The most boring place on earth (open)

[Willow]

Edmund's body was old and failing but he had yet to experience much difficulty getting around. He was not youthful at heart yet neither was he old. He was just... Edmund. His mind was fairly blank as he padded through the tall, featureless trees of tallpines. One looked different, crooked and bent. Edmund focused on crooked-tree and padded towards it, slightly curious only because it was the most interesting thing out here. He decided to mark it. It was his crooked-tree now. Let all other cats who journeyed to the most boring place on earth know that.

Well, at least these weren't spruce trees. There were some manner of boring pine, but not spruce. Edmund hated spruce trees. They were the most awful things on this earth. But maybe expressing hatred for them would make this place a bit more interesting.

Maybe.

Probably not.

The old cat sighed and sat next to crooked-tree. "Crooked-tree, if there is a more boring place on earth... please don't tell me about it," he muttered bad-naturedly. He didn't even remember what had brought him out here. Some sort of prey. Squirrel, perhaps. But it was long gone now, scurried up one of the uniform, boring, non-spruce trees. And Edmund was hungry. His old legs could not carry him after prey quite as well as the used to be.

Well, not near as well.

Truth be told, Edmund went hungry most days unless he could get lucky. Life kinda sucked. Life really sucked in this place. "Now, how do I get out?" he muttered to his friend, crooked-tree. Receiving no answer obviously, he turned his brown face to search for a way out. Of course everything looked the same and not like a way out. He grumbled and tried to remember what way he came from.

[Otter]

A thick carpet of brown needles crackled softly as the wiry brown she-cat stalked slowly through the sunbathed woods. Few bushes and no ferns lined the forest floor here, and one could see for miles in every direction if one looked beyond the thin trunks of the tall, tall pines. The openness was comforting after traveling through the thick, hateful underbrush of the oak woods. Here there was room to run and little to trip over.

Even so, it was still a forest. There were trees. Little grass. How could she have made this mistake again?

"Oh, very smart, Wind," she grumbled aloud to herself as she weaved around trees. "You came into the forest once, got lost, twisted your paw, met the strangest cat you've ever seen, fought a fox, and finally got out. So, naturally you come back here, right? Of course, that makes so much sense."

She shook her head roughly, tail lashing in frustration at herself. Why had she come back here, anyway? Why the deuce had Spruce told her to expand her horizons? At least she had stumbled across this place instead of wandering helplessly about the thicker woods.

Eventually a scent came to Wind's attention, and she raised her head in surprise. It was an unfamiliar scent, which was not surprising, and the she-cat's long brown tail lifted high as her ears pricked forward. Gradually a distant murmuring reached her ears, and she moved forward more quickly, until she was almost running through the woods.

A skinny brown tabby appeared in the distance, and upon sighting him Wind slowed to a walk and moved forward more cautiously. There was nowhere to hide here unless one stood behind a tree trunk, but that was just fine for her; no one could sneak up on her. She felt almost as at home here as she did on the moors...almost.

"Now, how do I get out?"

Wind's tail lashed eagerly as she heard these words. Here, finally, was a cat who seemed to hate this kind of place as much as she did! "I could not get you out of here completely, but I could show you where those blasted oak woods are," she mewed loudly, stopping when she was still several fox-lengths from the tom. He looked elderly and less-than-intimidating, but there was no point in letting her guard down. "But if you want to get out of the woods altogether, we are in the same boat."

[Willow]

Edmund jumped and spun around as a female voice responded to his rhetorical questioning. His dark blue eyes widened as he sat and looked at her. He really wasn't what he used to be if he hadn't heard her until she was right behind him. She looked like she still had her guard up which caused the brown tom to smirk. Because he was such a threat. Him and his 126 moons wouldn't do anything to such a young, powerful cat.

"But if you want to get out of the woods altogether, we are in the same boat."

He shrugged his bony shoulders. "I like the oak woods just fine where everything doesn't look exactly the same and where there's a place for a cat to hide. But, if you would rather take a different route the river, the moors and the swamps are all acceptable to an old cat." It was true, Edmund really didn't care where he was unless there were spruce trees involved. But there weren't any of those except in the pine forests north of the swamps. No cat went there anyway.

The old tom fixed blue eyes on the small she-cat. "There's something about you... Something great," he murmured, softly and almost to himself.

