{the wind in the willows}open

[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i54.tinypic.com/2qxq1kk.png] THE high sun felt luxuriously delicious as it coated Willowleaf in a blanket of warmth. Sprawled in a sunny little spot near the warrior's den, the white lioness purred softly in content as she savored the moment of rest. She'd been going nonstop since she'd returned to camp the day before, doing everything possible to stay out of sight for the most part. She'd lied to Dragonstar and not gone to Thunderstrike, unable to think of a good way to explain the bite on her shoulder or the gash mark slicing across her foreleg. So, despite the limp the injuries gave her, Willowleaf had been keeping herself out of sight and thus, out of mind for anyone in the clan. It suited her well enough, growing up used to being ignored. She'd been raised being teased about her white fur and how it made her look silly and how she couldn't possibly be a full blooded lion with fur like hers, but it wasn't so bad now. The ignorance of her clanmates had made it easy for Willowleaf to coast under the radar. After all, she had no explaination for the wounds that her clanmates would possibly ever buy. If they noticed her limp, they made no comment and she made sure to stay well out of Thunderstrike's line of sight whenever she spotted him in camp or out on the savanna. STRETCHING slightly, Willowleaf opened her light blue eyes half way as she watched a hunting patrol of three cats come trooping into the camp. They deposited their kills and split off, two heading for the warrior den and one heading back out to continue the hunt. Willowleaf almost wished to get up and join them, at least go and stretch her legs, but the healing wound on her shoulder throbbed painfully, reminding her of all the walking she'd forced upon it earlier that morning on a solo border patrol. NOT that she'd ever be willing to vocally admit it, Willowleaf had been half hoping to see Dragonstar on her patrol, she didn't know why. TigerClan and LionClan didn't share any borders, so it was nearly impossible unless someone was out of their borders. Sighing at the thought, the white lioness let her eyes slide closed again. It was silly, hanging her hopes and whatnot on a single cat she barely knew. He was...her only friend so maybe it wasn't so silly. He was the first cat in moons to take her seriously and actually look at her instead of through her. He was an enigma and Willowleaf liked figuring out the different facets and parts to him. From what she'd ever heard about him, since she never went to gatherings, Willowleaf had gathered that he was a rather mean and distant cat but really, he was just misunderstood. A lot like her. SWIPING her tongue around her maw, the liones settled her head on the sun-warmed ground, paws sprawled out in front of her as she let her thoughts continue to lazily drift over her two meetings with the TigerClan leader. It was dangerous territory but over the past few days, Willowleaf's preception of what was safe had shifted a bit. These days it seemed like Dragonstar was safe and the rest of it...the rest of unknown and potentially dangerous. Tagged;; Open Word Count;; 552 Background Song;; "Starstruck" by Lady Gaga Notes;; :)

[ACE! the cannibal]

Mac faded into the background of the hunting patrol as the two obviously knew one another, were raised with one another, by the way they jostled and laughed. Always a third wheel, Mac carried the kill in his mouth dropping it in the pile before standing there. Ah, awkward. Sniffing the air slightly, he turned to exit the camp and continue hunting, the only thing he was good at really. Placing one paw in front of the other, Mac paused when the two lions rushed by him, exclaiming a hunting contest. His whiskers quivered slightly, before the bulky white lion turned and headed straight back into camp.

Head down, Mac looked from the corner of his eye, examining the area in silence, just hoping for a place where he could lay down, being the only man. Walking, the lion paused slightly in his gait to observe Willowleaf. The white lioness was an odd one, maybe odd like him but it wasn't as though Mac had the guts to talk to her. Which he didn't. So Mac continued and decided to sit outside the elder's, a few tail-length away, where he rested his head on his paws. The thick bush-like mane hid his eyes and he continued to observe the ivory lioness.

Of course, it was stupid and he would hate to be caught, but continually because of lone state, he was free to listen and to watch. He had the respect of the leader, and he was quite pleased with that. Better to wait and watch then get caught in such meddling affairs. And, this was certainly one of those things he wouldn't want to be caught in. The lioness seemed to be on her own, and rather being active, she was merely lying there. The bite mark on her shoulder was well-hidden, but those with a sharper mind and eye could certainly see the signs. So, why hide it? Mac didn't think of Willowleaf being the stupid, scared type, to avoid the medicine cat when she obviously needed the medicinal check-up. Whiskers twitching, Mac continued to observe with black eyes, barely breathing. Perhaps this bite mark was something that shouldn't be seen, a bite mark that shouldn't exist.

But how did she get it? And why was it so important that she hide it? He frowned in thought, possibilities racing through his head.

[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i54.tinypic.com/2qxq1kk.png] WILLOWLEAF wasn't sure what roused her to the fact that she wasn't necessarily alone in camp anymore. It was camp after all, it was very seldom that anyone was alone for very long, so it shouldn't have surprised her or disturbed her at all. For some reason though, the white lioness felt an uneasiness crawling into her thoughts as she pondered if she would meet Dragonstar again. She'd just been entertaining thoughts about it when she felt...watched. It was that creeping, unsettling feeling that someone was watching her more closely than normal. Being the she-cat that everyone tended to leave alone just on the basis of her unusualness and shy persona, it was very seldom that Willowleaf felt the sting of another's gaze. At least, since she was young. When she was younger everyone stared at her and her siblings because the novelty of a litter of white lion kits was still too fresh for the clan to resist. In recent moons though, it had worn off a bit since she had become the only one left and Willowleaf had succeeded in fading into the background. PEEKING open a single pale blue eye, Willowleaf looked around. Not spying anyone that stood out, she opened the other eye and raised her head a bit, hoping it wasn't Thunderstrike peering at her from the crevices of his den and spotting her hidden injuries. As she sat up, Willowleaf spotted the one that had been spying on her. IT was a large white male, that alone striking her as unusual. It wasn't a warrior she knew well, just someone she knew of because they were also white. Willowleaf knew only that the tom was a former loner or something like that and had refused to take a warrior name but, being so shy, she'd never stepped up to speak to him. Apart from sharing the recessive gene for white fur, they had little in common after all, at least that was what Willowleaf told herself. Now though, of all times, she felt even more different than ever before. She had a secret, the confidence of the TigerClan leader, his support of her. It embolded Willowleaf a little but otherwise simply solidified her thoughts that she couldn't be more different from her clanmates than if she actually tried to be. It was simply amazing to her, to feel so different and yet know she was born and raised with many of the cats that flowed through camp on a day to day basis. FAKING a yawn and stretching, as though she was waking herself up and getting ready to get up and move around, Willowleaf ignored the sting of her healing wounds. Rising from her sun-warmed patch of ground, a mental groan of loss following her, Willowleaf moved toward the freshkill pile. Nosing through it, she pretended not to feel Mac's eyes on her as she picked out something small, since she had yet to hunt that day, taking only a rabbit. It would be barely a mouthful but it would be better than nothing and then she could go try again to hunt up some decent freshkill to contribute. Raising her head with the prey in her jaws, she looked Mac in the eye for a moment, a silent declaration that she knew he was watching her, before turning and returning to her place. Holding the rabbit's body down between her front paws, she settled down and slowly began to eat, acting as though she had otherwise not noticed Mac's gaze. Tagged;; Mac <3 Word Count;; 588 Background Song;; "Die Another Day" by Madonna Notes;; :)

[ACE! the cannibal]

Oh damn. Immediately, Mac dropped his gaze, his white face exploding in color. Of course she would notice if he was watching. He wanted to go and dig himself a hole, disappear from everyone's sight. But was it really bad that Mac had a taste of curiosity? That he was concerned about his clan mates? Although he wasn't necessarily sure or concerned if they cared about him. His mind started to race again, oh how desperately he wanted to know! Knowledge wasn't a crime, was it?

Slowly getting to his paws, Mac eased his way to Willowleaf's direction, feeling awkward. He couldn't go out and ask her? hey, happened to notice you're limping! Are you part of a clan conspiracy? Of course, that would completely guarantee an answer. Turning coal black eyes on Willowleaf, he tried to stare politely at her, trying desperately to loosen his tongue, just to talk. Tilting his head, Mac opened his mouth and uttered only two words. Your pelt. He blinked and lowered his head for a moment, and if not to add to the oddity of it all, gave a soft sniff. Immediately, drawing back his head, he glanced at the injury on her shoulder before glancing to the sky.

it reminds me of. Of what? Home? Mac didn't have a home. And certainly the place he came from was not his home. Home was where the heart was, wasn't it? Well, then he guessed he didn't have a home. His heart was lost. It was sad really, and then Mac was brought back to the world, brought back to a conversation he really didn't want to have, but the knowledge that kept him going. -a flower I once saw. Tilting his head to floor, he looked through his bangs to the she-cat. Was it too late to reconsider the digging a hole and dying part?

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[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i54.tinypic.com/2qxq1kk.png] SAVORING her small meal, Willowleaf pretended not to hear the heavy footfalls of the approaching male. She felt embarrassed, though she didn't know why. She talked to Dragonstar with relatively little embarrassment but when a tom in her own clan approaches her she blushes rose red? Ha! Sunstreak would laugh at her! Occupying herself with her meal, she tried to act normal. Willowleaf didn't know a thing about this tom, in fact, she barely knew his name. Had he been born into the clan by a loner father or adopted into it? Really she couldn't even remember when he'd appeared, only that one day she hadn't been...alone. It was weird though, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he got closer. She couldn't help but think the white of his pelt was far too blonde. No lion would be truly white, not even her. The only cat she'd seen with a true pelt of white had been...Dragonstar. TAKEN aback by her own thoughts, Willowleaf's train of thought came to a shuttering halt when Mac finally spoke. "Your pelt." WILLOWLEAF'S blood ran cold, freezing in her veins, her heart stuttering. Her baby blue eyes remained fixed on the rabbit between her paws, her body entirely still. His words rang in her ears like a neverending mantra. Yourpeltyourpeltyourpeltyourpeltyourpelt. Willowleaf wanted to disappear, wanted to drop into the ground and never be seen again. What was worse, she wanted to run, run away from him for saying the words that haunted her through her kithood, apprenticeship and warriorship. She wanted to run to Dragonstar, where her pelt didn't matter, where it made her special, not weird. "IT reminds me of a flower I once saw." THOSE words made Willowleaf jerk her head up to stare at the tom, full in the face. She had no doubt her face was the picture of surprsie. Nobody had ever said anything like that to her. They'd said her pelt looked like clouds or newly fallen snow, but never something as simple as a flower. For a moment, Willowleaf could only stare stupidly at Mac before her brain realized she should say something back. "IT must have been an unusual flower...I've never seen a white one," Willowleaf replied, a gentle smile working its way onto her face as she tipped her head to look at the standing male. Her head tipped to one side as she regarded him, looking him full in the face. He had an odd expression...he looked...was it sad? Or lonely? Or both? "If you ever find a flower like it again, I'd like to see it." The smile reached her eyes, the baby blue pools softening beautifully as she smiled at the tom for the first time in a long time. Tagged;; Mac Word Count;; 464 Background Song;; "Moondance" by Van Morrison Notes;;

[ACE! the cannibal]

What remained of his ears twitched backwards and the poor embaressed tom took a step back, tail flickering in between his legs out again. Why? Why start up a conversation? What possessed him to think to start a conversation? Bah, he should stick to keeping his head in the clouds instead of his feet on the ground. Stuff like this wouldn't happen.

Completely ready to mutter or stumble out some sort of half-hearted apology, Mac had to keep himself from fleeing away like he used to when he was a cub. Was it really hard to believe that she had been insulted her entire life? Why? Back, why back in a time where he didn't want to remember, white was special. Pure. Not odd, merely something that distinguished you from the rest. Not something to be ashamed off. Yet here, it seemed to be digusting, like a blemish or scar to hide away.

He listened with a half heart before raising his head with wide eyes and shook his head. NO. It wasn't an exclamation but a statement. No. As much as Willowleaf was like that flower, the snowdrop he would never want to see that flower again. A flower as pretty as that, surrounded in a river of blood. Again, he bowed his head. Mac had showed too much emotion, too much memory, of a place he left behind. Or more likely, a place that left him.

Struggling to move on, Mac had to focus. He had a prize he was trying to win. Yes, breathe in. Breathe out. A strange beauty like yours, should be a rare one. Yeah, that sounded.. odd. Starclan, help him. He should have been born without a tongue. That way he could at least get sympathy when he garbled out strange sentences. It's like a sunset on the snow. Like in the mountains. Have you ever been to the mountains? He asked, looking at Willowleaf with curious eyes, a spark of emotion in those black, lifeless eyes.

