"How familiar are you with SkyClan?"
Dimmingsun asks to break the silence between himself and Weaselchirp. The presence of a companion settles comfortably onto him; it's a sharp contrast to how he had scarcely dared to believe that Dustystar had told him to bring a warrior with him. As if he couldn't defend himself. As if he needed supervision. Logically, he knows his leader is merely trying to play it safe—and perhaps in a way, he ought to be grateful that she's trying to look out for him now. Still, he can't shake the feeling that it's a wasted resource. Weaselchirp could use this time to hunt or do something useful.At least she kills any boredom that might have found him on the trek here.
The plan is simple: ask to speak to Swallowbreeze, preferably in private. Warriors don't tend to understand medicine cat business, he has come to find. Even he still finds it difficult to grasp that they are supposed to be guided by starry ancestors... them and their strange powers. As far as he understands, SkyClan is the Clan you come to when you need more information about StarClan. How lucky it is that no blood has been spilled between these two Clans yet. It means he doesn't have to worry about being turned around... or being threatened.
(He almost wishes someone would try.)
The moor, only occasionally dotted with trees, comes to a very clear edge. Here, evergreens block out most of the sky—not to the extent of ShadowClan's dark marshes, but still enough to cast a shadow over them. Dimmingsun thinks he would shiver, if it weren't for his thick fur.
"Here we are,"
he says. "I'll do the talking. At least with Swallowbreeze. I don't want to scare her off."
Dimmingsun shoots Weaselchirp a pointed look; as always, all of it has an air of light-heartedness. He doesn't say it to be mean.Talking to @Weaselchirp and looking for @SWALLOWBREEZE. No need to wait!
