Poppypaw apprehensively placed one paw in front of the other, slowly approaching the large she-cat that had been assigned as her mentor. The broad shouldered tabby was seated far from their clanmates, lost in thought. The size difference between the two, combined with how little Poppypaw knew of the she-cat, made her feel nervous. She took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and announced her presence with a quick trill, and sat beside Crocusfrost. “H-hello,” her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. “Hello, Crocusfrost.” She attempted to keep herself from fidgeting. Her eyes trailed across the horizon, to the mountains that divided them between the territories they’d known for many seasons, and the unknown wilds of unclaimed lands. Poppypaw had only been a mewling kit at the beginning of their journey, all she’d known in this life was traveling, sickness, and exhaustion. She sniffed the air, taking in the scent of earth and rock, mixed with the faint tinges of greenery elsewhere, carried on the wind. Wistful, she meowed softly, “What was it like? Our old territory, I mean?” Her voice didn’t waver, but was spoken with the softness of a queen consoling one of her kits. Curiosity nipped at her, but she’d have to be more blind than a badger to not recognize the potential for causing her mentor pain by recalling memories of happier times when the present was so…bleak.
