new resident [open]

[Solo]

B R A I N

Twenty-five steps. Nineteen trees. One heartbeat in the foliage.

The tomcat paused and tilted his ears forward, swiveling them to pinpoint where the mouse’s life-rhythm came from. He licked his chops and trotted forward, lean muscles rippling under his white coat as he shifted his weight onto his haunches. There—a flash of brown. The mouse slinked out of the shadows, while its predator paused just out of sight. Lightly creeping forward, careful to keep his steps soft and slow, the cat shivered with anticipation. He hadn’t eaten for the past day or so, and this little morsel would do well to fill him up.

Brain leaned back, gathering his energy like a tensely coiled spring, and then leaped. He swiped at the mouse when he landed in its path, killing it with a well-aimed blow to the head, and fell upon it with his teeth. Licking his lip again, this time in satisfaction, the black-spotted cat sat down and surveyed his surroundings again.

His arrival in the forest had been recent, but already he was enjoying the high availability of prey animals. His old hometown had been lacking in that department, leaving him to eat the sparrows that landed in the yards. If he had another feather stuck to his mouth it would be far too soon.

It was quite pleasant here, yes, but what stretched beyond this woodland remained to be seen. He had heard tales of felines, not the old alley cats who sat on fences and caterwauled and fought in gangs back home—no, felines of a breed far more wild than the feral cats of the streets. It interested him, a stray who followed these myths to test them. Ever since he heard two rival tomcats yowling outside his window as a kitten, he had been itching to explore—but for the sake of examination rather than a sense of adventure and wild abandon.

Brain scoffed quietly and licked his paw, drawing it over a black ear before setting his foot down and surveying the trees again. It was also very quiet here. There were no growling cars to avoid on the sidewalk or barking dogs to assault his sleep. He strained his ears and listened to the sounds of the woods—birdsong, wind, and his own steady breathing.

Three breaths. Ten breaths. Ten minutes. He closed his eyes.

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[Otter]

Just a little day trip, eh Wind? Just a little stroll through the forest? See the land beyond the moors? Try to "broaden your horizons", as Spruce said? Fantastic idea.

Wiry brown form stomped irritably through the dense foliage, beating aside bushes with angry claws and tripping over roots and rocks with hisses of annoyance. Narrowed yellow eyes glared at her hateful surroundings, following the movement of mice and voles as they scurried away from her ruckus. She was hungry, it was true; she had not eaten since this morning, when she first set off across the familiar moorland on her foolhardy voyage into the lush green catacomb in which she found herself hopelessly lost. How was any cat supposed to stalk up on prey with all this blasted foliage? How was she supposed to catch prey that could disappear instantly into little, hidden holes? Where were all the rabbits? Where were all the open spaces?

"This is the last time I listen to your philosophies, Spruce," she growled aloud, only to hear her own voice. "I'm quite content to never see another forest again." A fluttering erupted from above, and the yellow eyes shot upward to glare at the robins as they took off through the trees. No longer watching her step, the tall, wiry she-cat suddenly found a paw trapped beneath a protruding root, and with a yowl of surprise she found herself stumbling, tripping, then falling face-first into a fluffy hawthorn bush. Her forepaw, still stuck in the root, twisted around at an odd angle, and a hiss of pain escaped her mouth. Twisted it again. Good job, genius, she thought, wriggling ungracefully around until she could slip her smarting paw from the root and rise gingerly to her feet.

Glancing around to be sure her less-than-graceful fall had not been witnessed by anyone but a few curious sparrows, Wind continued to limp doggedly on through the foliage, ears swiveling in every direction in a desperate attempt to hear the voice of another cat. Though not a particularly amiable character, Wind was not interested in spending the rest of the day lost in this horrid place alone.

Finally, above the unfamiliar din of forest life, the heavy breathing of a larger-than-prey animal reached Wind's ears. She stopped dead in her tracks, swiveling her ears in the direction of sound, and took a dainty sniff. Definitely cat, not fox. Changing direction, the dark brown she-cat moved toward the stranger as quietly as possible, though her attempted stalking failed miserably--twigs snapped, grass rustled, and fallen leaves crackled beneath every step.

