So Close, and Yet... [Starlingflare]

Beechfang padded in silence along the thunderpath, ears flattening as the occasional monster blew past. At least these monsters were staying on the thunderpath instead of roaming the territories... If only the twolegs would do the same. She was walking along Thunderclan's section of border, the the snow-draped landscape would have hid her silvery fur better if the snow around the thunderpath wasn't brown and filthy and stinking. If she'd had plans to go onto clan territory she might have cared, as it was now, Beechfang was simply returning to twolegplace, and would not trespass onto clan territory while she was capable of standing on her own paws. Her paws did slow slightly however, single yellow-green eye peering into the underbrush. Being near Thunderclan made her think of Mossbloom, the mentor she so missed. It made her think of Dovefrost too, the ache in her chest not dulled in the slightest.

One day, one day there would be justice for his death. Or maybe it had already happened, the murderer captured by twolegs or dead of some other cause without anyone being the wiser. She wanted that to be the case. Part of Beechfang wanted the culprit found and brought to Skyclan, where more proper justice could be meted out. Not that she didn't trust Thunderclan's leaders to handle it if they knew, of course, but to have the culprit before her daughters would give them all the closure they so desperately needed. No more worrying about it.

The loner gave her head a shake, trying to clear her thoughts as she padded onward. Starclan would give someone a vague sign, but it wouldn't be her, she knew. She just needed to keep moving, putting one paw in front of the other, and not linger around clan territory as much as she had been.

Starlingflare had taken to wandering the territory, trying to note any and all traps that had littered the territory in the past few moons. The more they knew about these traps the better. If he knew locations.. then he could prevent his clan from falling into them.. At least that is what he told himself. Some part of him wanted him to stumble across an unfortunate cat, stuck in these things the twolegs set up.. Something he could easily take advantage of, to settle his need for blood, to hear what the pain brought forth, but he had no such luck. Instead.. he found himself close to the Thunderpath.

The scent and sounds of Monsters filled the air, but when it quieted down, he heard the familiar steps of a cat... Was someone on Thunderclan territory? It sounded like they were coming this way.. The silver tom stepped closer, trying to peer out from the brush to catch sight of who he was dealing with. The stench of Monsters making it difficult to identify who was close by.

Scarred face.. single eye.. This cat was familiar. Not THunderclan but he remembered speaking to this cat once. The tom decided to reveal himself stepping out in front of the she-cats path, but not in an aggressive manner. "I know you.. Its been a while." If he recalled correctly, the last time they spoke, they discussed what it was like dealing with their similar injury.

Movement, as a silvery tom stepped in front of her. He carried the scent of Thunderclan, and a single green eye stared back at her. He didn't seem aggressive, but Beechfang remained wary and alert. Even before she had been exiled, she'd learned never to be unaware of her surroundings, to always keep an ear out even if it only appeared to be one cat standing in front of her. She recognized him, though it took a moment to recall the name that went with the scarred face. It had certainly been some time since they had last spoken.

"You're... Starlingflare, right?" She asked, "Good news, it mostly hurts when the weather turns bad, now. There's no stopping it. Leafbare has been fun, as you can predict. Though I suspect you've found that out for yourself." She said, a hint of dry humor in her tone. She remembered their last conversation at that gathering, the surprise at finding someone with an injury similar enough to hers to commiserate over. Over time she'd grown accustomed enough to ignore the pain most days. There was little other choice, of course. Wallowing in it wouldn't help anyone, and she'd spent long enough in a medicine den doing nothing to never want to do that again, even in exile.