Facing Ghosts

Hentooth padded cautiously down the slope into Fourtrees, the shadows flickering around her. The Great Oaks loomed above her, silhouetted against the sinking sun. A chill breeze made her shiver… leaves crunched underneath her paws, an odd feeling. After the young medicine cat had caught Beechface here not long ago… she was suspicious. SkyClan could sneak up on them out of nowhere. It was hardly likely Beechface had come here for herbs, right? Hentooth had never seen SkyClan territory… but they should be able to find the herbs they needed in their own territory, right?

Her solitary pelt shone dully in the golden sunlight as she sighed, opening her mouth to scent the air. She didn’t expect anything… but it seemed the stars were shining down upon her, for good or for ill, for she smelled SkyClan. Again. Eyes flashing, she slunk back to the edge of the hollow, hoping whoever it was hadn’t scented her… the wind was in her favor, but she hadn’t been trying to disguise her approach…

Bloodstrike had heard reports of Dawnhawk being seen around Fourtrees.... so he was here to investigate. As much as he would like to tear into the pale tom's flesh and make him pay for everything he'd done, he knew it would be pointless trying to catch him. Instead, he hoped to have a talk with the exiled Skyclan cat. His nose scented the air and he parted his jaws to get as much information about the area as he could. He did detect a cat... but it was a she-cat and smelled heavily of Windclan.

.... That was odd.

"You're a decent walk from the moor." He said to nothing in particular, not quite seeing the Windclan cat. It was a neutral, non-threatening statement. If they chose not to respond, it was no skin off of his back. He had a mission to complete.

Hentooth froze. Her heart pounded. She felt sick to her stomach. Her paws trembled. Stars, stars, stars, stars. Foxdung. “HORSEDUNG! You horsedunged son of a rotting vixen! You- you sand-snorter! Jackrabbit-bottomed fox-dunged hare-for-brains rot-smelling falter-pawed treacherous scar-pelt! Stone-hearted horsedung! You-“ Hentooth cut off her own tirade and charged out of the bushes, slamming straight into the tom’s side… and faltering back a few paces, head swirling. What did he eat? Rocks?

Oh. He was a lot bigger up close- but a true WindClan cat faced her fears. “AAAAAAAAARRGH YOU horse-dung! Horse-dung! Horse-dung! You little-“ Again she cut herself off, throwing herself at the tom, completely heedless of the whole medicine cat don’t fight thing. The scent of herbs clung to her, betraying her station, but the raw fury glinting in her eyes told of a fierce spirit.

He had absolutely no clue what was going on... A windclan... medicine cat by the smell of her, charged him and began attacking. Or... maybe that's what it could be called. Bloodstrike exhaled upon impact with his ribs and turned to face her. She kept spewing words out of her mouth... insults he'd never even heard before. Not wanting to start another confrontation with Windclan, Bloodstrike held up a single forepaw and pressed it against the smaller cat's head to keep her claws away from his body.

"I'm picking up subtle vibes that you don't like me..." He didn't mean to sound as amused as he did. Oops.

"What's your problem? I don't even know your name. Would Starclan approve of such violent behavior from a medicine cat?" Bloodstrike already knew the answer to that, but the question still remained.

“There’s this thing called justice, but who would expect you to know that?!?” Hentooth spat, too furious to pick up on the… comedy in the situation. “You’ve shown time and time again you don’t care horse-dung for StarClan! You horse-dunged little-“ Why did she feel like a kit fighting a warrior? Why was he so big?!? This was a stupid situation and yet she desperately wanted to sink her fangs into his throat.

“Jackrabbit-bottomed son of a rotting vixen! You double-pelted treacherous horse-dung! Fox-dunged sand-snorter! I’m going to-“ She cut herself off, trying to spring at him again- why was he so big!!?? If at all possible, he seemed bigger than he had all those moons ago (well, at least to her).

Bloodstrike held the medicine cat back. For awhile, he kept a straight face, but it didn't last too long. She was coming up with words that he'd never heard in combination before. The fact that she was small and very obviously furious was just too much. He started to chuckle, which he knew would only make the situation worse.

"Justice for what? I don't remember seeing you at the battle anyway." He gave her a shove to try to make her fall on her butt. Maybe they could talk like civilized cats instead of... whatever this was.

Then again, he was just as entertained by her insults and wondered what she'd say next.