nice boys [C]

Tail twitching restlessly, RiverClan's medicine cat pushed her way clumsily through the reeds, heaving a sigh as she ventured towards the riverbank. Too much had been happening lately, and despite sleep pulling at her and the faint growl of her stomach, she had shoved her way out of camp, just to catch a break. Just to sit quietly at the river, just to... take a moment. She settled at the water's edge, shivering at the cool breeze and watching the way her reflection rippled in turn. It was quiet, good–

And grass was cracking behind her. Ears lowering, Cloverheart turned around, staring at the reeds with narrowed eyes. "Hello? Who's there?"

It hadn't been long since he'd encountered his first Riverclan cat, and Dakota was not surprised that Dewlight would not be his last. The weather had been brutal since their brief encounter, enough so it had kept him lingering at the fringes of clan territory. There had been a light warning in his last conversation - speaking of a lack of friendliness, and it wasn't that he was too nut-brained to take it, rather his slender frame wouldn't hold out well against billowing breezes. Even a longer coat like his could only do so much to stave the cold away, especially as his strength quickly waned from a lack of food.

The river had been such an entrancing thing. Silvered little fish slipped about underneath the surface and has caught his attention enough to keep him from scurrying away from the clan's border. There had been a very tight little sheltering of rock that had been enough to keep the icy wind from clawing at his fur all night - a temporary home, as if he had a place to call home. As if fish would leap from the surface of the river. Dakota had not been enough on his guard, further slipping into a state of shaky, half-baked decisions. Mother had always told him that it would leave him starving or dead one day. She was probably right.

"H-hey there. I'm Dakota." The slight stall in speech came as he shook himself from a daze, "I'm a trespasser, I know, I'll slip from your borders as quiet as a shadow if you like. I didn't take anything. Turns out fish don't just leap into your mouth and I'm, uh, not much of a hunter."

"I don't think a rogue's ever apologized to me before," Cloverheart chirped a note of surprise as the dark-furred tom made his proper appearance. Despite the cheery sound of her response, her fur had bristled, eyes narrowed and ears lowered. Shuffling to put space between them, she muttered, half to herself, "Or... loner, maybe?" The distinction seemed important to her, for... her tail flicked. Some reason. Or it was important to someone, at least.

Whatever Dakota considered himself, he was intruding. Something clicked in her head that sparked some sort of territorialism in her, but it fizzled away just as quickly as it came to life. Her duty to protect and look after cats went beyond Clan boundaries, and even if some might argue, that included outsiders, too. Even ones that appeared from the reeds like ghosts. He was probably hungry, and lonely, and she had a history of being sympathetic to cats outside of the Clans.

Willing her fur to lie flat, Cloverheart gave him a long, curious look, then nodded towards the river. Almost an invitation. "I won't run you off. I'm not meant to start fights, anyway. If another patrol comes along, though..." She shrugged. Her Clanmates might not extend the same patience to him. "Well, for now, what are you doing here? You're awful deep in RiverClan territory. I'd say that's pretty bold!" With a little purr, Cloverheart turned her attention back towards the water, watching her reflection ripple as a fish darted through her watery visage. "I'm not much of a hunter, either, but, uh... I might remember some things. You're probably hungry, right? I could try and teach you, but," a short laugh, then a sigh, "no guarantees."

"Can't say I'm too familiar with the term rogue, but loner almost sounds nicer. And I have been alone for quite sometime." It was peculiar, running into another cat on this sodden territory, who seemed kinder than the mean, starving beasts of the city. Dakota paused and flicked an ear. Supposedly forest cats were the savages but he had seen what only suggested otherwise. Wanting to defend one's territory was a respectable thing. All cats were hungry this time of year - he wasn't anything special.

"Not meant to start fights?" He muttered, tipping his head slightly in confusion. And she was urging him on in his pursuit of the water-bound prey. Dakota's maw fell slightly, betraying his puzzled mind in the moment. The tom was unable to clearly process it all through the fog of his own weariness. So, he settled for a soft exhalation of breath. The she-cat had questions of her own, it seemed, their lives vastly differing from one another. His tail flickered slightly, "Far from home, I guess, nowhere to go and trying to survive. Guess it would help to have a home to go back to, huh?"

He turned his attention back to the fish that danced back and forth. Dakota heard his own stomach growl and wore a grim smile in response, "If you're willing to teach me, I'd be grateful. But I can leave whenever you want, miss."

When Dakota agreed, the medicine cat nodded to the water's edge again, offering him the spot next to her. "Even if I don't want you here, I'm a medicine cat. I take care of cats– I don't drive them away." Cloverheart laughed a little, quickly adding, "Though if I wanted to chase you off, I guess I could. I guess I wouldn't be showing you how to fish, either..." Another breathy laugh, and she shook her head slowly.

"I'm Cloverheart, by the way. I guess it's only fair I give you my name, since I have yours." The she-cat didn't look up as she spoke, keeping her attention focused on the water. Little ripples of silver darted swiftly through the current... all she had to do was reach out and hook one. It had come so easy to her as an apprentice, but how many moons ago was that? And how many fish, how many mice had she failed to catch? Maybe she wouldn't be the best mentor; she was certainly going to try, though.

