till the day you drop (c)

The forest had been much, much too loud as of late. Cracks of strange thunder exploding only in the night, near-yet-far enough to only ever rouse those most sensitive to sound. She, in particular, had been hit the worst by it. Night come and night go, she found herself troubled, unable to sleep. She wished for it to end, but the several-day stint seemed to make it never cease. Prompting other clanmates as to whether or not they heard it too had been a dead end, and ultimately, the sleepless molly had to escape. Everything had been too loud. Her senses could never stay still for even a heartbeat anymore. Ears always on a swivel, whiskers always twitching. Maw clamped shut in some desperate attempt to rid her nose of that underlying sting that had come along with the cracks in the sky, the one that stunk of twoleg and monster and wrong.

Keeping her apprentices with their training had its difficulty increased ten-fold with her lack of sleep. It had gotten to a point that, teeming on the edge of a total shut-down, she had no other choice than to allow them the day off. Word of a small tournament held by Perchstar had her encouraging her apprentices to do their best, before allowing them to do what they wished. She needed the time away. Time to recenter herself, time to figure out how to deal with all of the sounds and smells and noises--

It practically felt like screeching in her ears as a bird chittered its song. Even with the vulpine blanket she kept around her, it hardly funneled the sounds of the outside world for her anymore. Her senses had simply gotten keener. Sharper. Flattening her ears against her head, she still could hear it nigh-on screaming. Following its sound, the warrior knew her obligation to duty meant she had to at least provide for her clan in some manner. Wandering the forest alone was scarcely permitted beneath Perchstar as it was, but she had followed a familiar path. A path that always brought her to the most tender moment between herself and her adopted mother, where she had earned her pelt and felt truly worthy of her asylum name. The time of cats that had truly known what her mother's past had meant was now fading, and it meant it was up to her to be able to pass on that legacy. Whatever reminders history could provide to prevent its repetition of trauma.

None of that mattered as the chirping of that bird demolished every coherent thought in her mind. She had to hunt it down, now. It was practically begging to be caught. Her senses led her towards the branches of a tree, in which one glance up allowed her honeyed gaze to directly target the root of her anxieties. Flutter down, noisy one... Her tail flicked with the need to take it down. She was no Skyclan cat, but her body had been built with origins not truly of the river.

She'd take the risk.

Climbing the trunk with much-louder claws than should have happened, the thick branch had allowed her to coil up. Ready to strike. The second it chirped again- thud. It was silenced, the feline having used the base of the tree to dart forward, and then land on the ground below. If that was how Skyclan hunted, she now understood just why they had such strong legs. But her world was now just that much quieter, allowing her the silence and kindness that came from that sensory input no longer barraging her.

It wasn't much longer before she spotted a dark pelt. Strange, yet familiar. Eyes of glistening amber seemed to pierce through the shadow of her pelt, scanning whether or not to deem them friend or foe. For once, she parted her maw, wincing as she was met with just how thick the forest was scented. But she filtered through it all. Sorted each individual message out, only to find... Foe? She could not quite decide. His scent was too muddied of the clans-all four of them, as if he had been staying at Fourtrees-but had the distinct sharpness of one not from here. She would appear. As she approached, the rustling of leaves snapped her head, and she watched as the catch skittered off. Failed catch. Her senses told her.

Silently, she glided among the foliage, closer towards that Twolegplace building that held no clan's claim. Once close enough, she dropped her prey, nudging it forward. The word outsider hissed within her mind, and perhaps it had given her reason for sympathy. As a cat who had been adopted into the Clan, she had access to food. If she could not hunt, there always would be a meal waiting for her at camp. She would consistently be fed. But a cat who truly lived on the outside? It took minimal mental strain to acknowledge it would be much more difficult, even in Greenleaf where she could hear the multiple rodents chittering among the boards. "For you." Egretswoop called out, announcing her presence if it had gone unnoticed up until this point.

