nothing is broken...yet

[tenacious]

Hawkfang had watched Ottersplash leave for a few heartbeats before running off himself. His mind was racing and he wanted to sort through the thoughts before new ones could pour on and give him a headache. The brown tom startled a rabbit at one point and his eyes had widened as he had let out a surprised mew. Now, he sat only a few paces away from where he had frightened the rabbit, staring out towards RiverClan territory before switching his gaze over to ThunderClan. So many things to think about.

The upcoming battle, for one. Rookstar had yet to share any details with his Clan and the tom had heard nothing from his sister; not like that was a big surprise. Hawkfang rarely saw her around camp anymore. Hawkfang was slightly nervous; if RiverClan lost, the moor would no longer be his to roam. He stiffened at the thought of being contained to the river as RiverClan had been before. Not only that, but who knew what else Willowstar would try to do if her Clan won. RiverClan would be weakened, after all, and some of the warriors would experience low moral.

Of course, the tom would fight, and he would fight to the death for the right to the moor and its rabbits. Then again, what good would it do? Ottersplash couldn’t hunt rabbits. He doubted any other RiverClan cat could and ShadowClan would be just as bad.

And then there was everything that had been happening. His conversation with Vixenfang, his hunt with Ottersplash. The fact that he, a RiverClan cat, preferred open land to the river. Preferred running to swimming. Okay, most of the thoughts were the same ones, repeated, but they presented themselves differently each time, hitting Hawkfang harder and harder. The brown warrior leapt up abruptly, eyes narrowed as he looked up at the sky.

How different would things be if WindClan was still around?

[{Otter}]

Everything is so simple now.

The words echoed around Vixenfang's mind as she padded slowly across the open, snowy land. What she was thinking was very true. Everything was so simple now. After her talk with Elkstar, things were so simple. She had been hoping for that, of course. But now that she realized just how simple things were, she wasn't happy. I won't be easy no matter what I choose, she realized with a sigh. She didn't want to betray ThunderClan, but she refused to give up the moorlands. There was only one option, and that option was so atrocious, so treacherous, so disgusting, that she hated even thinking about it. And yet? She couldn't get her mind off it.

Perhaps it was StarClan's will that this would happen. A breath of wind brought with it a familiar scent. A scent she had only smelled once or twice before, but which automatically brought a wave of relief to her mind. Hawkfang. The RiverClan warrior as small and swift as she.

She moved forward at a trot, then burst into a sprint, needing to feel the freedom she felt only when running. After several moments she slowed, barely winded, and searched for Hawkfang. His scent was heavy now, and Vixenfang's deep amber eyes scanned the area for him. Ah, there he was. He looked a little...crazy. As she watched, he jumped up and glared at the sky for no apparent reason. Perhaps he was cursing StarClan. Perhaps he was as frustrated as she, ready to move on. Perhaps he was trying to come to some large conclusion, as well.

And then it hit her. Hawkfang couldn't really enjoy living in RiverClan. Hawkfang couldn't really feel like he actually belonged in RiverClan, just as she felt she didn't really belong in ThunderClan. He was a WindClan cat at heart. Perhaps even in blood.

"Hawkfang!" she mewed loudly, moving forward at a trot once more. Perhaps he didn't really want to be bothered right now. Perhaps he didn't really want to talk. But she needed to talk to someone, and now was as good as ever.

((Crappy post, sorry))

[tenacious]

He was too focused glaring at the sky, too lost in thought to notice that there was a new scent carried by the wind. Vixenfang. And so, when his name was loudly called, the brown male jumped, visibly startled and he looked around hurriedly until he found Vixenfang, walking towards him at a trot. Was it horrible that a strange sort of relief came over Hawkfang? She was like him, it seemed; she liked the moor, Hawkfang would dare to say she loved it; she was small and swift-footed.

“Vixenfang,” Hawkfang mewed in greeting, dipping his head, the fur that had bristled from his earlier surprise now beginning to lie flat.

Hawkfang began to wonder what the ThunderClan deputy was doing at the moor once more. Had so much time passed since he returned to camp? The tom narrowed his eyes in thought before chuckling to himself. He was back at the moorland, after al, and perhaps Vixenfang’s reason were just as innocent as his. Hawkfang brushed the thoughts away; so long as he wasn’t faced with a hostile cat, Hawkfang didn’t care who he spoke to at the moment. He just needed to talk. Or to listen. Listening was good; it distracted him from his problems; let him focus on a cat beside himself.

