a roguish encounter

[hannah]

The small tomcat slipped quickly down the street. He kept himself low to the ground, his tail streaming behind him.
Dawn was approaching, and he had to get back to the forest. He lived in the forest, but he raided Twolegplace for a meal by night. If he didn't get back to the forest before the sun rose, street cats would see him, and he knew they didn't take well to strangers -- especially those who took their food.
The past few days, Flea had found it difficult to catch his prey. He was uncoordinated and ill-practiced. All he remembered from the apprentices of his youth were something about staying close to the ground and something about staying upwind... or was it downwind... he didn't know. He didn't see why either were important in catching prey, but obviously, if he hadn't caught something for four days, he was doing something wrong.
He decided that, if he did not make progress during the day, Twolegplace would be his domain by night. He met many twolegs who took him in and fed him, and he reaped the benefits of pretending to be a lost little kitten. When the twolegs turned their heads, he fled. Once every few days, he would return to the twoleg clan for a decent meal.
He didn't depend on them very often. When he did, he was miserable the entire time. He only needed food; he didn't ask for the strange sounds that usually came out of the twoleg's mouth.
A voice stopped the young cat in his tracks. His paw froze mid-step.
"Why, what have we here?" the voice was taunting, and a large tomcat stepped from the shadows of the twoleg nest. He stared menacingly down at Flea, his eyes flashing dangerously. Flea stared at the cat defiantly, amber eyes glowing. He wasn't scared. "Who might you be?"
"Flea," he responded.
"Flee?" the cat laughed heartily, "is that a threat, kit?"
"No," Flea answered, "and neither are you."
He scampered off before the cat could register the insult, darting beneath a chain-link fence and disappearing into the forest. He cast a glance over his shoulder. The cat was not giving chase.
"Wise move," he observed. The street cat had the advantage in the street, but Flea ruled the forest. He knew the terrain well, despite living alone for only a few days. His racing heart began to calm, and he lapped gently at his paw, dragging it over his ear in serenity.

Quiet. He liked quiet. Quiet was calm and waiting. It was patient. It gave him time to think and time to rest. It soothed him when he was anything but quiet on the inside.
He remained where he sat for several moments, indulged in his own thoughts.

He couldn't help but wish his mother, Lilac, were around. He missed her. He was beginning to think his entire idea of staying with RiverClan had been a terrible mistake. If he hadn't stayed, he wouldn't be in the situation he was in now. He could be travelling the world with his kin.
A simple mistake cost him his life. The life he had worked so hard to build in the Clan was shattered with his decision to travel the path of a murderous traitor. He hadn't really killed the kit, he reasoned, he simply was... having fun. The kit had survived, anyway! No harm had really been done...
Yet here he was, alone, in the outskirts of ThunderClan territory. He snapped from his thoughts and sprang to his paws; a noise from up ahead startled him. His ears flicked in recognition of the noise. A cat was nearby. Maybe they hadn't seem him.
Dwelling period was over. Who needed all that? Who needed the family and the love and the protection? Not he; not Flea. Flea was perfectly fine as he was. And now... now, it was time for some fun.
Silently, Flea maneuvered up a nearby tree and perched on one of the branches, gazing down intently into the small clearing where he had previously sat.
His gaze flickered to the area around him; he could see cats slip through the undergrowth as the morning eased on. Perhaps he had been sitting there longer than he had originally thought; the birds were chirping merrily as they did mid-day. He frowned. Since when had he become so brooding?
He returned his gaze to the clearing beneath him, waiting in deadly silence.

Patience was never his favorite game, but the rewards for patience far exceeded the waiting itself. He flicked his tail silently.

Patient. He would be patient. At least for a time.

---

ooc: wow. I haven't roleplayed warriors in forever. That was unbelievably more difficult for me to write than it should have been. Then again... I always hated introductions. XD I always feel like there's so much to put in them.

[» robin ♥]

layla,
sometimes i get so weird, i even freak myself out...

Wind rushed around her paws, nearly tripping her as she walked. To where, she had no idea. It smelled different than where she normally wandered; this place smelled intensely of cats mixed with plants. She'd never smelled so many cats before, at least not that she could remember. And Layla didn't remember much.

She kept her head down as she walked, not wanting to run into anything. Her paws were made loud thumping noises; the sound greatly irritated Layla. Why couldn't she be quiet--why did she have to be cursed with such a large, bulky body? Such arguing occurred often within the she-cat's mind, for she didn't have much else to think about.

