dear fellow traveler

The evening breeze rolled over Zinnia's fur, reminding her of both her home and just how far she had come. This place was both familiar and not - the feeling of grass under her paws for more than a moment was something she'd ached for, but there weren't nearly as many plants as she was used to. Even the tiny Gardens in the Twolegplace had usually had several, so why were they missing here? Perhaps she simply wasn't looking closely enough...

"Ancestors, hear my call," she whispered. "Though I have left the places where you walk... Still I place my guidance in your paws."

And so she continued - pawstep by pawstep, one after the other - in whatever direction felt most right to her in that moment. The feeling of earth under her paws made her travel further than she otherwise might have, right up until she found what she was looking for. A small patch of flowers, spotted in the corner of her eye, and she turned so her slow and quiet pace led her to it. Settling in a space that was more grass than flower, she closed her eyes and let herself rest for a while. Silently reflecting on the world around her; wondering if any of the other Garden cats that had left to travel had made their way here. Was she following the path laid out by generations before her, or forging one for generations to follow?

Past and future aside... What mattered most was the present, and the influence it could have on everything else.

And, in her present state, to any onlookers she would appear to be sleeping; though in truth she was simply lost in her thoughts.

It seemed surreal, that perhaps such a beautiful scene could exist in the midst of the death that racked WindClan. Finchstar stopped to gaze at the patch of late Greenleaf flowers, head high as he peaked over the ryegrass. The resident sleeping there almost seemed to be a dream. Her shimmery pelt sat still as the occasional gust of wind would ever gently caress her fur. Finchstar imagined that if he were to blink, the scene would dissolve. It was strange that in one corner of the moor, blood could stain the grass, and in another, travelers came to sleep. But the instinctual wariness was set aside as the leader's curiosity got the better of him. Where was this silver cat from? Perhaps she was a kittypet, enjoying the moor. Or perhaps she was from the other side of the gorge, a new RiverClan warrior the tom had yet to meet. And yet his paws fell into quiet footholds as he carefully weaved his way between the flowers, interest in the situation growing ever still. A wise cat would let the visitor sleep, but Finchstar had left his wisdom at camp. His heart had now been woven between strands of curiosity and a kit-like imagination. The leader had to stop himself before he began fantasizing that this cat could be a ghost perhaps. But the small breaths that exhaled from her maw proved otherwise.

"I'd say you are an ignorant cat, or a brave cat, sleeping in the midst of flowers as foxes roam the moor." Finchstar sat down quietly in the grass, tail tip flicking in interest as he watched the visitor. His heart was still filled with regret as he reminisced over the fate of Puddlepaw, but in this solitary field, his woes seemed farther away than before. Strange, that in the wayward apprentice's death, another loner should show herself, akin to the loner named Cloud that once journeyed into WindClan camp all those moons ago. The thought of Cloud - now Puddlepaw made Finchstar gasp quietly, a hole in his endless bluff. He had grieved with his clanmates, set watch that night, and yet failed to open that part of his mind until now, in the sanctuary of flowers, home of a strange wandering cat. "Perhaps it is the meadow, yet you carry a face of peace, friend. Tell me, what gives you solace at night? Is your ignorance willful? Or perhaps you have smelled the danger and are stronger than I originally imagined. In that case, you have caught my bluff, and here I am. A mere tom, Finchstar is my name, and I submit myself to your will. It is not wise to sneak up on a sleeping cat, however before you end my life, tell me your name." The cheekiness in the leader's voice was evident. This cat was of no threat to him, and yet he chuckled at the game they played. It was a simple gift, to give a guest the safety of peace. Finchstar couldn't dream of harming a simple wanderer, and wished to bring across his message before spooking the flower-cat on the moor. His eyes sparkled with curiosity and wondered how the she-cat would respond. A name, a name was always a good paw to put forward.

Zinnia opened her eyes and shifted to face the stranger, wondering if he was perhaps the one she was searching for. Before she could ask, the meaning of his words struck her - foxes. She'd never seen or scented one, only heard tales of them. First in her youth, and then from cats of different places as she wandered. She listened intently after that, focusing on this cat's words. His name, he said, was Finchstar... How strange; but she'd met many cats with strange names by now.

Finally, she found her voice, choosing to respond to each statement in turn. If that was what he believed, let him think she was sleeping - even a cat such as herself had to keep some of her secrets. "There are foxes here?" she asked first, letting her curiosity slip through into her words. "I've never met one, you see... Only in stories. Though given what most of the stories I've heard in my travels, perhaps I should be lucky to never cross one's path." There was a pause, as she considered his next words. "Why should you let the risk of danger prevent you from doing as you wish? This world is not ours to own, but neither is it ours to fear." Another, briefer pause, and she finally spoke one last time. "Finchstar... What an odd name, I've never heard of such a thing. But I suppose if you have trusted me with yours, I shall trust you with my own. You may call me Zinnia." Before she could forget, she had to add, "Please, tell me... Where am I? I'm searching for something, you see."

The loner's voice was soothing, a high tone woven between the flocks of wind as they blew through Finchstar's fur. He felt a smile tugging on the edges of his maw as the silvery she-cat spoke, just as witty as himself. In her answer, she brought more questions, inquired about life and proved her diligence, all with the flick of a tail. Excitement ate at Finchstar's paws and a new game had begun. A new tale of wits and bluffs, perhaps able to hide the grief and pull back the curtain to a new revelation. "You possess a fine argument, Zinnia. Why should the dangers of this life prevent us from living it? It is a question I have often asked myself. However you see, the fate of many cats rest in my paws. A dreadful thing it is, while its beauty is wide. My every act, every step determines their destiny. Of course I would lay down my lives in a heartbeat for their wellbeing. But I must fear the dangers as well. Even those such as foxes." Finchstar purred and pulled at a strand of grass, weaving it between his pads. He was responsible for Puddlepaw's fate as well, and now her blood spattered the moor.

