is that the reason why you're running so fast? (open)

Felix was a wanderer. It was in his blood. He wanted to go places--do things--see wonders that no cat had laid eyes on before. And in the past, he had. So why was he circling around this one tiny forest like he was chained to it? Like he was one of those dogs in a yard, tethered to a pole, pacing anxiously back and forth as if patrolling its own small domain would make it feel less trapped? Pathetic. He couldn't even reason himself out of it. Every morning he woke up and looked longingly at the tall mountains over the horizon, wanting to follow the rising rays of the sun and see what was out there. But he didn't. Mist Paw... Tiny Paw... Perch. He couldn't leave. His kits were here, somewhere. And so was she. It appeared she had stolen some part of him, and he wanted it returned. He wanted to return to his life of carefree wandering. Staying here so idle was gnawing at the back of his mind with a dull ache that he was finding it difficult to ignore.

Perhaps that was why he continued to roam the edges of the forest, staying in the townplace one night, the farmhouse the next, and then finally this rickety old barn. He stayed here the least, given that there were fewer things of interest here, but at least the prey was abundant. And one time he'd gotten to spar. That had been a nice change of pace. Perhaps he would get to again. Felix sat in front of the creaking old barn, gazing at the moor fields ahead, looking at the distant spiky stones far away. He wanted to know what was over there... and then what was past it. But it felt like something tugged at him every time he tried to go any further. For now, he would try to find some kind of contentment with wandering this area. He hoped that someone would come to distract him from his melancholy wanderlust.

Once again, Valley found himself at the barn. He had stayed away for some time following Felix's sudden "spar" with him, but he was just so tired tonight, and he had no desire to find some abandoned fox den to crawl into for the night. He froze as he spotted a familiar figure at the entrance to the barn. SO Felix was still here? The tom had not come across as one that would stay in such a place for long. Valley padded towards the loner, tail raised in greeting. "Greetings, Felix," He mewed, sitting down a tail length away in case the tom might suddenly "spar" with him again.

Felix was just beginning to give up hope of running into another cat, and thinking about turning to hunt a mouse or two, before the faint sound of footsteps made his ears perk up. Who could that be? A new cat to meet, perhaps? Maybe one of the wild cats from "Wind Clan," as Gray Wind had called those who lived on the moors. He'd only really seen them from far away up until now. Or maybe he was encroaching on some other loner's territory--in which case they could spar, or even just talk. Talking sounded nice right now. Interest made his head quick as it turned to look at the nearby cat.

Ah. It was that rogue again. Valley, he'd been called? They had sparred not too long ago, perhaps a moon or so, the last time that he'd been lingering in this area. Did Valley live here, or was this just a twist of fate that they'd met once more? Either way, it was nice to see someone, even if it was someone he'd already seen before. "Greetings," he responded easily, a grin crossing his face. "What a coincidence that the very day I return to look in this area again, we run into each other."

It was only then that he noticed Valley had deliberately placed himself at least a tail-length away from him. It would have hurt Felix's feelings if it hadn't been so funny. "Why are you sitting so far away?" he asked, amusement making his golden eyes glimmer. "Did a quick spar scare you that much? Dear me, if I'd known that you were not as fond of it as I, then perhaps I wouldn't have imposed upon you. Don't worry. Unless you would like to, or unless you make it necessary, I won't jump at you like one of those wild cats. Loners are far more civilized than that."

The very day.. how unlucky could he be? Valley wanted to rip that grin off the loner's face. Yes, he had hoped for company, but not the company of a cat who nearly gave him an infection! That wound had taken ages to heal, and made hunting difficult enough that he was hungry in the middle of summer. And yet this tom before him had the audacity to claim that he wouldn't have done it if he had known that Valley wasn't fond of being attacked on sight.

"Not a fan of asking first?" He asnwered dryly, not moving an inch from his spot. How he hoped that he had dug his claws into the tom just a little deeper when they were "sparring". Felix definetly reminded him of Archie, or maybe Bear. Whatever the case, his feelings towards the loner was definetly not friendly.

