Splash zone (c)

Padding through ThunderClan's territory, Curlyfluff had decided to go and look for some prey since he had some time on his paws. He didn't have any particular place in mind, but he assumed he'd follow his clanmates' beaten paths and see where it took him. His tail was still a bit sore from the owl that had attacked him and Murkyripple that little while ago, but after a visit with Fawnshine to get some herbs, the patches of fur that had been torn out had already begun to grow back. Giving his curl covered pelt a shake, he slowed his pace as he approached the river. He hadn't visited it much overall and wondered if this was a good spot to find something different other than the usual birds and squirrels.

Hearing a voice, Curlyfluff lifted his gaze from the water to see a dark pelted cat standing on the shore across the river. The stranger's call hadn't been in an angry or mean manner, and the ThunderClanner's heart leaped with joy that there was another cat out there that didn't want to immediately claw his pelt.

"Hello!" the curly-coated warrior mewed back, a smile resting across his muzzle. "I don't, no one in ThunderClan does. At least, I don't think they do. You're a RiverClan cat, right?" he inquired, part of him assuming that was where the tom was from, but it was never too safe to ask.

”Of course I am! Why else would I be in RiverClan’s territory!” Toadlegs cajoled, no attempt made to hide his excitement. This was going far better than he expected it to! From what he knew about outside clans, they weren’t on very friendly terms with one another, and the lanky tom half-expected to have a battle on his hands. This curly-furred tom seemed like a nice chap, however, and the lack of claws coming for his eyeballs was always a plus for Toadlegs. If he had to be honest, the idea of having a new friend in ThunderClan was nearly so distracting he didn’t notice the tom say he didn’t know how to fish.

Now that was a disgrace. They were cats, for the ancestor’s sake! How was ThunderClan even running with no fish in their bellies?

”I’ll teach you how to fish! I’m the best fish-er in the entirety of RiverClan! I can catch fish with my eyes closed!” This was a lie. Toadlegs was a terrible hunter, and he was an even worse swimmer. Sometimes, his mouth was just too fast for his brain to catch up, which tended to land him in situations like this. Peering over the lake at the grey tom across from him, Toadlegs tried not to make it too obvious he was hopping away from the lapping shoreline as he continued his spiel. ”There’s no one better to teach you! If you stay on that side of the river, and I stay on mine, it’s fine I think! My name is Toadlegs, by the way, what’s yours?”