His bluff shattered as the tom winced, letting go of his grass strand and watching it spring over his paw. The flowers shifted with a small breeze and suddenly the world felt stuffy, or rather Finchstar's mind. He wished to retract once more on instinct, to hide his sorrows deep into the crevices of his heart. But if Zinnia was to be so bold, than the leader of WindClan could be as well. "You're in WindClan territory, or rather, that is what we call it. You'll find many cats here with strange names such as myself, but no harm shall come to you here, not from cats. I admire you in your search of adventure and wish you a long and happy life. However length and happiness are fickle things. They reside in some places, and are more scarce in others. In this case, the life you find here may be shorter than expected if a fox catches your pelt. We've already lost one..." Finchstar slipped once more as his voice took a darker tone, yellow eyes darting from Zinnia's into the grass. But it was hypocritical to ask for the loner's safety. Had Finchstar left his clan all those moons ago, a fox would pose no threat to him. Puddlepaw's circumstances didn't erode into Zinnia's, and yet they ate at Finchstar's conscious like a rabbit after leaf-bare. It wasn't fair to ask such a thing of her. A free spirit was gold, a beautiful thing that brought light to Finchstar's heart. He closed his eyes and opted to let the she-cat lead him instead. While his knowledge of the beasts was important, hers was of something much more profound. Another traveler, another soul. Smiling, the leader opened his yellow eyes once more, determined now. "Forgive me. I underestimate you. You have seen much and explored many places no doubt. Tell me, Zinnia, what is it that you seek? I would love to hear your stories."

Finchstar's words filled her with curiosity; a tale forming in her mind of a life much different than any she'd ever seen - one as rife with danger as adventure, as deadly as it was beautiful. But as he spoke of a responsibility greater than himself, and the name for the lands on which they stood, and finally inquired as to her search, she realized perhaps she'd already found what she was looking for. A society of cats gathered beyond the Twolegplace... Could it be her search was so much shorter than she'd thought it would be?

"I suppose you could say I am searching for a place that feels like my home," she said at last. "I've wandered far from where I started, but most of the paths I've followed have been made of stone and other things I can't place a name to. The feeling of earth under my paws... It's something I have missed greatly; though I've found patches here and there along the way. So, when I heard rumors of cats that lived beyond the stone paths, I followed them; and here you find me now, as close as I've been to the Garden since I left it."

Finchstar cocked his head in curiosity, now enamored with this loner and her stories. It fascinated him how her concept could be so easily grasped. Finchstar sought after things more profound, peace and prosperity, and everything that hid between the lines. He imagined all life held such whimsy, and yet chuckled as he continued to overthink the happenings around him. This loner was simply searching to belong. And yet weren't they all? "This garden of yours must be quite beautiful, Zinnia. And yet I am curious as to what it may be like... If you say it resembles the moor, then perhaps it's full of flowers, heather perhaps? No matter where you've come from, if you feel at home here, then here is where you shall stay." Finchstar smiled and knew all to well the feeling of wanting to follow the wind. And yet those who had ran free and experienced the breeze came across the border, in search of the opposite. It was ever so interesting to the tom, how hearts all wandered and yet yearned for the same thing. Love and wanderlust, the glimmers under the sun. "Who am I to tell your soul where it can and can't roam? I am here today, and perhaps I'll be gone tomorrow. The moor may carry the scent of WindClan, but we are just mere cats, and land is land. Hunt here if your heart desires, or join us if your spirit sings it. I do not know where you are from, cat. But I can help you find where you are going."

"It is. It's beautiful, flowers of all colors and shapes as far as you can see... Heather, certainly, but several others as well," Zinnia replied, her voice taking on a slightly wistful tone as she spoke of her home. "And cats living their lives among them, learning what they can from one another." That was what had, eventually, led her away from the Garden - the desire to learn more than they could teach. Things unknown to them. "I don't think I can make a decision yet," she spoke softly. "Though your kindness is appreciated. Truth be told, it's the company I've missed more than anything... I've met kind strangers on my travels, of course, but they've never quite understood why I choose to live as I do. It's strange to them, as their way of life is to me."

"You are an intelligent cat, Zinnia. I admire your insight." Finchstar bowed his head and sniffed at a flower passively. He could relate well for the need of company, Finchstar, too, enjoyed a conversation. It was comforting to know there were other cats similar to himself. "It is a good thought, to meet many other cats and understand various ways of life. If all I knew was the life of my own, I'd be a boring cat indeed. It is souls like you who brighten up the world Zinnia. I have very much enjoyed meeting you." Finchstar smiled and flicked his tail, watching the sun as his mind floated along. "May this moor serve you well as it has us, I will alert my clanmates of your presence, no harm will come to you. Perhaps we will meet again, flower-cat. You have enlightened me, and your way of life only heightens my curiosity.

"And I have quite enjoyed meeting you," Zinnia said softly, though she still felt that she hadn't quite said everything she needed to just yet. It was that line of thought that led her to speak again, offering a traditional farewell. "For every moment from now until our paths should cross again, Finchstar, I wish you well."