Too bad the reasons couldn’t be good. Too bad he didn’t listen because it was right, but because sometimes he felt like he just had do get away from it all.

[{Otter}]

Though startled at first, Hawkfang seemed to relax upon seeing her. In fact, he looked almost relieved to see her, and Vixenfang allowed for a very soft purr to rumble from her throat. Too soft, of course, for him to hear. A few more steps brought them closer, and Vixenfang sat her butt in the snow-powdered ground.

Small talk was not something Vixenfang partook in. In her opinion, smalltalk was just another way to lie. No one actually cared about the answer to "how are you?" or "how's the prey running?" No, no one really cared about those answers. Therefore, she avoided them and got down to what she actually cared about.

"You told me last time we met that we could trust one another," she mewed slowly, narrowing her eyes as she studied him for any reactions she might be able to gage. "So I need to ask you a question. If you don't want to answer, then don't. But...I feel like you will want to answer." She paused, trying to read his expression. Curse her inability to read cats! An icy wind blew against her fur, but unlike the first time she had ventured up here and hated the feeling, Vixenfang closed her eyes and basked. It would take getting used to, yes. But she could get used to it. She could live here. She could thrive.

"Hawkfang, if WindClan were to be reformed, would you join them?" She just threw it out there, unable to hold it in any longer. Vixenfang had never been able to sugarcoat any kinds of questions. She couldn't make something sound better or less ridiculous than it really was. What she was asking him was atrocious and completely treacherous, and there was no way to make it seem any less than that. She would know if he was telling the truth, because no cat satisfied and happy in their Clan would even consider leaving. StarClan, if you agree with this plan, please, please let him agree. Or, if not, don't let him turn me in.

[tenacious]

Hawkfang sat, curling his tail around his paws, eyes trained on Vixenfang. She leapt right into a conversation, not bothering to ask the usual “how are you?”. Hawkfang didn’t mind; he did not enjoy giving out negative views on his feelings when trying to strike up a conversation. He was feeling rather negative…mainly. Vixenfang’s eyes narrowed as she spoke and he raised a brow at her words.

What question could she possibly want to ask him?

“Hawkfang, if WindClan were to be reformed, would you join them?”

The question caught Hawkfang off guard and he found himself looking at Vixenfang through wide eyes. WindClan…reformed? He looked away, back towards RiverClan territory; it had been his home since he was born. He had family there. He had a friend there. But that was it- some family, a friend. Not even his own mate and kits, though, just his parents and sister. And one friend. The tom frowned slightly; he knew his answer.

“Yes…yes, I would,” he murmured, returning his gaze to Vixenfang.

But how could WindClan be reformed? Surely StarClan would not agree? It would bring anger to the forest- cats from other Clans would have to leave. There could not be a Clan with only a few cats and there weren’t many rogues, loners, or kittypets, and it’d be foolish to rebuild a Clan with cats like that. Cats that knew nothing about the warrior code, about honor. Then again…perhaps WindClan staying…well, gone, would cause more trouble for the Clans. After all, would the dispute over the moorland ever truly be settled unless the true owners settled there once more?

[{Otter}]

At his answer, Vixenfang's mind was plunged into a frenzy of thoughts. Of plans. Of visions. She needed to explain things to Hawkfang, she knew. He looked confused, and why shouldn't he be? What she was saying was random and spontaneous and didn't seem well thought-out. And, in all actuality, it wasn't really all that well thought out. She didn't even know where WindClan's old camp was! She had no idea where to start looking for it, and the moorlands were so vast!

Slow down, she thought, shaking her head roughly as she closed her amber eyes. She took a deep breath, still shocked by Hawkfang's answer. She had a partner. Someone to help her. But...how did she describe this? How did she explain what was going on? She didn't know how.

So, instead, she shot off on another question. "Are there other cats in RiverClan like us? Do you know of any in ShadowClan?" They would need others. They needed others to join them, to be warriors, to be apprentices. There was no way to reform a Clan with only two cats.

