Private Thread Feral Ties

Tiptoe through the murk and mire
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Duskmantle had slipped from ShadowClan’s camp long before the first rim of light broke the sky. Early hunting was a staple in his habits, and as much as an excuse. Dawn was his favorite hour to vanish the world dulled quiet, scents sharp and fresh, and few enough cats awake to notice his absence.

By now, though, the quiet had stretched into hours. He had swept wide, his paws carving a path past Whitehart’s edges, skirting RiverClan’s low banked territory until his steps brought him to the strange, foreign heart of Twoleg lands again.

Duskmantle’s paws slowed as his gaze fell upon one such nest, its garden cut clean, foreign flowers tight in their beds. A she-cat’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. His cornflower eyes snapped toward her, narrowing at the bicolor perched bold on a sun warmed stone like some sovereign waiting for her subject to obey. The tap of her tail beside her only deepened the bristle along his spine.

Duskmantle’s pawsteps did not falter, but neither did he move toward her. His voice, when it came, was low and blunt, roughened by the long walk behind him. "I’m not in the mood for summons."

He kept his distance, standing sharp edged at the garden’s fringe, tail lashing once against the damp ground. "I’ve walked long enough without chatter and I don’t care for games." His gaze cut her way again, measuring, suspicious, before turning back to the house itself, nose wrinkling faintly at the smells rolling from within.

Kindness goes a long way, but don't mistake it for weakness.

✧･ﾟ: ✿ :ﾟﾟ･✧༄🦋༄✧･ﾟ: ✿ :ﾟﾟ･✧

"An' I ain't in much mood to demand much more than a couple o' pawsteps an' a word from you, honey" Duchess trilled calmly before stretching from her slumped position on the sun warmed stone and pressed forward toward the blue smokey furred tom. If he wasn't going to come to her, she'll go to him. "Y'see a lady loungin' and think she's got games behind 'er back?"

Duchess tilted her head, her tone didn't hold any venom, just that usual honeyed friendlyness that followed her wherever she went. Though by the looks of it, this cat wasn't in any mood to share that kindness.

Wordlessly, Duchess moved in beside him, the black-and-white she-cat giving the ShadowClan warrior a sidelong glance with her hazel eyes that resembled the browning of autumn leaves, even if her eyes curled with her welcoming grin. "Cat's just normally go about havin' a purpose for passin' through. 'Specially a..." Duchess gave a quick whiff of him, the marsh's musk gave her all she need to know "What... ShadowClan warrior, ain't ever seen an apprentice lookin' as well kept as yerself" she mewed, if Duchess was hiding anything, there wasn't anything that could be so easily found beneath the southern charm that always seemed to seep into her tone.

"Name's Duchess, You, warrior. Have padded into my land" She greeted giving a curt nod, not exactly regal, but not as casual as it could have been, perhaps an even mix between

Tiptoe through the murk and mire
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Duskmantle’s hackles prickled as her easy voice rolled toward him, warm as honey but curling around truths that she had no business knowing. His ears tipped back, narrowing on her as she pressed closer.

The word ShadowClan struck like a claw. His shoulders went stiff, eyes flashing sharp to her. Rogues, loners...after everything that was happening within the Clans that didn't fall to kindly. That made his stomach twist cold. His tail lashed once claws unsheathing against the damp earth.

She closed the space between them, and still he stood cornflower eyes cutting into hers, suspicion burning hard. "You speak our name too easily." He said voice low, weight in every word. Her grin, her nod, her declaration of land. Her name was Duchess. His gaze dragged across the neat cut field, the stone, the Twoleg nest looming behind. Territory. His jaws tightened as her meaning settled.

Duskmantle lowered his head a fraction stance still bristling but not dismissive. He could respect such a claim. His voice rumbled, blunt and solemn. "Then I stand on your ground." His claws bit deeper into the soil before he drew them free. His gaze stayed fixed and unwavering.

"Are you going to defend it?" The words were not threat, not yet, but they carried the raw edge of seriousness, the warrior’s creed stripped bare. He wanted her answer plain.

