Painting The Town

[Autumn]

(Private, for Roach only)

The sun was just reaching the middle of the sky when the she-cat finally began her day. She had made home in some sort of large, probably ancient tree. It's roots had just enough room for her to sleep and whatnot, as well as store a bit of prey, or herbs if she ever decided to learn that art. It had only been four days since she had joined Deathclan, and she still wasn't entirely impressed. The leader seemed alright, but the rest of his so called Clan needed work as far as she could tell. The white-and-ginger cat made her way to the only decent chunk of land in Deathclan, the river. Her eyes darted from left to right a few times before she craned her neck to lap at some water.

She hadn't met anyone yet, which was both good and bad for her. On one paw, she had plenty of time to find her den and get comfortable without any over zealous mouse brains trying to distract her. On the other, it was obvious that it wasn't just cats avoiding her. This Clan was not the large and fearful gang she had grown to know as a child. As she stepped back from the river's bank she couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever run into anyone. It was entirely possible she had just joined the Clan right before it had dissolved.

Suddenly the wind picked up, and the scent of cat came with it. She didn't bother bracing herself. Her fur remained flat, and she looked ahead as the scent became fresher. Whoever this cat was would not have the satisfaction of scaring the newbie by sneaking up on her.

[Roach]

Like a fish in a rocky river or a rabbit fleeing a wolf, Roach was making a winding and circuitous path forward, avoiding each and every obstacle. He delicately stepped over mushrooms, wound around trees, made detours to avoid rocks, and generally kept anything aside from solid earth out of his path. His expression was something between discomfort and disgust, though not aimed at anything in particular. Indeed, that might just be his default expression.

Though not particularly intending to, his walk happened to bring him directly into the path of Autumn and he didn't particularly feel like avoiding this obstacle. "Hello. Deathclan sure is lively this time of year. I am Roach." He said, completely deadpan and nodding his head in a greeting gesture.

[Autumn]

If Autumn could have raised one eyebrow she would have. This was the oddest looking cat she had ever seen. He looked disgusted, which she could relate to, but spoke as if he had no emotion. And even while he spoke he bobbed his head as if he were some kind of bird doing a strange mating dance. Suddenly Autumn felt entirely threatened. Not because this cat looked as if he wanted to beat her, but because he seemed entirely psychotic.

She didn't bother dipping her head in greeting. He wasn't an adult, he had no battle scars, no reek of authority. He was another youngling, and he did not deserve a sign of respect from her. Although she probably should say something back to him. "Oh, most definitely. This river over here? Pretty sure it's really just an endless amount of Deathclanners running to go kiss Drought's tail." She said sarcastically, glancing at the river briefly before looking back at the black and grey tom. "Do you have a name, or should I just call everyone here Drought until I meet the right tom?" She asked coolly.