What to Make of it.... [solo]

A pair of paws brushed the softly-lit grass at the edge of the clearing, settling into the cold dew.

Well, looked like Fourtrees was empty as a dead badger's den, too.

A soft, disgusted snort left the grizzled maw of a flame-coloured stranger even as bright blue eyes wandered over the silvery scene, the bright light of the full moon glaring down on the whole deserted scene. Bare branches swayed with a soft rattling rasp in a cold breeze, sharp-edged shadows running over the short grass like cracks in ice. Only the wind whistled through the bushes, ruffling his messy fur with a lick as old as time and winding through a ragged ear as the other twitched in irritation.

Looked like everyone was just plain gone. Like his last glimpse of a silvery tail-tip disappearing, half-asleep. The last time he'd been here.... Had that really been his first gathering? Well foxes and coyotes, he really was getting old.

Silent paws glided across the grass, distant dark shapes sliding across the stars as he padded up to the towering rock. Not as silent as they could have been, though. A hind leg limped slightly with every step, a cut on the side of his paw numbed by the cold. He'd always kind of wondered what it'd be like to race across this space — sure wouldn't be doing that tonight.

Taking on this rock, though—

A smirk twisted the corner of his maw, and he launched easily into a leap, lightly setting his paws on the cool stone, feeling the roughness under the pads, the stale, vague scent of other cats still clinging faintly to its surface. So many old twoleg puffers had sat on this he could almost feel the grooves of their feet. Shame Dreampaw wasn't here to see him break every Clan-made rule in existence. If he was still alive.

Then again, looking around at the emptiness — viewed from above as he wound his way higher, whisking his tail against the rock — he vaguely wondered if everyone was dead.

Disappointing. I finally come back and they've all up and died on me.

Hentooth, Mistypaw, Downtuft, Sagewillow.... He plonked his haunches down on the stone and blew out a breath, casting a narrow-eyed glance up at the moon beaming down. No, he hadn't spent those first few moons looking up at its face and wondering if anybody had cared to even look for him. Wondering what they were doing. If Mistypaw had gotten to warriorhood before him while he was stuck hanging out with twolegs and dodging the claws of street cats. If Berrypaw had gotten over his sickness and joined Hentooth in the medicine den as a full medicine cat.
If anyone remembered him.
Nah, that wasn't him. That was kittypet thinking, all soft and naive and down-brained.

"You're a lonely alleycat, aren't you?"

He stuck his bottom jaw out, puffing a misty breath out at the stone under his paws. Yeah, maybe he had. This place... it made him feel like a kit again, small and trying to prove he was the best. Butting in on those horsing SkyClanners' conversation and snarling up in the face of twig-bush's friend, all hot-paws and snake-spit. Now most of them were probably gone. Hah, actually, all of them were gone, because they definitely weren't here.

"Maybe it's not so bad you aren't here, Mjol." Only his own voice drifted off in the breeze. Like always. "You would've hated the quiet. Smog, I hate it. I hate the quiet. And I hate talking to myself."

And nobody offered to give him a conversation to make him stop talking to himself. Predictable.

Rising again, he hopped his way back down with the ease of practice, a flicker of pain shooting through his paw and burning dully across the rest of his pelt from all the other bruises and aches he'd picked up along the way, finally landing on the dew-soaked grass at the bottom. Stars even knew why he'd come here. Apart from all the aimless wandering, anyway. Time to find a bush, sleep, and head out when dawn kissed the horizon again, maybe head for one of the other Clan camps besides WindClan's, if he could even find them without knowing what the dung he was looking for.

Well, he'd had to wander around aimlessly through worse. At least foxes and badgers couldn't climb trees, and he was faster than a rabbit. Normally. Best stick with the trees while resting off his journey and hope SkyClan hadn't turned into mutant zombie-cats while he was away.
With a flick of his tail, Flamethrower padded back across the moonlit clearing and vanished into the bushes again.

Looked like he was here now, anyway. Better make the most of it.