No point in making a fool of yourself, mousebrain. Just show yourself, she thought with a shake of her head and a silent sigh. Straightening up, the she-cat moved loudly through the foliage, attempting to pass the ruckus off as boldness rather than incompetence. "Hello?" She cringed as her voice came out sounding a bit too "I'm lost and lonely, help me!" for her liking. Too late now. What a crappy day.

[Solo]

B R A I N

The quiet, tranquil sounds of the forest were broken by the noise of a body flailing through and over undergrowth.

The white and black tomcat winced and glanced in the direction of the cacophony: twigs snapping and birds’ alarm cries. It sounded like a small dog had gotten itself lost. He rose to all fours and tensed, back arched, in preparation to drive off the stumbling creature. However, it was a feline voice that called through the trees, and Brain took a seat again, face alight with interest when the wiry dark tabby showed herself.

“You are uncomfortable in the forest,” Brain meowed.

Having made this observation, he sniffed at her, at first with a bored expression, then with interest. She smelled of a place he had never been before. While this ignited many questions in the inquisitive tom, he held his tongue and stood up. Approaching her, he made a half circle around her and paused at her side.

“So why did you come here?” He smiled, though the expression was fairly smart-alecky and a tad arrogant. If she was a curious, wide-ranging traveler like he was, she should get more experience in unfamiliar terrain first before trying to hunt in new places. Luckily for her, she had found him rather than a more aggressive cat, or worse, a fox.

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[Otter]

It was quite clear that her attempt at appearing competent had failed. She stepped out of the blasted clinging foliage and into a slightly clear area, in the center of which the white tomcat sat, as if waiting for her. Her eyes, at once, were drawn to the ragged red collar hanging about his thin neck, and Wind's eyes widened slightly in confusion and surprise. Did kittypets often travel far from twolegplace? But no, hs collar was old, almost falling off; surely he would have a new, fresh collar if he still lived with twolegs. What, then, was he a runaway? A stray? A former kittypet has no right to look so comfortable in a forest, she thought, a little jealously; he did not appear to have any issue with this land.

He had a strange expression upon his face, the likes of which she had never seen before, and she wondered briefly if there were leaves clinging to her short pelt or twigs tangled in her tail. Resisting the urge to check, the wiry brown she-cat forced herself to stand perfectly still as the stranger sniffed her, and though her ears flattened as he began to circle her, she kept her claws sheathed and fur flat. He didn't appear to be violent, so why jump to conclusions? Now was not the time to make enemies...she had to get out of this horrible place somehow.

“So why did you come here?”

A frown darkened Wind's features as that odd look appeared once again on the tomcat's face. His tone was not pleasing, and she had the absurd feeling that he was laughing at her. Narrowing her eyes, the she-cat twitched her long brown tail as she replied stiffly, "I come here because I want to. What about you? How long have you..." she racked her mind for a nicer way to say "when did you leave those crappy, mousebrained twolegs?" and eventually came up with, "...been off the catfood?" Well, no one ever said Wind had any tact whatsoever with words, did they?

[Solo]

B R A I N

The brown tabby was moderately calm when he approached her, while it would make any other cat uncomfortable to be randomly circled and scrutinized by a stranger. He knew that he must remember his manners in the future, but for now, his investigative mind took over his common sense. It had been about three days since he’d seen another cat, and never before had he come across one of the “wild cats” that his pals on the street had mentioned. Were the other wild cats from the place this female was from?

The she-cat said she had come because she wanted to, and he smiled. “I suppose you’re regretting that decision. Where are you from? It smells quite interesting.”

He tipped his head to the side when she addressed him with a question. How did she discern that? Right, his collar. He hated that old thing; it was a heavy disadvantage in fights and movement. It got caught on claws and thorns and teeth, which accelerated its deterioration. Hopefully, one of these days, it would break under the pressure. Luckily he had adapted his movement to guarding this weakness, and it was easier to live with.

“I left my twolegs soon as I could,” Brain mewed in reply. “I can’t remember how long exactly.” A partial lie, because he hadn’t meant to get himself lost. While he had immediately accepted his freedom, he had been terrified at first when he could not find his home, pining for the warm hands of his owners. He wanted to spit. “If you want to get technical, however, I’ve taken advantage of cat food lying in yards up until recently. You can’t be picky on the streets.” He swept his black tail through the air behind him and looked at her again.