Kindness goes a long way, but don't mistake it for weakness.

✧･ﾟ: ✿ :ﾟﾟ･✧༄🦋༄✧･ﾟ: ✿ :ﾟﾟ･✧

"Why not?" Duchess tilted her head, flicking one of her white tipped ears "There ain't nothin' you can use it for that'll hurt me, I ain't trespassin' on yer territory and that's all ya know 'bout me" her smile remained, like she hadn't considered the fact that Duskmantle could be a threat but his words of possible challenge intrigued her...

She raised a brow and took a step forward, her fur flat and clean, effortlessly kept without visible flaw. "Well that depends, partner," she began, that honey never leaving her voice "You gonna start tryin' to destroy it?" she questioned, nothing like an accusation but still, it held the weight that she would have recognized the challenge if it had been handed to her, and that she acknowledged his own traditions of defending territory that was of his own.

"Nah," she stepped in front of him, her voice and movements smooth an unthreatened "You're here for 'nother reason, whether it's passin' through or somethin' deeper. You got that look is ya eye!" she chirped, the corners of her muzzle curling in a grin. There was something about this cat that he was too dense to let free just yet, but if he was after a cat of some sort she may be able to help him... that all depended on him.

Tiptoe through the murk and mire
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Duskmantle’s ears flattened, a cold prickle threading down his spine at how easily her words rolled, smooth as though nothing weighed them. No fire, no bristle, no teeth in her claim...just that honeyed lilt and a grin that seemed untouchable.

He had expected a clash, even the faintest spark of defiance. Instead she stood before him, fur unruffled, voice silk and unshaken. His jaw tightened, and behind his eyes the image of ShadowClan’s borders...thorn-choked, fought for, bled over- flared hot. A land unclaimed was one thing, but a cat unwilling to bare claws for what she named her own? It tasted hollow.

Still, his shoulders rolled back, and the smoke colored tom leaned a fraction closer, his cornflower stare cold and deliberate. "You stand so calm... As if it costs you nothing." His whiskers twitched, a sharp flick against the air. "But land worth having? Prey worth hunting? That is never given freely."

He let the pause stretch, claws flexing deep into the damp earth. "What if I was hungry." He pressed, voice dropping low, sharp with challenge. "What if I decided the prey that runs through this neat little field should fill my belly instead of yours? Would you still smile then?"

Duskmantle’s chin lifted slightly, defiance drawn hard across his posture though the deeper truth stayed locked in his chest. He wasn’t looking for prey at all. What he hunted couldn’t be caught in grass or stone. Instead his gaze narrowed with the faintest edge of provocation, the ghost of something heavier flickering in his eyes.

"I walk to seek another. And when I choose to take... I will. You may find you’ve more at stake than you think."

Kindness goes a long way, but don't mistake it for weakness.

✧･ﾟ: ✿ :ﾟﾟ･✧༄🦋༄✧･ﾟ: ✿ :ﾟﾟ･✧

Duchess shrugged her dark shoulders, the question of if she'd keep her smile in the face if him stealing prey that she never truly owned came to life evocked some thought from her, the grin faltered into something a little softer, nothing as hard as the cement that this tom seemed to have built around himself. "If it was a meal that meant life or death then I'd share it, have a yarn with 'em even." She began the truth rang clear in her voice, but the narrowing of her eyes wasn't of pure accident.

"But if a fit young cat like you decided to come along and steal somethin' without askin'? Then I'd be happy to show you that hospitality doesn't extend to the cruel" Duchess added, her voice harder but the ends of her fur did nothing more than give a little quiver of warning before lying flat, a threat that her kindness didn't lead to weakness she didn't have. "But you've got more smarts than to just do nickin' stuff from a land you ain't got the chance to spelunk, who knows what you'd be runnin' into. Some of my visitors ain't so easy to extend a paw" she chirped, her voice lightening once more but not to a point where it lacked warning. "I've got a partner o' mine that's got my tail guided if I'm needin' it"

"Another." She repeated, not a question, an acknowledgement "You might be in the paws of someone willin' to help ya out, ya might not. That's up to you to decipher, honey."

