Twinkle Toes (open)

Sitting near the edge of what the clan cats called their camp, Mr. Twinkles spent some time grooming himself. Of course, while he didn't have any fur covering himself to clean, that didn't mean he couldn't still spruce his wrinkly skin or even his raccoon pelt that he wore. As he sat alone, he grew lost in thought. He was an honest cat, whether that was for better or for worse, and now that he thought about it he didn't really care if others knew that he despised being force to look over the cats called ThunderClan or whatever. He'd been of kittypet origin and had joined the Asylum after he'd escaped in hopes of food and shelter but now it proved to be more work than it seemed worth and he wondered how long every-cat would keep this charade up for...

One of the Asylum cats was sitting near the edge of the camp, Minkstream noted as he padded across the clearing. Narrowing his eyes at the strange cat, he noted to himself that the tom looked more like a rat than a cat. He'd seen him around before, but usually he had a pelt on. I wonder how he's not freezing without that thing. The thought flitted through his head idly - the cold was definitely still chilling the air, especially here where the ravine's walls generally cast looming shadows. Though at the moment it wasn't too bad, especially with the sun at around midday.

Turning his attention from the tom to ignore him, he glanced back at the camp, the end of his significantly fluffier tail - considering it held actual fur - twitching behind him. He'd organized a hunting patrol for this time, since more prey tended to be out with the heat of the day at its zenith. The others should be arriving soon. The faintest hint of a smile twitched at his maw, a wicked glint touching his eyes. I have a feeling this cat's going to find himself a little overwhelmed. A single patrol didn't warrant more than one Asylum warrior, after all....

"Uh, why don't you have your coat on?" Cheville had seen this rather...furless cat around the ThunderClan camp before. He was an Asylum cat, like her. The fluffy brown tabby wondered how this cat wasn't freezing. Glancing at the ThunderClan cat beside her, the brown-tabby tipped her head sideways. "Who you searching for? Are we going on a patrol?" Her rabbit pelt suited her smaller figure, but it really affected her mobility sometimes. She would probably have to take it off. Shrugging slightly, Cheville sat down next to the other Asylum cat, waiting for...more cats.

Shrikesong arrived at the edge of camp. A patrol was gathering, and she was one of the cats on the patrol. She still wasn't happy from Asylum's arrival, and she wanted them to be brought down. She thought back to Dawnhawk, and what he said just a couple moons ago.

"I'm a decent actor. You never know when that's gonna come in handy."

Acting... perhaps that's what she needed to do to help ThunderClan gain information on the Asylum, and perhaps eventually take him down. It was a good thing that Shrikesong never said anything out loud about Asylum, and while she was upset about their position and it was clear, perhaps she could be 'the first one to turn a new leaf' and pretend to truly accept Asylum's hold.

Either way, that didn't concern Shrikesong at the moment. Mr. Twinkles wasn't a threat, and as long as Shrikesong didn't say anything, Cheville wasn't either. The brown she-cat wasn't going to help Asylum unless she had to, but she would try to make it clear that she was 'completely willing' to do so. The only thing weighing her down was how her Clanmates would feel about her supposed betrayal. She wouldn't be able to live with the guilt about betraying them. The brown she-cat sighed. It was a decision she had to make later, after this hunting patrol.

Seeing the steadily growing group of cats on the other side of camp, Stag stood up and stretched his hind legs before walking over to meet them, his curiosity practically forcing him to find out what was going on. He had begun to feel comfortable in the Thunderclan camp, he enjoyed seeing it's many cats, along with those of the Asylum every day. He was even starting to get along with some of them, it was truly exciting. Even if some refused to speak to him, having at least one cat as his friend was amazing. He thought of Buzzardpaw as he walked along, a smile showing on his maw.

Nosing his way into the small group, he soon learned that a patrol was going out. As an Asylum cat, he knew that there needed to be some cats like him present, but he didn't just want to lurk in the shadows and watch. He wanted to make friends here, after all. The cat named Minkstream was who he soon learned was second-in-command in the camp, so he wanted to go to him first. "Hello- would you mind if i came along?" He gazed over at the tom through the fox pelt he wore. It wasn't as if Minksteam could deny his presence, but it somehow seemed wrong to just join the patrol without saying a word.