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[Otter]

It could be said that Wind had expected a lie. She had expected some ridiculous story such as, "I was kidnapped by twolegs and they put this thing on. I fought my way past five dogs and found my way here," and it was with a considerable amount of surprise that she found herself listening to an utterly believable story. She pricked her brown ears forward, head tilting slightly to one side as this cat spoke of being dependent upon that human slop known as "catfood." What kind of self-respecting cat admitted to this? The wiry she-cat relaxed, tail lying flat and still, ears trained on the tomcat. Arrogance or not, honesty was something she could respect...something she had to respect. She must repay honesty for honesty.

"I definitely regret my decision," she agreed, shrugging her shoulders as her yellow eyes scowled at the surrounding trees and foliage. "Where I come from the land is open and grassy. There are no trees to block your view, no bushes to get in the way of running, and no roots to trip you up. Much better than this piece of foxdung land." It occured to her that this cat might, perhaps, like the forest, but it was too late to take back her words and Wind didn't particularly care if she offended, as long as she gave her true opinion.

"I take it you have never ventured into the moorlands?" she asked after a moment of near-awkward silence, in which the only sounds she could hear were the fluttering of small wings and the scurrying of tiny animals. The idea that this cat was also lost hit her like a charging badger, and it was all she could do to suppress a moan. Surely, surely she had not come upon another hopelessly lost wanderer? I'll never get out of here, she thought despairingly.

[Solo]

B R A I N

The she-cat listened to his explanation, betraying some faint emotion with the tilt of her head when he admitted to eating cat food. He did not yet know the wild cat code of “honor,” their disgust toward kittypets, and that they relied solely on meat they had captured personally. All he knew that, logically, he should not refuse to eat something if he was starved. He’d eat a rat if the hunger got bad enough, and he had, despite his earlier dealings with the nasty little brutes that had gotten him as many scratches and scrapes as fights with other alley cats. A carcass he came across was fair game too. Why not cat food, which hadn’t bitten back at him or made him sick in all the time he’d eaten it?

But the white and black tom did not tell her anything from this internal monologue. He was not here to preach, but to learn, and it was none of her business what he ate nor what he thought about it.

Brain’s yellow eyes flickered with excitement when she described her territory. It sounded incredibly different from the forest, and he couldn’t imagine there being no cover. He stared at his paws for a few moments in thought until she asked if he’d ever been there.

“Never,” he said, somewhat breathlessly. “I have only recently come here and adapted to this thick forest. I have to admit, maneuvering was difficult with all of the undergrowth and roots you mention, but it’s simply like a big garden.” He squinted his eyes as if focusing on some far-off object, though he was staring at her, deep in thought. “How… How do you hunt with no cover? What sort of prey would live where there is nowhere to hide?”

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[Otter]

Once again, Wind barely suppressed a groan when the tom told her he had never been to the moors. In fact, from what he said, it sounded as if he'd never been anywhere but here; not to the river, the swamplands, or the far-off twoleg farm. But what could she say against that? Had she not spectacularly proven that she was also a homebody, someone who did not like to leave her own territory and travel to other types of land?

A soft rumbling erupted from the depths of her belly, but Wind ignored it; she had proven to herself that she could not hope to catch anything here, and there was no way she would ask a stranger to hunt for her. Honest as he may have been, the idea of being dependent upon catfood was disgusting to Wind, and she felt being dependent on another cat for food was nearly as bad. Wild cats didn't have others hunt for them.

"You have to use speed on the moors," she mewed in response to his question, flexing the long, narrow limbs that carried her above the head of the average cat. The moors were her favorite topic of choice, by far. "The grasses are tall enough for you to stalk a bit, but eventually you have to break cover and run." She paussed, contemplating his question of what type of prey lived on the moors. Could it be true, was it even possible, that this cat did not know about rabbits? Field mice? She shook her head slighty. "Rabbits live on the moors. They are fast, but some cats are faster. Nothing can give a cat more pleasure than winning a fair race and catching one of them." She stopped, wondering if forest cats received the same pleasure after successfully stalking a mouse or squirrel.

