the path less travelled by..{.closed.}

[c e d a r *]

Aimless thoughts drifted their way into the deputy's mind, as his paws skimmed the soft and murkily wet ground that lay beside the thunderpath. Although it was Greenleaf, he supposed the weather scared a lot of the two-legs away. Not many monsters were out that afternoon, but as much as he liked the somewhat silence that surrounded him every now and then, he enjoyed the distractions. The male loved getting out of camp as best as he could, allowing himself to be distracted in other ways than his clanmates. Shoulders were visibly relaxed, and his stride loped its way further away from the territory, and closer to the horseplace. As an unusual cat in many of his natures and traits, the deputy liked to observe the big animals that were fenced in at the horseplace, called horses, but to reasons unknown to the male. Why were they called cats? Some things were just called what they were for odd reasons, he supposed.

A fine and far-from-throaty sigh escaped the slightly parted lips of the warrior, and he neared closer and closer to the pristine white fences that bordered the lush, rolling pastures in which the horses ate grass. Why do they eat grass? The male mused to himself, thinking off-track once more. I never eat grass, I only do it when I have a stomach-ache. Do they always have stomach aches? They're such unusual creatures...and as his thoughts drifted deeper away, the tom shook his head and gave an exasperated and angry sigh implicating how he wanted to focus on other things. Oh, how his mind could wander!

Speaking of minds wandering...the face of his known clanmate appeared in his vision, and the tom stopped right in his tracks, before shaking his head once more. He had arrived at the white gates and he nimbly hopped to the lowest, until he scrambled uneasily up to the top post, where he sat, curling his ringed tail neatly and tightly around his wet and muddy paws, looking down at the ruined and recently groomed fur. He hated the thought of having to pick at the grasses and gravel that had worked its way into his pads and on the fine fur of his paws during the long walk all the way to the horseplace. The male assumed her was fine right where he was, due to the weather and all of the goings-on in camp. He now had an apprentice to train, and he dropped his head in shame. He probably should have taken Slatepaw with him, but it wasn't against the warrior code for a warrior to wander off to go about thinking about various things, correct?

He really did need to think some things through. Swallowleaf, for instance.

He loved the she-cat as a friend, truly and wholly did he enjoy having her around. Her good-willed and normally always cheery attitude made the tom happy from the inside out and that feeling was never thrown from his mindset. It was good feeling to know that he had Swallowleaf to talk to, because he knew she'd listen, but something made a pang of hurt inside of him. He knew that Rowanwing was now headed in the direction of the Medicine Cat, but he just felt like he and Swallowleaf got along so much better. He hated jealously, truly hated it, but he couldn't help it. It was not that easy to stop jealously, and the tom knew it. A hard sigh escaped his throat and he ran his claw through the untouched white fence, his eyes soft and slightly sad. The warrior lifted his head and watched the horses, a distracted and slightly far-off look implated deep into his green-gray hues. The cloudy an rainy day didn't help the look in his eyes, and made them look quite stormy but Duskfeather tried to ignore this.

A slight fog had crept up from the grasses, winding itself around the trees and the fine mist was weaving its way through the grass. His eyes followed the trails of fog everywhere, just another distraction to keep himself thinking about Swallowleaf and jealousy. He didn't love her, did he? Oh, he didn't know! Dropping his head once more, the male watched as the fog reached the post he was sitting on, but before focusing on anything else, Duskfeather closed his eyes and allowed his body to become still, almost as in slipping into sleep, but staying awake. His eyes were pricked and alertness surged through his body, but it felt nice to relax some...

ooc;
I know it contained some rambling, but I got the point through and that's all that really matters. This post is reserved for Fernie and Swallow, and she knows that. ^^ My muse is okay, music always helps. c:

[Fernear!]

No matter which way you looked, what direction, whether it is up or down, the world was a monotone, grayscale painting. The everlasting storm had threatened the former bright beauty of Greenleaf with bleak skies and treacherous waves lapping at the shore of the lake. The leaves seemed to visibly sag off of the steadfast branches of which they grasped. The grasses were up to the tops of their stems with mud or water, unable to grow any taller because of their living conditions. The dry and hardy plains were once ideal for races with rabbits, moments in mid-flight shared with retreating birds and for resting after eventful days. Now no creature could find comfort, no cat that is.

