pressure on julian [C]

Silverhawk’s senses were on alert as he approached the border of WindClan. The tensions between their Clans had not gone down in the last moon or so. Silverhawk would not be the fool to let one of them slip over their stolen border and issue any further challenge to ShadowClan. Due to his ears being pricked, his nose attuned, he did not miss the fact that another cat was approaching the border at the same time as him. The muscles underneath Silverhawk’s fur wound tight and he raised his chin. Slowly, his paws crawled to a halt and he looked out across the border. It did not take long for a tall, dark tom to make his appearance from the moorlands. Silverhawk’s ear twitched and he blinked.

”Hello,” he mewed with a dip of his head. None of the tension he felt displayed on his features. ”I don’t encounter many cats on this border. WindClan certainly enjoys keeping to the daylight.” Silverhawk tipped his head toward the fading sunlight and a faint smile appeared on his face. He lingered on the sunset for a brief minute before turning back to the other tom. ”I hope we’re each just passing by, stranger.”

Silverhawk wasn’t fond of the smile returned to him. There was no real warmth in it, much like his own expression. The response was fair, but it still disconcerted him. He did not like cats that liked to wear the same faces as him. The WindClanner spoke with the same voice, too, false-kind words, a meaning that would only be understood if you were listening. Any cat he saw himself in was not to be trusted. Silverhawk watched him pad right to the line of the border, wondering briefly if the black tom would disregard it. He had ignored borders several times in his life. But the WindClanner stopped right at the line, and so Silverhawk returned his gaze to his eyes. Shrugging nonchalantly, he said, ”Consider this our dawn patrol.” He had only been walking to clear his head, but the tom before him wouldn’t need to know that. Patrols would be going out within the hour, anyway; he had simply gotten ahead of him.

Silverhawk padded closer to the border, though he did not quite approach the edge of it so he was not squarely in the WindClanner’s face. Then, all casual, he reclined onto his haunches and swept his tail around his paws. ”Of course I understand,” he hummed. ”I certainly have no other reason to be here.” He was quiet for a beat before smiling again. ”Oh--sorry. You’ll have to forgive my manners. I want this to be a pleasant conversation.” He said with a soft laugh. ”I’m Silverhawk. And you are?”

Silverhawk wondered if the warrior was disturbed by his presence. The dark-pelted tom gave no appearance to his discomfort if there was any, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the distrust was mutual. As it was, this Leopardwind regarded him pleasantly enough, though his smile didn’t go very far. ”Well,” Silverhawk hummed evenly. ”Green-leaf has been kind to us.” His head tipped to the side, mirroring Leopardwind, and his tail waved slowly side-to-side. It was tempting to mention the fight between Lilyvalley, Nettleweaver, and that WindClanner, but Silverhawk kept it as a thought. ”And WindClan? Has the season been just as kind?”