dream a dream of dangerous (unwise) places (c)

Rookpaw

Cinderpaw's disappearance from camp was curious. Rookpaw had watched her go, trailing some tail-lengths behind an evening patrol. She hadn't fallen in with the rest of them, all warriors, as they assembled near the mouth of camp, yet she disappeared on their heels. Rookpaw stared after the small band long after the flash of Cinderpaw's gray tail had disappeared from view before they roused themself to rise from the corner they'd tucked into. Perhaps she had been scheduled for the patrol after all, and they would be the stowaway. The peculiar somersault that turned their stomach led them to believe there was merit in pursuing, though, so Rookpaw set aside any wondering that might have stayed their paws and put their focus toward catching up.

It was not difficult to follow her, especially as she was following a larger patrol already. Rookpaw sighted her a few times as they crossed the wetlands, though he relied largely on senses of sight and sound to trace her steps. It wasn't until the broad frame of isolated twoleg structures came into clarity against the horizon that he picked up his pace. Belatedly, Rookpaw recalled that the dusk patrol was slated for the farm; similarly, Cinderpaw's mutterings about looking the place over returned to mind. He lifted his head against the darkening sky, looking at the wooden nests, the hazy lines of a broken fence becoming sharp as they padded closer. Nerves bundled in their chest and Rookpaw pushed themself into a brisk trot however much they lacked the energy for it.

Breaking through the reedstalks and high grass to find Cinderpaw so quickly was almost an accident, but Rookpaw found themself relieved to see her wheeling around on him. "Hello," he spoke before her apology could come to fruition. Ears flicking, Rookpaw tipped their head to look around, taking in their scenery: the farm stood as it was, weather-beaten and misplaced against RiverClan's open lands, rumbling with the distant calls of animals Rookpaw did not recognize, no patrol in sight. "Ah. I was right." They announced mildly, offering no explanation before looking back to Cinderpaw and continuing on. "This is dangerous territory for hunting. You should not have come here alone." There was sternness in their voice, but the subtlest shift in their drawn expression betrayed concern. They could not help but think of Morningpaw's fractured body, and had found a surprising determination to prevent the same from happening to Cinderpaw. "Ask someone to join you next time. It is a good thing I was watching. ... Do you still intend to approach?"

Rookpaw

Rookpaw's ear flicked once at the inquiry. They hadn't planned to elaborate, but they could not deny an honest inquiry. Their answer could wait, though: Cinderpaw's posture sank, and her voice was shaken and soft, but she continued to speak nonetheless. Only when she paused did they say, "I was not a member of that patrol. I had guessed the same of you. That is what I was right on." Rookpaw took a few steps forward to stand near to Cinderpaw's shoulder rather than opposing her. "Do not apologize for waking me. I was not asleep. I came of my own volition and my own concern." The words came out of them without much thought, but on registering what was spoken it felt strange in their mouth. To not only feel, but admit to--be able to admit to, have the understanding know what emotion drove them... it was foreign. Rookpaw lifted their nose in disregard for the unsteadiness it threatened and focused in on Cinderpaw.

She was determined. Whatever quiver remained in her voice, she held to this resolution. Rookpaw's tail twitched to and fro--admiration, dismay, pride, fear--and they kept their stare leveled on her even after she turned away. "I will not go back," He said, soft but unyielding. He moved to be in Cinderpaw's line of sight again, shadowing her view of the farm, and stared quietly down at her. His eyes were hard; stern, unreadable slits of pale gold. They were quick to soften, though: opened just slightly wider, pupils expanding, the slightest twitch down of their brow. More than his words betrayed his worry. But Cinderpaw clung to her conviction, and so he would do the same. Rookpaw had little hope of finding anything edible here (not anything they could carry back, at least), but they would not leave her to find out alone. Should she meet some grisly fate here, it would not be with no one to watch over her.

"It will be dangerous. You had seen Morningpaw?" His tail flicked again. He was quiet for a long moment before turning around and facing the farm again himself. "You are foolish for going alone," he said, but any exasperation in his voice was drowned by the quiet inflection of care. "but I respect what drives you. It is... noble. Bold." After a last look at Cinderpaw, Rookpaw padded onward to approach the looming buildings.

Closer to the fenceline, it was easier to see at least some of the animals twolegs housed here. Great white beasts, covered in a strange, thick-looking white coat, fluffy like green-leaf crowds. They made strange, low noises, and the stamping of their sharp-looking paws was loud. The big red nest in their pen smelled of some sort of dusty grass, along with a thousand other smells that were all new and uncomfortable in Rookpaw's nose. They shook out their pelt and trailed further up the fence line, noting some of the wood seemed new, like this stretch of it had only recently been added... repaired, they imagined. Underneath the flurry of other new sights and scents and sounds... they could smell mice, coming from the nest in the big-animal pen. And birds--not ones they'd heard before, but the unmistakable cluck of them regardless--could be heard somewhere, likely in some other pen. Rookpaw's whiskers trembled and they looked back to Cinderpaw. "This is your missive," they said. "Do you want to cross the fence? I will follow wherever you lead."