Lost without you.

[Slug]

[tiddler]

<sub>And Nixa, of all cats, had much to think upon. She nodded slowly, eyes closed to hide her pain, as Bluefen's face appeared in her mind one more time. The silver tabby fur that once made her quiver in anticipation, and love, but now the thought made her sick with despair. She had been so beautiful, and even thinking of it made her heart turn cold. No cat could compare. But she cracked her eyelids open to turn to the male, hoping she didn't sound choked with emotion, and thankfully as that came out was toneless rasp, "A barren sky- But I suppose a thing to be thankful for."

Nixa tilt her head at that, her expression turning to one of curiosity rather then the frosty look she normally held. "All life has value. Life should only be taken when it is needed. I wouldn't expect another cat to understand that concept, but life is like that. It allows itself to burn into meaninglessness." But at least Smokestripe seemed to grasp the concept of holding such respect, to which she gave a slight smile. He was nice enough, if a little odd.

Little, as like how he applied to her, that is.</sub>

[Slug]

"Everything is part of the circle of life-- I embrace the truth. The truth of natures feriosity and yet it still loves us all, no matter how small we are. The tiniest insect is part of a certain circle. If it dies, the thing that eats it dies, and our prey will die; and soon, so will we." Smokestripe sighed in content, then he gave a startled squeek.

"Sorry! I'm rambling again..." Smokestripe lowered his head, ears against his scalp as his whiskers once again quivered in embarassment. "I-I've just learned to respect what's around me; everything is important in it's own little way so..." He gave a sharp, nervous cough, then straightend up.

"Of course-- this must all sound boreing to you. The circle of life and what not-- it's something you see everyday!" Smokestripe gave a shaky purr.

[roscoe]

Firm pawsteps struck the ground covered in leaves. With each planting of a heavy paw, the feline pulled himself a tad bit farther, making his way toward wherever. His progress was slow, almost lacking as his pale green eyes stayed bleakly ahead. It was almost as if... as if the cat was dead, but remained walking. Just a shell going nowhere as it traveled across the leaf-covered ground.

A mouse scampered in front of the large cat, pausing for a moment to nibble on a dried out seed before continuing on its way. If a mouse- one of the forest's most sensitive creatures- found the large, impressive tom cat to be no threat, something just had to be wrong.

And indeed it was.

The cat's fur- long and dark with his maine coon heritage, plastered against him like a second skin, gleamed sickly in the sun that streamed through the trees. The slowly drying water looking like oil against his black fur. Or worse; blood.

The sun that striked his fur brought light, no pun intended, to the true shade. Not a dull, dark black like first glance would have showed- no. But instead a dark, dark brown. Dark enough to look black to even the most trained eyes. But at the first touch of light, it lit up to reveal it's brown shading, a redish tinge to the dark color.

His stomach was covered the most with the red, having already dried from the tom's encounter- embarrassing to recall encounter- with a stubborn fish and a cold river. It fluffed out to its normal length, looking different from the rest of the tom's plastered fur. So different, in fact, it gave the tom a deranged look.

He grimaced. Of all the days to fall in a river, and for all the reasons! Just think of how uncivil he must look. How barbaric, how disgusting. The tom's mind was resolved on his actions though. Take a hunting trip for the rest of the day as he let his long fur dry. A slow process, but a necessary one.

His speed increased slightly as the scent of a squirrel hit his nose.

The small gray mammal sat not two tail-lengths away, squeaking happily as it gathered it's food. He froze every part of him, right down to the tip of his tail. As the forest grew quiet- the squirrel still obliviously munching away- he angled himself. His mind sped up, taking aim as he directed toward the rodent. It reeled, the earth seemed to turn as the large tom launched into the air.

Success.

The black cat padded away with his prey, pale green eyes glowing with renewed fervor, almost ghostly with their color. The warm scent from the freshkill tempted him to eat right their and then, and he could too. He had already hunted for his clan that day. Going to the river was just to hunt for himself- that ended in disaster.

So he would find a sunny spot and bask there as he a-

Were those cats?

The tom's ears pricked, turning towards the sound of voices, cat voices. Two distinct scents hit his nose: PineClan and loner. What was going on? Curiosity seeping through his wet body, the tom padded over to the voices making his way to where he assumed the were by sound only- the fallen trees.

He recognized one of the cats- a PineClan tom, Soot... Soot something. At the moment he couldn't remember. The other was a loner (or so he though). The loner's dusty fur reminded him quickly of his own kit, before he shut off the memory and padded closer to the two, if only to hear what they were saying. Finding a secluded spot, the tom, Duskheart, took his seat on the ground and began to eat just as the PineClan cat mentioned something about circles of life.

ooc | so today is Roscoe's Quantity > Quality day. So this is long, but bad. Sorry.

[snowstorm]

Cloe walked up to the cats.
"A clan cat and a rouge..."
she mewed her temper suddenly calmer.
"And what would be going on here?"
She twitched her right ear in curiosity, then looked to each cat. She remembered her fathers battle with a clan cat, witch ended in a loss. Her father was dead along with her mother, and her sister and brothers she hasn't heard from since small kit days. She soon got lost in memories, not paying attention to anything.