The River Bank (Private for now)

[Slug]

The cold mud of the river's bank was thick and gloppy; like glue, it was hard to move in it's paw deep mass. Russetfang in particular was having a brutal time trying to venture his way through the bank's edge; sadly failing here and there, much to the russet tom's annoyance, his saw-dust brown eyes glinting with flecks of wild, caged anger.

With a soft mummer of cursing, Russetfang finally shoved his temper into a box and locked it; the rage slipping away from view. With a sigh, Russetfang caved and plopped onto the mud with a defeated groan, sinking slightly up to the mid of his sides. Lifting his head higher, Russetfang scanned his suroundings-- ears twitching at the rushing river only a few fox-tails away from him.

Dead grass and weeds were littered all over the ground, amoung them were lush, healthy reeds and tainted snow-- which was half-melted by the blazing sun. Russetfang admited it felt good-- the sun's rays hitting his back while the cool mud lathered his belly

Then he frowned, glancing at the forest's edge-- to his right; opposite of the river.

He wouldn't be able to return to camp without help-- the mud seemed to act like a large, red-brown suction cup; holding Russetfang in place. He could yowl for help-- something he'd do if he had been a kit again-- or wait for help to come.

Russetfang chose the latter-- he was too tired to vocalize his need of assistance, and he prefered to be a little lazy and wait.

With a quiver of his whiskers, Russetfang finally realized: yes. Being crippled has it's quirks-- but it had kinks, too.

Like being unable to escape mud, for example.

[Rolo]

Molewhisker crept silently into the clearing, gingerly trying to make his footsteps as light as possible. Contrary to what many assumed, he wasn't walking on the tips of his paws in order to stalk anything or to go unheard, he just didn't want to step before he knew nothing was under his paws. Molewhisker always progressed slowly through the forest, not because he liked taking his time but because the slightest ruffle in the branches would often make him jump out of his skin. Molewhisker swore that the entire forest was there to scare him. Mice existed to make his stomach turn, black birds to make him yowl in fright.

Nope, Molewhisker didn't move quietly for a purpose or to be leisurely, it was because he was cautious. The forest stalked him and threatened to frighten him at any second...

As Molewhisker broke through the trees, his pace began to become more relaxed and natural, his head was held a little higher. Just a little though. Molewhisker knew the penalty for being over-confident. If he raised his gaze too much and saw a black bird... he would not be able to remain here, so he eliminated the risk by not seeing one.

Molewhisker moved towards the river. He liked the river. It was friendly and soothed him. He liked nothing better than a good swim, but he rarely did so as getting to a place where he could swim often meant entering the forest... and he never did that. Being in the water or sitting beside a steam was the one time Molewhisker could truely relax. There were few cats that enjoyed the water as much as he did, so it was usually a time where he revelled in being alone. No stronger males or females here, he could truly relax.

Encaptured in his joy about being able to swim, Molewhisker did not notice that there was an unfamiliar cat about until he was but a fox-length from the stream. The black tom gasped in surprise, instantl flinching and backing off from the stream.

Molewhisker shuddered at the unfamiliar scent in the air. It was a male...

He just hoped the cat hadn't scented him. He didn't want to have to talk to anyone today...

He began to head towards the forest before realising he was going into the forest. He growled. He'd just spent an hour getting here, no way was he ready to go back in there again. He'd just have to... hide until the tom had gone or until he was settled enough to go back into the trees.

He sighed, wandering away from the forest again and back towards the stream. Behind the remains of a dead tree, he sat down and settled down for a wait.

((I'm so sorry this sucks -_-))

[Slug]

Russetfang smiled as he scented the cat-- tom?-- that had been, what he guessed, in the stream-- though he would have never heard him if that tom hadn't gasped. Then finally he realized what else the scent meant.

Streamclan....

Would the unseen tom be able to help him? Escaping from the mud was Russetfang's top priority; even by the means of another clan cat. Weakly, Russetfang stood, legs quivering like his whiskers had done earlier.

"H-hey! C-can you help me out, here? I'm...I'm stuck!" Russetfang laughed a little at his situation. "I know you're there-- surely you wouldn't leave a crippled tom in need as one as myself, yes? I'm trying to get out of this mud but I'm sure you can tell by... my condition, I'm in no place to do things such as moving around."

To emphasize his problem, Russetfang tried to pull his paw out of the mud-- only to reward himself with a loud, sucking noise in return; dragging his leg deeper into the watery earth. With a grimace, Russetfang plopped down again; defeated once more.

"Will ya' help me out here-- I want to leave this place as much as you want to be here; ya' see, I'm just trying to get back to my clan so... yeah. Kindly help? Please?"

[Rolo]

Molewhisker stopped breathing, freezing as the cat called out to him. Ears pricked, he listened attentively to every word, trying to make out the tone and the character of the cat through the sounds of the words alone.

The idea of showing himself made his blood run cold... he was sure that he'd go out there and get his ears bitten off. Most warriors from opposing clans, he found, had high testosterone levels and they would act dominantly whenever they could... he was afraid of that.

Yet, as he sat there, hackles raised, one word made him relax. crippled...

The cat was crippled? Molewhisker thanked Starclan. It sounded unlikely that this cat would do him any harm. He wanted to sigh in relief, but he guessed the cat would hear him so he didn't. In light of the cat's disability, Molewhisker decided that revealing himself would be best. As much as he hated having to hold a conversation, he decided to introduce himself.

Keeping his head bent in submission, he walked forward towards the cat, not daring to look up. He stopped by the side of the river and mumbled;

"Uhh... hi?" He said quietly, his mouth dry, "I'm Molewhisker... you need help?"

((Ouch... he's painfully hard to get into right now >.< My apologies. I hope I'll be able to step into his shoes more easily soon.))

[Slug]

ooc: I understand. Russetfang isn't who I want him to be-- he needs to be more care free or something along those lines. -.-;
--x

"Yeah. I'm stuck in the mud and stuff." If cats could pout, Russetfang would have but he settled with his whiskers quivering instead. "Being crippled sucks, ya' know?" He sighed, then beamed at Molewhisker. "And I'm Russetfang, buddyyyyy," Russetfang yawned. "Nice t'meet'cha."

With the last of his strength, Russetfang stood; shaking violently as if he was about to collasp again. "A-all I j-just ne-need i-is fo-for you t-t-to g-get m-m-me out, th-then e-escort me f-from the ri-river bank so I d-don't g-get s-stuck again. S-sound go-good t'ya, Molewhissskaaaarrr?" He stuttered from his emmence shaking, drawling Molewhisker's name as if it was a new discovery. Clicking his tonuge a bit, he tried again; this time chipper then a woodpecker.

"Molewhisker i-is a n-nice n-n-name, y'know?"

/lame. D: