“Me neither,” Russetpaw admitted. She wasn’t sure how she felt about them… on the one paw, she loved the wind whistling in her face with all the fierce elation of generations of WindClanners… on the other paw, she liked the idea of forging out into the unknown, finding her own path, navigating by instinct and smell and touch, exploring deep underneath the moor into places which had never seen the light of day… maybe. Tunnels and adventuring, two things she’d love to try. Why did Shadepaw shudder at the idea? It was foreign, yes, but not new, and just as WindClannish as sprinting across the moor. Maybe… well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask, when they were safe back at camp, if she could maybe tag along and see how she liked it? Coyotegrin was kinda scary-like… but she was also safe, and Sleepypaw’s ma, and Shadepaw’s mentor. If there was anycat Russetpaw would trust to have the experience to guide her through such an alien landscape and to have the ferocity to fend off any threats… it would be Coyotegrin, paws down.
“Never have I ever…” Russetpaw trailed off as she thought, eyes following a stray feather being carried by the wind, down towards the sun-kissed moor where the grass grew as high as her shoulder and life flourished in every dip and crest and rise, an open landscape of freedom and vitality. “Had a crush on anyone,” she finished decisively, ear flicking. It was what she’d asked Sleeps, and she hoped she’d get as amusing a response out of Shadepaw. The red-pelted apprentice laid her head on her paws, eyes gazing out at the moor, honey-colored and wistful, a sort of melancholic familiar adventurous loss washing over her… she wanted to see what lay beyond it, and at the same time she fiercely missed it. Shadepaw had reminded her of the simple sweet familiarity of camp, and the way the scent of heather wafted over the camp, and the sun shone down on them by day and the stars watched over them by night.
