3.14.10 GATHERING

[Cloud of Diamonds]

Falconpaw

Ugh. Gatherings. Sure they could be fun, but there were PineClanners around. Disgusting. Miststar must regret their presence here, tainting the holy ground that they had no right to, not even being a proper Clan. They should drive them off. His whiskers twitched. That wasn't such a bad idea. Doubtless their new leader had plans for it already. He would, if her were her. Make them leave and never come back.

Especially because his cousin was in that Clan, he thought. And shuddered.

He'd heard it from his mother, who had been talking to Brightnose. Apparently there was an apprentice in PineClan - he forgot her name - whose father had been Birchtail's brother and whose mother had been Brightnose's sister. Not only did he hare having kin in that Clan of sinners, but it meant she shared kin with the hateful medicine cat. Ugh. He almost felt sorry for his cousin, being Brightnose's niece. At least he wasn't that unlucky.

Speaking of unlucky...he looked around. Warriors talking everywhere. Boring. He wanted someone around his own age to talk to, preferably someone older who was of MeadowClan or StreamClan.

There was a nervous-looking black and white tom who looked like he was from StreamClan...the stocky tom shouldered his way through the crowd to him. "So, what's your name?" He asked with a confident look in his amber eyes. The tom looked kind of weak...hopefully he could dominate the conversation, but still get replies from him. That would please him to no end.

[Pyro]

Harepaw

Yes. They had. And if Firepaw hadn't given her StarClan to chew on, maybe they would have never even acknowledged each other again. However, he had. And she had chewed on it like a dog on a bone. How could a dream change someone's life? Was it really possible that her mother was up there, watching over her? The idea of StarClan was so foreign...so abrasive...and yet...Harepaw felt as though she had to learn all she could be for she lived her life not believing...or believing.

But why did the cat who had peeked her interest have to be Firepaw? Why did it have to be that stubborn, short-tempered, fire-coated...acorn and...bracken...and something else. Something spicy...She shook her head mentally. Who the hell cared what he smelled like? He was a prick. And unfortuantely the only cat she knew who could anwser her questions. Except for maybe, just maybe, Blackpaw...But...she glanced around as Firepaw looked away to be paranoid...no. Blackpaw wasn't here.

StarClan. StarClan, StarClan, StarClan. Was this what it was like to be a FogClan cat? Constantly obsessed with thoughts of StarClan? Or was she only thinking about them so much because the idea of believing in them was completely new to her?

"Oh..uhm...yeah. But you said something...you said if I ever had any...questions about..." She lanced around to make sure none of her clanmates were near, then continued in a more hushed tone, "StarClan, I could come to you....and..." what questions didn't she have? How did it come to be? How was he so sure it was real? How did you get there? Did all cats go there? Why was PineClan so doomed just for not believing? How did StarClan help? How did you talk to them?

She wanted to know everything...But she didn't know why. Did she really want to believe, or did she just want more reason not to?

Storkpaw

[Rolo]

Frostpaw

It didn't matter what Mistkit or her insane council said, Frostpaw would not have missed this gathering for the world. She didn't care those silly excuses, in the form of 'duties', they gave her as distraction, they weren't going to stop her. If she was going to have to live with the nonsensical leader, she might as well have fun giggling about the utter twaddle she spoke in front of the other clans. Besides, if she didn't sneak here, she had some doubts she'd see a gathering again. Mistkit had seeming bought only her closed followers and most trusted to this gathering, probably to maintain the illusion that the clan were better than they really were, and she had a feeling this kind of selection would happen for every future gathering too.

So she had journeyed here alone, cautiously ensuring she didn't get caught. Yet, although Frostpaw was now here, she couldn't technically come to this gathering as she had before, when Owlstar had ruled. Owlstar hadn't given two mice about her coming, she probably hadn't known about it anyway, but Mistkit's followers were out in full force. They'd spot her and do something oh-so-terrible. So, instead she'd simply watch but not participate. She'd miss her moonly chat to the pineclanners, but it was the only way of seeing what Mistkit and the other leaders said.

Taking care to be as silent as possible, Frostpaw climbed a large tree on the fringe of the gathering place and seated herself in the shadows. Her view from here wasn't perfect, obscured by leaves and boughs of the tree, but she could see all she needed to and she'd be able to hear the leader's announcements.