Her "arguing" with herself was interrupted when suddenly the ground turned to a slope, and Layla went flying head over paws. It wasn't that big of a slope, but enough to make the clumsy she-cat fall. She rolled all the way down the hill, until she hit her head on even ground. With a grunt, she stood up, shaking herself as if she could wipe away that accident. Nervously, Layla glanced around, hoping no one had seen it. She couldn't see anyone in sight, so she supposed she would be okay.

Layla muttered incoherent words to herself as she glanced around. Now she definitely had no idea where she was; she was more lost than before. She sat down, closing her eyes, trying to think.

[hannah]

Shortly after Flea claimed his perch in the trees, a figure rolled out of the brush and tumbled into the small clearing. He watched as her body language shifted; her eyes darted around as if hoping no one noticed.
Oh, he laughed inwardly, someone noticed all right. He positioned himself on the branch strategically, haunches preparing for a mighty pounce into the clearing to confront the cat.

Confrontations pleased him. He wasn't sure why, but he figured that he loved the adrenaline rush so much that he constantly put himself in danger just so he could weasel his way out. He wasn't sure who this cat was, but he knew they weren't Clan. Clan cats were not mouse-brained enough to trip over their own two paws and roll into a clearing, and they weren't mouse-brained enough to pretend like it didn't happen.
With a flick of his tail, Flea launched himself into the clearing.

The jump must have been higher than he thought. Somehow, the tomcat landed wrong, and he tumbled across the clearing before leaping to his paws with a hiss.
His tail lashed furiously, and his eyes flashed dangerously. He wasn't so amused anymore. He shook his fur free of the leaves that clung to his pelt, and they fluttered gracefully to the forest floor. He smoothed the fur on his shoulder with a quick lick and padded hesitantly towards the she-cat. Play it cool, Flea. Nothing happened. Nothing. happened.

He eyed her curiously. She was much larger than he, and he admitted that she could overpower him easily. He had to play his mice right.

"Um, hello..." he meowed cautiously. He kept his distance, and crouched low to the ground. He acted innocent enough to pass as confused, yet bold enough to still pose somewhat of a threat, albeit a small one.

[» robin ♥]

layla,
sometimes i get so weird, i even freak myself out...

The she-cat heard a branch move. Her head whipped towards the sound; suddenly there was a small black object flying through the air. She let out a quiet shriek, leaping backwards in fright. However, her fear faded when the object--now a young cat, she realized--tumbled after landing. Layla let out a girlish giggle. The little cat was so cute, she thought! Launching himself off that branch and landing how he did--adorable. Layla wondered if he did it on purpose. Why, that would be simply gentlemanly. She supposed he'd seen her incident, perhaps he did that to feel better.

Of course, none of this was (likely to be) true, but Layla allowed herself to think that way. After all, she was a bit out of her mind. She grinned happily at the little tom, enjoying that he didn't seem hostile. She'd been afraid she would encounter cats like that--she couldn't quite remember who they are, but she had met some before. Layla was sure of that.

"Hello!" Layla responded heartily, her large eyes shining with curiosity. "Why, what's a young cat like you doing all alone?" She asked the apprentice-age cat. Layla might only be nineteen moons, but sometimes her behavior could change swiftly between a kit and an elder.

[hannah]

Flea relaxed visibly. She didn't pose much of a threat, he decided. He straightened up and sat down, curling his tail over his forepaws. He tilted his head to the side innocently, watching her with narrowed eyes.
She didn't seem hostile. On the contrary, she seemed rather polite. He wasn't sure how to react to that.
His new life, for the most part, was built on the foundation that every cat he met was mean and wished him ill. The she-cat seemed so innocent and kind; clearly, she had no idea who she was dealing with.

Her posed question stunted him. Such a broad topic... such a long and windy answer -- one he wasn't willing to give. He struggled with a proper response, unsure of the right thing to say.
"Just wandering," he answered elusively. "What are you doing all alone?"

Maybe his exile had taught him something: trust no one.

[» robin ♥]

layla,
sometimes i get so weird, i even freak myself out...

Layla was surprised by the cat's composed, indifferent behavior. Weren't young cats supposed to be hyper, and full of life? He seemed so out of character to her. Well, she didn't know him--she would try not to judge. Layla glanced around--she was nervous here; her heart was beating quite fast. She didn't know why either, she just couldn't place her paw on it. But when could she?