[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i54.tinypic.com/2qxq1kk.png] "NO!" THE exclamation made Willowleaf jump in surprise, blinking dumbly at Mac, surprised by his outburst. Watching the white-pelted male, Willowleaf wasn't sure what to say. He obviously was trying to compliment her but at the same time, he was trying to hide something. The poor tom seemed so embarrassed that Willowleaf regretted having said anything at all. Embarrassment of all emotions had to be the worst and Willowleaf knew she hated it so she despised making anyone else feel embarrassed. Dropping her gaze, Willowleaf cast her mind around for something to say without making Mac more uncomfortable. She'd never seen him talk to anyone, not that she actively paid that much attention, but still. A lot of rogues or loners that went to clans always seemed left out and alone. Willowleaf hated that sensation more than anything in the world so she wouldn't actively try to make someone go away even if the conversations were odd. THIS tom was nothing like Dragonstar. His emotions played across his face with too much ease, flowing like a river for her to read like seeing her reflection in a still pool. After having to spend so much time analyzing Dragonstar's face and trying to figure out what was going through his head all the time, it was almost foreign to see someone that practically broadcasted their emotions. With a glance she could see Mac's discomfort, practically feel his embarrassment and feel the hidden pains flowing through him. It was so unusual that it almost made her get up and walk away and find somewhere quiet and still, someone quiet and still... SHOVING the thoughts away and mentally cursing herself for them, Willowleaf offered another soft smile to Mac. "I've never been to the mountains, I've always been here in this territory," she told him, forcing her brain onto a track of wondering what mountains looked like instead of imagining the forested area where she met Dragonstar. "I like the open spaces and being able to see the sky go on into the horizon so I've never ventured anywhere else, anything other than open sky simply seems too crowded. Do you know what the mountains are like?" SHE hoped the question wouldn't set Mac off or distress him. Willowleaf honestly would not know what to do. She hated distress and confrontation in equal measures and dealing with either was simply annoying. Willowleaf's response would be to run and run until she found a wide open plain where she could lay in the tall grasses and stare at the azure sky as the clouds lazily floated by. She'd lounge on the sun-warmed ground or climb a rough-barked green-leafed tree and hang in the hammock of its branches. Hopefully that sort of therapy wouldn't be needed today because if she left camp again and had no duties to perform, Willowleaf just might give in to the urge to go see if Dragonstar had come to their meeting place. She had yet to leave scratch marks on the trees like he'd told her, but she'd run into him last time and probably would stand amongst the silent trees for hours trying to decide if she should or shouldn't leave the marks. Tagged;; Mac <3 Word Count;; 535 Background Song;; "Home" by Daughtry Notes;; ^^

[ACE! the cannibal]

These plains are strange to me. They are too wide and open. Too distant, too wide. A strange man in a strange place. Of course, you were born here. You know nothing else. He said this neutrally, not really betraying any emotion behind it. A mere statement. Pondering really. He couldn't help but feel as though the statement was somehow wrong. He would have to ask her that question, but not now. Maybe later. It seemed personal, too personal when Mac had a different quest, a different path to walk down. Although both looked promising right now.

Something inside of him brightened when she asked Mac that question. Like something sitting on his chest was pushed off, Mac was able to breathe again. Yes, the mountains. I was raised there. He paused, looking at Willowleaf warmly, like cherishing an inside memory with a childhood friend. How to describe the mountains, so that she understood? The air was always pure, and sometimes made you lightheaded. There were no trees, which surprised me when I came here. A lot of stuff down here surprised me really. He admitted. Yes, the trees, the grass. The smell of flowers, practically polluting the air and cats. The clans, of course. Cats working alongside themselves with trust and hope, never backstabbing one another. Born in a cat-eat-cat world, this was as close as haven Mac ever dreamed of going. When he had first started to talk, in the beginning like a giddy kit on his first hunting mission, yet Mac had started to slow, to steady himself. At one point, there was a small oasis in the mountains. I used to- Pause. Personal. She was a comrade, as much as he was pushing, straining the border in hopes of friendship. Silly eager Mac.

There were flowers there, the only flowers that were beautiful that grew in the crags that wasn't lichen. When the sunset, the mountains. They sang. He whispered, eyelids hiding his eyes. You don't have the songs here. He spoke, opening his eyes and staring into the distance, to the sky. My heart belongs there. It was true, his heart never left the mountains. It left the people of the mountains, just as cruel and strong as the mountains themselves. Where does your heart belong? He asked softly, looking to Willowleaf, settling lightly into a sitting position, dearly hoping that he wasn't intruding on Willowleaf's personal boundries. There. One question out of the way. And now, one to go.