Tiptoe through the murk and mire
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Duskmantle’s ears twitched, the faintest shift at her answer. Her voice rang clean, and for a moment it pressed against the cold iron of his suspicions like water against stone. Yet even then he felt the warning laced behind her soft edges, the subtle quiver of fur, the sharpened line in her words. That at least he could respect.

His whiskers flared as she spoke of cruelty and an unseen partner. The tom’s claws dug deep once more into the wet earth, not from intent to strike, but to anchor himself, to steady against the feeling of being weighed from more than one angle. His gaze swept the neat cut of the garden again, nose lifting faintly at the scents that curled off the nest beyond. Yet only her scent caught in his nostrils.

Cornflower eyes cut back to her, narrowed but steady as a subtle grin cut along his maw. "So there’s a spine under all those smiles." His voice came low, blunt, but edged with a note less scornful than before. "Good."

He gave a single lash of his tail, tone flattening again as his posture squared. "Another is who I seek and I’ll walk until I find them." He straightened, shoulders rolling, voice stripped back to its usual bluntness. "He's a rusted red tom with a paler, tawny body...With two different colored eyes. One green and one gold.

Kindness goes a long way, but don't mistake it for weakness.

✧･ﾟ: ✿ :ﾟﾟ･✧༄🦋༄✧･ﾟ: ✿ :ﾟﾟ･✧

Duchess smirked, a crooked, almost smug smirk as Duskmantle lowered his hackles "Darlin', I'd darn hope you'd think twice before mistakin' kindness for weakness" she chirped calmly, sitting herself down as he explained the familiar sounding appearance of the feline Duskmantle described.

"Big as a house? Tail lookin' like somethin' near snapped the flickery thing off?" she asked, curling her tail over her paws and looking at the ShadowClan with a curious, thoughtful glance, as if trying to decipher something he hadn't told her. "If that's who ya talkin' about I could point ya in the right direction." she mewed kindly, her eyes following the blue fur of his refined shape.

"But ay, I ain't someone to give information out for free like I've got all of it that I need"

Her words rang clear, definite, like there was no wriggling around them. Just stern and clear... and yet, somehow still as clean and smooth as ever. "A bit of kindness'll take you far, partner" she offered a place beside her with a tap of her paw, whether he took it was up to him entirely, but she would have to wait and see.

Tiptoe through the murk and mire
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Duskmantle’s stare sharpened at her description, a flicker of recognition flashing quick behind his eyes. Big as a house. Tail bent and broken. The words struck close closer than anything he’d found yet. His jaw set tight and for a moment silence clung heavy between them.

He watched her settle, that easy poise masking a firmness he could no longer deny. Not weakness. Not folly. A choice, clean and deliberate. His claws slid back into their sheaths, but his shoulders stayed square, his stare fixed.

"Then you do know something..." His voice was a rasp, suspicion still bristling along the edges but a thread of need pulled through it. Her offer of a seat and talk of kindness… it twisted like a thorn. Few things came without cost, and he was willing to trade for whatever the she-cat may want.

Slowly, Duskmantle padded forward but not to sit at her side. His paws stayed planted just short. Close enough to show he would not flinch and far enough to keep his guard.

Cornflower eyes locked on her hazel ones, unblinking. "If it's a trade you're after, then speak your price." His whiskers flared once, the faintest curl pulling at his muzzle not humor, but the grim edge of resolve.

Kindness goes a long way, but don't mistake it for weakness.

