Open to Join The Claws That Catch (12TL20)

Bloodlines of strength ignite fierce souls
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Wildcry was indeed - relatively speaking - in a good mood. Was a damn shame that no one had decided to entertain her with their presence. Twisting her head round to smooth down the fur by her lighter chest, the round orb of her amber eyes flicked like firelight towards the sound of approaching pawsteps. As if his scent didn't betray him - Wrentalon. A slap of dust from her front paw beckoned him closer, her stare leveling with him as he tucked himself into a position near her.

"Bad enough Green-leaf keeps all the prey fat and lazy. If green-death doesn't make them drop dead first." With an irritated chuff, she rolled her eye. Perhaps Wrentalon would understand the she-cat's complaint. "Nothing more satisfying then a good hunt, prey in jaws. A good hunt." Reiterating that fattened prey was just too easy to bring down. There was little satisfaction in an easy catch and much preferred a bit of challenge or creativity when it came to catching prey.

"You hunt anything substantial recently?" Wildcry felt downright chatty at the moment, although there was no mistaking the claw-like edge to her voice that could escalate at any instance. She licked her lips, still tasting her remnants of her meal.

Bloodlines of strength ignite fierce souls
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Wildcry could hear the twittering of birds above her head. Appreciated singers, but only appreciated when her belly wasn't hungry. It may not be rumbling now, but the fact that Wrentalon assumed an Elder's position was rest and relaxation wasn't entirely true. If it were up to her, she would be on every patrol she could be in, but there was less risk to others if she patrolled solo. If she fell to a wayward rogue or badger, so be it, but she wouldn't risk the lives of her clanmates to mark the territory borders if she wasn't at her best. And a missing eye was a painful reminder.

Wildcry aimed a sheathed swat at the tom, a warning without much force. "I like being off my rump. Otherwise old age might catch up to you." Like Gingerthrash, her uncle, was all bluster when at one time in his life he was all bite. Wildcry wouldn't be caught dead at that age - If she was to die, it would be out in the wilds of Thunderclan territroy, preferrably with all the gusto of her fierceblooded heritage. Like her sire, Shalefury, dieing protecting the clan from rogues. "I won't be a flea-ridden, tick-bitten, invalid sequestered in the Elder's den. And I even get to dine on my own kills. That's a bonus."

She leaned back against her shoulder, a sign that he might be free from any more shots if it so pleased her. Her eye narrowed at time, leering with a small smile. "Duck, huh...? You should join me at Sunningrocks sometime. They like to swim near the riverbank. I could show you some tricks."

Bloodlines of strength ignite fierce souls
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Wildcry's ears flicked against the back of her head. She woudln't be treated like an invalid. She was still capable of doing what many elder's couldn't. Her limbs didn't ache come rain or cold - eventually she knew old age would catch up to her, but it was in her best interest to be as active as possible to keep herself on her toes.

"Some of us don't anymore." She crossed her paw over the other, flexing the slide of her claws as she imagiend them sinking into something pliable. She hadn't forgotten the second paw embarassment from that Riverclanner gawking at Sunstrike's precarious shame at being stuck in a tree. "Good enough place for lounging - Better for hunting all sorts of things. A good piece of Thunderclan territory." Those silly Riverclanners deserved to lose it if they couldn't care enough to keep it. Even if its acquisition predated herself - and Gingerthrash. Even Bloodstar. It was just how things were now, even if Wildcry did ache for some confrontation.

Bloodlines of strength ignite fierce souls
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 Wildcry's tail flopped to its side, mimicking the movement of a lethargic snake. Her eye rarely strayed from the young warrior, although they occasionally flickered towards the corners of camp as if searching for shadows. She tried hard to make herself aware of everything around her and was rarely spooked even if approached on her blind side. When Wrentalon got up, expecting a jaunt, the ticked she-cat mirrored him. With a mrrow of approval, she gave him a curt nod, expecting nothing less. "Let's see if anyone else wants to join us. The young ones could learn a thing or two." Up and active, Wildcry was moving towards the warrior's den to peek in, and then she'd be ready.

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The grey pelted tom was resting on his belly in his claimed nest in the warriors den, well, he would give the nest up if he was asked. But for the time being the nest was his to have and to sleep in. He just new that something or someone would be coming around any moment to disturb his peace... not like he would do anything about it of course, he disliked the confrontation in his own clan, but he dealt with it when it inevitably happened.

Soon enough, as if some cat had been watching over his thoughts. The light of the entrance to the warriors den was covered by shade and a single amber eye. The scent gave a clear indication of who this cat was. Why was she at the entrance of the warriors den? Did she need something in particular? Surely nothing important from him, he was more-a-less under the impression she thought of him as meek and dispensable. But regardless, he turned his blue-grey gaze towards her and opened his mouth to greet the elderly she-cat.

"Hello Wildcry? How's the elders den treating you today?" Greypebbles enquired kindly, his short tail betraying and anxious flick as his mind raced to find an answer to a question now bugging his mind. Why was Wildcry visiting the warrior's den?