Closed Thread Sun-Baked Therapy

Survival demands caution, but greatness requires daring
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Slowly the tomcat inhaled, the lids of his eyes fluttering closed as he allowed himself to focus on a single moment around him. Confident as he was, he made sure to keep his senses keen to the world, taking every opportunity to train himself against the wonders of this world that somehow wasn't his. But oh, so tantalizingly close.

More chittering, and the tom couldn't help but smile, reacting as if something, or someone had spoken in jest. Amused by the small creatures as they quarrlled, even if he did feel a little bit guilty that he had some paw in the matter. They would settle their score soon, and then -

From the spotted woodland beyond came a thump of fur and paws. Kosmo's eyes opened, blinking passed the sunlight before a near ethereal creature sprang from the underbrush, pinning both of the hapless squirrels under her imposing form. The creatures hadn't a chance, but opportunity was hers. And here she was, following her wild instincts and killing. Killing for survival. Killing for her kin. And if he wasn't careful, she might even want to kill him too.

Despite a nagging tug of guilt for the squirrels' deaths, Kosmo's ears remained peaked on top of his cinnamon tinted cranium, his primal striped face sporting a rather odd-eyed stare as he watched the sunny she-cat bristle at his presence here. Taking an even breath, he began to weigh his options, studying her, then eyes falling towards the corpses beneath her. Clinical.

His tongue rapsed along the length of a russet forepaw, a secretive little grin dancing along his maw and tickling his whiskers intently. "May I?" Kosmo mewed, the airs of his tone, while low, echoed placidly as the tip of his marred tail thrumped against the stone. "If I commend your efficient hunt?" Experiment in progress, he wanted to test to see how willing she'd be to some polite conversation. Ask nicely and he may receive.

Before angling his chin towards the herbs drying nearby. "The dandelion and caraway are almost done drying, anyway. Then I'll be out of your fur - You could even supervise me." Playful even, flirting with danger. He was good at that.

Survival demands caution, but greatness requires daring
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Kosmo felt the air catch in his throat. It was oddly breathtaking that he should be scrutinized with such intensity, thoughtfulness behind that firm glower. He still was prepared to flee should the situation take a turn for the primeval, but for now claws remained sheathed. His hackles didn't even lift from the sharpness of his fringe to the pitiful ringed appendage of his tail, half gone as it was.

His discover seemed to bring a bit of recognition to her eyes, or rather... a vague attempt to determine exactly what brought him to Thunderclan's side of their borders. Again. He hadn't just arrived either - he had enjoyed a bit of time to approach what needed to be done, while also taking advantage of this prime sunning spot. Mildly he wondered if it held any significance being so close to warring borders. He would have been disappointed if he was forced to move.

At least right away, in which the she-cat was willing to oblige. He found himself shrugging at her accusation of witnessing her hunt, yet a brow twitched as he felt the flicker of a ghost of pain from his shoulder. Perhaps being splayed in one spot for so long wasn't the best for his healing shoulder. It had become a bit stiff, and he exhaled with silent relief when he bade her stay in that spot.

"Of course. You won't find me moved from this spot." Came his poi ant reply, lifting himself into a more manageable position with the sparse length of his tail half curled around his back legs. Without a doubt she would bury her kills someplace unseen to take back to her clan later, but first she needed to verify his claims. When she returned, his odd colored eyes seemed to brighten.

Slowly, as if not to startle the she-cat (who, by all means rivaled his size as she got closer) he moved to sit himself up, before glancing over at his viable catch of drying herbs. "Everything in this world is finite. I would be a callous medicine cat indeed if I overharvested the stock of herb naturally growing in this forest." He shook his head.

"No, these herbs came elsewhere. Over the water - Riverclan territory, I believe. I was merely attracted by the wide open space here where the sunlight seemed particularly strong - the heat off the rocks, for instance, decrease the time in which it takes to dry." Kosmo was a cat of his word, however, he needed to convince her of it, not himself.

If he wasn't careful he would talk her ears off when it came to herbs and healing, but when she asked about his motives - well, what was he expecting? A valid line of questioning but it only seemed to bring a shadow to his face. He began carefully, tasting his words as if tasting the wind for potential predators.

"These herbs are for someone, but ill, they are not. Well... not in the sense of being hurt or sick. She's in need of them, " Patient confidentiality came to mind, but more than that, Kosmo felt himself slowly unraveling from his toes to his tail tip. "Their kits are hungry." The she-cat in question was not sick or injured, not like he had been by the Thunderclanner's cohorts, no less. He had defended himself and there was no regret in his voice.

Survival demands caution, but greatness requires daring
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Her close proximity was electrifying, her closeness causing him to tense briefly, protectively as she hung so close to where he had placed his drying herbs. A more suspicious cat might have assumed that his revelation was oddly convenient, and a more violent cat might have acted out to rid him off their territory. A cursory glance flicked behind the she-cat as she stepped away, wondering if she had brought anyone else with her. If she was playing for time, perhaps, shadowy forms laying wait in ambush...

At least she had given him some space, accepting his answer, and an unusually ponderous mind seemed to spill the contents of her thoughts, if but a trickle. She was contemplating how all this was possible. How unlikely a cat self-proclaimed, assuredly ordained by Starclan would take the form of a common rogue, now of all times. Admittedly he probably should have left his initial encounter with Thunderclan to fester, but perhaps he was wise to keep them on their toes.