✧･ﾟ: ✿ :ﾟﾟ･✧༄🦋༄✧･ﾟ: ✿ :ﾟﾟ･✧

"Do yourself a favor" Duchess began after Duskmantle had requested to know the price for her information. Duchess cared very little for physical things, very very little. She just wanted to know Duskmantle wouldn't go out harassing random cats that didn't belong to his own clan. "This price ain't physical darlin'. Just somethin' I ask you take with ya" 

The bi-colored she-cat gave her paws a few delicate licks, the fur between her pads were surprisingly clean as she had been out and about all morning "When yer out 'n about on ya lil search. Don't immediately think we're out to get ya." she purred with a chuckle, the way he always seemed so guarded, not even allowing himself to sit beside a kind stranger trying to give him help on whatever task he was up to. "There's a line, kid. Between a cat bein' kind and a cat tryin' to fool ya, be cautious but not empty. All I want is fer ya to consider it. I mean it." her voice came a little more serious then before, the stern-ness being somewhat foreign but well placed.

The grass pressed down ahead of her as Duchess stretched out her paws, then rolled onto her side, sprawling out her legs to add to the long stretch she had found herself is "Promise me that, darlin', and you'll find out where Kosmo might be trapsin' about." 

Tiptoe through the murk and mire
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Duskmantle’s ears twitched back at her words, a faint scowl etching sharper across his features. She asked for nothing in the physical sense. The demand settled heavier than he’d expected. Be cautious but not empty. His own kindness was given as it was required of him, front or otherwise.

Instincts resisted, every muscle urging him to scoff and dismiss. Yet his cornflower eyes lingered on her, the easy sprawl of her body in the grass, the way her voice carried with no weight of guile, only that firmness. Without a code to keep them, loners and kittypets were unpredictable...

A low breath left him. His gaze dropped for a moment to the garden earth, then rose back to hers, steady and hard despite the quiet churn in his chest. Finally, he dipped his head once, a small, deliberate gesture. "I’ll consider it. I’ll weigh the line you speak of. That's what I can give for now."

Kosmo. The name that roused a flutter in his chest, a kithood fascination, perhaps. Maybe Duskmantle just wanted to see him suffer for what he left, his family scattered to the Clans. "Where does this Kosmo walk?"

Kindness goes a long way, but don't mistake it for weakness.

✧･ﾟ: ✿ :ﾟﾟ･✧༄🦋༄✧･ﾟ: ✿ :ﾟﾟ･✧

Duchess didn't speak for a few heartbeats, studying the tom that stood before her, parts of him reminded her of Kosmo, some not, peculiar this one was. But she knew when or not to ask about someone's past, now was not that time, she may be friendly but she wasn't stupid.

"He's got this kinda... mysteriousness to 'm. Never in one place twice." She began, curling her tail as she focused her hazel eyes on blue tom. Why he was looking around for Kosmo? She had no idea, but she had no reason to keep secrets, as much as Kosmo might tear her whiskers off for it, or not, no cat knows, not even Duchess. "'cept for one place. This barn by the moors, not like this one, more cats in that one. More prey inside I think. Never been there" she added, flicking her tail in the direction of the moor, however far that might be.

The bi-colored she-cat lifted her head, glancing over to Duskmantle, these clan cats were as predictable as ever, so duty bound even when it had nothing to do with their clan. Whatever this cat had in mind she doubted that Cosmo would go along with any of this. "I'll be wishin' ya the best 'o luck, darlin'. Seems you got that fire in ya, something about Kosmo that ya need exactly?"

Tiptoe through the murk and mire
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Duskmantle’s ears pricked at her words, every syllable ground into him with the weight of half-formed memory. A barn by the moors. His gaze followed the flick of her tail, narrowing toward the distance she pointed out, though he’d never yet walked so far. His chest tightened at the thought of Kosmo moving there freely, seen, known by rogues and loners alike while his kin had been left scattered to cold borders and harsher fates.

The smoke tom’s whiskers twitched, but he kept his face carved to stone. Her last words dragged his eyes back to her, cornflower blue sharp and unflinching. Something about Kosmo. The question hit, but he let silence stretch between them before answering. "That's...private." Duskmantle almost said a 'family matter' but decided against it.

He dipped his head once, not soft but solemn, the faintest scrape of respect for what she had given him. "You’ve given me a path. That’s enough." With that he turned slightly, angling his body toward the moors, though his gaze lingered on her for a breath longer. "So long, Duchess."