NOCTURNE , elder & little

Ivylight. Ivylight. Ivylight. “I told you a thousand times to be careful,” the smoky she-cat hissed aloud, her tail whipping back and forth, “do you listen? Ever? No, and now you’re sick.” Dodging patches of icy trenches like a spry, she began to press her body closer to the ground – up ahead a lizard scuttled out of a larger dip, its sleek scaly body reflecting the light from the sky above.

Concentrating, Littlewolf crept quietly towards it, but her mind was in too much frustration to measure her steps accordingly; a small branch shuffled under paw. Cursing, the lizard disappeared back into the safety of the pool just as the she-cat advanced sloppily.

She should have been giving her mother more respect, but how could she when she was worried frantic? Trying to remind herself that cats got colds all the time didn’t help, because those cats didn’t always get better… out of nowhere, she realized a figure across the tree line, and cautiously dropped, falling under the shelter of the long grass. Peering through it with eyes wide, she realized by the large pale pelt that it had to be Elderstar.

What does TimberClan want? Better not be trouble. With equal parts of curiosity and hostility, Littlewolf slithered through the sward, until she was only a fox length away, revealing her dainty mass.

“See a delicious piece of prey you know you’ll never get?” She couldn’t help but snicker at herself, “or is there something else that you actually need?”

Tráthnóna maith, I take it all is well in BogClan? The small she-cat met the older toms blue gaze, refusing to give into his compassionate trap… his grisly aged whiskers flickered as he gestured towards TimberClan territory, clearly preparing to make an offer of sorts. Littlewolf measured what was left of her daily tolerance, and considered his proposal before it had ever left his lips. The forest is fresh and bountiful. We have many herbs and our cats are in good health. Way to brag, she spit silently, her ears twitching, but her ocher orbs unwavering.

If you need any medication, Badgerstep need only ask. The way he was talking, seemed he had some odd cerebral knowledge that herbs were just what they needed. Badgerstep’s supplies were still low after Leaf-bare, and the late frost wasn’t doing very much to help. However, BogClan was nowhere near on friendly terms with TimberClan, not since they were against CragClan, BogClan’s allies; for whatever reason he chose to come and bargain with them, Littlewolf could not fathom.

No, I have hunted for the night. I came to offer a peace treaty in exchange for more access to the river. When I was a kit, the Clans did not exist, and sharing became crucial for survival, I hope foolish pride will not get in the way of your love for your Clan. “Excuse you?” at his last comment, she couldn’t help but feel hot molten lava pump wildly through her veins. If he had hoped to form some sort of arrangement, he would have had a lot more point to his advantage had he left that one thing unsaid.

A string of dark curses sounded in her mind, but she knew better than to speak them out loud, instead, she stood, her tail tip twitching back and forth. The evident internal negotiation handling like clockwork behind her eyes – give him what for more of the river? Perchance she even gave this thought some true reflection, she would need to bring him to Lichenstar personally. Still, CragClan would not be pleased to know that BogClan had accepted an agreement of sorts from their enemies…

Her brow fell, shadowing her already-murky complexion, “Foolish pride is better than foolish meekness; what is it that you're looking to barter?” It wasn’t a yes and it wasn’t a no. Elderstar seemed to seek something intently, whatever it was, Littlewolf would play her cords until she knew exactly what that was.

Weakness… weakness was never spoken of in my days. The large tom glanced skywards, his tone solemn and disenchanted; I don't know what weakness your Clan would care for, mo leanbh, but I can assure you I am here to help, not to hinder. Our weaknesses are none of your business, she narrowed her ocher orbs even tighter; they smoldered with a deep-rooted animosity.

The last thing that BogClan needed was TimberClan walking away with any knowledge of their weaknesses… it was bad enough that the river itself ran through their thick, wooded territory, and BogClan had but a petty stream; they didn’t need to know that BogClan was also harboring an ill warrior… one Littlewolf knew Badgerstep didn’t have fresh herbs to heal.

Her heart lurched violently at the thought of losing her mother – who could die under the claws of those forest-maggots just as easily in her condition. Littlewolf would sooner turn to their “allies” for support. TimberClan would probably do anything to weaken CragClan, even if that meant sucker punching BogClan.

I... just miss the moss under my paws, I miss... the ocean spray against my pelt. I used to look out over the cliff with my mother and imagine myself flying like an eagle towards the sun. In an instant, his back was turned – something a cat should never do after he’s insulted an adversary; something Littlewolf knew better than to do. Cats like you make my memories merely legend.

Was that so? Good, he met her challenge. Her sweltering, murky laugh rang through the air – it had a cold warmth, like blue fire, but the emotion in the sound didn’t reach her eyes. They were glittering with bitterness; a thick blanket of antipathy for Elderstar’s past. “No love lost, Elderstar,” she purred mockingly, as if she were quite pleased with herself, “the greater the legend sounds, the more that’s left out, and that’s how the Clans will remember you.” Sitting, she wrapped her long, plume-like tail around her small smoke-pelted body, the tip tickling her dainty paws. It waved contentedly back and forth, the corners of her frosty heart seeming to thaw under the weight of her callousness.