true friends stab you in the [ front ]

[roscoe]

Pink and orange spread through the pale sky, like thin fingers reaching for something that could never be grasped. The lights cut through early-morning clouds like they were nothing; to the light that's just what they were. Near the horizon the sun sat, almost completely above the distant end of the world.

And the end of the world seemed brilliant. Ever morning the sun rose, touching its warmth-bringing fingers to the dew-covered grass and plants that rested there. As the land warmed, the sun rose, placing light kisses on every living creature that it passed. Its light shook the world, bringing it out of its slumber.

But he never saw the sunrise as the start of a new day. No, he saw the rising sun as a reminder -- a confirmation, if you will -- of yesterday's end. When the ball of fire lifted over the horizon and showered the world in color was when he knew tomorrow was gone. And there was no way of getting it back.

He dosed then, tail wrapped around his small body and covering his pink nose. The sun, which so many waited for but he could do without, grazed over him slightly, encouraging a purr out of the quiet tom cat as he felt the warmth soak into his fur. Slowly the tom fell asleep.

He woke again when the sun was near its peak. The sky had lost its orange and pink shade and gleamed in brilliant blue, stretching for miles without a single cloud. Amber eyes blinked in attempt to shake the sleep away. The tom stretched, standing up and extending one leg at a time until he was satisfied with the feeling. Large paws padded softly across the soft grass as he made he way back to his home -- the Ranch.

A few other cats crossed his path, but the tom paid them no attention. He knew none of them and they did not know him, there was no reason to start a conversation. Before entering the Ranch, the tom cat paused to give his patterned fur a few quick licks. A small pink tongue went carefully but swiftly down his creamy fur and soon he felt clean and ready to take on the day.

The slightly ajar door provided his entrance and the tom, who went by the name of Crisp, walked slowly into the building. The darkness of the Ranch caused his pelt to morph slightly. The swirls and stripes of brown along his cream-colored fur seemed to disappear, blending in the dark. Time like this led Crisp to believe that he seemed to be a cat with holes. The thought made him smile.

But he had things to do, and could not waste his time wondering if he looked like he was filled with holes. Giving a determined look to no one in particular, the pale tabby made his way to the steps in the barn, preparing for a hunt on the third floor.

[Crowzerplorodon]

Clueless. That was the best way to describe the mouse. The small rodent nibbled idly on a seed, not paying attention to its surroundings. Maybe if it was paying attention it could have noticed the small cat stalking it and have dashed away in time to keep its life. But it didn't.

The tom cat was thankful for the easy catch. Hunting had never been his strong point. Picking up the now-dead mouse in his mouth, the dark ginger tom cat padded over to an empty corner of the Ranch's top floor. He finished the mouse quickly, before curling up into a ball and resting in a nest of hay.

The light the streamed in through the few windows prevent the tom cat from giving into to sleep completely. But he did manage a half-asleep stupor. Dark ginger fur (which he was given his name, Red, after) rose slightly as he took soft breaths. The tom tried to make it look like there was no cat up here, so the rest of the prey wouldn't go into hiding.

As Red dozed slightly, his mind was left to wander. It touched on all sorts of thoughts, ranging from the clans that lived not far away, to his nephew that resided in one clan, to the she-cat his brother had taken for a mate. Unconsciously the tom had managed to cover pretty much all the thoughts in his head that didn't affect his life in any major way.

That was probably for the best. Red had just returned from one of his long trips away from the Ranch, this one taking almost a full moon. He was tired, worn out, but most of all, lonely. On the way back he had paid a visit to his brother's mate and her children, who were just about ready to go to new homes. He had stayed with them for longer than necessary -- something he regretted now.

The young cats were always so happy to see him, despite his dislike toward kittypets. Red managed to keep his hatred down for this visit, but he was sure their mother could see it in his amber eyes. He left without saying anything one morning, heading back to the Ranch and finding himself wishing he had brought one of the kits with him.

Red sighed.

[Whiskers]

Oh fox dung, how her old knobby joints ached!

Aniela mumbled quietly to herself small curses like this one as she hobbled her way toward the building in the distance. At least, she was hoping that it was a building in the distance and her mind was not starting to fail her, along with the rest of her body-- her bones, her pads, her claws, her eyes. If it was a mirage created from fatigue, Aniela wouldn't be that surprised; but she'd still be spitting with anger and disappointment.

How many moons had she traveled already? How long did it take to find a darn group of cats? Time was escaping her, as was determination and perseverance. The old, once-pretty she-cat no longer found even the sun inspiring. It's current glow, while radiating, did nothing to spark any fire within her. It only made her wish for rain.

