silent observation [solo]

Clovertwist, even in the seeming sanctuary that was the abandoned barn, was not completely protected from the harshness of greenleaf. His main supplies of water had dried up a few days prior with no sign of a rainstorm to refill them in sight, and the mice had become sparse as they, too, struggled to find water. He'd had to get creative with where to find nourishment, but he was managing well to his surprise. The loft of the barn had become unbearably hot in the evenings as the sun beat down on the patchy roof, so he'd had to find a suitable place on the hay-strewn floor to nest himself. Ordinarily he could ascend again when he woke in the morning to watch the horizon where his birth-Clan waited. When he had awakened two mornings prior, though, he had been shocked and horrified to see the distant forest pouring smoke and cinders into the air. He quickly determined that WindClan wasn't threatened, but... who was? Something that big wouldn't leave every Clan untouched, he was sure. From out at the barn, though, as a self-exiled cat, what was Clovertwist supposed to do? He went about the day on edge, but no wounded or frightened Clan cats came. Everything was quiet throughout the day. When night fell again the fire had been tamed, though how Clovertwist wasn't sure.

The world moved on without him. He knew it would. As the night of the Gathering passed, he wondered what had transpired - if every Clan cat had made it safely and the extent of the fire's damage had been reported. Was every Clan present? He had briefly considered sneaking to watch, but he didn't think it would go well if his family caught him. He had no idea what to say to them. Clovertwist didn't even know if they knew where he'd gone. Once he'd felt his heart clench in fear: what if they thought he'd died in a tunnel collapse like his brother, Quailpaw? He prayed there were no coincidental cave-ins that might've lead them to believe that. Goldengale didn't deserve that pain. Regardless, no one ever seemed to have come looking for him - not even Ravenstar, who was most likely to know Clovertwist's fate. That fact was a source of anxiety and relief to him in equal measures: the world moved on without him, as he knew it would. The sun beat down on the barn as the loner tom sat in the shade just inside the doorway, his pale amber eyes narrowed against the harsh light. He weighed his options for where to venture for water that day. Some days it made him miss the simplicity of the Clan territories... water was pretty much always in the same place there, even in greenleaf.

The silver tom with distinct tabby stripes set out into the light, setting off on a distant parallel to WindClan's border as he sought water and shade for his travel. Clovertwist watched the hills for signs of the Clan cats, but they were likely trying to keep cool themselves in what little shade camp had to offer. He did miss that simplicity. It reminded him, though, that he could likely fetch some moss with water to take home and save himself some trouble. He thanked his time in the medicine den for the wisdom, but it was up to Clovertwist himself to turn ideas into action. He prayed, as always, that he would survive another day - and he always seemed to manage.