She was going too fast. Great StarClan, maybe she wasn't cut out for this. She couldn't even think straight...she was too excited. Too anxious. There was so much to do, to think about....She closed her eyes and decided to hold her tongue. She'd wait for him to answer this question. Perhaps he had some questions to ask her. Great StarClan, what was she doing?

[tenacious]

Vixenfang shook her head and closed her eyes while breathing deeply. Well, that was a pretty fair reaction. He should try it out sometime, instead of gazing off into space. The she-cat suddenly fired off another question and Hawkfang raised one brow slightly. This one was puzzling. Were there other cats in RiverClan that would want to join WindClan? He doubted it; but Hawkfang had never struck up the conversation with another, either. He generally tried to blend in or he was chasing butterflies with Ottersplash, which made him look as if he suffered from serious mood swings.

As for ShadowClan…Hawkfang didn’t often bother himself with the Clan of the marsh. He preferred not to speak to them. Oh, how incredibly awkward it’d be, to suddenly find yourself having to work with those cold-hearted creatures.

“I’m unsure, really; I don’t discuss much with my Clanmates. At least not…this type of stuff,” Hawkfang murmured, his face momentarily fading as he struggled to find the right words. “What about in ThunderClan, Vixenfang?” he questioned suddenly, tilting his head a bit.

[{Otter}]

He understood! Great StarClan, he understood. She was disappointed to hear that he couldn't think of any RiverClan cats off the top of his head, but that was understandable. In the same way, she didn't know of any ThunderClan cats who would want to join WindClan. She did know some who wouldn't join, but only from their size did she know this. No, she had no idea. But that could change. If they were careful, they could get a few more followers. This could work.

"I have no idea if there are cats in ThunderClan who would be willing to consider it, but I will work on finding out," she replied firmly, slowly regaining her frame of mind. She needed to pull herself together, and fast. She didn't think she'd lose Hawkfang's interest, but she didn't know for sure, and StarClan knew she needed him now.

Bud did he understand what she had asked him? She had to know. "I am planning on leaving ThunderClan," she told him, narrowing her eyes as she solidly met his gaze. "Do you understand that? Do you realize what I'm saying to you? I am a treacherous, horrible, disloyal, crappy excuse for a deputy. I plan to leave ThunderClan, and I want to take some cats with me. I want to rebuild WindClan. I want to rebuild WindClan and show the cats of the other Clans that cats like us, small, wiry, agile cats, are just as good of hunters and fighters as everyone else." She paused, frowning as those facts registered in her mind. She was so atrocious. And she had to stop thinking this way. Flattening her ears against her skull, she went on determinedly, "I'm asking you if you will leave RiverClan. I'm asking you if you will become as atrocious and disloyal and treacherous as I am, and to remake WindClan with me." She stopped, watching him closely. Did he understand all this implied? Hawkfang was no fool--she knew that from just the little time she'd known him. He was smart and tactful, but she also knew he wasn't disloyal. He wasn't a traitor. Neither was she, really, but...she had made her decision. He needed to make his.


((I think it'd be interesting if another member popped in with some random cat from ThunderClan or RiverClan, just to make things more interesting ^.^))

[tenacious]

ooc: -pokes random member- You has been summoned...

bic:
So neither of them knew of cats within their own Clans that would like to go; that did not bug Hawkfang. The cats would come. Slowly, perhaps, but they would come like the water after a drought; a trickle and then a flood. Vixenfang began to spoke once more and he listened with rapt intention, his own eyes narrowed as well.

Treacherous. Horrible. Disloyal. In a sense, everything she wanted to do was, but…it all depended on what cat you were talking to. Maybe it was disloyal, maybe it was all the horrible things Vixenfang had named, but if that was what it took to restore the fourth Clan, then Hawkfang didn’t care. WindClan should’ve always run the moors, not cats that could barely run, much less catch the prey.

“I understand what you are asking of me, Vixenfang,” Hawkfang murmured in reply, “Perhaps the idea is disloyal. But only WindClan deserves to run these moors. And the other Clans must be showed that brute strength isn’t the only way to survive. I am willing to leave RiverClan, for this cause,” he added, his voice softer now. Questions began to race through the tabby’s mind. How would the leaders react? Elkstar espiecally? She would be losing her deputy and that would be a terrible blow for ThunderClan. She was already facing ridicule due to her pacifist attitude when it came to the last Gathering. Imagine what RiverClan and ShadowClan could make of this. Then again, he was leaving RiverClan, and Hawkfang doubted there wasn’t at least one cat that would leave ShadowClan, or at least wanted to do so. Every Clan would take a blow.