Oh lord, she did hope it would rain. At least then she could lap some water into her mouth and let it trickle down her dry throat.

"Suck it up, Ani, you silly old thing. You're acting like a kit, complaining and complaining. What happened to your steely stubborness?" Aniela rasped as she took another painful step. "Nothing has ever beat you down before, why should a little heat and a little soreness get the best of you?

The building was getting closer now and with a few blinks, Aniela's eyes cleared and saw it more clearly. It was beat down. It wasn't very attractive. If a gust of wind was confident enough, it could blow the unstable thing to the ground. But despite the flaws, Aniela saw a palace. A paradise.

"Alright, Ani, get it together. You've come this far. Think about the nice, juicy mice you will find once you wiggle your way in!" Aniela cried out and sped her pace, ignoring each jolt of pain that shot up her legs. She laughed, hysterically, as the wind picked up and pushed her onward. She felt ten moons younger at this point!

She slowed to her uncomfortable limp as soon as she entered. Aniela collapsed on the ground with a wheeze and another laugh. "Phew! My, how happy am I to finally be here!" Aniela felt some of her energy return to her as she smelled the fragrence of cat and mice. Mice. It was amazing how the idea of food could motivate an old thing like herself.

Five minutes passed and her heart stopped racing, so Aniela picked her body off the floor and followed the scent upward. She didn't know how successful she would be hunting with each step she took echoing with a crack, but Aniela was determinated, once again, to try. As she reached the third floor, however, a sigh from a cat distracted her. It was a ginger tom, strapping and young and very handsome, to Aniela's trained eye. It made her nostalgic for the times when she could have charmed him to smile.

Aniela approached him confidently. "Well, well, what do we have here?"

[/size]

[Crowzerplorodon]

He tucked his nose under his paw, a rare sign of depression from the tom. His whiskers twitched slightly, and his ears turned to the entrance of the top floor. Red could scent something. But his poor nose couldn't pick out exactly what it was. All he could tell is it was a cat.

His head raised when the cat spoke, and he was shocked to find he had not seen the cat walking up to him. When had that cat -- a she-cat, he could tell now -- gotten so close to him. His amber eyes blinked up at the old she-cat, taking in her gray and white fur and confident-for-her-age posture.

"Hello," he said politely, keep his wits as he spoke to the aged she-cat. Red lifted his ears. "Here we have a cat who should not be moping about," the tom added in response to her question. It was true of course, he knew that sitting around on the top floor of the Ranch was no way to spend his time.

He pushed himself off the ground after speaking, sitting up straight and stretching his legs one at a time. His tail brushed against his sides, wiping off any piece of hay that might have stuck there during his doze.

[roscoe]

A few tuffs of his pale tabby fur caught on the rough edges of the window's frame as Crisp slipped into the top floor. His paws hit the floor with a barely audible whoomph, scattering stray pieces of straw and dust as he landed. Amber eyes looked into the gloom that covered the top floor.

The first thing that Crisp realized was the overwhelming scent of mice. The place seemed to be full of the prey, even more so than normaly. Perhaps it was their birthing season, the pale tabby tom thought to himself. He shrugged it off and proceeding to move toward the middle of the floor.

It was then he scented the cats. One of them -- the tom -- seemed achingly familiar, so much so that Crisp wanted to walk right up to the dark ginger cat and demand to know where they had met. But he refrained. The other cat was an elderly she-cat, her fur dull with age.

For a moment he contemplated joining the two, perhaps share in a conversation. It had been too long since he had spoken to a cat more than a passing word. But Crisp could sense the air around the two cats, and it told him that they did not know each other. Unfamiliar, they were. Adding another unfamiliar cat to the bunch would probably cause tension, even if the tabby felt like he knew the other tom.

"Bother," he whispered, before diving into the shadows and dropping into a crouch. It didn't take long for him to locate a mouse -- the floor was teeming with them -- and catch the rodent. Quickly he picked up his prey and padded over to a corner where he couldn't -- or hoped he couldn't -- be seen.

[Whiskers]

Aniela nodded along with the tom's response. It was a true one, and she was happy that he saw that himself. Young cats like himself had too much life to waste on tears.

She gave chest fur a few self-conscious licks. No matter how old she got, Aniela's ego never died; it always insisted that she looked her best, even if her best was ratty fur on a bunch of shaky bones. With a sweeping brush of a feathery tail, Aniela watched with a silent giggle as some hay floated its way to the ginger tom's feet. But her kittish humor was cut short when she thought she scented another cat-- a tom, but definitely the one in front of her.