Her head was down, staring blankly at the poor sight beneath her paws. She stepped lightly, praying her paw steps would not leave an imprint as she continued on. She didn't bother checking, she wasn't hunting, after all. Swallowleaf's grey, spotted pelt fit in perfectly with her saturated surroundings, making her morale fall even lower. If anything she would want to bring some light, some joy into the dreary situation they were in. Her tail was held low, just barely hovering above the mounds of mud left from various creators. Her path was not set, her legs heading towards an unknown destination. Being on the moor you were sure you wouldn't hit anything, or anything too painful that is. In ShadowClan you would have to maneuver around shadowed corners and tall, groping pine trees. In ThunderClan the goings were just as bad, if even worse. Resolute maples and oaks skirted by bushes of thick, low-lying brush always seemed to block a new pass. The watery territory where RiverClan resided would require your mind, even more so now that the rain has filled the rivers and petite inlets to the brim. There was no hope for thought in such conditions. But the moor, oh the moor, there were no boundaries for your mind to hit.

Sighing she drew her head up to look at her whereabouts. She had travelled south of the camp, just bordering the sloping esker. Stopping, she began to muse. What else could you do on such a day? She had been given an apprentice, Mistpaw. Could she be letting down her by going out on this excursion? Surely not, right? Looking out into the grim scene infront of her she saw the waves atop the cold waters of the lake. She thanked StarClan that she was here instead of on the other side of the horseplace. Swallowleaf longed to hear the crickets sing and the birds sound in the early morning light when the sun was just beginning to show off its dawning vibrance, these two luxuries had only been heard in her memories, or while her mind drifted as she slept. She longed to spend time with her friends and not have to worry about coming home to a wet nest to sleep in, not only to wake up in the heat of a storm. Swallowleaf had spoken to Rowanwing before his embark to the Moonpool. His heart seemed almost torn in two, as she felt hers was. She hoped he was well, for she had not seen him since. And what of Duskfeather? He was the deputy now and surely fulfilling his new duties. A wave of guilt crushed over her as she once again thought of her apprentice. She would talk to her upon her return. Her personal life seemed to keep crashing into itself. When she began to feel certain emotions they would bend into another in as short a time as she had felt it. Could she be growing up? Surely not, right?

Her blue eyes scanned the horizon, searching for hidden pockets of inspiration. As her eyes drew over the horseplace she could faintly see the silhouette of a feline. Familiar or not, she recognized the design upon his back and decided it'd be better to keep moving than to stay in the same spot and grow colder with every passing moment. Unlike her first travelling stance, she held her head up, generally curious although that sadness still hung over her like the storm clouds above. Her spirits lifted as she identified the lone tom: Duskfeather. Normally on a sunny day a purr would bubble in her throat, but today all that was visible from her newly found bit of happiness, was a slightly lifted tail.

The twolegs were coming out now to get their beasts. Swallowleaf assumed they weren't going to be riding them, for they didn't have the silly black caps on that they usually wore while riding them. She stared at their tremendous hooves, imagining the boom that came with every step. Like thunder is to lightning, She mused. No sooner than she had set out for her friend did she arrive beside him. "Hello," she spoke softly. Such was all she could convey, and such a solemn hello it was. She had attempted to veil it with her commonly cheery words but no such thing was accomplished.

ooc: I'm sorry also. Mine was a little wordy...

[/blockquote]

[c e d a r *]

The grayness of the landscape that surrounded the male's still bodice brought the toms normally upbeat attitude to a new low. He hated the rain now, after years of being able to bear with it. The warrior hated not being able to run freely in the moor without the sickening feeling of the mud sliding in between his pads, and he was sick of the gray that surrounded him at all times, unable to see the sun or the moon, and not even a glimpse of blue sky. So much for Greenleaf, eh? The male hadn't hated this much ever in his lifetime, but he wasn't enjoying the gray landscape anymore. It was boring and looking at it every day just made him want to leave the lake even more, to go find another place where there were blue skies all throughout the day, where the moon was always clearly seen at night, and the crickets sang out happily, where the stars were easy to see, and every night he could go out and count them, never able to finish, and where there was always some sign of warmth with no rain present. Yes! Rain would only come when they needed it. What a perfect place that was, and he knew that he would never be able to find a place like that. It was just much too perfect a place for them. He could always dream, though. The warrior had to admit, the creeping fog evened out the dreary scape somewhat, the whiteness allowing the gray to tone down a bit, but when he heard a rumble of thunder, a chill was sent all the way down his spine, making the tip of his tail twitch some.

It was cold, much too cold for a storm on this day, correct?

'Hello.' The voice rang out clearly in his ears, for he knew the voice well. Oh, of all the places in the whole territory, Swallowleaf had managed to come to where he was? A smile almost worked its way onto the deputy's features as he thought about why she was here, but it stopped short, realizing he had to come up with a response. He examined the sound of her voice. It didn't sound much too cheerful, and Duskfeather was beginning to think that the weather was bringing her down with it, as it had with himself. A soft, low sigh escaped the toms mouth as he looked down at the gray she-cat standing below him, surely unable to sit, for the water would easily make her cold and uncomfortable. Hence why he had chosen to sit up on the post. As he brought his gaze out to the pasture, the male realized the horses were gone, their masters must have brought them in. Looking back down toward Swallowleaf, the male simply replied, "Hello, Swallowleaf."