Perhaps that, instead of the anger of the leaders, was to be feared the most. Greed poisoned the hearts of many good cats during Leaf-bare; would they experience an attack if they went to the moors? Or would StarClan back them up? Surely no respectable leader and deputy would question the will of StarClan.

[{Otter}]

He understood. Or, at least, he claimed to understand. Vixenfang couldn't help but believe him. She only wished there were more of them. She was not an optimistic cat, and had a hard time believing that more would come. Surely, though, she could find others. Surely, between the two of them, she and Hawkfang could talk to some cats that might become allies. Surely....

And there was still the problem of when to do this, and how. They couldn't just leave. That would send the wrong message, and any cat that hadn't heard of their plan would be in the dark. No, that would be a stupid, ridiculous idea. As if not all of this was stupid and ridiculous! she thought with a sigh. Right, she had to stop thinking like this. Enough, enough, enough. First things first.

"We...will need somewhere to come, when we leave," she mewed slowly, deep amber gaze sweeping the moorlands. Where was WindClan's old camp? She'd never even heard anyone speak of it. Perhaps they just slept in the open, or something. Maybe that was why they'd been run out. "If we have a camp, and we fortify it, the rest of the Clans will be forced to take us seriously. And other cats that might join us will know that they can put their trust in us and...leave their Clans." Oh, curse everything! She was going to be condemned to the Dark Forest for this. Getting cats to leave their Clans...how atrocious could she become? A heavy sigh escaped the small she-cat, and she shook her head slowly. "We should try and find WindClan's old camp," she suggested, if only to get her mind off of what would soon take place. But where did they even start? The moorlands were so vast...

[tenacious]

WindClan’s old camp.

He looked around the moorland, frowning slightly; there was so much territory to explore. How could they possibly find WindClan’s old camp? WindClan probably wouldn’t have settled too close to a border, Hawkfang thought, his eyes flicking towards the borders for a moment. Still, that wouldn’t help them too much. The tom lashed his tail before turning his gaze back to Vixenfang, “Well, they defiantly wouldn’t have settled too close to a border. That would’ve been mouse-brained,” his whiskers twitched, but the movement was very slightly.

The brown tom rose to his paws. There were other things to be worked out, if no cat wanted to be labeled a traitor and a rogue. But, Vixenfang was right; they would need to find the camp. And, if they could not, they would at least have to find a spot to create a camp. Camps were, like, the soul of a Clan. Meetings were held there, apprentices were made, warriors were named; without a camp, a Clan was disorganized. Hawkfang’s mind switched to another thought: recruiting.

How could they recruit? It was a fragile topic. One that could easily bring up negative emotions in any cat, espiecally those ferociously loyal to their Clans. It’d be mouse-brained to just walk up and start jabbering on about WindClan and Hawkfang wasn’t eager to make friends and gently bring up the topic.

[{Otter}]

((Hey! RiverClan's got some more cats who would join WindClan. Perhaps Hawkfang could have an epiphany and be like "oh, wait!!"))


Slowly but surely, Vixenfang's mind was beginning to clear. She started to see things for what they were, and she realized that, though finding WindClan's camp was important, it wasn't necessary yet. There was more to be done.

"The camp can be found later," she decided finally. "I come up here from time to time, and I believe you do, as well. We can each search for it on our own." They shouldn't be staying up here for too long together, anyway. Their Clans might miss them, and one day, somehow, they might end up carrying the other's scent home. Then everything could be ruined.

"What can we do about finding others? How is that even possible?" She looked to him, searching his expression with her amber gaze. Did he have any idea? She had none. She had no earthly idea. Great StarClan. "I assume that any cats that might have the build of a WindClan cat would come up here from time to time. But I have never seen any others up here, besides you."

Were they at an impasse? A Clan was not a Clan without members. They may have a leader and deputy (which of them would be leader and which would be deputy, Vixenfang really wasn't quite sure), but they couldn't defend themselves. And how could one recruit if one couldn't risk speaking about such a sore topic?

