Milo's Call To Adventure [O]

Milo found himself outside again, despite constant scolding from his owner.

He just couldn't help it; something in him told him that he needed to be out here, that he needed to be out there. According to the older cats, the young tom had come from The Outside, and Milo, for as long as he could remember, had a deep longing to go back, unlike his brothers and sisters. He couldn't contain it, the urge, so every night he sneaks under his owner's nose to pretend, just for a second, that he was the wild cat he longs to be. Fur ruffled from the wind, long tail swishing back and forth, bell on his collar jingling softly, Milo closes his eyes and just breaths. He can hear everything, the birds calling, the mice and rabbits rustling through the tall grass, the wind gentling brushing the foliage. He takes a deep breath- the combined scents are almost almost overwhelming, the tom's nose too untrained to tell any of them apart.

Milo grins, lowering himself into a clumsy pounce. There's a mouse, just in front of him- in his head, of course, as Milo could never catch one just on his own- and it's little ears perk up. The tom pounces and lands; in his head, he caught the mouse, but in the present, he's laying with his belly on the ground, grass in his mouth and soaking up the made-up scenario.

The sun begins to rise, and Milo knows it's time to go back indoors, playing the part of the loyal pet, but he decides to stay and pretend, just a second longer.

At first, she'd been alarmed. An unfamiliar scent made her fur stand on end, in fear the Asylum had returned. However, as she drew closer, she realized the faint scent of Twoleg smoke lingered on his presence, and the soft tinkle of the leather collar hit her ears. Not Asylum, no. They were gone, Roe had taken them away to become better and to free the groups that were enslaved by the Asylum. Asylum would never bother them again, it was just a mere kittypet. One who had quite the adventurous soul, it would seem, to wander so far.

Softbreeze blinked. "Do all kittypets eat grass?" She mewed, coming up from behind the tom. Blinking, she stepped back, "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you." She mewed, and sat down. "Do the moors call to you?" She pondered, sideways glancing at the tom as she gestured to the view in front of them. Wide, open expanses of grass, heather and lavender lining it along with rabbit burrows and tunnels only WindClan knew how to use. "Pretty, isn't it?"

"I like to come here to get away from the noise, it's peaceful, don't you think?" Softbreeze mused, and sighed wistfully. Nowadays she felt so... Useless. "I'm Softbreeze, what do they call you?"

Milo jumped up, swiveling his head back to look at the cat that stood behind him. The she-cat, blinking at him like he was some silly kit, seemed friendly enough, not poised for attack, but the tom was wary anyway. He'd never seen her before, which means she came from.. she came from The Outside.

Hundreds of questions threatened to spill from Milo's throat, but he fought them all down, deciding instead to tentatively turn to face the she-cat.

"Kittypet?" Milo asks instead of firing off at the mouth, "What's that?"

Following the light she-cat's- Softbreeze. What a strange name.- gaze, Milo looks on at the moors in all of it's natural splendor. How he longed to gallop free in these tall grasses, how he longed to one day catch a rabbit- how he longed to no longer wear this collar. "Yes, it does. Very much so. I'm Milo; it's a pleasure to meet you, Softbreeze."

"Hmm.. House cat, I suppose you'd call it. You live with Twolegs, no? Your collar, kittypets tend to have them. You'd never be able to catch anything with the noise it makes." Softbreeze replied. Milo seemed curious, but not unkind. She smiled faintly. This cat knew nothing of her, and so she was able to truly relax in his presence. She dearly loved her Clanmates, but facades of being perfectly fine were exhausting.

"The pleasure's mine, Milo. You know, you aren't the first cat that the moors have called for. Tell me, what is it holding you back? I can sense your longing." A smile tugged at her lips, and she thought warmly of Finchstar, her first leader and trusted friend. She'd grown more poetic recently, more starkly like him, and she supposed that was the moor's ever-growing presence on her.  "Do you enjoy living with Twolegs?" She asked, turning to look at him. Milo was young, but he seemed spirited, and Softbreeze could tell the was longing for the wilderness. "I don't think I'd be well suited for that life. I've never enjoyed being restricted I'm my freedom."

Milo laughs without much humor. "Enjoy it? Living this pampered life brings me nothing but pain. I long for nothing but to be free of this life as a "kittypet"- or whatever you had called it- and join you."

The tom cat turns his head to look at Softbreeze, and flinched as his collar jingles from the movement. Milo truly doesn't know what's holding him back- why hasn't he just gotten up and left this life, after all? Fear, maybe? Hesitance? Part of him was afraid of leaving, no matter how hard he stamped that part of him out, or pretended that it doesn't exist. The other cats had told story after story of the horrible wild cats and how they starve and fight and are killed, and it does, truly, scare him. But Softbreeze, the only wild cat he had ever known, seemed so genuine and kind, and far away from starving or fighting him.

The stories kept Milo indoors, but he cannot stand another day convincing himself that these stories were enough to keep him away.

"Where do you come from, Softbreeze?"

"Where do I come from?" She mused, closing her eyes. She could've given him a simple answer; WindClan. But her poetic streak decided against it, and a smile tinged the edges of her maw. "I come from a paradise of love, and a haven for the lost. The moors are wide and open, and so are we. The moors turn away no cat, and the wind guides our paws. Perhaps it was the wind that brought us together. After all, everything has to have a reason for happening, else it wouldn't." The breeze ruffled her pelt, and her ears angled forward.

"WindClan. That is where I call home." She paused, tasting the air. Breathing in the scent of heather, she sighed, and turned to him. "You said the moors called for you, right? If that's true, I'll show you to my home. It's not our job to turn away those drawn to the moor, and if the wind beckons you, then come with me." Softbreeze mewed softly, turning to face Milo.

Milo listened, entranced by Softbreeze’s words. A paradise of love? A haven for the lost? The moors called to him just as strongly as they had called other cats, it seemed, and Milo could not turn down this opportunity to have a home where he belongs; in the wild, with cats that have the wind in their step.

“Lead the way, Softbreeze. Take me to this place of love and loss, where the moors guide your heart. Take me home “