As always, there is work to be done. This time Sablestar is not out for the pleasure of a hunt, though. His travels bring him to closer to the edge of ShadowClan's territory, the Thunderpath that wrapped around their home rumbling with sound in the distance. There is prey here that, like the predators that lurked in shadow, have grown less skittish of the faint grumbles monsters but Sablestar does not scent if any were around anyhow. No luck today for a morsel of something on his way out.
"Honeysuckles are white in leafbare, but they still have that faint scent from greenleaf." The tuxedo directed Mirepurr without looking at them, eyes scanning the muddy grounds for any luck. "I'll look this way, you can see what's around where the Thunderpath rises from the ground." White honeysuckle held tales of luck, if memory served him right from his days at the barn. White blooms on their branches meant for early spring, and what more could he do for morale than treat the nursery with longwinded fantasies and citrus-y smelling flowers to give to their caregivers.
Sablestar watched as Mirepurr stepped away from their initial path, turning once the guards fluffy coat disappeared from the thicket and continued in his own direction for some time. He had not minded Mirepurr's company in their search, truthfully. Especially when they had some odd sort of connection with Coalstrike that couldn't be explained without stirring more questions. The fact of the matter still overwhelmed him, and Sablestar had become used to the comfort of his solitude now that Stoatstream had left his shadow.
Sablestar stopped once beneath the cover of the many pond pines dotting the land. He could see the Thunderpath from where he sat, monsters flickering like ghosts between the gap of barren brush. The only sound to break his quiet moment.
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