((Sorry, I'm out of ideas. You got any? Maybe they can host a stakeout from time to time, like, to see if any other cats decide to run around in the moorlands. *Pokes Frozenclaw* I feel like she should pop in soon....))

[blue]

Scents drifted through the air, dancing around WindClan territory, caught in the soft wind that blew across the long, dry grass. It was almost a beckoning dance of sorts, one that called to those with doubts in their hearts to tread across the open territory that once belonged to a surely proud clan. Perhaps if one listening hard enough, they could still hear the sound of the clan in their homes, still smell the many foreign cats, still see the patrols chasing rabbits.

Shrewclaw could.

With his eyes closed and his paws padding softly on the grass, Shrewclan could almost pretend he was a WindClan cat, patrolling the territory he loved so much. Sure he wasn't as lithe as the cats in stories were, nor was he quite that fast. But the tom was sure not all of the cats of WindClan fit into the stereotype. More than likely one or two of the cats broke off from the typical image and were larger than the rest of their clan mates.

But what was he thinking? He was RiverClan - not WindClan. No one had been WindClan in a long, long while. Before he was born, before his mentor was born, perhaps before her mentor was born. Maybe only the eldest elder could remember the scents and smells of the moor-loving cats - or perhaps not. Perhaps those things died with the eldest elder long ago. The brown tabby warrior would never know.

Slowly the tom opened his eyes, pale green clouded in haze, as if he was awaking from a deep, peaceful sleep. Well, his strolls through WindClan's old territory were very similar to sleeping, they were always so calming. Except now, when a sharper, familiar scent was mingling with the sweet softness that was WindClan. Oh yes, the warrior recognized them easily enough. His own clan, RiverClan, as well as a ThunderClan cat. He was too far at this point to name either of the cats (though, he doubt he could have by scent alone - he'd need to see them), so curiosity bested him quickly. Following the intrusive smells, he ended up farther down the border, crouched behind a dry bush. It wasn't the best hiding place, but he could see the cats now, something that caused his mouth to drop open in surprise. Hawkfang... and Vixenfang? A warrior of his clan and ThunderClans deputy?

... What?

Surely nothing could logically put them here, at this spot, together, talking in tones that sounded dark. Shrewclaw could only pick out a few words, but what he could intrigued him immensely. WindClan, WindClan Camp, the other clans. Surely this wasn't an accidental meeting due to hunting that led to friendly prattle. Oh no, these two cats... They definitely were up to something - anything. Warily Shrewclaw approached, eyes bright with a rare friendly spark, determined to weasel out of these two cats exactly what was going on. "Popular place to hunt, eh?"


ooc;
Random member here.! xD

[/size]

[{Otter}]

((Let's wait for Ten to post next))

Curse it all! Vixenfang couldn't imagine giving up now. But how could they not give up? There were no other cats to join WindClan. What were they supposed to do about that? She was no optimist, and she didn't like to entertain fruitless plans. Especially such atrocious plans. Giving up was the best choice.

Then again, Vixenfang hadn't been following the "best choice" for awhile. Why start now? No, she knew she wouldn't give up yet. She'd stick with this treacherous plan for as long as it was possible. The thought of a future without the moorlands was too bleak. Until they knew for sure that there were no others who would join WindClan, she would stick with it. Great StarClan, she hoped Hawkfang was the same way.

"Perhaps we should-" she was going to say "perhaps we should go back to our Clans and think this over some more", but a small breath of wind brought to her an unnerving scent, and her words died in her throat.

She detected the scent of the RiverClan warrior just before he spoke. His words sounded smug and cheerful, so friendly that she couldn't help but immediately grow wary. In a flash Vixenfang had spun around to face the approaching warrior, ginger fur bristling hostilely as she sized him up with narrowed amber eyes. He was on the smaller size of a warrior, a dark brown tabby like Hawkfang. She might have thought they were brothers, if their eyes had not been so different--Hawkfang's were blue, while this new warrior's eyes were a pale leaf-green.

It doesn't matter what he looks like, mousebrain, she thought angrily, shaking her head roughly to rid herself of such thoughts. She realized now that some subconscious part of her mind had been sizing him up not to see if he was a threat, but instead to see if he was a potential fellow traitor. What a mousebrain she was.