[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i54.tinypic.com/2qxq1kk.png] A smile came to Willowleaf's maw as she listened to Mac describe his home, well, she assumed it had been his home. She gazed at the blue sky and tried to picture it in her head. It was hard to see, since she'd never been there. When he told her the air was purer there, she couldn't imagine what he could mean. The plains were open and flowing with clean air and playful breezes that made the tall grasses sway and ripple like the golden pelt of a hunting lion. Still, she didn't comment. Instead she took it in stride and put it on her list of things that described Mac's home. The oasis he told her about sounded odd. The only time she'd heard an oasis of any sort mentioned was when an elder had told her a story as a kit about a place full of sand, nothing but sand, sky and punishing heat. Such a place had sounded horrible until the elder had told her of a place where water appeared in the desert, and thus plants grew and cats could find shelter and rest in such places, sometimes along with prey. The thought of it had made her stare wide-eyed but now she couldn't quite pull up a picture of such a place in the mountains. She assumed that it must have been a valley, green with trees and maybe a river and the strange flowers he described that opened their blossoms at night. WILLOWLEAF wondered if those flowers were the ones he'd said had been white like her pelt but didn't ask, letting him go on with his memories. When he spoke of the mountains, Mac seemed to relax and become a different cat. He wasn't all together comfortable with her but he was more animated, his eyes a little more expressive. It made her eyes soften further. She had to wonder if that was how all cats got when they talked of their true home, not just the place they lived in. It seemed Mac was only living in LionClan, it was not home. In a way, Willowleaf felt bad for him and wanted to take him out into the plains and show him the beauty of the savanna. She wanted to show him the birds that had their strange calls, the waving tall grass, the wide open skies, the antelope and the pure simple beauty the plains held. STILL, she knew not to. She would feel out of place and unhappy in a place like his home. She could not force her home on him, just like Dragonstar's invitation of joining TigerClan had made her feel ill. If she left the plains, she would die purely of unhappiness. Looking at Mac, she had to wonder if it was true for all cats and the place where they were born. "WHERE does your heart belong?" THE question made Willowleaf blink before she realized what he had asked. She knew the answer she had to give, knew it well because in her heart of hearts, Dragonstar could offer her TigerClan time and time again, and she would never accept it. "MY heart is on the plains," Willowleaf told Mac. "In the wave of the tall grasses, in the blueness of the sky, in the sigh of its winds. My heart is in LionClan." THE last part may not have been a total truth since LionClan now seemed to be sharing space with Dragonstar, but Willowleaf was well versed in speaking it and said it without hesitation. She had already proven her loyalty once by declining Dragonstar's invitation, despite his promises of protection and acceptance. She knew she'd never be able to live with herself. She'd always long for the plains, long for the clanmates, long for the place where her ancestors rested. She was LionClan, she was a warrior. Willowleaf felt satisfied in her home, not always happy, but satisfied. "I would waste away anywhere else, I know it," Willowleaf added, gazing around the camp at all the nooks and crags she had come to know as a kit, apprentice and warrior. Tagged;; Mac <3 Word Count;; 687 Background Song;; "Already Over" by Red Notes;; :3

[ACE! the cannibal]

The lion blinked once, twice. Was she hesitant? But why? She had no need to be hesitant, unless she had something to hide, something that was causing her to falter in her words, her thoughts, her actions. Does it? He murmered, staring. Not staring at Willowleaf directly, but past her, a world all of his own. But such a trance-like, dream-like state didn't last long and he turned back to stare at the clouds over head. of course, of course it does. He muttered, tail flicking once as though to confirm Mac's words.

He turned back to the lioness, pale whiskers twitching. Would it waste away? Like a flower in the fallen frost of snow, or could you survive, and roll with the tides that is life's river? When a rock is first thrown into a stream, it is rough, jagged and the water cuts through it like a knife, causing a jut in the water. Yet over time, the jaggedness dies and the rock is smooth. The river rolls over it with hesitation, without blemish. It takes time, effort and patience, but the rock survives.

The stream of words were fresh like a riddle, and Mac wondered how such a long paragraph managed to make it past his lips. He stared, shocked as though he couldn't figure out the meaning of his words until he shook his head and coal black eyes turned to stare at the dirt. I thought, once ago, that I would die without my mountain songs, yet I seem to live. Another blink, as he nodded. Yes, his nightmares consisted of waking up in a world without song, or sound in general, dark and dismissal. With the mountains, nature always told you when it was happy or angry. When the mountains were angry, the rumbled and roared, and threw their boulders, killing and injuring. But when happy, the mountains were warm, as the wind never cut them. When sad, the rain would constantly wash away the dust, causing to slip and stumble. But here, it was a whole new song, a new nature that didn't show it's emotions, but hid them.

Now, he stared back at the injured shoulder of Willowleaf's and shook his head, causing the white hair to quiver indivually. Perhaps you could adjust, perhaps not. He bowed his head and continued to stare, finally letting out the question he had been dying to ask. To be blunt, what caused the mark of injury on your shoulder?