one by one [Lionstar]

[Darkfang]

DARKFANG
not exactly who you think i am

If you were to stand on the border and look into ShadowClan territory, you wouldn't see much. The forest of tall pine trees cloak the territory in shadow, making it nearly impossible to see what lies between the trees. The eye is instantly drawn to the occasional patch of sunlight breaking through the thick branches; it'll do you no good to look there. The inhabitants of that dark, quiet place beyond the ThunderClan border do not spend their time clinging to light. Instead, stare into the shadows. At first, it may seem like there is nothing out there -- that ShadowClan cats are occupied elsewhere. But if you stare just long enough, you might notice something. Something so quick and slight that it might've been your imagination. But that flickering shadow or fleeting glint of eyes reveals the truth: when you look into ShadowClan territory, someone could be looking back at you.

That someone would probably be Darkfang. His dark tabby fur made him invisible, as long as he stayed still. Today, he found himself peculiarly close to the border. Crouched beside an old tree stump, he stared fixedly at where ThunderClan oaks thinned into ShadowClan pines. He had long since organized the day's patrols; with that business settled, he had gone to hunt on his own. Most cats agreed that the border wasn't the best place to hunt; the scent markers and patrol traffic caused prey to avoid the area. Occasionally, a squirrel might wander over from ThunderClan territory, but who had that patience?

Darkfang's whiskers twitched as a cool breeze disturbed the fur on his shoulders. The breeze off the lake hardly went far into ShadowClan territory, but Darkfang sensed he was close to the shore. The lake fascinated him and he usually enjoyed looking out across it, but there was always this wretched sense of comfort beneath the trees. Standing out in the open was both liberating and terrifying; so of course, he went there often. It added some adventure to the rather mundane cycle of Clan life.

Clan society is entirely built upon selflessness, he thought, a conclusion he'd come to early in life. Would it be selfish to want to leave it? As he pondered this, something stirred in an oak tree across the border. His yellow-green eyes focused on the partially bare limbs, catching a glimpse of a small grey creature. The squirrel had been drawn out by the unusually pleasant weather, as Darkfang had been hoping for. Late Leaf-bare was usually a tough time for all animals, but nature had been wacky all season.

Darkfang watched as the squirrel scampered down the tree trunk and wandered through the fallen leaves. It was obviously looking for something to eat; Darkfang felt a small flicker of triumph as the squirrel wandered closer, rather than further away. ThunderClan was rich with berries and nuts -- ShadowClan could only wish for such rich territory. This squirrel must be either oblivious or desperate. Darkfang remained still, however, patiently watching as the squirrel stopped shy of the border. It sniffed warily, aware of the scent markers, but eventually continued its search.

This is no good, Darkfang realized. It won't come very far over the border, if at all. I'll have to get closer. He waited for a few seconds before slowly stalking forward, unseen by a rather unconcerned squirrel. A few times the squirrel would come over to ShadowClan's side of the border, only to scamper back over to ThunderClan territory. It was frustrating, to say the least; Darkfang would have to be absolutely certain the squirrel was on ShadowClan territory before he pounced or ThunderClan would throw a fit. The scandal of a ShadowClan deputy hunting on ThunderClan territory! Darkfang would have indulged in this amusing thought if he hadn't been so fixated on the squirrel. He had come close enough -- the squirrel was just a few fox-lengths away, just on the other side of the border. As soon as it crossed over...

Darkfang, for being so patient in stalking this squirrel, wasted no time in springing into action. The squirrel had carelessly bounded back over the border to have its neck broken between Darkfang's teeth. He lifted his head from his prize, looking at ThunderClan territory. He'd been so focused on the squirrel that he had overlooked several things: the stream just a whisker-length away, how open and exposed he was, and that someone was watching him.

736 words. a lack of muse on this one but hey, i got it done!