Since she was already on the topic, however, she decided to entertain those thoughts. She kept her eyes narrowed and fur bristled, showing this stranger that she was not a cat that could be taken by surprise, but as she did so, her mind wandered. He wasn't a big cat, by any means. He seemed average, only just a little bit skinnier and faster. Hunting rabbits wouldn't be amazingly easy for him, but he'd be better at it than the average warrior. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could make a WindClan cat. He was up here on the moors, wasn't he?

But no, she was thinking too hard about this. He had probably just been following Hawkfang. And Hawkfang had, after all, said there were no cats in RiverClan who would join WindClan. No, surely this other RiverClan warrior wouldn't even entertain such thoughts. There was no point in fantasizing, and no point in bringing up such a dangerous subject.

She was being a bit ridiculous, she realized. This was neutral land, and she was in an attack position. She had been taken by surprise, but she didn't need to show that. Vixenfang sat down, forcing her fur to lie flat again, and glanced from this newcomer to Hawkfang. She didn't want to seem too interested in Hawkfang, so she turned her eyes away from him and back on the newcomer. How much had he heard of their conversation? Not a lot, she hoped. Great StarClan. "Greetings," she mewed as docilely as possible. "I am Vixenfang of ThunderClan. You are?" As stated before, Vixenfang was not one for tactful words. She wanted to know this stranger's name, not "how he was" or "how the prey was running". Gosh.

[tenacious]

There was truth in Vixenfang's words; Hawkfang had not met any other cats while treading the moorlands. WindClan could not rebuild itself if they did not find members and surely cats interested would hunt on the moor. That was the most logical thing for a cat, that loved to run, to do. Then again, not every feline was logical; some cats were just mouse-brained through and through. Once more, the tabby tom drifted off in thought, trapped in worries of all kinds and wondering what would happen if any cat found out. Any cat that wouldn't join WindClan, of course. A loyal warrior would immediatly tell a higher ranking cat. Then what? Would Hawkfang and Vixenfang be thrown out?

Wouldn't that make a nice nursery tale?

He could almost hear queens chiding their kits, "They were very wrong, Vixenfang and Hawkfang, to try and rebuild a Clan. Look at the tree! StarClan says WindClan shouldn't come bck. Any of you disobey StarClan or your elders and you'll find yourselves flat on the Thunderpath like Hawkfang."

Because, really, Hawkfang could see himself getting run over if he was ever exiled. Rather that then being a loner. He flicked an ear to show he was listening as Vixenfang began to speak, but he did not notice for a few heartbeats that she had suddenly cut off.

"Vixenfang?" the tom prodded curiously, his eyes narrowing. A chill rolled down Hawkfang's spine in a wave.

The wind of the moor blew a scent towards Hawkfang and he stiffened suddenly; this must've been what had caused Vixenfang to fall silent in the middle of a sentence. Another warrior. What have they heard? he thought with alarm just before Shrewclaw came into view and spoke. Well, at least Shrewclaw was in his own Clan; it helped Hawkfang to relax slightly. They certainly would look- good StarClan! He broke off in midthought to stare at Vixenfang through wide eyes; what was she doing? The ginger she-cat was bristling and looking at Shrewclaw through narrowed eyes.

That certainly wasn't going to help any warrior from getting too curious.

He stiffled a light hiss and forced himself to return his gaze to his Clanmate; it'd be best to act as if he and Vixenfang had just stumbled upon each other on the moor, for now, until Shrewclaw's intentions became clear. (Funny, wasn't it? Here they were, planning on rebuilding a long lost Clan, questioning the intentions of another cat. Irony had a funny way of showing itself...)

Hawkfang dipped his head in a polite greeting, though he did not speak. No need to. The small warrior sat down once more, resisting the urge to give his chest fur a few nervous licks. Instead, he forced his tail to curl around his chilled paws and the brown tabby kept his eyes trained on Shrewclaw, trying to not let them flood with any emotions other then...coolness. Not the distubring kind, the nicer kind.

Could cool be nice?

Hawkfang suddenly shook his head to stop his mind from running on. Focus! he reminded himself, realizing too late that the word had been spoken in a light hiss.

Foxdung.