---

Back rising in an arch as she prepared to start the day, Robinloft rose from her nest, immediately shrinking back down as the cold hit her pelt. She had recently started going back on patrols now that her kits were old enough to be in the den by themselves, and some of them were even apprentices. Steadily getting used to the cold she began to walk out into camp, her gaze jumping from cat to cat. She looked up at the sky and tried to tell what the time was, but the clouds covered the sun, as they had most days in Leaf-bare. A wave of panic washed over her as she worried about how long she had slept in. Judging by how many cats there were in camp currently, that must mean that the dawn patrol must have already gone out and came back by now. Eyes widening, her gaze caught a group of cats on the edge of camp. 'A patrol!" Scrambling to the group, she met Minkstream's gaze. "This... this is a patrol, right?" Her tone was riddled with panic. Some cats might think that waking up late isn't a big deal, but she felt like she always needed to do her part. If she woke up late, she couldn't do as much to help the clan.

Okay then, maybe they'd also have to drag along half of Asylum, if all the foxdung-faced snakehearts were curious enough to wander over for some reason only StarClan knew. He eyed the she-cat as she came up, keeping his hackles down and letting only the tip of his tail twitch. For a moment he considered keeping a frosty silence, but eventually discarded the idea. At least she was bothering to be curious, instead of arrogantly demanding what was going on like some of the others - though her use of the term "we" made him want to put a bite to the edge of his tone. "Some of us Clan cats were planning to," He replied shortly.

The sound of pawsteps made him glance around, and he nodded to Shrikesong as she padded up. There was one, and... he could see some of the others padding over as he turned his gaze a bit further outwards. Hopefully no more Asylum-

His eyes snapped to a reddish pelt, the fur on the back of his neck instinctively rising as his stomach lurched. A fox's face, yellow gaze staring at him. StarClan-!

For a moment snow flashed through his mind - a darkened alleyway, blood, foam-flecked jaws, teeth lunging for his throat-

No, it's an Asylum cat, frogbrain!

Gritting his teeth, he blinked the image away, his heart suddenly thudding somewhere up in his throat. Vaguely, he noticed his claws had slid out to grip the patchy grass, and as his ears came back through the sudden piercing buzz that had inexplicably taken up residence inside, he caught the end of tinny words from the cat's maw beneath the... skin... it wore.

"...Mind if I came along?"

He curled his lip, tail lashing once behind as he extricated his claws from the cold ground beneath them, eyes flashing. "Yeah, I do mind," He said curtly, jerking his muzzle in a gesture at the pelt on the tom's frame, his own crawling as he tried not to focus too much on it. "If you want to come, get rid of the pelt." Throwing a glance at the others, as much to get his eyes away from the one in front of him as anything else, he growled, "The furless can keep his if he insists on coming like all the rest of you. Yours is just going to scare the prey off from here to Highstones."

Another voice caught his attention, and he spotted Robinloft hurrying up, the she-cat looking faintly dazed, and just a little panicked. Almost immediately, his expression lost most of its tightness, the glare in his eyes fading, and he nodded. "This is a patrol. We're going hunting."

Any decently-sized gathering of cats was bound to catch Batbite's attention, especially so now that she spent much of her time in ThunderClan's camp. This particular party had the makings of a patrol, if the words drifting her way on the icy wind were any indication. Spotting her mate among them, she realized that she was supposed to be joining them - well, some of them, at least. She wasn't very familiar with the Asylum cats.

She padded over silently, making a conscious choice not to look at the one that wore a fox's pelt. "Not too late to take part, am I? I've found that time slips away so much faster with so few ways to spend it." This, at least, was a pointed remark toward the Asylum cats; though she wondered if they'd understand its true significance. Still, she could find reasons enough to be cheerful - or some approximation thereof - despite the chill and some of the company. She glanced over to Minkstream, expression softening for just a moment before returning her attention to the rest of the patrol.

