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

[Heather]

{$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.

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OOC

BIO

• Tagging: @FLEAFIRE
• Loner || 19 moons
  SPEECH || THOUGHTS
  View attachment 387

 

[FLEAFIRE]

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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

Fleapaw 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, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, 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