TW: Sensitive Content Private Territory ShadowClan Loner/Rogue you're not the one i was looking for | trespassing

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This thread takes place outside the clan's camp in its territory.
Heather
Heather

Heather

fool for love
Loner/Rogue
13
3
Freshkill
25
Pronouns
she/her
Profile
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Played by
Plot_Twists
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{$title} Takes place just inside the ShadowClan border
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Heather didn't mean to get all turned around. But even though Ivytwist had mentioned stuff like Clan borders and whatnot... Well, she wasn't exactly sure where RiverClan's territory was... And she was definitely lost right now. The ground was all springy, kinda like if there was water around here, but the land had a sort of weird smell. Nothing like what she imagined a rushing river would smell like.

That's okay, I'll just ask around! Ivytwist was so nice to me, surely the other Clan cats will help me find my way. Especially if I explain things.

And, she reasoned, it was possible that even though this didn't seem like the territory Ivytwist described, it very well could be! Just a gross part he didn't want to mention. Her jaw opened slightly to help scent the air, searching for his scent, but all she could smell was unfamiliar cats and the road and the gross ground...

She kept walking into the soft ground, swinging her head back and forth as she looked for someone, anyone, to help her find her way.


OOC
BIO
 
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Something was off. She could hear in the silence that befell the swamp. The usual ripple of frog song was replaced with an uneasy quiet.

When the scent hit her, she didn't recognize who it belonged to. The stench didn't belong to her clan or any of the usual neighbors either. A softer scent trickled along the wind—places she'd never been and cats she had never met. A stranger.

Curled ears twitched upon a flat head, stubby but skillful paws carrying her quietly. Fleafire crept through the shadows, belly brushing the damp earth. The overgrowth parted ahead, and there they were. A pale she-cat, fumbling through the muck like a kit. Seemed that the swamp itself wasn't enough encouragement for them to turn back…

A flicker of excitement whirled in her chest. A trespasser. A chance to test all that she was taught.

Anticipation burned in her stomach as she watched them. As tempting as it was to rush them on sight, she would wait. Why ruin the surprise?

She lurks in the dark. Patiently waiting for her quarry to creep just a little closer. The sound of their pawsteps drew closer and closer. Close enough that she could hear the suction of mud as it stubbornly clung to their paws.

Now!

A small cinnamon shadow erupts from the undergrowth to cut the trespasser off. A hiss is the only warning before Fleafire barrels into them, claws flying free of their sheaths to find something to sink into.

They don't know, they can't see
FLEAFIRE
12 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson
Fleafire values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleafire is corrupt and has minimal, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.


Who we are, fear is the enemy
 
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Heather yelped in pain and fear as unsheathed clas connected with her soft pelt out of seemingly nowhere. She could feel the tearing of her skin as she clumsily moved, trying and failing to dodge the attack.

Who was this? It didn't smell like Ivytwist - this cat smelled like marsh and blood and fury. And they were so small!

"P-please! I don't know what I did wrong!" she howled as she tried to slash back, her untrained paws flailing wildly.


OOC
BIO
 
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The feeling that surges through her veins is familiar—mingling with excitement. She reminds Fleafire of a bird. A white bird flapping and fluttering as it tries to escape the claws of a hunter. Panic seasons the stranger's voice, stoking that strange sensation in her chest. Her claws cut true, her snarl curling into something almost gleeful.

Harsh words hiss between crooked teeth. "You stepped paw where you don't belong, frog-belly! This is ShadowClan territory!" Small though she was, that made it all the easier to dance circles around her opponent. A white paw whizzed through the air, and she just barely ducked in time. The strangers' own claws claimed tufts of cinnamon fur as a souvenir.

"Run on home now birdy, before that pretty face gets shredded up." Fleafire hisses, darting in close enough to land a swipe on the she-cat's shoulder. That is the only warning given before the warrior lunges again—claws seeking a white plumage.


// Did a dextermity roll for funsies (1d20+2 with her training into account = 13 which is average succeess) . Fleafire barely avoids Heather's attacks.


They don't know, they can't see
FLEAFIRE
12 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson
Fleafire values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleafire is corrupt and has minimal, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.


Who we are, fear is the enemy
 
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ShadowClan? Oh mouse-dung, she'd really messed up this time!

Like this cat said, she'd definitely stepped paws where she didn't belong, and while her heartbeat pattered and instincts screamed at her to flee, she wasn't quite fast enough to avoid the leaping cat.

Cinnamon paws crashed into her shoulders, claws scoring her previously unmarred pelt. She'd need to find someplace to rest and hide. Heather may be naive, but she knew the scent of fresh blood could attract plenty of trouble.

Her eyes glanced once more at her attacker, trying to memorize the furious visage before turning tail and running, just as she'd advised.

"I'm sorry!" she wailed as she ran, heading back towards that place where all the scents mingled and turned her around in the first place. "I was just looking for RiverClan!"


OOC
BIO
  • Rolled a 10 to dodge Fleafire, getting hurt in the process
  • Loner || 19 moons
    SPEECH || THOUGHTS
 
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