He needed to say more. He needed to invite her up on the fence to sit beside her, but as he thought of all these things, his mouth refused to say them. His jaw seemed locked in place, but he didn't want to be rude. She was his friend, and no matter what would happen, he would ask her to sit by him. But as much as he tried to open his mouth, his mind refused to let it pry open even just a bit. In defiance, the male scrambled down the fence, landing awkwardly on the cold, wet ground, his paws failing on the mud, so he almost ended up sprawled out in the mud. His underbelly was now wet and cold, which made a small unhappy look become cast upon his face. His tail dropped and he dipped his head evenly to Swallowleaf. Clearing his throat and standing up fully, the male looked into her eyes, dipping his head slightly, and he opened his mouth to speak. "Cold? Weather bringing you down?" the male asked softly, his voice seeming to be lost in with another clap of thunder, this one seeming much further away. He, too, stood on the cold, wet ground, afraid of the chilled and uncomfortable sensation that sprang into his body as soon as his haunches touched the ground. And once again, the rain started to fall, a light mist or drizzle, forming a fine coat of moistness over his already mussed up fur. An annoyed look crossed the face of the normally happy tom, and a grumble of a sigh escaped his throat as he dragged a claw through the mud.

[Fernear!]

"What gave it away?" Her voice was racked with sarcasm, for this question had quite an obvious answer. Her whole body wrote a novel about how she was feeling. There was no way to escape such a truth. As he graciously came to the ground to accompany the she-cat, the act of mild chivalry opened her eyes to the tom Duskfeather was. He was not enjoying this weather, his act of injustice to the mud made the fact legitimate. As the rain picked up again, her silver pelt was layered with the light mist. She did not take care to swipe the droplets off her muzzle or the tips of her ears. Soon she was facing the same direction as he was, looking out onto the moor of which she had travelled earlier in the narration.

"Could we ever live without the moor? Is this even the moor we were born and raised on? Could such majesty be brought down so swiftly by a battle with the elements? I can vaguely see the soul of the plain flicker beneath all of the mud and water, but, is it still the moor we once knew?"

Her mildly poetic speech was unnecessary but nevertheless she had spoken her mind. A part of her was brought down when the moor was overtaken by the storm. Standing evenly on all of her paws brought the chill to every point in her body as quickly as it would if she were seated. Slowly her eyes made there way to the east, as far as their range could reach. There the mountains resided, withstanding the toll of time. Swallowleaf's eyes stayed locked on the landmark for quite some time, musing, imagining what it would like to live amongst the tribe cats. Would she become a better hunter, a better cat? Would she meet her mate in the rocky encampment? As she regarded the scenario her heart skipped a beat and brought her back to her reality. She was a WindClan cat; she could never live in the mountains and still find such blazing happiness as she did when she felt the breeze over the hills and the comradeship between her clan mates. She would find her mate here, in her home, in her clan.

Echoing the tom beside her, she let out a hearty, full-bodied sigh. She stared blankly into the landscape in front of her, her mind slowing, focusing on what was going to influence her most dramatically in the future. The lake was looking rather ominous with whitecaps crashing into one another. Stories were told of a flood tearing through the old forest sweeping away kits and warriors alike. Could this become a repeat performance? She passed it off as something to look out for, but nothing of great significance. The sky looked promising in the distance, anyways.

"Duskfeather... Have you ever thought about what your future would be like? Where you would end up and who you would become? Did you ever anticipate this? You becoming the deputy..? I don't know where I'll end up..." Swallowleaf broke her stare to look at the tabby profile of her companion, her eyes bleeding with emotion.

"Sometimes I like to image that sometimes I will be remembered, that I will be in one of the great tales. Sometimes I like to believe I will do something great and become someone who will be praised upon like the cats of old..."

[/blockquote]

[c e d a r *]

(a late reply, but better than nothing.)

The male deputy listened to the quiet and somewhat anxious words that spilled quickly out of Swallowleaf's lips. Head tilted and ears pricked, he hung onto every one of her words, and until she was finished, his mouth was slightly open, trying to comprehend. When she had finished, the tom took a few moments to compose his thoughts, before he spoke.

"I don't think this looks like the moor you and I were both born upon, for our paws to scrape the ground happily, catching bountiful amounts of prey. Mother nature did this for some reason, but I don't know, although I really wish, in all my heart, I wish I knew what this was about. I miss the dryness, although I do consider ourselves very lucky, we are very high above ground when you look at RiverClan and ShadowClan. I feel the small pain you feel. This isn't home to me anymore, this is...a challenge placed before us and I don't know why StarClan would do this to us. I am not losing faith, it's just that this isn't the WindClan I know anymore, this place doesn't have a name. This doesn't look like where I was born. This moor is now just a large expanse of mud and water..."