They haven't taken everything, at least.

Ears perking as cats began to approach and soon gathering around and nearby him, the bald tom let out an exasperated sigh. Could a cat get any peace and quiet around here? Apparently not...

Turning to the fluffy she-cat who'd spoken to him, he recognized her as one of his "fellow" Asylum cats though he hadn't actually bothered to remember anyone's name. Scoffing before speaking, he rested the paw that he'd been grooming onto the ground. "Because it gets in the way, duh," Mr. Twinkles huffed, though he doubted the younger she-cat heard him as her attention was drawn to one of the clan cats. A patrol? He hated patrols, but he didn't want his tail bitten off later by the higher-ups for not accompanying the clan cats and assumed he had no choice.

Standing up and giving his legs a stretch, he slipped into his pelt, ignoring the other tom's comment towards the fact that he had no fur. There was no way in heck he was leaving without his pelt unless he wanted to freeze and that foxheart would just have to deal with it.

"Well come on, let's get this over with," the now fluff covered tom mewed in an annoyed tone with a roll of his eyes as he padded past the gathered crowd and out of the camp entrance. The sooner the clan cats finished their hunting, the sooner he could get back to what he did best; nothing.

Stag was expecting some kind of softer response from the tom, but what he received completely surprised him. His demeaner went from calm to anger when he looked at him. The reaction from the tom was far different than the one he had received from Buzzardpaw. Even if he was hurt by his reaction, the fact that even under certain circumstances he was allowed to go on the patrol, made him happy. "Oh- i'm sorry about that, it's just- it's just habit to wear the pelt, we usually wear them." Taking off the pelt, he dragged it back to his nest and rested it inside, looking over it quickly before running back to the patrol. By the time he returned he heard the end of Mr. Twinkles' words. That meant they were leaving soon? Excitement buzzed through him as they readied to leave, his tail twitching with excitement. Maybe he would catch something good to bring back!

Another familiar voice caught his ears, and he felt his ears rise higher, his eyes meeting Batbite's. The discomforting presence of the fox-pelted Asylum cat faded in hers, and he smiled slightly, shaking his head. "We're not going yet."

He couldn't blame her for the time - everything seemed so... locked in. Patrols had to leave with Asylum cats, trips to dirt place had to be under their eyes, and even simple lying around camp or conversations were never without eyes watching. It was impossible to breathe without one of the pelt-wearers scrutinising the air he drew in. So few ways to spend it, indeed.... Without feeling like I've got a leech attached to it, anyway.

His ear twitched as the furless one made a huffy comment, one that was partly drowned out by the fox-wearer, and he grunted in reply, keeping his eyes off the pelt and firmly stuffing the crawling chill threatening to run over his skin back down. Honestly he'd halfway expected the other to throw a fit - try to force his way onto the patrol with the pelt anyway. But then, most of the younger ones generally didn't seem too bad. 'Too bad' - he almost snorted. Except for being Asylum, anyway.

As the kit ran off and the rest of the patrol milled around, the furless cat huffed past, rolling his eyes, the ridiculous sight of his oversized and overfluffy pelt hanging off his frame. Minkstream bit back the urge to snarl back a little at the way the cat practically assumed responsibility for the patrol, instead letting just a hint of coldness into his voice as the end of his tail flicked. "We'll 'get this over with' when we have all our cats. And that includes yours." Glancing back in the direction the young tom had disappeared to, he found him running back, eyes alight with excitement. Without the pelt, he almost looked like one of ThunderClan's own apprentices - just a kit out for the thrill of a hunt, eager to get outside the camp's walls and catch something.

Mentally shaking the thought from his mind, he stepped forward out of the camp's exit, purposefully taking up a position beside the furless one to take the head of the patrol rather than trailing behind, his eyes narrowed slightly in a vague hint of a challenge. Maybe Asylum thought they ruled here, but the Clan cats still had their own hierarchy. He wasn't going to let them take that, too. If this cat had a problem with it, Minkstream would be all too happy to convince him that if he valued that skin of his, he would choose not to.