((Dis means she's not talking, participating or being seen, K? She's hidden from view entirely XD))

Volepelt

His head was held high as he entered the clearing, striding proudly beside beloved Miststar. He'd waited for this moment for many a moon, waited for the time when the true Fogclan, the pure and mighty clan of the forest, would wade through the filth of the less holy clans and the sinful Pineclan as a force to be reckoned with. Such joy spread through his heart that it didn't even bother him that he would have to brush pelts with such dirty souls. He felt untouchable, finally free and confident. He was the deputy of Fogclan, the worthy cat rewarded for his moons of servitude, and he knew he was better than all of them.

As his great leader dashed to sit upon her rightful place for the first time, Volepelt debated with himself what to do. How exactly was dearest Miststar aiming to go about this important evening? Was he supposed to maintain an air of dignity, show the other clans that they were a body of pure and superior cats? Or did she wish to show them the joy of Starclan by blessing them all and showing the light of Starclan through good will? He turned to gaze at his leader, trying to gage her reaction to the Pineclan leader as she approached. From what he could tell, she was remaining formal but polite. Perhaps it would be best if he did the same.

Or, maybe somecat would come to talk to him if he sat where the deputies sat? That could work. From there, he could keep an eye on Miststar and oversee the more tainted cats of Fogclan to ensure they did not break the rules.

No-ears

No-ears hobbled slowly to his usual place, focusing on dragging his body there so he could sit and rest a while. He had forgotten how long the distance was between Pineclan camp and the gathering place, but then, these days places did not seem closer together the more familiar he got with it, they seemed to drift further apart. He supposed it was down to his old age, a poor memory coupled with a gradually failing body...

Then he stopped thinking about that. Redtail would have scolded him for thinking so negatively about himself. He could still move, see and, most importantly, think, why should he feel so depressed about it? The tiredness would pass and then he'd feel right as rain again.

Pinning a smile on his face, he raised his gaze from the ground and looked about him. And then his smile was erased from his face.

Something wasn't right. It didn't smell right.

He glanced up at Gingerstar, trying to pinpoint what exactly was the problem. He knew immediately that he had been correct, the ginger cat, though expert at hiding her true emotions under a mask of confidence, there was an awkwardness in her stance. However, he needn't have looked any further to see the cause of the confusion.

Mistpelt. It was Mistpelt up there, fur fluffed up and nose held aloft like a kit who had just been made an apprentice.

He stopped, gazing at the she-cat, not bothering to hide the fact that he stared.

Where was Owlstar? Was she ill? Had she died?

His ears moved backwards as a wariness he had not felt in many moons grasped him. He was sure that that was not the case. Sure of it. He had lived too many moons not to understand the subtle aspects of body language, not to have the keenest instincts in the clan. Besides, Mistpelt was not unlike another cat he had known and despised not even half a lifetime ago;

Brownstar.

If No-ears were still the young, fiesty and dry-humoured warrior he had once been, he would have hissed. He didn't like this situation, not at all. Mistpelt was much too... much too full of herself and high and mighty for her not to be a risk to Pineclan, if his fears were proven true.

No-ears found himself exceedingly impatient. He wanted the gathering to start quickly so he could begin to form a strategy against the cream-coloured female. But he'd have to be patient.

Trying to move the thoughts from his head, No-ears looked at how far he was from his usual seat, only to have to hold back another hiss. Volepelt, another infamous Starclan believer, was sitting there, just as a deputy would.

His ears went back again. This was not good news.

Without a second thought, he stopped moving and sat down where he had stood. It wasn't his usual place, but it'd have to do. He couldn't face socialising with such a cat just now. He'd build up a relationship with the tom later. Right now, he was too weary to ensure he didn't snap at the silly thing.

[Whiskers]

Firepaw

Firepaw's anger melted away like soft snow. His features, once hard-set and glazed over with paranoia, transformed into a state of bewilderment. The beginnings of a smile began to show as Firepaw worked this over in his head-- a Pineclan cat asking about Starclan. Harepaw coming to him. He felt an odd feeling that could not be described with just one word. He was not just taken aback, he was also...glowing. He didn't know. He couldn't say. And this was bothersome to Firepaw, who always liked to know and be sure of everything. Finchpaw was the one with questions. You're the one with answers, his father used to tell him warmly. And then it was job to spread those answers, like seeds pressed gently into fertile soil.

