Open Territory ThunderClan ShadowClan Cruisin' for a bruisin' - border patrol

[Mothbite]

{$title} patrol time! Let's let some Shadowclan cats post before Thunderclan shows up, okay?

Still so young, Desperate for attention!

indentttMothbite begrudgingly leads the patrol through the marsh, across the thunderpath, and into the small patch of forest now marked as 'Shadowclan'. He doesn't talk much on the way over, being too busy silently fuming to make any actual conversation. 'Stupid clan, stupid Sablestar, stupid forest.' He really couldn't believe they were going to risk dying in battle or over the thunderpath all for the right to eat mice instead of frogs. Frogs weren't so bad! Definitely not bad enough that Mothbite would die to avoid eating them.

indenttt"Fine. We're here." Mothbite states, brusquely. He doesn't wait for the rest of his party to respond before heading off to mark the border. If he's lucky, they'll be able to do what they need to, grab the stupid mice, and leave without seeing anyone from Thunderclan. Mothbite isn't sure he'd be able to stand their hate-filled glares and biting words. The thought of it makes his fur prickle. "Catch whatever you find, but don't start any fights, otherwise Sablestar will have my hide. Our hides." Mothbite corrects himself. Maybe if they don't find anything, Sablestar will give up the ghost and they won't have to come back to the forest.

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Mothbite | 19 moons | Shadowclan Nightguardbababbnihfibnfdifdhfhabbabab

 

[Nettlefrost]

┍

The thunderpath was... ugh. He hated it. Hated the way it felt beneath his paws. Hated the danger of it. It made him feel vulnerable in a way that not many things did. Nettlefrost was used to relying on his hearing though, so at the very least he could be somewhat confident in crossing. Still, with the speed that the monsters flew past... he isn't so sure his lack of sight will do him any favors. Regardless, Nettlefrost crosses with the rest of the patrol, silently hoping that none of them were flattened along the way. Luckily, they all seemed to make it to the other side without many problems, and the blind warrior couldn't deny the relief he felt when his paws touched grass again. The weather here was different. The smells that lingered in the air were unlike the marshes he called home. He takes a moment to enjoy the new sounds and scents, before Mothbite's voice brings tension cracking through the chilled air like a whip.

"What's got your tail in such a twist, anyways?" He dares to ask, voice as flat and rough as stone. Nettlefrost didn't see an issue with having an extra strip of land. There were a lot of mouths to feed back home, and leaf-bare wasn't doing them any favors. "There's nothing wrong with having more places to hunt." The warrior points out simply.

‎┙

 

[Mothbite]

Still so young, Desperate for attention!

indenttt"Why do I have my tail in a twist?" Mothbite begins huffing and puffing. Nettlefrost has opened the floodgates, and every gripe has come pouring out. "Why can't you all just be happy with eating frogs and lizards? We aren't starving anymore, isn't that enough?" He stomps a front paw, indignantly, like a kit. "But you all can't help but looking for a fight! What happened to living a peaceful life with what you've got?" Mothbite turns away from Nettlefrost, avoiding his unseeing gaze. Instead, he makes a show of half-heartedly pawing through the dead leaves, looking for mice.
"But no, we gotta set ourselves up to get attacked by cats who hate our guts. With my luck, Ghost's gonna show up and kick my ass again." Or, even worse, Serpent would show up and scold him. The thought of it makes Mothbite shiver.

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Mothbite | 19 moons | Shadowclan Nightguardbababbnihfibnfdifdhfhabbabab

 

[serpentberry]

It is as if she is summoned - a wistless, blow away thought manifesting into smoke and ruddy fur. Her paws are clean and her expression clear. The only thing that mars her is a small, healing nick on the bridge of her nose. She wonders if her attacker prefered the taste of the asphault in the end... Nonetheless, she looks primped and preened, as if the cold air does not bother to penetrate her pelt. Unbothered, even as she preys on the edge of what became of their land - a pitiful border only watched once or twice a day, lest the shadow-cats risk their lives on the thunderpath again, again, and again.

"Moth~!" Oh, she did not realize how much she missed him. It's entirely selfish, entirely self serving. The molly hadn't realized because he was no longer in her plane of view - and now that he was... Joy lights her eyes for only because he is yet another cat that fits so perfectly beneath her well manicured claws. Unless Sable has wrought him in his favor - that rat of a tom should sooner drown in the muck of his new home than steal her play things from her. Ugh.

"It's been so long since you fluttered off," she trills, tilting over the border, teasing, testing. Would you save me from your new pack? She can't imagine Moth allowing her perfect pelt and skin be marred, not after all she did to help him moons ago. She leans back, however, firmly on her side. "How is the prey running? Or - hmm, I should say hopping. Or, perhaps, skittering?" She plays, and plays, and plays, begging for him to toy back.

 

[Mothbite]

Still so young, Desperate for attention!

indentttMothbite's fur bristles, but he can't help the glimmer in his eyes when he hears Serpent's voice and sees her black and orange face. For a second, her warm greeting makes him forget the animosity between the two of them. Once again, he's been given the opportunity to bask in her affections, like a basking snake greedily soaks up warm sunlight.
"Serpent!" He nearly purrs at the relief he feels. He had expected their next meeting to be an exchange of drawn claws and sharp tongues, but this is far less tense than he had feared. He doesn't dare cross over the border, but he still walks towards Serpent, as if drawn to her.

indenttt"It's going really well! There's not many mice, but there's plenty of frogs and skinks, and there's even muskrats if you don't mind getting a little wet." Sure enough, the signs of good eating show on his small frame. The outlined ribs and jutting hipbones that had seemed to be ever-present since his kithood have finally begun to fade, and his thin coat has become ever-so-slightly thicker, sheltering him from the winter's chill.
"My name is Mothbite now." He puffs out his white chest. "And I've been promoted to Nightguard, too, so I'm one of his most trusted warriors." He pnly has a few short moments to preen before his bragging reminds him of his own loyalties - and how they differed from Serpent's. The once proud tom deflates, averting his gaze. "So, things have been going well for me." But all his success has come at the cost of Serpent's mate. Mothbite wants to explain himself, tell her that they all expected Hawthorne to back down, that it was never supposed to be a colony-wide battle, that he's not sure how Hawthorne died but he has a terrible sinking feeling that Shadowclan had something to do with it. He keeps his mouth shut. It's unlikely his platitudes would mean anything, anyways. He and Serpent had both chosen their paths, and it's not like they can go back now.

indenttt"I hope... that everything's been going well for you, too."

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Mothbite | 19 moons | Shadowclan Nightguardbababbnihfibnfdifdhfhabbabab