{$title} post- dust bowl dance

HE/HIM
43 MOONS
WINDCLAN MOOR-RUNNER
SPEECH | THOUGHTS | SPRIGHTLY | PHYSICAL
PENNED BY PLOT
He should have gone to the other moor-runner when she called out for peace. Hollowmumble was right. The patrol had done nothing but bring death and fear back to their Clan. Not only had Dustystar fallen to SkyClan's claws, but now there was nothing but hostility to be expected at that side of the border. Hawkstar had fallen too - and the Clan residing in the pines was well known for their pursuit of vengeance. Loonstar's lost life was...
He shook his head, padding out to the moors. Would there come a day soon that his speed would be used not for chasing the rabbits that kept their Clan strong and fed, but to alert those with more deft claws that trouble was cresting the horizon? Perhaps the SkyClan warrior had been right. This could be war.
He'd follow Goldenroar's direction, as he'd followed Dustystar's, despite the vitriol slung around the camp. Blame wasn't helping anyone... but apologies might.
He spotted Hollowmumble not too far away, and he padded up to the molly, clearing his throat softly.
"Hollowmumble?" he mewed to her. "Do you mind if I... if I join you for a moment? I'd like to speak with you, if you'll have me."
-