And he had to do that job now, he realized. No reason to stress over how he felt about it-- that's stupid. Feelings and all that were a she-cat's area of expertise. He should settle on happiness. Happy that he might possibly save Harepaw, happy that it was Harepaw he was saving, happy that Harepaw came to him, trusted him, despite his obvious Fogclan blood. So yes, he was shocked. Yes, he felt a bit scared, nervous, because being around Harepaw was still against every bone in his body. But he had a chance to help her, so that would override everything else.

"Oh..." he said softly as he broke out of his own thoughts, and he was surprised that his mouth was dry and his mind was blank. Here was his chance and he couldn't think of anything to say! Firepaw cleared his throat and his eyes darted away from Harepaw's and he found his words in the ground at his feet and the clouds in the sky.

"Well, in that case...what do you want to know? I-- I can do my best. I'm not an expert or anything." He half-smiled, half-shrugged and his gaze returned to Harepaw.

Hopefully, whatever Harepaw asked he could answer. And hopefully, no one from Fogclan-- especially Miststar or his father-- saw them together.

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[glowlynose]

Crowpaw

Crowpaw could not hold back a relieved grin. Rowanheart should have flipped out, by all rights. He was one of the most zealous cats in all of FogClan, and he should have at least seen fit to humiliate the poor little PineClanner. After all, he was worth less than the dirt in the dirtplace, being from PineClan. Instead he had... forgiven him. He had even consoled him. What was this? Was Mistpelt instilling a system of "showing mercy to the sinners" in FogClan already? Had his treatment of Crowpaw merely been the new norm for FogClanners? That would sure be nice.

"Thank you, sir. I'll try not to let anybody bump me into anybody else from now on." Crowpaw's eyes shone up at the FogClan warrior, full of gratitude and relief. He had honestly thought that Rowanheart was going to freak out when he discovered that one of them had touched him. Ah, but all was well, and now it was time to go look for Finchpaw. He shouldn't be too difficult to find, just follow one of the scent trails that smelled like herbs. As he began to walk away, he thought he heard Rowanheart say something else. It sounded vaguely like 'May StarClan bless you.' What odd parting words. Why would Rowanheart want StarClan to bless him, a dirty sinner?

Crowpaw shook his head and continued to search for his friend's scent. He could ask about Rowanheart's odd behavior once he found Finchpaw. Ah! There was that odor he so treasured, the smell of herbs and peace. But at the end of the trail he found not Finchpaw, but a different medicine cat apprentice. He was mostly white, and he smelled like waving grass and warm breezes instead of cool mist and mystery. What was his name again? Storkpaw. Storkpaw, the medicine cat apprentice of StreamClan. He looked absolutely terrified.

"Hey, Storkpaw, first Gathering? You're gonna be just fine, you know. After a while, everybody else doesn't seem to matter so much. They just go off and talk to the same cats over and over again." Crowpaw hoped that he had tried to reassure Storkpaw about the right thing. Otherwise he would find himself with one very angry medicine cat apprentice, an older one at that, and no way to defend himself. "It scared me my first time too, you know. I had no idea that this many cats even lived in all the clans."

[/b] He laughed easily, though he was desperately hoping to whatever higher power there may be that Storkpaw would not get upset with him. If that happened, he could lose a potential friend. After all, neither of them knew the other very well; they had only met at the last half-moon.

Just then, he noticed the other tom sitting beside Storkpaw. He didn't know who he was, but he was a FogClanner. A strangely instinctual revulsion to the FogClan apprentice welled up inside of the black tom. It told him to get away from there as quickly as he could, because something bad might happen if he didn't. Why did he feel this way about the other tom and not Rowanheart? It was the FogClanner's eyes. They were a deep amber, a color Crowpaw wasn't used to seeing, and they looked different than most other cats' eyes did. Instead of holding warmth or life or happiness, the eyes of the brown apprentice were filled only with coldness and... something else. Something else that wasn't good. All cats were predators, but this FogClan apprentice looked to be even more predatory than anybody else. He wasn't hunting prey, though, he was hunting happiness.