[Lionstar]

Lionstar, once again, had wandered off on his own. Really, when it came down to it, he sometimes questioned what he actually did as leader. What did the warriors do? Were they fulfilled with their lot in life? Even at the highest peak, even on top of the world -- the leader of ThunderClan, supposedly noblest and most worthy of legend and tale -- Lionstar oft felt some-thing was missing. Perhaps it was meaning. It could also be emotion, it could be his apathy shining through. Even with his intuition and perceptiveness, Lionstar was not completely occupied with matters of his Clan. There must be a Gathering coming soon, though, and those were always refreshing little nuggets of interaction and watching.

Without making much of a conscious choice, Lionstar began to go toward the ShadowClan border, his white paws flashing and kicking up tiny dollops of snow occasionally. This leaf-bare was not a particularly hard one, and that, for some reason, felt ominous to Lionstar. Perhaps it was meant to be a good sign, but Lionstar often wondered how much power and control their ancestors had over the world -- how could weather be a matter of the de-ceased? And did they have to work as a collective or could they each, individ-ually, have near omnipotent abilities? It was something he might've asked his medi-cine cat, if he ever had trusted Frostbite enough. He did not, however, not enough to disclose his won-derings and, gasp, potential philosophizing. In some ways, that was more personal and intimate than other secrets he could disclose to her, even his acts of murder and his lack of his final leader's life. The inner workings of his mind were more who he was than his past, according to how he identified himself and how he labelled himself, and thus it was more personal to let somebody into his mind than into his past.

Lionstar glanced up at the naked tree branches, with only the occasional strip of snow or old ice to cover as a pelt. Like my heart, some might say, he thought, his whiskers twitching in amuse-ment at his minor act of self-deprecation. There was no reason not to appreciate the glorious world around him; after all, it was so much powerful than he could ever dream to be, unless, perhaps?, he died and became one with StarClan. Lionstar was under no illusions, however, and he knew that he had almost no chance to enter StarClan. After all, it was for the good and pure hearted cats, or at least those who were not infected by their own blackness and shadows. When the shadow wrestles up from the earth and water and engulfs its owner, that is when a cat is sent to the Dark Forest instead. But that does, that manner of thinking, that does remove agency from the matter, and Lionstar was of firm belief that there was certainly some agency involved in the end result. His shadow, he pulled it up himself, in some ways. In other ways, not so much, but can one blame him for his nature? Or is it nurture?

It took less time than Lionstar expected to reach the border with Shadow-Clan. He noticed a squirrel, scampering back and forth, crossing territory borders, as though it knew that was the most certain way to keep itself safe from the hordes of predators that would crush its pathetic life without a second thought. The long-furred tomcat was not in a mood to hunt, however, and ended up lying down near a bush on the edge of the clearing. Was it holly? He noticed a couple of berries, bright red. Deathberries. Hmm. He hadn't known that there were any here, but, hey, learn new things every day.

His attention was drawn, quickly, by a dark tom on the other side of the border. A ShadowClan cat, a tom. Lionstar opened his mouth slightly to let any smells wash into his mouth and over his scent glands. The putrid, marshy, pine-fresh scent of ShadowClan hit him, and he curled his lip in instinctive disgust, but then forced it back to its normal position so he could focus on watching this cat. It wasn't so much that he was territorial, but rather that he was extraordinarily curious what this cat -- Darkfang, new deputy of ShadowClan, Lionstar recognized -- would do.

It turns out, he did his best to follow the warrior code and to hunt only on his own territory. Lionstar was impressed with his patience, though cared very little about the dedication to the warrior code. The fact that he could be that dedicated to anything, though, that was perhaps a bit interesting. Darkfang soon saw him, however, and Lionstar flicked his ears in a brief silent greeting. He could rise and approach, but he waited until after he spoke to do so.

"Greetings, Darkfang," he meowed. "That was some fine hunting." Lionstar then rose to his paws and took a few steps forward, and then sat again. He could be athletic if he wanted to, he supposed, but for the most part, why do something when you don't have to? There would be no fight here today, as he knew there were no ThunderClan patrols coming by soon, at least, and he doubted any ShadowClan patrols would be scent-free enough for Lionstar not to leave before they arrived. Perhaps he was being arrogant, but, then again, that would be nothing new for the tabby leader.