"How do you hunt in this blasted place?" she asked after a moment, scowling about with unconcealed dislike. "How do you run when there is so much to trip you up?" Maybe, if she knew how to hunt here, this blasted place wouldn't seem like such a nightmare. Maybe.

[Solo]

B R A I N

The brown she-cat’s stomach growled and Brain straightened up in response, tense, as if it had been the growl of a fox rather than a hungry cat. A feline more inclined to follow his heart might have offered immediately to fetch something for her, but it did not cross his mind. She did not mention anything about her hunger, either, which obviously meant she didn’t care enough. Had she asked, he would have done as she requested, probably because there was no harm in it rather than out of kindness. Brain, while not stingy and mean, wasn’t overly generous and thoughtful either.

Speed—it was no wonder this cat was so lean and wiry. He could imagine her dashing across the open moors to chase a rabbit. He shifted his weight a little, his way of fidgeting, full to the brim with interest and technical questions. How fast could rabbits go? Did she ever have to make sharp turns? What other predators hunted on the moors, or were speedy cats the only ones? He admired her long-legged build for a moment then blinked when she asked him how he hunted.

“Here?” Brain blinked and looked around, deciding the answer wouldn’t be obvious to her. “Stalk while you can. While there are places for prey to hide, there are places for you to hide as well. With a coat like yours, you could become nearly invisible against the bark if you’re still. It requires patience and good aiming when you pounce.” He reached forward with a paw to brush at some of the grass and loamy soil. “Running I have not quite mastered, so I move carefully. I suppose once you stay here long enough, you would know the routes well enough to avoid snagging your paw on a root.”

He fixed his eyes on her and smiled again, his expression bright with anticipation. “Perhaps sometime I will travel to the moorlands to see how you can hunt.”

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[Otter]

Patience. That is what this "forest hunting" seemed to imply. Patience that Wind did not have, and suspected she would never have. Where was the honor in hiding from prey like a frightened little kittypet? No, the only true way to hunt was to run, to chase, to show yourself to your quarry and give it a fighting chance. Otherwise, what satisfaction could one gain from winning the fight? Stalking in the forest...it was akin, in her mind, to attacking a cat much weaker than oneself rather than a cat who would give you a challenge. Craziness.

“Perhaps sometime I will travel to the moorlands to see how you can hunt.”

That would require me actually getting out of here, pal, she thought with a wave of her tail. His suggestion was an intriguing one, however; it was not often that Wind saw any cat besides herself and her father on the open moors. She could not imagine there were very many wild cats with the build to hunt out there. But, as her yellow eyes drifted slowly over the cat before her for the first time, she realized he might vey well have what it took. He was thin; he was tall; his pelt was short and therefore would minimize drag. In fact, this black and white tomcat appeared to be perfectly suited for the moors. What, then, was he doing in this horrid place?

Intrigued by her discovery and alarmed by how long it had taken, Wind mewed almost unconsciously, "I am currently trying to find my way out of here. If you help me, I could teach you the true way to hunt." She did not, like some cats, view the moors as "her territory". Perhaps because so few cats lived up there, she felt no need to protect her land from others. There was almost always an excess of rabbits and a shortage of competent hunters, so what would one more resident do to the prey population? Nothing, unless he ate like a badger, which, if his skinny form was any clue, he most likely did not.

[Solo]

B R A I N

The she-cat’s yellow eyes evaluated him in turn, and she seemed to like what she was seeing. There was interest in her face, as if she’d discovered something. He flicked his tail and smiled again when she spoke. Her unfamiliarity with the forest went beyond hating it; she was admitting to be lost. “I will try to help you,” Brain meowed before glancing around at the trees as if trying to find a path. Honestly, he had no idea about the layout of the woodlands, but this would be an opportunity to explore. “I’m afraid I will not be of much help since I’m new here, but I know my way around slightly better than you in this area, I suppose. What direction are the moorlands in?” He could judge from the setting of his neighborhood where they were and what direction they were in; he’d made a few marks on the trees to make sure he didn’t get lost.

“To keep your strength up, I could catch you something, or show you how I’ve hunted here.” He looked at her, uncertain that she would accept the offer. It seemed like a fair trade, though she didn’t seem very open-minded about ways of hunting. Deciding he shouldn’t have brought it up, the white tomcat dipped his head and changed the subject. “I should probably know your name if we are going to travel together. I’m called Brain.”