Crowpaw had to force himself to keep smiling, had to think about the movements of every muscle that brought his head down in a respectful dip to the FogClan apprentice. Perhaps if he could appease his ego early on it wouldn't be so bad for him later on.

Firefang

Firefang found himself employing the same methods that Storkpaw had. Stick to the edges of the clearing, stay low and out of everybody's way, and try not to draw any attention to yourself. If anybody noticed him, then he would actually have to talk to them. Despite the fact that he was a very formidable looking tom, the thought of talking to another cat unless absolutely necessary terrified him beyond belief. There were too many cats here, too many others that could come up and talk to him. Why anybody would want to talk to him FIrefang had no idea, but still, it could happen.

The bright ginger tom ducked into a shadowed corner and cowered there, his breathing indicating a frenzied panic. There were too many cats here, too many cats, everywhere. This wasn't going to turn out well, he could tell.

How could he tell? One look at the group of clan leaders told him that tonight was going to be very different. Mistpelt was in the spot usually occupied by Owlstar. What had happened to her? Had she taken ill, or died nine times within the past moon? In either case, it appeared that Mistpelt now held the position of FogClan Leader, and that couldn't be good at all. He didn't know her at all, but he'd heard things about her, and she did not sound like a very pleasant kitty. StarClan had truly blessed him by placing him under the leadership of Gingerstar. She was tolerant of his belief in StarClan as long as he did not make a big deal about it, but if the things he heard were true about Mistpelt, she would not be so lenient with cats whose belief did not match her own. Things were about to get a lot stickier in FogClan, all right.
[/size][/center]

[frosty]

Moonlight splintered the clearing, drenching the sacred location in a colorless light. Stars glittered high overheard, twinkling through the sky in what was known as Silverpelt, home of StarClan. The cold balls of flame blazed on, shedding their icy glitter like tears and casting the radiation upon the felines whom had the misfortune of walking beneath their displeasure. Of course, this disappointment was directed to those PineClanners. Filthy PineClanners. The great FogClan was disgraced to even walk in the presence. But soon, oh soon, the forest would be cleansed of all impurities.

Fallowfoot prowled into the Gathering place, holding her head high. Moonlight streamed off her silken whiskers and light and shadow dappled her sand-colored pelt. She inhaled a sharp breath, casting a sidelong glance at the throng of assembled cats. A young apprentice careered into Rowanheart. Fallowfoot fought her violent, impulsive instinct to rip the cat's throat out. All the insults and cussing wouldn't rid PineClan of the demons they possessed; they roamed freely in their hosts, shunning away the light of StarClan, intoxicating their minds with pure evil. A low growl thundered in Fallowfoot's chest, disturbing the atmosphere with the heavy emotion laced behind it.

She flicked her tail through the night air, settling into a crouch. Blue-black eyes that gleamed in the dark stared at a nonexistent focal point, just watching. To serve as one of Miststar's Council was a privilege larger than life, and she would take it seriously. And so, Fallowfoot remained still as stone, watching the devils -- PineClanners -- as closely as her own Clanmates. Any and all mistakes would immediately be corrected, the mental note flashed before her eyes as unsheathed claws gleamed in the night light.

[Pyro]

Aspenheart

Aspenheart gazed levelly at the burly tom approaching the deputies. He couldn't quite remember the cat's name...no...wait, he could. Volepelt. Aspenheart almost flinched when he had to scramble for the cat's name, but of course, he didn't. Until now, Volepelt had been just another Fogclanner. Just another cat who had given up his Free Will in search of the most likely nonexistent StarClan. Aspenheart flicked his tail. I suppose I'd be right in guessing he's now the deputy of those lost minds...But of course, when all this is explained, I might be wrong. He hoped he was wrong. But as the Fogclanner came to sit beside the deputies of the other clans Aspenheart began to see his guess was right.

Perhaps he could find out before the leaders began to talk. Perhaps...if Volepelt was deputy of Stream- or MeadowClan. But no. Volepelt was presumably deputy of FogClan. And Aspenheart was deputy of PineClan. Friendly conversation wasn't exactly to be expected. It wouldn't hurt to try, though. Maybe if I show some civility, he'll show some back. Kindness begets kindness, right?' He glanced at Gingerstar. His leader was faring well with Mistpelt. Surely he could do just as well with Volepelt.