[Otter]

Startling the stranger had not exactly been her goal, and Wind started slightly as the tom swung around to face her. Scolding herself for being so jumpy, the she-cat forced her short, brown fur to lie flat and her ears to prick forward in as friendly a manner as she could show to a stranger. He was, after all, clearly no threat to her. And even if he was a younger, stronger cat than he appeared to be, she could just as easily run away as fight.

"I prefer the moors, myself," Wind mewed, flicking her tail in what she hoped was the correct direction. "So flat and open you can see wherever you need to go at a glance." She stopped talking, surveying the old tomcat once more and deciding that, though he looked stronger and more fit than any cat his age should have a right to look, he was no threat. Having come to that conclusion, she took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between them until they were a mere one or two rabbit-hops away.

There's something about you... Something great."

It was perhaps because of her sudden movement that the tom did not know to speak more softly, for his quietly murmured words tickled the fur within Wind's ears and caused her to narrow her eyes uncertainly. What, he thinks I'm going to attack him, so he's trying to flatter me? she wondered suspiciously, tail-tip twitching with a small spark of irritation. However, he was not quite looking at her the way a brown-noser would look, and she realized, when he did not say anything more, that perhaps she had not been meant to hear.

Whatever the case, Wind had no qualms with simply ignoring what the stranger had said. "I am Wind," she mewed, nodding her tail in greeting. "And, quite frankly, I am lost." Such an old cat surely knew his way about the land. Surely he had traveled to the moors at least once in all his moons of life.

[Koia]

ooc; Taking you up on that offer, Otter.
bic;

The birds were definitely starting to get to her. After an hour in a tree, they attacked. Thistle wasn't trying to kill any feathered creature (or at the current hour), but there was no way she could blame the birds for bombarding her their long beaks and needle claws. Either way, she was out, and it was in the past, except for the aches she felt coursing throughout her body. A part of her mind urged her to move forward, but the she-cat could not stop herself from pausing and licking her wounds every couple of steps.

"Wretched birds, ripping out my fur," she cursed out loud, not bothering to sneak through the Tallpines. She had tried her paw at fishing and met with some success, so food was abandoned from her thoughts until her stomach argued with Thistle on that matter. On her right, a hungry finch waltzed in her peripheral view and Thistle directed all attention toward it. Then she sprang after it, her claws reaching for it in an orange cloud of uncontrolled swipes. The bird flew up, safe on a high branch of one the pine trees. It sung a slight song which Thistle answered with a hiss and threatening swipe. Oh, she hated the birds but her attention could never stray far from them for a long time. They were her curse.

"And, quite frankly, I am lost."

The voice was very strong and it only took a few turns around a couple of spruce trees to find the source. Thistle edged to the two cats in the clearing. Her pawsteps were quiet and cautious, but she drifted into plain view of the older cat, that is if he was blind or couldn't see far away. Thistle simply observed for the moment as nowadays loners could turn violent. That was a rarity for now though since it was greenleaf and the prey rushed all around. Lost, thought Thistle. The she-cat placed a confident grin as her head twirled around, but when she faced the conversing cats once again, she frowned, realizing that she was indeed lost as well unlike she previously thought. 'I'll just follow this old cat when he leads this other cat,' she thought to herself, still unaware that she was in plain sight of the older cat and her scent now was detectable to the younger one.

[Willow]

Edmund nodded vaguely when Wind said she favored the moors and noted inwardly that it was very fitting. A cat with such a name could not favor the windless swamps or the sheltered trees. The female looked confused and skeptical at Edmund whispered words of her greatness and he blinked in confusion. Does she truly think I am a threat? he asked himself in disbelief. He was an elder of 126 moons, not a high threat to any cat especially not one so young and strong as the she-cat in front of him.

He shook his brown spotted pelt, ridding it of fallen pine needles and felt his hopes falling as Wind stated that she too was lost. Great. She knows these woods no better than I do. And crooked-tree isn't much of a help, after all. Suddenly a flash of color caught his old eyes and he turned quickly to see another she-cat. Her fur was tortoiseshell and she was very young. Edmund narrowed his eyes and raised his hackles ever so slightly as he watched the cat. She obviously had no clue she was being watched and was in thought, or something.