"Is that how they spoke of me? I would have expected a less than graceful description." Hiccupping a cough to clear his throat, he mimicked the rather grating voice of Wrentalon in his enthused attempt to reveal the grotesque characterature he thought he was seen. " 'Watch out for a crow-picked, mangy outsider with an ugly half-tail. Tried to murder us in cold blood! You should have seen him run from me - I would have ripped him apart.' "

A half smile snaked onto his face. If she was not entertained it seemed to amuse himself, at least. Pleased she seemed to be asking all the right questions. It wasn't the threat of claws or fangs that excited him nearly as much as a good, confrontational rebuttal, and sharing it with a clan cat, no less! Hah! He could even picture the snaggled toothed grin of his mentor in all their mirth.

"How does any cat gain knowledge such as this? They are taught by mentors. I was born into a place where some minor knowledge of your clans exist - but if you are inquiring about my knowledge of medicine cattery, then that was taught much later. Out of hardship and desperation, but also perhaps loneliness. It's difficult to describe without simply giving it away."

His expression turned somber, an ear flicking with mild annoyance as if a fly buzzed around him. "But it was Starclan. Their words aren't imprisioned by Mothermouth." Kosmo truly believed such things, as was the intensity in his odd colored eyes, even if his lips never touched the sacred stones themselves. Through feverish, dealthy dreams he listened - and within starry voices followed.

He shifted his weight, his warming pelt drying in the sun. As he shifted his attention to the she-cat in turn - with another mindful glance at the treeline. "How is the she-cat from before? Perfectly fine with no lasting injuries?" He could have guessed, although there was a certain amount of pride in the way he spoke of his skills. He only wanted her to acknowledge it.

"Maybe now you can tell me a bit about you. Perhaps we should begin with introductions. Who might you be?"

Survival demands caution, but greatness requires daring
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If only for a moment the two shared in their combined amusement. Flickering briefly in their eyes as his smile beamed across his face. The length of his tail lifted in good humor, its cinnamon rings waving, but this wasn't a social call. Within those odd depths seemed a good natured cat willing to share in these fleeting moments, but deeper, was a bittered wariness. Already a thunderclan warrior had struck him for doing little less than existing on clan lands. What was the harvesting of a few little plants when the forest flourished?

His expression relaxed a bit when he echoed what he more or less expected from her. It was a shame she sounded so distant though. He wasn't prying for information, but merely trying to quench the unquenchable - his oft morbid curiosity. "That's good to hear. Violence is my least preferred method of defence, but I suppose they were justified." He mused, more to himself than to her, although he twisted his head around to give his bite wound a subconscious few licks.

Smoothing the fur down you could barely see the injury. When he swung back towards her direction, he could help but shake his head, a bit disappointed. "Ah, well, I suspected as much. You at least seem a warrior of a different color - understand, others have tried to kill me. I much prefer an interrogation over a bloodbath." An ear gave a pliant flick.

"Hmm. I wonder. If you were to call me something, perhaps referring to the rest of your clan -" A paw, outstretched against the rock, flexing large claws. "What about 'Halftail'? That's a proper clan name." As he spoke his body seemed to animate more, excitement whirling his thoughts and blinked over her at the inquiry about why he was here. Again she questioned him, and again, he answered, if but a bit wryly.

"On this day, under this moon, my word is true; healing has been my ultimate desire. And the herbs have been dried for a while now - I could be on my way, or I could stay a bit longer?" The last note was offered in an almost tantalizing coo, a purr.

Survival demands caution, but greatness requires daring
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It was comical, an actual one eighty to what he had come to expect so far from clan cats defending their borders. If they were so adamant about ridding him from their territories he could only imagine what kind of dynamic their cross clan relationships were - or if they treated them like outsiders to. Hierarchy was internalized in the tom from a very young age, but these clan cats had the added complexity of belief, miracles, and in a way religion. What was sacred incited fervor, and a bit of hesitancy from his companion at the mention of simply picking something out for himself. Like it was taboo.
 "I understand." He relented at last, "I wonder if this will remain between us or not. Feel free to omit or embellish any detail you see fit - I'll be a nameless rogue, then. Until you deem fit for a trade, sometime." Beginning once her voice pittered and thought was allowed to fester. If he indulged a bit more in her company, maybe he could earn a name from her. When the pause began to linger into a prolonged, tantalizing silence he almost believed he would get his wish. He wanted to stay longer to get to know this mysterious she-cat and prod more of these sacred ways, but he was gracefully dismayed.

Kosmo made note of her change of stance, and he felt his fur begin to stiffen if only a bit. Even if he was a bit shocked by her sudden terseness, he was anything if not plodding. "I can't say I'm surprised. Nothing good ever lasts." Flattening his hackles at the sight of her tail lash, the large tom picked himself up from his perch, swooping low in a stretch that caused his muscles to shift and body stir.

Jumping from the rock, he briefly disappeared before returning with a large grape leaf that had been just behind him. Carefully he plucked each dried herb, one by one and dropped it into the leaf. Once settled he turned his head towards the she-cat, giving her a polite dip of his head. "You were most amiable in our discussions... If there should be any cat in thunderclan to avoid the shadow that falls, it should be you. Be careful in these woods - the voices warn of hidden things."

Bequeathing her with one last warning, Kosmo had bundled his herbs slunk back across the border, heading straight long into the tail end of riverclan territory, where it would be a quick shot further still to the former lands of his ancestors.