But then it was gone, escaping into the cracks in the walls. Aniela thought that she must have simply imagined it.

"I see... in that case, I hope you don't mind too much if I pry," Aniela spoke, trying to stay... polite, though her curiousity quickened the words and harshened the tone. "Why are you moping about-- or excuse me... why were you moping about?"

[/size]

[Crowzerplorodon]

He noticed the slight paused the aged she-cat gave. Ears flicked slightly has he looked around for anything that may have caused the pause. But his amber eyes saw nothing and his failing nose scented nothing. Perhaps a trick of the light, or maybe her old age was getting to her.

Keeping his own respectful air, even if the prying she-cat was bugging him a bit (he blamed curiousity she might have gained in her years) Red answered her. "Not at all," the tom lied. "I was moping about because it can get lonely around this old place. Too quiet sometimes and the cats are always no fun to hang around with. Either too reserved or too rowdy. Never a nice balance just to have a conversation."

His answer given, Red moved to give his paws a quick cleaning but stopped himself. He himself had a question or two for the elderly she-cat. The gray cat seemed like she had just finished a long travel, and the tom wondered why she had been alone. "Might I ask you one now? It seems you have made a journey, a long one I'd say. Why are you alone though?"

He waited patiently for the answer, ears pointed forward just in case there was something to hear. "Oh my, where have my manners gone? I've completely forgotten to introduce myself. My name is Red, I've lived at this Ranch for some moons now. And you are?"

[Whiskers]

Aniela was slightly disappointed with his answer. Though she could understand it, she was hoping for something more... exciting. But rarely was life exciting and Aniela had gotten used to the constant boredom. She had imagined something much differently when she had set out on this journey. Aniela should have realized it wouldn't be as romantic as she thought.

She slowly bowed to the tom when he introduced himself. "Good name. Good and strong," she muttered as she rolled it around in her head. Red. Aniela had always taken a liking to the simpler names, and this one was as simple and straight forward as it got.

"I am Aniela, but please, darling, call me Ani." The gray she-cat meowed, smiling lightly at Red, as she wondered how he came to such a lonely place. "To answer your other question... I wasn't alone at first. I was traveling with my two grandchildren when we were separated by a pack of beastly dogs." She almost shivered at the very thought of the ugly things.

[/size]

[roscoe]

[ Whiskers, I would like to inform you that Red and Crisp have a history behind them, which is why there is an air of familiarity between them. ]


The pale tom finished his mouse in silence, listening to the words exchanged between the two strangers. A longing to join the two panged deep inside him but his common sense tied him down like a twoleg chain. An idea sparked in his mind. With only the slightest amount of hesitancy, Crisp picked up the remains of his mouse, stepping out of the shadows he had previously hidden in.

Making sure he could be seen by the two for a moment, the cat took the remains to the window and hopped onto the ledge. Once a safe distance from the window, he dropped the remains so that no mice could find them on the top floor. Satisfied, Crisp padded back in through the window, his head held high as he approached the two other cats.

First he turned to look at the elderly she-cat, taking in her appearance and matching it with the name he had over heard, Aniela. Then he faced the dark ginger tom, his mind trying to place where he had seen the familiar cat before.

"Hello," he said politely, not wanting to be some strange cat who simply approached ones he did not know. "I hope you do not mind my intrusion, it's just I have never seen either one of you here at this ranch and I'm afraid curiosity bested me."

[snowstorm]

ooc: I'll be joining in if no one minds. This just happens to be my first official role play on FoF, so yeah.

bic:
A flame colored tom sat on a widow sill, staring outside. His gaze fixed toward FogClan territory, though he couldn't see it, he knew it was there. Where he was born, twelve moons ago. Where his parents were. Dead or alive, they were there. Before the tom noticed, he was thinking about joining the clans again.

The toms eyes were clouded with sorrow, joy and other emotions as he remembered. He remembered his parents, and best friend. He remembered his journey to the ranch, and his encounter with the clan cats. How he caught greencough, and was weak for many moons. "I should have stayed." he sighed, flattening his ears and closing his eyes.

The cat opened his eyes, the sunlight hitting his flame colored pelt. This fur color gave him his name, Flames. Flames jumped from the window sill, and walked to the door with his tail dragging on the floor. He laid down by the door, which he noticed was slightly a-jar. Today was his chance. He could leave, or stay. Of course he could make this decision anytime, but he wanted to today. Today he would decide his fate. He pondered over what to do. This was a hard decision for him.