"Let me guess. You're lost too," he called out to her as he decided she was no threat at all and lowered his guard. If he were younger, he would be more cautious but he knew that despite the rivalry between forest cats they would normally help an elder before harming him. And this little cat looked quite friendly and young enough to still be naive.

[Otter]

The old brown tabby did not respond to her words, and Wind's tail began to flick in slight irritation. Though this land was not nearly as terrible as the oak forest, there was still little about these trees that Wind found appealing, and she was more than ready to be heading back to the moors. Why, oh why, had she come here in the first place?

When she set her attention back on the older cat, Wind blinked in surprise to find his eyes fixed on something over his shoulders. Edmund's hackles began to rise, and instinctively Wind copied his movements, fur bristling and ears flattening as he studied his less-than-calm expression. Was there a fox standing just behind her, preparing to attack? Why didn't he warn her?

Then he spoke to whatever was over her shoulder as if it were educated, and Wind spun around to find herself nearly face-to-face with a pretty tortoiseshell she-cat nearly as thin as she herself was.

How on earth did I not hear that cat coming? she demanded of herself, astonished and unnerved all at once. Sure, the wind was blowing in the wrong direction for her to have easily smelled this stranger, but how had she not heard her? Even the small crackles of the soft pine needles underpaw should have warned her.

As Edmund had already spoken the same words that first came to Wind's midn (well, scratch that. The first words in Wind's mind were "how the heck did I not hear you" and "get out of my space", but she had enough tact to hold those back), the wiry brown she-cat said nothing. She merely forced her fur to lie flat and her ears to prick forward. Surely this thin, young she-cat was no threat to her. And who knew? Perhaps she knew the way out of here.

[Koia]

Thistle was quite content that the two cats were too distracted with each other to notice her. The alarmed posture of the older cat caught her off-guard. Her front paws trailed back as her back arched, long fur darting upward. Thistle knew herself to be a bit cautious, but she kept her body still when her imagination trailed to a cat leaping at her. Then the old cat relaxed and she followed, feeling silly for being worrying about an aging cat. Usually, the tongues were worst part.

But this one was not one of those cats. Thistle had a slight smile at the words since she expected words more harsh and sarcastic but instead it was simple question. Her eyes darted to behind her. The way to Oak Woods was behind her, somewhere, but who could say? An answer formed in her mind, but it fled into the trees when the other cat turned around. Not to be rude to the older one, but the younger one seemed more dangerous, so her claws gripped the ground but the weapons recoiled when the she-cat showed no sign of attacking.

With the elder cat’s question and the she-cat’s gaze that seemed to inquire the exact same question, Thistle was thrown on the spot. “No,” she said holding her chest high as she inhaled a breath. When the she-cat could no longer hold the breath, her furry chest deflated. “Maybe.” Thistle knew she was lost, but she might have been less lost than these two. “Oak Woods is that way,” she said, spinning around and gesturing to the south. Then she remembered the tussle she entered with the finch. “Or that way.” She adjusted her paw to point in a more eastern direction. Thistle moved her paw, switching her focus between the two directions. One of these directions was right, the she-cat was sure of it. Either way, she probably looked so confused that these two would blow her off as more lost than they were. The she-cat felt her eyes wander nervously, so perhaps she could distract the two from her own confusion. “My name’s Thistle,” she said, smiling a bit too much and her stance too positive.

[Willow]

Edmund let a little, amused smile onto his face as the tortoiseshell tried to claim that she was not lost. However, by the end of her ramblings it was quite clear that she had only the slightest clue where "out" was. But, he learned her name was Thistle. A strange name for such a small, gentle-looking cat but he didn't argue with her parent's choice. And besides, his name was Edmund so he was he to talk.

The spotted brown tabby took a seat on the bed of pine needles. "My name is Edmund," he offered as his eyes swept the unnatural forest. "And unless someone has a better idea, let's try that way." He pointed with his long, skinny tail towards what he believed to be north. Edmund pulled his old self to his feet again and, with a glance at the two females, began padding in the direction he had pointed.

Granted, he really had no clue which direction he was going but trying this way was better than sitting around staring at each other as had been the previous activity. "Whereabouts are you from, Thistle?" he asked as he walked, not one to like awkward silences.