Dimmingsun finds himself at Fourtrees entirely by chance. He had let Meadowpaw know that he will be going out, saving her from having to worry about his whereabouts—though he had no set destination to begin with. Their herb stocks are more or less stable, if he avoids thinking about the incessant rain that has started to overflow within the medicine cat den, occasionally destroying or carrying their plants out. Still, WindClan is not currently desperate for more, and he would like to avoid picking the patches clean before leaf-fall even sets in fully. It would only cause more disaster when snow begins to blanket the moor.
So, he supposes he just wants fresh air. It's been moons since his arrival, and while he is getting accustomed to Clan life, the close proximity of so many cats for such prolonged periods of time is still odd. He enjoys their company, he truly does... but sometimes it feels nice to not have curious eyes glued to your pelt. Is that selfish of him? As a medicine cat, his presence is needed at almost all times, just in case. He supposes his old ways will not get washed off of him anytime soon. Perhaps it's for the best.
Fourtrees beckons him with its towering giants; their crown, intersecting and blocking out the view of the sky, is starting to thin out. Its color fades from vibrant green to a more withdrawn orange, and the leaves will soon litter the ground underneath Dimmingsun. He crouches by the edge of a small stream that cuts through the landmark; it had not been there during the Gathering itself, so Dimmingsun can only assume that the amount of rain has began to build up between crevices before the dirt can soak it all up.
His paws break the surface of the little stream, its coldness a sharp sensation. The one-eyed reflection warps and moves.
Dimmingsun feels the presence of another before seeing them. He has not expected to see RiverClan's leader emerging from the far side.
So, he supposes he just wants fresh air. It's been moons since his arrival, and while he is getting accustomed to Clan life, the close proximity of so many cats for such prolonged periods of time is still odd. He enjoys their company, he truly does... but sometimes it feels nice to not have curious eyes glued to your pelt. Is that selfish of him? As a medicine cat, his presence is needed at almost all times, just in case. He supposes his old ways will not get washed off of him anytime soon. Perhaps it's for the best.
Fourtrees beckons him with its towering giants; their crown, intersecting and blocking out the view of the sky, is starting to thin out. Its color fades from vibrant green to a more withdrawn orange, and the leaves will soon litter the ground underneath Dimmingsun. He crouches by the edge of a small stream that cuts through the landmark; it had not been there during the Gathering itself, so Dimmingsun can only assume that the amount of rain has began to build up between crevices before the dirt can soak it all up.
His paws break the surface of the little stream, its coldness a sharp sensation. The one-eyed reflection warps and moves.
Dimmingsun feels the presence of another before seeing them. He has not expected to see RiverClan's leader emerging from the far side.
"Hello,"
Dimmingsun greets easily. It appears Pikestar is alone, unless he has ordered his subordinates to hide... though he does not strike Dimmingsun as the type to do so. This is neutral land, after all. He regards Pikestar, peering up at him from his crouched position. The comment slips easily from him: spoken like a fact that greatly amuses Dimmingsun. "You've made it through this Gathering without more of your blood being spilled."
@PIKESTAR
Set some time after the Gathering.
Set some time after the Gathering.
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