Felix frowned a little bit at the tom's response. The other rogue seemed genuinely upset. He was a bit like Gin in that respect--taking himself far too seriously. Why did he never get along with other cats? He really did try his best to be friendly. He supposed that was part of the draw to being a wanderer. If someone didn't like you, you just moved on. And yet, here they were, once again in the same area. Darn. Sparring with Valley had been fun, but it appeared that he hadn't enjoyed it at all. "I suppose there's no chance of a rematch, then," he sighed quietly, long-furred tail brushing across the ground. "Oh, well. If you hate matching claws that much, I suppose I ought to have asked. But how was I supposed to know? Is it considered polite to walk up to some strange rogue and ask 'excuse me, kind sir, but do you fancy a small fight this evening?' I'd be laughed out of town."

Valley wanted to roll his eyes at this tom. "It's fine to want to spar with a cat, but try not to do it with claws. Also, is just jumping on them any better than walking up and asking? If you're going to fight someone on sight, you can't expect them to be friendly towards you," He snapped. Felix really knew how to get on his nerves. Whatever, they were both stuck in this area for whatever reason, so might as well make the most of it. "If you want to spar, you can ask, and if the cat agrees, you keep your claws seathed. Didn't your mother teach you that?" He mewed dryly.

The conversation had ceased to be interesting. Felix had no intention of sitting around here while Valley snapped at him for no reason. However, he felt the tip of his tail twitch once when the tom brought up his mother. Ah, yes. The illustrious moral education that every street-born kitten is endowed with. His golden eyes narrowed. If he hadn't sparred with the tom before, he'd think that the mangy-looking cat was just an escaped housecat, fed on cream his whole life. How ignorant could you be? If he was a rogue, surely he'd encountered the type of cats that fought to kill for nothing worse than an insult. The type of cats who would throw barely-weaned kittens from their territory since they weren't currently useful. The type of cats who would murder a pregnant queen to protect their abundance of food that could obviously be shared without any pain.

Before then, Felix had been completely light on his feet, sitting in a non-threatening manner and allowing his voice and movements to showcase an ease that indicated a lack of desire to do harm. He did not move a muscle. However, something about the way that he was sitting shifted. Maybe it was the almost imperceptible tightening of his muscles, or the different way that his eyes gleamed. The air around him felt different. Yet he did not unsheathe his claws, and he did not move any closer to Valley. "Are you really so naive?" the loner asked. The tone of voice he used was still light, but something still seemed sharper about them. "Do you sincerely believe that if I wanted you dead, you would be sitting there right now? Do you believe that the cats I've encountered since I was young would take a friendly greeting as anything other than a threat? Perhaps you were lucky enough to have a mother, but I thought that as an outsider, you would know that such lessons are a luxury. Foolish of me, really."

Of course, his words had to sent Felix into a sour mood. Valley held back a groan as the black tom started going off about what a poor thing he was living in the wild, and how he had no choice but to do what he did. "Look, if you didn't want to fight, you wouldn't have lunged at me at all. That's what I learnt in the streets. If you're going to complain that others would take your 'friendly greetings' as threats maybe I'd think about what these greetings are first before jumping to the conclusion that the world is such a cruel, cruel place," He snapped, giving the loner a glare. The thought that he had been lucky having his mother made him want to laugh. There couldn't be a cat he hated more.

Well, he had certainly not come to the barn to get into an argument with a rogue. If that had been what he was searching for, he could find it easily in the town. Valley had managed to get him into a bad temper--really an achievement, as he had become quite good at avoiding even mild irritation himself. Felix sighed and stood up. "It appears I have offended you somehow, and you me," he said simply. "I would suggest a spar to get these feelings out if I did not already know you were so vehemently opposed to the idea. Instead, I will leave you to it. There are better places for me to be if I am unwanted." Ceding territory in this way would have been a headache for most other cats, but not him. He was not just a loner. He was a wanderer. He belonged to nowhere, and nowhere belonged to him. It would be easy to find another place to stay the evening. "Well, farewell. And I sincerely hope you work through whatever issues are apparently lingering in your mind." The dark-furred cat began leaving through the long grasses of the moors, trying to ignore the bitter taste in the back of his throat. Why did he bother speaking with other cats, anyway? That was why he was always alone.