Aspenheart glanced at him again. Okay. He did not look friendly. He looked stern. Well, more than stern. He looked...like someone bound by duty, consumed by it...someone who stuck fast to whatever they believed in. Someone who clung to the delusions of StarClan with a passion beyond many who believed in the starry deceivers. He looked like he wasn't exactly about to welcome PineClanners to interact with him with open paws.

The Pineclanner dipped his head slightly in greeting to the large cat. He kept his green eyes passive as he spoke. "I see the mist 'as silenced further the owl." The cryptic comment could be taken several ways. "Is this because Owlstar is sick or..." He let the question hang.

Harepaw

What didn't she want to know? She wanted to know why FogClan was so devoted to them, she wanted to know how you got there, she wanted to know what gave them the power to decide the fates of the living...She wanted t know why their word was law. She wanted to know what they did for the clans. She wanted to know if other cats could go there, like rogues and loners. She wanted to know if her mother would be there. Most of all she wanted to know them before she rejected them.

And perhaps the latter was the true motivation behind her curiosity. If she was going to turn her head she didn't want to do it in ignorance. She wanted to reach her own conclusion, like Aspenheart. He always said he wouldn't follow the will of the dead...nothing more, but hidden beneath his words was reason. He seemed to understand StarClan...and for some reason, didn't like what they did. As for why...well, debates about StarClan weren't exactly commonplace. In fact, no one ever even mentioned StarClan.

"It's not that we live against StarClan...we simply live without it..." she muttered.

They simply lived without it. That was about right. And that was the problem. How could she even consider believing in StarClan when she lived in PineClan? Very easily. She told herself with a small mental shake. She'd believe whatever she wanted and nuts to anyone that tried to change her mind.Now, how to answer Firepaw's question...She had so many questions...would this gathering be enough to get them all answered? Perhaps she could just start with asking about the basics and then form her own opinions based on that.

"I wan' to know...everything...I want...I want to know how you get to StarClan, why they care about us enough to send dreams, how they change lives...I want....I want to know about them. I can't put it into words exactly...I just..." she thought for a moment. "Just tell me about them. you don't even have to worry about my questions. Just...imagine someone asked you what StarClan is to you and why they mattered."

Storkpaw

Storkpaw jumped as a cat came over to him. His fur began to smooth down and his breathing became less rapid as he recognized the apprentice, Crowpaw. A familiar face. Finally. He was briefly reassured by the fact that another, a fellow medicine cat apprentice even, had been nervous their first Gathering. But that reassurance was trampled by more nervousness. They were so many cats...and the clans weren't even there in their entirety...which meant his next Gathering would be full of yet still more cats he did not know. But he didn't want to voice such kittish thoughts in front of a potential friend. What if they thought he was weak...like his father had.

Storkpaw held back a shudder. How many cats were like him? What if they all had the same thoughts.? What if there really only were a handful of kind cats in the clans? He gave himself a mental shake. Well, at the very least, Crowpaw didn't seem like he was all that bad. Maybe if he would just dare to extend a tentative feeling of trust, Crowpaw would prove to be nothing like what he expected from...nearabout every cat.

"Uhm, yeah..." Smooth, Storkpaw, smooth. He told himself. Truly you are the master of eloquent speech. he tried again. "Th-th-there's so many...I g-g-guess I'm just so nervous cause I've...well I've never really been around s-s-so many cats. I'm only now getting used to how m-m-many cats there are in StreamClan alone..."

Storkpaw almost jumped as another tom came up to him. He almost shied away at the...less than pleasant vibe the brown apprentice had. This cat...Storkpaw could hardly stand to look at his eyes. This cat...this cat was one of the ones like his father. He had seen that poise, that look of arrogance and hunger to often in his eyes not to know it again when he saw it. Worse than the cat's prescence was the act that he actually started to speak to Storkpaw. Now it would be impossible to avoid him without seeming rude.

"Storkpaw. M-My name's Storkpaw." Now, he added silently. And because the rules of polite conversation required it, he asked, "So, uhm, w-what's your name?"

