model of a modern major general [c]

Training was worth it. It was always worth it. In fact, it was why the molly secretly took such a deep joy in having an apprentice, even if that apprentice was the very reason she wanted to pull out every orange tuft of her own fur. But it gave her an excuse to continue pushing herself to be stronger, better than before. Each new scar she would gain would simply be a trophy and testament to her experience and efforts, a new way to display the fact that she had been working and pushing herself to be stronger than before. She took her oath to heart, making true on the statement that she would defend her Clan. Her life, in the grand scheme of things, truly wouldn't matter. The legacy she left, the legacy of her Clan? That would.

It was why even the menial tasks were just a little less boring to the calico as she stalked her way towards the Thunderpath. Even as they had just rid themselves of the infestation of two-legs, it seemed they would never truly be gone. Despite the cold, leaf-bare air that was only slightly warming, the number of monsters that seemed keen on ripping along the path was staggering. The contraptions were ones she wished would go rot in the deepest pits of the dark forest, and it was to her greatest comfort that she hadn't had to deal with the horrors of being trapped inside their bellies. The stories she heard were more than enough to send her the signal to stay away. Even then, she never truly could. Murkyripple had a promise to fulfill.

The horrid path was still what separated Thunderclan from a handful of neighboring clans. It was what had brought her there, her pelt sticking out across some of the last tufts of snow that littered the ground. If all went well, the stone-faced molly would simply be able to do her duty, then go back to sparring with Salamanderpaw. Not only to shape her apprentice to be the best, but to continue to push her own abilities. The foes that were the worst were those that were unpredictable, and few were more unpredictable than the unprepared. It was simple thoughts that floated in her mind, not to mention the fact that she enjoyed sparring with Salamanderpaw simply because the apprentice had a particular talent at digging under her fur like a pine needle that slipped into her nest. But none of that mattered for the moment as the young warrior had taken solace in some time for herself, away from her mother's doting, away from her clan's expectations.

She was, after all, the daughter of a leader. How could she do anything else but be the best? That was what propelled her to continue, especially as another monster roared its presence as it ran by.

It was a miracle that Nightstar had managed to get away from his clan, and especially Locustcall, under constant surveillance by some cat like he was a mischievous kit. Frustration and restlessness were quick to mount, the need to be doing something or anything becoming a call to tantalizing to ignore, but anytime the leader had set his paws to a task he was swiftly put back to his nest. A quick and stealthy escape finally gave Nightstar the solitude he wished to have, though it was unfortunate that his paws had found him along the thunderpath, with a quick inspection of Windclans side of things without any complications he was moving on towards Thunderclans border.

The tom wasn't able to put weight on his bad leg again until recently, and the fact that he could be able to be a big relief. There was a chance that he wouldn't be able to put weight on it again ever again, a wound that could very well ruin his ability to fight and serve his clan to the very best of his abilities. A thick fog swirled around the Shadowclans leader's paws as he stalked along the shadows of his territory, even in the day his portion of the territory seemed to be in constant darkness aside from the stray sunbeam.

A stronger scent wafted across the tom's nose, and an inkling of familiarity danced behind Nightstars consciousness in a strange way before dissipating like the cold fog from his hot breath; quick to leave before Nightstar could question it. Thunderclan scent was strong from across the border, but there was no scent of any cat crossing the path, and it was with that realization that the black tom with the starry pelt's hackles lay flat once more. However, he remained cautious as amber eyes flicked for the cat that was leaving the strong scent, either they were still around or he had just missed them.

Nightstar's wariness proved fruitful as he spotted a calico pelt not too far in front of him and he slowed his pace, he'd much rather the stranger remain in front of him where he could watch them.

It didn't take much for Murkyripple to renew the borders that separated their side of the Thunderpath. With the physical barrier, the question often wondered to the molly's mind why they even bothered marking them at all. It only truly made sense to mark where other Clans found themselves meeting beside one another, but even then, that was much deeper into Thunderclan's territory. There were still physical landmarks for a majority of the clans that separated the two, with Skyclan being their only neighbors that actually shared any non-distinct borders with them. They were so similar to Thunderclan anyways, an argument could be made for the case that they may as well have been the same Clan.

A flicker of an onyx pelt caught the attention of the mottled warrior across the path, and her body snapped to attention. She stood tall on her front legs, almost as if she were to lift off the ground in an attempt to gain more height by simply balancing on her hindquarters. But she wasn't some type of weasel. No, instead, it was to make her appear more intimidating. Compared to a majority of Thunderclan's cats, she was a rather tall feline. Much more slender, as well. The only resemblance that she had to her mother was in the flecks of her pelt, but otherwise, they both had rather different appearances. That was where it stopped.

Murkyripple's ears stayed straight as she attempted to spot who it was that had caught her attention. A subtle flare of her nostrils indicated the deep, slow inhale she took in an attempt to try and pin them by scent, and her own amber gaze narrowed just slightly as her mind stirred. Scanning the horizon, it wasn't the pitch ebony pelt that caught her attention, but it was almost as if she was looking into a reflection as she found another set of amber eyes. The shade exactly matched her own, unlike the darkness they had compared to that of her mother's. So did the shape, as well, that slight narrowing in an attempt to figure out the answer to that fated question: Are you someone to fight?

She wasn't willing to speak, not at first. Familiarity tugged in the back of her mind, as this was a cat for her to know. One proper sweep of the entire feline's frame instantly answered the question in her mind: Nightstar. Leader of Shadowclan. He was a tom that she knew fighting would be off the table. But it didn't make her cower. Instead, she simply offered a very subtle nod of her head. It was her sign of respect, of recognition that she knew who it was across from her. Another monster came roaring by, and Murkyripple didn't so much as budge. Instead, she held her gaze, and just as fast as the beast had come, it left, leaving her staring at the marsh's ruler with some sort of imperceiptible emotion.

Not even Murkyripple herself could name why she felt the urge to continue looking at the tom across the path. It wasn't like she had any ties to him beyond being a potential enemy, one that she knew much better than to cross. It wasn't his scars, either. Or perhaps... it was one of them. It seemed their amber stares weren't the only thing they shared, but the scar that permanently marred each other's faces just above. They probably shared vastly different stories, but their existence was amusing to the molly nevertheless. The detail was filed away in her mind, saved for whatever it may have use for. Conversation if they somehow interacted at a gathering? Unlikely.