Dipping a paw into the water, she quietly hummed, "Where are you from, then, if you don't have anywhere to go back to? I know another loner, he's from..." a pause to remember, then she quickly finished, "from Twolegplace. Have you been there?" Beneath the surface, her claws flexed. Scales brushes past her paw, and she struck out with her leg, sending out a swift and silent prayer that something actually stuck.

Even if it was clumsy and there was a fair bit of splashing and near-slipping involved, her claws did hook into something. With a grateful sigh, she pulled the fish from the water, dislodging it from her claws carefully. "There you go. It's– well... it's a little harder than it looks. I guess it's the same as hunting anything else, just a bit, well, wetter. It might be a bit tricker than catching, you know, voles or something, but... I figure it could get you through leaf-fall, at least until the river freezes." So, no, she wasn't the best mentor. Apparently explaining things didn't come that well to her. Still, though, maybe Dakota would catch on swiftly, and she would leave feeling a little better with the knowledge that he would be fed and relatively safe, even if he was an outsider.

It wasn't bad to remind herself how to hunt either, she supposed. This could be nice– this could be the break she'd been desperate for.

A soft laugh left his maw, to match the she-cats. Admittedly, it was hard not to be on edge given his history around vicious rogues. However, the fogginess of his consciousness - a mixture of hunger and exhaustion - made fear a much more difficult feat. Dakota could not afford to let the his nerves or hesitations overwhelmed him, especially when this cat was offering to teach him out to fish. As the low chortle died away it was replaced with a restrained sigh. He wanted to lay down and not move for several seasons. But he blinked and focused his gaze on Cloverheart, trying to cling onto each word.

"Twolegplace? Oh, uhm, further than that I think. I used to live in a city. Far more no furs, cats, and cars than you could ever imagine." The word had caused him to tip his head but he remembered the previous clan cat making mention of twolegs; it seemed to be their word for the no furs. Dakota found a brief moment of pride at the fact that he managed to remember such a thing in this state. Shaking his head to shake it away, the tom continued, "My parents were from a long line of house cats. Swore if I ran off that I'd never be allowed back. Foolish kit I was, didn't take them seriously." He was used to wearing a sheepish grin, one that peeled back his maw in this moment. A dismissive laugh before he tipped his head.

"Mind telling me what a medicine cat is? Can't say I'm familiar with the term." It felt odd to speak so freely, to settle in alongside a stranger but as he chatted, the loner began to feel more at ease. Although he had a tendency to be awkward or get flustered around others - something about the she-cat's mannerism mixed with his delirium made it easy as drifting into sleep after a long day. By the time he asked, she'd begun watching the river and then lashed out at it in a flash. Not only that but her efforts actually produced a fish! The urge to lash out and scarf down the little creature was overwhelming. He just barely restrained himself by turning towards the rushing waters.

The black tom peered down, seeking out the silvered bodies that slipped by. After a few moments, he tried his own like, slicing the surface with unsheathed claws. But he was unpracticed and unsuccessful as a result. This sigh was filled with more exasperation, "I supposed it takes some time to get as good as you."

With her carch safely on the riverbank, the medicine cat turned an ear in Dakota's direction, letting out a short sigh. "I'm... surprised I caught that, actually! I'm not exactly in-practice myself. Dumb luck, I guess," Cloverheart shrugged. There was a twinge of upset to her words, but she shook it off quickly, circling back to his earlier words. "Anyway... No-furs? Cars?" Cloverheart giggled, whiskers twitching in amusement. "And houses? Silly words," another light laugh, pale green eyes sparkling with genuine warmth. The tom was funny, at least, and he'd been good company so far; even if he drifted away from the river and she never saw him again she was at least happy to have met him here. She looked at Dakota more directly, tail swishing slowly.

When she really looked at him, he looked... weary, at best. Like if he tried to wander away now he'd just sway on his paws and topple muzzle-first into the river. An appraising rumble left the she-cat, but she didn't make direct mention of it. Instead, she nudged the fish towards him, nodding towards it. "Well... you'll have plenty of time to learn later! Eat that for now, though. And to answer..." Cloverheart blinked. It felt weird, having to explain what a medicine cat was... She would never stop wondering how loners managed to look after themselves, or how kittypets trusted twolegs to handle them and their care. She shuddered at the thought.

"Well, I look after cats. RiverClan first, but medicine cats help everyone. We don't do any of the hunting, or the patroling, the fighting... any of that. I collect herbs, and I keep bad wounds from getting infected, keep cats healthy, you know? Make sure everyone's looked after." A pause, then with emphasis, "All cats. Not just Clan cats." She gave him another look, firmer and more analyzing this time. She really hoped he didn't pass out on her– she wasn't sure if she could carry him back to camp. With a roll of her shoulders, she went on talking. "I talk to StarClan, too– our ancestors. I go to the Moonstoone to talk to them every moon. Sometimes they even try to talk to me outside of just dreams." She wondered if that would sound impressive, to a loner. Dead cats descending from the skies to give special cats weird dreams and signs. It was impressive to her, and she'd grown up with it.

Brain-fog probably wouldn't make that concept any easier to wrestle with. "When was the last time you ate something?" Cloverheart said, tail tapping against her legs. She had pickdd up her crisp, strictly-business voice. Stars, don't make me drag you to camp. Jaystar might not like that too much.