I Was Born In These Lands And Left; You Were Born Out Of These Lands But Stayed[C]

While many of her clanmates had accepted their decision to leave the forest, Egretswoop had been far less capable of adapting. It had taken her moons upon moons to become adjusted to the typical hum of life that the forest had produced, and it had been moons of headaches and ear pain that she had learned to grow alongside. Finally, it had faded away, allowing her to function as an at least seemingly-normal member of the forest. She had found herself comforted by the fox pelt she wore, its weight being particularly useful in keeping her grounded. All too easy was it for her to dissociate when the senses all became too much, all fighting for her attention at any given moment.

Then they had decided to leave.

It was all ripped away seemingly in an instant. The gatherings were already a guaranteed source of head pain for the pale-pelted molly, so much so that she found herself always having to take the next day simply resting in the warriors den to be able to function afterwards. But now that they were leaving the forest? She found herself in perpetual pain. It was as if she was back in the midst of a gathering, but tenfold. So many scents burned her nose to the point she breathed as little as possible. So many sounds of voices, moving paws, rustling pelts, and foliage being disturbed that her ears seemed to be permanently glued back to her head. Even just the sea of pelt colors threatened to overwhelm her to tears multiple times, so she kept her gaze down directly at her paws. She could practically taste every single cat's scent on her tongue to the point she had a hard time keeping anything down. All of it was too much, far too much.

She had pushed herself to creating pelts for others to attempt to survive the torrential weather as some semblance of a distraction. It was all to keep her from behaving, from lashing out at the cats around her. To say she was on-edge was an understatement, and she had hid herself so thoroughly beneath her fox pelt that she truthfully wished to become one with it. But this was one of the rare times she had taken it off to groom her pelt, to check her own wounds. Having gone to fight a badger had left her with particularly nasty scratches along her underbelly, deep enough to surely scar the soft flesh. It meant she moved with a particularly ungraceful hunch for a few sunrises, and only just recently had she even been able to stand normally. Her belly still was rather sore from the wounds, and she assessed them for any signs of worsening as her pelt rested aside her.

Not much longer after, though, she once more hid beneath the fox's pelt. It had been kept immaculate despite their journey, as grooming the fur had been a self-soothing ritual to her much as wearing it was. As she pulled it onto her back, there was the color of vibrant flame that pulled her attention in the slight distance. Had she not been on such anxious alert, taking in another quick and sharp breath that would hopefully last significantly longer than the last, she would have dismissed it. Exhausted, honey-colored eyes looked that way, seeing the frame of a cat that did not look like they were of the forest. She did not dare taste the air, for she knew it would not reveal her any useful information with the mass of cats that existed not too far away. So instead, she pushed herself away from the crowd, moving slowly in his direction.

It would have looked as if she was stalking a piece of prey, had she not been so obvious in her movements. Keeping herself somewhat low to the ground to protect her weakened body, the fox-hidden warrior got close enough only to be able to converse without having to shout. Instead, her voice could speak in a melodious murmur. "You exclude yourself," While not the sweetest of words to introduce herself with, it was a simple statement of fact. "Why? Are you well?" Her honey-colored eyes peeked through the fox pelt that stayed around her frame, a hint of sweetness that lurked beneath the otherwise lethal predator's appearance. She dared not approach any other cat without it on.

Reverently, the fox-pelted feline awaited an answer. Though her fox pelt was also of a pale hue, it had warmer pigments that her true fur did not, giving the haunted look to the warrior as she peered beyond its covering. The way it clung to her as if it were actually her own fur meant she moved easily beneath it as well, no longer in fear of the possibility of it falling away simply due to a misplaced step. It allowed her to look with curiosity, a need to know as she still stayed the fox-length or two away. Just close enough to hold a private conversation, but away to where she could flee if she felt any semblance of danger. If she were to admit the truth, though, she felt as if she were in danger at all hours of the day while in the mega-cluster of cats that dwelled in the forest they left behind.

His answer was met with a singular blink as she processed the answer. "So you do not pledge allegiance to a Clan," She commented. It would have been easy in that moment to allow hostility to linger in her tone, the subtle threat being slid as a warning that he very much had assumed correctly. In actuality, it stayed clear away. Being of outsider blood of her own right, it meant she always had a slight affinity towards those that did not ally themselves beneath one of the five banners that marched within the forest. Though... affinity was perhaps the wrong word. Innate intrigue more accurately described how she felt.

As he tilted his head to the side, she found herself mimicking the motion. Social instances were perhaps her most beloathed activity, but in moments she could take cues from those she had chosen to converse with, it became a subconscious tactic in allowing a feeling of connection. They both held some amount of curiosity towards one another, and that meant that the chances of hostility were slimmer than what they otherwise would have been from one who decided defenses were the immediate answer to a problem. His question did not fall upon deaf ears, either, as much as she sometimes wished she were deaf to have an ounce of silence. "The roar of all the traveling forest is not one I handle well. So, I take sentry on the outskirts, and produce pelts that help others keep warm." Her tail flicked in gesture towards where she had been working not long before. A collection of predators that had been felled, some with their pelts drying, others untouched. They would all be worked through before they moved again.

"What is your name? I wish to call you something other than Outsider, if that is acceptable."

The sounds of your home are such heavy burderns,

That was a sentiment that made her ears flick. Was it her home? Not entirely. "Though I ally myself amongst them, home remains something much more intimate. It does not reside among them." Egretswoop stated, flattening her ears back just slightly as a particular surge of noise rose from behind her. Perhaps there were two warriors sparring, and the Clans were simply observing. There had been a number of those assessment-style battles. Though the song of war called to her very blood, she did not answer it, not unless it was entirely necessary. It wouldn't make her look good to allow that side of her out without being properly checked.

Ajex. The name rolled off the tongue simply. So he did not in fact belong to any of the clans. That fact was stored away tightly, though it did not change how she spoke. If anything, it simply prompted the dilemma of which of her names she introduce herself by. Blinking for all of a heartbeat, she spoke. "Milk." A singular, firm word. The parts of her fur that stretched beyond her fox pelt made it obvious why she carried such a name, as the pale tufts of white were akin to what kept kits alive. "Make no mistake, I bear a clan name as well. But I do not believe it is one you would care for." Her tail flicked.

For a moment, she pondered asking about why it was that he followed the Clans. But it only took a heartbeat to settle upon the answer-the forest simply couldn't sustain any life. He'd known of Clan structure, of knowing their kits and elders, and that much also caught her suspicions. "Were you once a Clan cat?" She had not heard of any other cat announcing themselves by a name such as hers, and to her knowledge, no other Asylum-borne lines existed beyond Riverclan's borders. So why did he bear a rogue name, but also know of their titles of elder and kits? They were a closely-guarded secret to those that did not know the structure of Clan life.

Instead of passing the judgement that would have been expected of a cat in her position, the molly simply dipped her head. "A conclusion that garners increased respect, given the particular style of courage it takes to still appear amidst the Clans in that position." She nodded. After all, it did take strength to self-exile oneself from their homelands, only to still exist in such close proximity.

Looking back towards the pelt that she had been working on, her gaze stayed for just a moment before flicking back to the tom. "To exchange for lack of violence on my behalf, I request your assistance on a personal craft. A hearty meal will be the token you part with for your assistance as well, as I do not find the carcass of a predator useful in feeding kits." Whether he took her on the offer or not, well... she wouldn't care.