What's Yours is MIne [Open]

Smokefang sat closer to the edge of the camp, sitting in a rather sunny spot. Despite not feeling it's warmth, or the chill of the leaf-bare around her, it had become habit in her pervious life, as well as a rarity in the Dark Forest so she cherished the moment she had taking in the Sunlight. The rays of light dancing and reflecting off the mist that made up her body. It made it look like she sparkled, reflecting the pelts of her... rather goody two shoes ancestors. But there was no mistaking where she truly came from. No cat's body fell apart in clouds of mist like hers did, nor did the Starclan cats hold the same death wounds she did, granted her death wounds.. were a little less gruesome than the others, for hers did not bleed.


Amber eyes scanned the camp, taking in the living and the dead that occupied the space, wondering if anyone would be brave enough to approach her.

Appledapple still hadn't worked out exactly what to feel about the recent turn of events. On one paw, she should be happy; the Dark Forest had chosen her to dream about them, to receive their power, and to convince Stoatstar. On the other paw... they had sided with Dawnhawk. They hadn't told her who they were. A place full of traitors and murderers had thought she was kin with them. How was that good? Yet, if it gave her the power to help ThunderClan.... Needless to say, the warrior was conflicted. Technically, she was a murderer. She had killed a rogue she-cat, a mother with kits. But it had been out of self-defense. She wasn't evil. She wasn't.

In this state of mind, confused and attempting to justify the presence of their ghostly intruders, the tortoiseshell wandered out of the warriors' den. Doing so, an unfamiliar form caught her eye-- the smoky Dark Forest she-cat who had spoken to Stoatstar. Not their leader, perhaps, but in a position of authority. Maybe she could help. Squaring her shoulders, Appledapple made her way to the she-cat. "I'm Appledapple," she introduced herself brusquely, not bothering to beat around the bush. Dark Forest cats didn't seem to care much for politeness, not unlike her. "Flintfang talked to me in my dreams... but he never told me who you were. Why was that? Why not be honest? I could have helped more if you had just told me." Helped... or warned... or at least known. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so horribly helpless.