WORDS: 916 | NOTES: Sorry for the late post! I can't wait to see how this unfurls between these two<3 | TAG: Darkfang

[Darkfang]

DARKFANG
trying to trace my steps back here again

Darkfang hesitated, processing the situation. If it had been any other cat, he would have simply left. But this was Lionstar, leader of ThunderClan; a different game was to be played here. Darkfang gave a shallow dip of his head, evidently an afterthought of due respect. No one tells you about this, he quietly mused. Straining for social etiquette in the name of a public image, motives and agendas behind every conversation... Darkfang hated feeling trapped; at Gatherings, he did his best to remain polite while distancing himself from conversation. Especially with higher ranked cats, in which the most innocent conversation became a political statement. Such things were better left to the ShadowClan leader.

Of course, that introduced another problem: he'd have to report this. He'd have to take note of the entire conversation and tell his leader, down to every last detail. Of course, he'd have to explain himself as well. The suspicion of the ShadowClan leader knew no bounds; however, Darkfang had been careful to follow the Warrior Code in his hunting practices. It was not the other Clans he should be wary of--outside of the public image, of course!--but his own leader, who viciously enforced the code and punished its transgressors. For this reason, he had kept the details of Crowpelt's death a secret.

But from what he had seen, Lionstar was not as strict. Darkfang had a general impression of him from Gatherings: always the polite, friendly leader who didn't want to cause any trouble. It seemed characteristic of ThunderClan, although their sort of pleasantness was quite different from WindClan's -- WindClan's was a defensive indifference to other Clans. No, Lionstar was nice. Almost a little too nice, if Darkfang wished to speculate. "Greetings," he said quietly. "...Thank-you, Lionstar." He paused, wondering if he sounded curt. He must try to be conversational, if only that. But the "I hope your Clan is doing well" routine felt old and pointless -- even if a Clan's forest was on fire, a good leader would always answer affirmatively. Darkfang was not interested in hearing Lionstar regurgitate this pleasantry.

"What would cause a ThunderClan leader to come here alone?" The ShadowClan deputy surprised himself with his unusually direct and prying question, but felt it was honest. That was something that was missing in his position. Leaders and deputies alike had to keep up this facade, one that both fascinated and disgusted Darkfang. Then again, who's to say all cats don't have their own facades? he mused. Perhaps I've only traded one in for another.

[Lionstar]

Darkfang, from what Lion-star knew was... was... well, actually, the fact that Lion-star knew nothing meant he knew a lot (you really can't beat him, especially not in his own head). It meant that he must be something of a recluse, completely unre-markable. He was the de-puty, that was already esta-blished in Lionstar's mind, but what else? He was polite enough, as demonstrated by his greeting, but also seem-ed... to the point? Yes. He seemed to the point and a little bit blunt. Something about him did not scream "leader" to Lionstar, either; now, why would Shadow-Clan's leader pick this cat, this completely unre-markable warrior, to be de-puty? He must have some hidden talents, perhaps a great intelligence or swift-ness or... well, no, Lionstar was sure it could not be popularity, for he would have heard of him were he popular.

Lionstar paused for a mo-ment after Darkfang asked his question, his face un-changing. There were no e-motions, unless curiosity could be counted as one -- well, perhaps there was a certain felicity in Lionstar, the sort of surge he always felt when he was meeting a new cat, poking and prod-ding the personality and history to get all that was below the surface. It was all so very fun. After a few purposefully pregnant heart-beats of silence, Lionstar replied, "Even a Thunder-Clan leader sometimes yearns for the solitude of the woods. I was out for a stroll. It's so lovely out, I simply could not imagine not doing so." For a moment, Lionstar pondered whether or not he should try to move on the conversational offensive and take control. Well, why not? He had already spoken more than he sometimes would like to (after all, si-lence could be a great dis-comfort to many cats -- with Darkfang, it seemed per-haps not). "I hope ShadowClan is doing well?" Lionstar had noted Darkfang's lack of pleas-antries, and Lionstar thought he might toss one in to see how it would affect the dark tabby.