Layla turned her distracted mind back to the cat before her. He answered her question easily, with a simple answer. Oh, how she hated simple answers. Layla loved elaborate stories, telling others as much as she could! She grinned "Oh? How boring!" Layla exclaimed, about to begin her story.

She took a breath before responding. "Well, I'm on a mission. I've been sent to explore the word, to experience everything I can! But that's all I can tell you, because the rest is a secret." Layla grinned, joyfully happy with her story. Oh, if only it was the truth! It might as well be; she didn't know what was and wasn't.

Layla realized she'd been pacing as she told her little story, and she was now further away from the young tom. She blinked confusedly, before bounding over towards the cat with loud, deliberate thumps. Layla was closer than she had been before, just another couple steps and she would be within paws-length of touching him. However, she wouldn't get too close. Even Layla knew personal boundary; and she was pretty much just breaching his.

[hannah]

flea ;[/font]
help me believe it's not the real me.

Flea didn't understand. A mission to explore the world? The she-cat sounded so much like his mother, but... no. There was no way. Cats who traveled the world brought him nothing but trouble. He couldn't trust her. He refused to.
Yet even so, the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.
"My mother explored the world..." he mused.

As she bounded towards him, he stumbled back in confusion, crouching defensively. He suppressed a warning hiss, his tail flicking in slight annoyance.

Did this cat have any sense of personal space? Evidently not. He inched away from her in shock, leaning away from her and staring at her with wide eyes. What does she think she's doing?! he thought in disgust, has she never heard of personal space? He knew he was being a tad irrational; his personal bubble included any space in the vicinity of several tail-lengths. What he considered "personal space" was not "personal space" by normal standards. He was a very personal cat; he liked his space and he preferred it to be his alone.

"She's exploring the world," he corrected himself. "She could be here, but she's off... having her own jolly adventure." He was spiteful against his mother; upset that she had abandoned him and Heronpaw so quickly, as if without a second thought.

He had no idea why he was spilling these thoughts to the strange she-cat in his presence. He had no rhyme or reason to do so; no personal tie to the cat that would require such an explanation.
Maybe he just needed someone to understand him, he figured.
... No, that couldn't be it.
He steeled himself against further questioning.
Don't answer any more questions, Flea, he challenged himself.

[» robin ♥]

layla,
sometimes i get so weird, i even freak myself out...

Layla's eyes widened. His mother explored the world too? How wonderful! She wished she could be like her; such a thing sounded so amazing. Layla could only imagine exploring the world. She didn't even know where she had been. For all Layla knew, she could have walked around the world twice.

"She does?" Layla responded, her eyes wide with curiosity. "That sounds so exciting! I wish I was exploring the world. Why aren't you with her--imagine the things to be seen!" Layla mewed, contradicting what she had said only moments before. The poor she-cat couldn't help it; she'd been like this for moons. She hopped to her feet and swished her tail around wildly, trying to imagine. Why, if only she could imagine--if only she knew what was out there! Layla thought it would be beautiful and exotic. Someday, she promised herself, someday she would find out, and remember.

The feline suddenly turned around and faced the small cat. Confusion flooded her eyes, as if she had only just realized the black cat was there. Sitting down with a thump, she stared at him, her eyes scrutinizing. It took her several moments before, somehow, she realized she'd been talking to him. That was progress! She thought happily to herself, a lopsided grin forming on her face. But why had she remembered something so little, with a cat of little importance? "Who are you?" Layla asked, almost timidly.

ooc - oh my god. this is short but...mon dieu! i love layla. she's so weird.

[hannah]

flea ;[/font]
help me believe it's not the real me.

Despite his challenge, Flea couldn't resist. He had challenged himself not to answer, and he was going to fail miserably. But then... who could resist the chance to rant about his deserting mother? Not Flea.

He stared at her in confusion. You mouse-brained fool, he thought, you are exploring the world! You just said so yourself! He cursed himself in annoyance. Leave it to you to get entangled with a dazed and confused cat like this one. He shook his head. Well, better make the best out of this...

Flea relaxed visibly as she sat down, and he suppressed a small laugh of amusement as she plopped herself down in the clearing. Strange cat, this one... He licked his paw gently, drawing it across his ear nonchalantly.