[Whiskers]

Firepaw

Harepaw's question was a hard one to answer. Firepaw wasn't eloquent and it was hard for him to even try to put how he felt into words-- one of the reasons he supposed he got into a fight with Finchpaw. And now, here he was, supposed to describe the very...essence, the very personality, the very...soul of Starclan. Part of him felt uneasy because, of course, he didn't quite know what to say. But also, he wondered if he was even supposed to attempt to describe Starclan. Part of Starclan's glory was that They were pure and holy above all else, above all of his own thinking. He was not supposed to be able to describe-- Their beauty was unfathomable, Their love uncontainable.

So how could he do the impossible? And how could he do it well? He wanted to do Starclan justice because, well, They were Starclan (duh), but he also needed to open Harepaw's eyes, show her that They were real and here and good. So what to say? How to say it?

"Starclan..." he started, stopped, eyes lifting upward subconsciously to the dark clouds that covered the winking stars. He imagined that they were shining through the darkness, answering all of Harepaw's questions with just their presence. Wouldn't that be nice?

"To me, Starclan is... and then it came into a rush, the answer a surprise to Firepaw, " my mother. And I think a lot of other cats feel the same way. That Starclan is a guardian of some sort, a parent that always protects and loves you no matter what you do, no matter what you are. Like-- Starclan loves you too, Harepaw, even though you're a Pineclanner. They love you, but They just can't...see you or...talk to you. They're blind to you just as you are blind to Them. And that's why loving Starclan and worshipping Them is so important-- it lets Them do Their job, by protecting you and guiding you. I don't know if that helps or...I just... without Them, we're blind. With Them, we see. That's how I think of it."

If his rambling did any good, Firepaw would just have to see. He hoped though. He prayed; he glanced up at the sky one more time and prayed very hard that Harepaw would at least somewhat understand, though his explanation was hardly a good one.

[/size]

[Rolo]

Volepelt

He watched Aspenheart approach him and felt a pang of mild discomfort. The tom's gaze had been fixed upon him, seemingly trying to fathom why he sat there and whether or not to approach him. To Volepelt's... discomfort (he had no word for this strange feeling) he had decided to.

Volepelt wouldn't have minded so much if it had been a Streamclan or Meadowclan cat. Those cats, though notably unpure, were easy to deal with. Pineclanners, on the other hand, were difficult. Back in his old clan, he'd be above those kinds of sinners, his authority meaning every exchange with them were the same. No respect, harsh words and sometimes claw marks. Here, however, he was expected to maintain a relationship which neither endangered Fogclan through hostility nor bought the sinful too close to them.

Volepelt had a pang of doubt for only a few minutes, before he resolved that he must not doubt. He was the deputy, he would have to deal with much more dangerous situations than this further down the line and Starclan would guide his words here. Miststar, with their guidance, had chosen him. He was qualified, he needn't even question his abilities.

Aspenheart halted just a little way away and dipped his head respectfully before launching straight into a cryptic statement and the beginnings of a question. Volepelt was relieved; straight into business, no small talk, just as he liked his conversations. Perhaps this conversation had hope after all.

"Blessed evening, Aspenheart." He nodded his head in accordance with the tradition, "Starclan bless your curiousity but you will find out your answer in good time without my input."

He murmured these words and then realised he had drawn a blank on how to continue the exchange. He felt that he was missing something. A facial expression, some mystical combination of words that would make them sound more agreeable. His tone had been light, casual (an apt imitation of the tones he'd noticed many cats take at this gathering), but it felt empty, bereft of any substance. It wasn't deliberate. It made him feel cold. He wondered whether he'd ever be able to talk to any cat with anything close to a natural tone.

"How is Pineclan doing?" He glanced back at the tom, his tone abrupt, but not deliberately.

No-ears

No-ears hadn't been sat there long before a cat caught his eye. He had expected it to be a Fogclanner, skulking about in the shadows in a mysterious way ("Because all it takes is one Fogclan cat out of place to make you paranoid and believe cats are spying on you," he thought dryly), but it wasn't. It was quite the opposite, actually. A cat from his own clan, a cat who looked incredibly anxious and seemed to be avoiding listening to any conversations and putting a foot wrong.