Now that Lionstar was really noticing him, Darkfang seemed to look different from an average Shadow-Clan cat, almost like a kittypet in some ways. It was possible that his mother had an affair with one; there were so many kittypets around here, anyway, that it was entirely possible, even probably, with his pointed face and those ears. Lionstar did not personally have any moral, ethical, or belief-based issues with kittypets, rogues, and loners; honestly, Lionstar could not care less about those issues. The Clans did, though, and so sometimes it did behoove him to have an opinion -- so long as it was the winning, popular one. It was not like Lionstar to purposefully go against the grain, not when he knew that he needed at least respect from cats to get done what he wanted to get done, whatever it was. At least it was never truly boring, this juggling of popular opinion and actually getting things done. It must take a truly extraordinary cat to be a leader and stick to his or her ideals. Those cats all were annoying; Lionstar was disgusted by them, and that could probably be explained by the fact that cats with strong morals and ideals are much more difficult to manipulate than the general masses and the morally flexible ones. Alas, one cannot have everything handed to one by the paw, and nor did Lionstar want that. The chase was half the fun (of course, the other half was the catch, but that need not be mentioned).

WORDS:  587 | NOTES: Foreshadowing about the kittypets muahaha~ | TAG: Darkfang

[Darkfang]

DARKFANG
we are all see-through like glass

Those few moments of silence did not go unnoticed by Darkfang. Experience had taught him that words left unsaid were by far the most important. He examined the tabby tom again, as if looking for a clue to Lionstar's true thoughts. Had it been out of place to ask the ThunderClan leader what he was doing here? Perhaps so; after all, Darkfang had only been at this "deputy" business for two moons. He had assumed that finding a leader lurking near the border was unusual. Any cat would've questioned his presence -- that was how the system worked, of course. Borders marked territories. If any beast guarded its possessions jealously, it would be a Clan cat. The entire concept fascinated Darkfang. Borders weren't solid things, really... not like trees or rocks or streams. No, borders were an abstract concept. They were this widely accepted idea that one cat's freedom of passage ended where another cat's began. And of course, they only held power if you believed they did.

Darkfang blinked, finding no evidence of a particular message behind Lionstar's hesitation. It could have meant several things; then again, it could have meant nothing. And after all, he had a point -- going for a stroll was hardly unusual. Darkfang could not retain his amusement entirely when, very pleasantly, Lionstar asked how ShadowClan was doing. The ShadowClan deputy finally looked away, whiskers twitching as if he was fighting the chuckle rising in his chest. I should've known better than to try and avoid it, he mused. I might as well give in.

"Leaf-bare has been favorable to ShadowClan. We've had no deaths or contagious illnesses ravaging our warriors. Prey has not dwindled as much as in past seasons." Darkfang turned back to look at Lionstar, realizing how hollow and emotionless the words sounded. Always the same report to give with the same subliminal message: we are not weak. The dark tabby tom almost felt the urge to add "although, catching ThunderClan squirrels doesn't hurt" but kept this antagonizing bit of humor to himself. Not that he could call it that. Darkfang had a hazy memory of joking with his siblings once, a long time ago. But at some point he'd decided that being funny was not his forte -- anything resembling it was usually an accident.

Oh, and Lionstar was probably expecting to be asked about ThunderClan. Darkfang didn't care much either way, but he doubted there would be anything interesting in the leader's report. The conversation might even end after that; it would be a decent enough time to politely excuse himself. Darkfang let his gaze drift past the ThunderClan leader, and stared into the forest beyond. ShadowClan pines did not lose their needles like the oaks lost their leaves; he had always wondered how that would affect a Clan. Most of the trees, although some still had a few leaves clinging to their branches, seemed awfully bare.

"And ThunderClan?" Darkfang asked as he began to pick up his squirrel.