He took a deep, shaky breath, and looked at the water streaking down his gleaming coat. His eyes swept around the vast landscape around him and a frown placed itself upon his maw. He was beginning to shiver, the mist finally penetrating through his fur and seeping onto his skin. "Walk with me," sighed the tom, taking a step forward, and stopping to see if she would refuse or go along with him. He had a lot to say in regard of what Swallowleaf had just spoken, about her future and whether or not he knew he was to take the position of the deputy.

Looking at her silver-furred pelt, a warm feeling spread through his heart and into his bones. He was ready to run through the moor and through the mud, to let his legs, which had been slowed for moon after moon, run wild against the grass which was plastered against the sopping ground.

"Did I ever anticipate becoming the deputy? No. Not at all, I really only wanted to be the best warrior I could ever be. I just wanted to live the full experience of living a Clan life, and just...being with my family, my Clan. I never expected this to happen either. When I think back to my kithood, I never remember dreaming about becoming the deputy or leader, some felt that way when they were younger, but me, I only wanted to be the fastest, the best hunter, and a protector over my Clan. I never really dreamed of where I would end up, I just wanted to be a warrior, nothing more," sighed the deputy, his steps taking him into the moor, toward the thunderpath. Surely it wouldn't be busy, on a day like this?

"As for you, did you ever expect to end up somewhere other than a warrior? I know that I will always remember you. I don't believe it takes a cat of high rank to be remembered greatly, I think it's a cat with the right attitude, some cat like you. You will be remembered for your optimism and your high spirits. I will always remember who would be able to put a smile on my face when I thought nothing else could." The warrior looked pointedly at the she-cat, and gave her a small smile, before looking ahead once more.

"You can believe you will be praised, and it will probably happen. I know many cats who would remember you for you, not because of what ranking you stand as. You know very many warriors who are remembered, right? You'll end up where you want to end up. You've made it far already, an accomplished warrior, and you've got many seasons left to live, who knows what will happen?" the warrior mused, pressing his head comfortingly against Swallowleaf's shoulder. "You shouldn't worry. You should live life to the fullest. Go with the changes, but don't let them get to you, don't let them change you, because I like you for who you are, and I know every cat would agree with me," purred Duskfeather, his eyes shining happily.

The tom's pawsteps avoided going toward the thunderpath. As cold and wet as the day happened to be, the scent still hit his nose faintly, and he didn't want to go any closer. His paws lead their way through the edge of the moor, weaving their way toward a spot where he knew they could see the territories of all Clans. It was his favorite spot to go, and even though the fog was still hanging lightly in the air, he was positive they could both look out each of the territories, and continue their conversations from there. The spot seemed very fitting, the highest park of the territory, where they could look at the lake, look at the forests, and the streams. Where they could talk about change and talk about anything they wanted to. It was the perfect spot.

[Fernear!]

His speech was long and disconnected at times, but they hailed truth and integrity with every breath. The trust and companionship that Swallowleaf was beginning to forge with the deputy was undoubtedly stronger and more prominent than it had been just moons before. Parallel with his words' truth were the wisest of hints. Not only had Duskfeather surprised her by this, but he had also flattered the she-cat by continuing on to say how he'd remember her and her character. It made her smile shyly.

"I never expected anything other than what I have now: a loyal, loving Clan and the truest of friends one could ever be placed with." Her eyes tried to meet his before he spoke again. Her words were mere whispers, anyways. Underfoot, the thin layer of ice and slush dragged at her paws. Unlike leaf-bares in previous years, this one went without the white powder that usually arrives soon after leaf-fall.

Duskfeather spoke again. "And so the deputy consoles the warrior..." her voice was chased away by the wind and was heard by no one but the breeze itself. After Duskfeather finished, she walked on quietly, processing his words and her future. Another swift gale blew over the rolling hills sending the thin she-cat into a frenzy of shivers that soon died down when they reached their destination.

The view from the top of the tall hillock was breath-taking. Her eyes scanned the gloomy expanse leading into RiverClan's marshy territory and across to the ShadowClan border. The pine trees loomed over head the dark felines and she could almost feel the shadows crawling over them all day. The same feeling was bestowed upon her when her eyes reached ThunderClan, although the feeling wasn't as sinister. Some of the maples still carried their bright orange leaves, heralding cheerful emotions.

"Well, look where we have come. We've seen the rise and fall of brave leaders, the change in winds and the appearance of horrible decisions. Our path can only lead to more of these encounters." She looked at him smiling, and waited for a response.

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