The sight of the ginger tom made No-ears feel incredibly unhappy. Pineclan, he felt, was as much his clan as Gingerstar, and he worried about it and it's inhabitants just as much as the fiery leader. Seeing one of his... his sons keeping to the shadows from fear worried him, and he knew instantly that he couldn't leave this cat alone. Sure, he didn't know this cat very well, and it took him quite a while to place this cat's name, but he cared nonetheless.

Slowly, very slowly because by now he was quite exhausted, he ambled over to the tom. It struck him instantly how funny it was that a cat of this size and apparent strength could be as timid as as one half his height. It could be easy to forget that, behind the exteriors cats put on, there were cats with hearts similar to his own.

He frowned, "I hope that's true of Mistpelt and her lot..."

He wandered up to Firefang with a warm smile, "How are you doing this evening, Firefang? I do believe that, despite our being in the same clan, we haven't spoken for some moons, which is a great shame."

He seated himself beside the tom, close enough to comfort but distanced enough not to startle him. He had tried his best to be encouraging and not at all invasive or patronising. He sincerely hoped he'd succeeded.

[Cloud of Diamonds]

Sprucefur

What have we here? A Gathering, yes. Mmm. Oh dear! Is Owlstar ill? MeadowClanner though he was, the gray and white tom cared immensely about FogClan because of their strong beliefs in the ancestors. But then, with delight, he remembered that her deputy was just as much of a believer as she. Marvelous. Surely StarClan must be pleased. Although...his brow furrowed. If only Owlstar was ill, why was a tom sitting close to her in the deputy's spot? How strange...if the leader was sick, then only her spot needed to be filled, for everyone would know where the deputy was....curious, very curious...

"Vurr strange, yus." He whispered, loving the sound of his own strange way of speaking, as usual.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a ginger FogClanner - pretty, but with quite a fierce expression on her face. He followed the direction of her gaze to a clump of sinners -PineClanners. Sprucefur chuckled. Good for her.

Making up his mind, he confidently padded over to her and sat down.

"Ello, miss, art thou looking at zurr sinners over thurr? If'n thou art, Izen be in agreement, zey ish most troublesome and worrying, nurr?"

The tom was dying to ask about the whole strange arrangement with Mistpelt and the tom, but he held his tongue for now. He did not even consider that she might not understand him - his own dialect came so naturally to him he had total faith anyone else would understand.

Juncopaw

Oh, dear. She stood, tail twitching, head bobbing, terribly confused by the rush of noise and color. And the fact that she'd just heard some idiot MeadowClanner say PineClanners were sinners made her grind her teeth in a rare gesture of anger. Obviously he either didn't know or didn't care that one was almost right behind him, stupid tom.

And where was Crowpaw? Gone. Somehow not being able to see him made her feel even more nervous.

She barely had any worry to spare about seeing FogClan's deputy in the leader place; all her anxiety was for herself. Selfish, maybe, but at the moment it was hard to think of anyone else. In fact, it was hard to think at all.

But look! There was a brown tabby and white StreamClanner with yellow eyes who looked kind. Hurrying over and trying to look inconspicuous, she half-hid behind the StreamClanner and then, looking around warily, sat beside her. The silver tabby wasn't quite sure why she'd done that. Call it instinct, call it a sixth sense. It had felt like it had needed to be done.

"So um...I'm J-Juncopaw, of P-PineClan. W-w-who are you? A-and....what's your favorite thing to look at?"

She was so high-strung that barely even registered that she'd said something strange. She didn't care if they scorned her, looked at her funny, or just told her to go away. She need SOMETHING to help her relax from this unusually high (even for her) anxiety.

Kitewhisker

Oh my, oh my! Horrible omens all around! The FogClan leader - whatever her name was - missing! Death and destruction were all around them, he could feel it. One of them would go soon too, he was sure. Oh, the pain.

And who could he tell of his prophecies? No friendly Rabbitheart was here, or Briartail. Not even Patchfur or Thrushfang to talk to. But look! A deputy! Surely such a noble cat would listen to him in a situation like this.

So, making his frail way to the brown tabby who smelled of MeadowClan, he began babbling at once.

"Oh my goodness! The tragedy! The signs! Have you seen? Doom is upon us! We're all going to die, soon! What a horrible day is this!" He wailed, not caring that any cat within five foxlengths could hear his reedy whines.

OOC: Poor Rabbitstep. :C