How interesting." She meowed sheathing and unsheathing her claws. "You wish to join a clan but do not know of Starclan or a warriors ways." she hissed. Nighteye did not like this stranger and the words he spoke to her, calling her clan out. The she-cat was more tolerable but not by much. The clans were falling apart, and even passing loners were threats. Not that I'm going to tell them. She thought bitterly. Nighteye kept her ears angled towards the strangers, listening to both their words. She nodded towards them, taking in their calm posture. Attacking was out of the question unless she wanted to lose her life. Her deep blue gaze flitted between the two in front of her. Their claims of peace seemed sincere enough. Nighteye forced the bristled fur along her back to flatten though she remained standing and on edge. She watched them both for a long time in silence, her eyes glowing against her black muddied pelt. "I will represent my clan" She meowed finally. Taking them into the camp was to much of a risk at the moment. Nighteye turned and flicked her tail for the others to follow and led the way a few fox lengths to a drier patch of ground noting both of their discomfort in the marsh. Nighteye gritted her teeth at her efforts to walk with a normal pace, which she succeeded at barley. Her leg wasn't injured greatly from the foxes bite, nor her belly from the kittypet-loner but enough to cause her strain when moving. Turning to face them, she remained standing with her claws unsheathed feeling uncomfortable speaking to the two strangers. "I am called Nighteye" She meowed blinking slowly as she collected herself. "What can I tell you about the clans?"

[sil]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true]

[atrb=width,350,true][atrb=background,http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g171/Sillvy/Qbg1.png] At Ismo’s closeness and concern, Quinn felt her blood rush to the surface of her skin. She struggled to maintain eye contact with her companion. “It’s nothing,” she meowed, the words coming out a little harsher than she intended or expected; it was difficult for her to trust others, even this charming, silvery-eyed tom. Quinn, embarrassed, wiped the blood away with a few swift passes of her paw. Clearing her throat, she added quietly before he could move out of earshot, “It’s incredibly unwise to insult them. Clan cats are very prideful, and an attack on their way of life won’t win you any favors.” Her eyes glittered and her tone became gentle and teasing. “And I’m sure you would be the same, were the roles reversed.” To her pleasant surprise, Ismo did not move away but instead remained close enough that their pelts touched. Her skin tinged with contentment. She tried to ignore it and focus on the matter at hand… Nonetheless, for a few long seconds, all she could think about was the feel of his fur beside hers. Her thoughts were broken when Nighteye spat condemnation at their lack of knowledge. “Forgive us for our ignorance,” Quinn addressed the obviously still hostile Warrior. “Neither of us are familiar with your ways. I promise we are no threat.” Nighteye moved away then, beckoning for the others to follow. Quinn was a little dissatisfied that the black WestClanner was not leading them toward her camp. When the younger she-cat showed signs of her leg injury, the Showshoe winced with guilt. “I apologize for harming you… I didn’t mean it,” she mewed sincerely, ignorant that Nighteye’s discomfort was because of an earlier injury. Quinn, without consciously knowing why, stuck close to Ismo so that their flanks brushed as they padded behind Nighteye. She didn’t want the pleasant shivers to end—it made her feel safe and comforted. Nearly sighing with relief at finding a dry patch of swampland, Quinn sat a respectable distance from the Warrior. “I’m sorry we had to meet on such unfriendly terms, Nighteye.” She easily slipped into a peaceful state of mind and her tone reflected it. Hostility would get them nowhere with the young Warrior. They had to show they were calm and their motives transparent. It was a part Quinn could play well. “ I go by the name Quinn.” Knowing Ismo would prefer to introduce himself, she continued, “We’re both loners, unaffiliated with any others, including each other until a few moonhighs ago. What has happened to StarClan, if I may ask?”

[ghostwoodwarrior]

As the group made their way to the dry patch, Ismo’s mind was empty but for the knowledge that Quinn was so very close. He was so distracted he almost kept walking when the others had stopped. He recovered his wits and shifted to sit next to Quinn. Of course then he realized that sitting down meant his now went rump would become covered with dirt; so comfort now meant discomfort later. Ismo cursed himself for a fool for sitting in the swamp in the first place but made the decision to remain on his feet and hope he dried quickly. He listened carefully to Quinn, knowing full well that his upbringing left him at a disadvantage when trying to interact with the clans. He would have to walk on egg shells in order to keep himself, and by affiliation, Quinn out of trouble. He decided apologies were in order.

“Yes, please forgive our ignorance, especially mine. It was not my intention to cause insult. My name is Ismo, it is an honor to finally meet one of the Warriors my father spoke so highly of when I was a kit.” Ismo bowed deep to Nighteye, his beard skimming the dry ground. ”I was born far from these lands where very little is known about the clans. The Warriors exist more as legend than anything to most. I have come in search of these legends, wishing to join my name with their ranks. I understand that it is uncommon, if not unheard of, for outsiders to be accepted into these select few, especially when they know so little of your customs. But I wish to at least be given a chance. If nothing else, I wish to learn your ways so I may better live as a loner and not cause insult inadvertently. As Quinn has told you, we have no affiliation with the clans and by the good graces of fate I stumbled upon her just recently. She has been kind enough to escort me through these foreign lands in attempt to help me accomplish my dream of becoming a Warrior, or if nothing else keep me alive I suppose.” Ismo looked at Quinn then and smiled, letting out a small chuckle. ”You will find I have many questions to ask you, and your time is precious I am sure. So I agree with my friend. I believe it is important to know what Starclan is and also, if you are willing, what your Warrior code is.”

Ismo lifted his gaze back to Nighteye, his eyes glimmering with a bit of excitement. He always wanted to learn more of this world and what this Warrior could tell him was worth ten times a fox’s weight in rabbit!

[Kenya]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=background,http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g171/Sillvy/NEbg.png] N I G H T E Y E Nighteye flicked her ear uncomfortably, flexing her claws as she did so. "Your claws were not what caused my.... stiffness" She meowed pausing to look for the correct word. As the adrenaline left her body fear pricked at her paws. She forced it away to speak to these strange cats. At the sound of Quinn's question Nighteye hissed."Starclan is none of your concern!" She spat allowing her pelt to bristle for a few brief moments feeling aggression take over her again. She turned her attention to Ismo and exhaled a few deep breaths to calm herself, then giving a slight nod to show as accepted his apology. Nighteye sat giving her bad leg a rest, not being bothered by the damp ground. Flicking her tail she turned her steady blue gaze fully on the tom. "Very well. I will start with Starclan." She meowed finally with a last glance at Quinn. Their words could easily be a lie or trap, but if they intended her or her clan harm she doubted they would be talking when they could be fighting. I doubt Thrushstar will make him a warrior. He doesn't have warrior blood. She thought as she studied the tom. They never feel the same way. Nighteye spoke slowly to make sure they both understood her words. "Starclan are our warrior ancestors. After they leave us they go to Silverpelt to continue to watch over and guide us. They walk in the dreams of the living warriors. They grant our leaders their nine lives and send our medicine cats signs." She paused to make sure the two cats in front of her understood her words. A kit knew about Starclan and the warrior code from the day it was kitted. How could she expect two loners with no paws in one place to understand? She sighed before continuing. "They send signs to guide and warn us. From what I know, they leave starry paw prints, and have the stars in their fur. Though this is only rumor. " As she finished her brief explanation it dawned on her how little the tom probably knew of clan life. Great Starclan I'm going to be here all day! She thought as she recalled what she had said to the two loners. Do they know of Silverpelt? Clan life? Leaders and medicine cats? Kits? Gatherings? Nighteye let out a long sigh.