{raising cain and sarcasm} LIONxOPEN

[May]

OoC// OKAY OKAY. I know you'll all be thinking, "oh look, May made a roleplaying thread. It'll probably be abandoned after the third post." WELL NOT THIS TIME. I WILL SEE THIS THREAD OUT UNTIL THE VERY END. D< So join please? :D

BiC// Lionstorm crept as stealthily as she could through the dense undergrowth near the MeadowClan/FogClan border, cursing silently as her stomach gave another growl. There was plenty of prey on the freshkill pile, but after having Cedarstar yell into her ear for a good long while the last time she took food for herself before getting something for the clan first, she wasn't going to risk it again.
Aha! Finally, the ginger she-cat caught a whiff of something that smelled like food, along with another smell she couldn't quite place - a mouse, if she wasn't mistaken. And there it was, sitting not ten tail-lengths from her, totally oblivious. With one swift leap she landed on it and snapped its neck before it even had time to squeak. She picked it up and just had turned around to head back to camp when she figured out what that other smell was. FogClan! Franticly Lionstorm spun back around; dammit, she was ten tail-lengths over the border! Thinking that maybe she might get away with it if she ran away now, she picked up her mouse and started to scramble up, but of course she was destined to have the worst luck of any cat in the world. Just behind her a branch cracked and she got a wave the odd FogClan smell. No going back now.

[Cloud of Diamonds]

OOC: Um, May...I just realized Meadow and Fog don't have an actual border that they share. But! Lionstorm could have been hunting around the Gathering place and crossed over. We'll go with that, ok?

BIC: The normally cheerful, featherbrained she-cat was rather more sorrowful than usual. After their most recent conversation, Beaverstripe had been shunning her, sometimes even tearing up his nest after she'd tidied it to try and hurt her. Sadness seemed to spread through her veins and weigh her down as if she had blood made of liquid stone.

And Cinderpaw seemed so sad these days...perhaps she missed her friend Blackpaw. Birchtail felt sympathy for her, but she should have picked her friends more carefully! But then, who would have a guessed that a nice young tom like that would turn out so odd and wrong-pawed, tied by mouse-brained loyalty to an unworthy leader?

She'd intended to go hunting, but it ended just being a rather thoughtless and instinct-driven walk, her paws automatically carrying her across the damp grass and through the green-leafed trees with their trunks gray and brown, smooth and rough. Even dull silver-white studded with long patches of brown the color of her fur - birch trees.

-unfinished, sorry!-