"It's a long story," he replied evasively. But it was true. He didn't have time to explain why his mother was off on her own adventure, leaving him alone in the forest. He didn't have the patience nor the will to explain it. He just didn't want to. "I'm perfectly fine here, in the forest," he lied. In actuality, he would have loved to see the world. He would have loved to see those monstrous creatures his mother described-- pandas, they were called. She named his brother after one of them. And herons... he heard they were magnificent. Heronpaw was named after them. He remembered his mother describing the colorful skies of Alaska. He wasn't sure what Alaska was, but the multi-colored skies fascinated him. Sky was named for them. And he? He was named for this tiny little insects that had a tendency to bother humans and animals alike. Some name he had. He wished his mother were around so she could explain her decision to him, but he knew this would never happen. He had low expectations for seeing his mother again.

"Who are you?" he challenged in response. He added, with a kit-like manner, "I was here first."

[» robin ♥]

layla,
sometimes i get so weird, i even freak myself out...

Her mouth opened slightly in an 'o' when he mentioned a long story. Oh, how Layla loved stories! She loved hearing them almost as much as she enjoyed telling them. Why couldn't he just tell her--he'd already mentioned it! "But I love stories..." Layla had begun to say, but the young tom had started saying something else. She let out a childish huff, one that was made when a mother silenced her kit.

"Oh, but you must get lonely! I get so lonely sometimes--and you're so young!" Layla rambled, her voice full of disbelief. How could he be fine all alone, as such a young age? If she was that young, Layla would be completely terrified. Sometimes she still got scared being all alone, in her forgetful state.

She grinned when he asked her who she was--that was one thing she could answer. Though she didn't know her real name, she'd come up with another name with an old tom that was still stuck in her mind. Plus, it sounded so beautiful--he'd said it suited her perfectly. Layla agreed only because he had been so nice--she didn't think it suited her. "I'm Layla!" The she-cat exclaimed happily, with no hesitation. "Now it's your turn. Who are you?"

[hannah]

flea ;[/font]
help me believe it's not the real me.

Flea chose to ignore her arguing responses. Of course he got lonely; that didn't mean that he cared. He liked being by himself. He liked the peacefulness and the tranquility that he experienced when he found himself alone. It gave him time to think, and Flea liked thinking.

He liked thinking a lot. He liked preparing his next move; planning an attack. An attack on what? Who knew. He just liked planning. And peacefulness. You can't forget that. He meant it when he said he was fine on his own; and he meant it when he said he liked it that way, despite anything he said that would suggest otherwise. That is-- he sometimes liked it.

Often times, the quiet forest would lead Flea to thinking dangerous thoughts - thoughts he often tried to push from his mind. He was having trouble doing so, recently. He would find himself with this overwhelming compulsion to kill. It didn't please him. He wasn't sure why he longed so much to draw blood. Yet... just the idea of the scent on his nostrils ignited his brain, sending impulses to his muscles that quivered with anticipation.

He hadn't been able to suppress these thoughts, yet he knew this desire spawned from one single source: RiverClan. RiverClan was the source of all his grievances, and RiverClan would thus pay for his deterioration. He acknowledged this facet of himself: he was becoming unrecognizable to himself and those who (once) knew him. He was becoming a danger to himself as well as others. And yet he also knew that, if he truly desired, he could focus all his energy into his single hatred - RiverClan - and dispose of his anger and resentment with a single swipe.

All it would take would be a single movement. A single attack. He believed that if he killed a RiverClan cat - any RiverClan cat would do - his suffering would end. The pain in his heart left by his mother would cease to exist, and he could be happy. After all, RiverClan took him from his mother. If RiverClan had never existed, his mother never would have found them. She would have returned to her Twoleg and Flea would have grown up with his mother and his siblings. Instead, he had the option of staying with the Clan while his mother returned to her twoleg nest. He couldn't leave Heronpaw alone, so he stayed. He knew he would be able to see her again one day. But that option ended when she began to travel the world again.

And thus, his dreams had been shattered.

He snapped from his thoughts, refusing to let anger consume him. At least for now. Right now, he didn't want to scare the cat. She seemed nice and friendly, and the last thing he needed was another cat who wanted him dead. Layla. Interesting name for an interesting cat. He waved his tail absently.

"Flea," he answered in response. "Like the insect." He glanced around curiously. He was in ThunderClan territory, he realized. No patrol had spotted them yet, but it would only be a matter of time. "It would probably be beneficial if we moved this conversation elsewhere. RiverClan doesn't take well to intruders, and I'm sure ThunderClan feels the same way."