She was still adorned in her fox pelt, looking significantly more vulpine than feline. Her mother's pelt work had been nothing short of extraordinary to allow her such a disguise. But beneath... there was no mistaking the soft alabaster fur, or the gentleness in her honey-kissed gaze. Hopefully, he saw through that pelt, instead of focusing on the outside.

Egretswoop attempts to catch a bird - Success! -3 SP

She regaled him with a careful curiosity. Every movement that he made, his reactions, all taken in. The onyx-based pelt, bleached to end in gentle browns from moons of being out in the sun gave him a uniquely muddied look, one that she found particularly intriguing. Not many black-pelted cats existed in Riverclan, so she had yet to truly be able to study the unique effects of the sun on a pelt. Perhaps whatever patches of black still existed on her fox pelt would one day bleach to a similar hue, only further illuminating the wearer beneath. She herself had stilled, aside from the feathered flick of a tail in approval when he took her gift. The warrior hadn't expected him to take it so willingly, truthfully expecting more of a fight.

Then came his question. They always wondered. It was a unique tradition, one passed down from mother to daughter. A gift that had linked her to the hare-wearer in a special way, as if to make up for the fact that they didn't truthfully share blood. Nevertheless, Harebounce had been much more of a motherly figure to her than her birth-giver ever had been. That deep feeling of abandon still eddied at her psyche some days, particularly when the forest felt loud. All too loud, on days like this. Sitting up a little bit straighter, the fox-cloaked feline tilted her head just slightly as she pondered her answer. "Why lurk on the river's edge when you know who it calls to most?" She prompted in return. His gesture of good faith was not lost on her, that rich gaze of true ember hiding away for long enough to signal he wasn't there to strike her down. Nor would she be, as she returned the slow blink, before a giggle escaped her in response. It was a light sound, one of unbridled joy that seemed as if it sounded off far too rarely. His promise not to bite was particularly amusing to her, given that he had just done that exact action to the food she'd offered him. Nevertheless, she found that comment bringing him some affinity. Rarely did those outside of her Clan find it acceptable to jest with her.

With a graceful dip of her head, the structured face of the pelt that often covered her face instead fell to rest atop the nape of her neck. The rest of the cloak stayed about her, the comforting blanket-like feel one that she couldn't shed in good faith unless she were to swim. It revealed pure alabaster fur, the feathered texture wistfully laying in such a way that gave the appearance of the most plush of clouds. For while it was the appearance of a fierce predator she adorned herself with, what lurked beneath may as well have been the visage of complete innocence. Though she had seen herself in the midst of battle, there were no scars to litter her pelt. No, the only feature to disturb her otherwise pale fur was the gentlest of cream markings atop her forehead, only made visible by a carefully-studying eye. "Consider your luck strong, for not many of my clanmates even get to see my face." Egretswoop commented. A gentle breeze swirled between the two of them, causing her ears to twitch in its direction for just a moment before they swiveled back to focus upon the tom.

"What may I call you, stranger?" Her sweet tone prompted. After all, this wasn't a typical encounter. She was a keeper of many facts and information, details and secrets that otherwise went unnoticed. Her memory flicked to a time she had gone out with Mistwalker, back then having not yet earned her full name, and the stories she shared of having encountered someone at the border. Egretswoop had not pushed at that time, understanding that it would have been an easy way to get the apprentice in trouble, and she sought not to cause any trouble for the leader's daughter. But now? Curiosity was free to tug at her paws. Was this the same face that the clan princess had once met? "As I am a face of two pelts, I am also a face of two names. Egretswoop, or Milk, should you take a preference."

Had she ever shared her Asylum name with another cat? No, she supposed she had not. But given that this was a tom who more likely than not failed to align himself with the naming conventions of the forest, she found it would place them on more even terrain. He was a peculiarity in her world of normal patterns, and she sought to figure out how he fit into the grander puzzle of life.