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[Otter]

What hope she had of leaving this place quickly faded with each word Brain spoke. However, he seemed relatively interested in finding the moorlands, and perhaps that would be enough to get them to where they needed to go. How does he expect me to know what direction the moors are in? If I knew, I'd head that way, now wouldn't I? Why couldn't I have come across some seasoned forest-dweller? she thought in despair, hunger making her more irritable than normal. This place should be crawling with them. Where are they?

There was no point in wishing for cats to appear out of thin air, however, and Wind turned her attention back to the tom in time to hear his hunting suggestion. Her nose wrinkled at the very idea of someone hunting for her, but before she could snap that she could hunt just fine on her own, the words "show you how I’ve hunted here" caught her attention, and she closed her mouth to contemplate the suggestion. She glanced at her hateful surroundings and wondered, What if I get lost here again? Maybe I should learn... but almost as soon as the thought entered her mind, she shook her head decisively. She would never come back here, so what need did she have of learning to hunt?

"Thank you, but I would prefer to wait until we reach the moors. I don't plan on..." her treacherous belly grumbled more loudly than ever, practically drowning out her own words. Wind cringed in embarrassment and glared down at her skinny stomach. Would the horrors of ths day never end? Turning her gaze back on Brain, she sighed, "My name is Wind. If you will show me how to 'stalk', I will try to hunt the way you do."

It didn't feel like defeat; she would teach him how to hunt rabbits, and he could teach her how to hunt mice. No big deal....So why did she feel like she was betraying her home? Stupid forest.

[Solo]

B R A I N

The brown tabby looked distasteful at the thought of being hunted for, and he could understand. He didn’t even know why the thought had crossed his mind. All cats except for babies and kittypets hunted for themselves. Even in eating cat food, he had to work for it, chasing off the rightful owner of the meal and claiming his spot at the bowl.

She politely began to decline, but her stomach loudly dissented. Brain purred under his breath in amusement and looked at her. She finally offered her name and agreed to being taught how to stalk. Before he showed her, however, he gave her another once-over and purred with satisfaction. “Your name suits you very well. I’m sure that you can run like the wind with your build.” He turned and stepped through a bush, sweeping the thin branches aside with his tail so that she had an easier time getting through.

Up ahead, he could smell a mouse. He touched her shoulder with his nose once she had followed and nodded toward the small rodent, unaware of the two cats. “You should have some idea of stalking, because I’m sure it would help you get closer to a rabbit to get within sprinting distance. If you can step softly—meaning watch where you place your paws—and aim true, you should be able to get your prey.” He lowered himself into a crouch, ears flat against his head, and drew himself forward step by step. Within jumping distance, he wiggled his rear slightly and sprang.

Brain missed, for the mouse had spotted his white shape at the last second. He landed just short of pinning its tail. Hissing, he swiped at the creature and managed to knock it in front of Wind. Preparing to jump again, he waited to see if she’d make the kill presented to her.

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[Otter]

“Your name suits you very well. I’m sure that you can run like the wind with your build.”

Eyebrows rose at the unexpected compliment, surprised and suspicious at once. Flattery was not something Wind cared for. She didn't look for compliments or approval, and so she scorned any brown-nosing comments sent her way. But what did Brain have to gain from complimenting her? Nothing, and so she could only assume he was serious. Watch yourself, tom, she thought, flicking her tail in an attempt to whisk away Brain's words.

A few steps were spent in silence, with the skinny brown she-cat staring closely at her paws as she stepped around rocks and roots, and as lightly as she could over fallen leaves and twigs. Even so, the occasional snapping stick and rustling underbrush emitted from Wind's movements made her flinch and scowl, so much so that by the time Brain caught the scent of a mouse and stopped, Wind hated the forest more than she ever had before.

He spoke, then demonstrated, missing the mouse at first but managing to swat it. Brain practically threw the mouse at her, and Wind stared in indignation as the little brown creature thumped against her paw. It was alive, and it was only by instinct that Wind reached out and rapped the little creature over the head as it got up and began to scurry away. Had she had time to think, she would have not moved a muscle and let the little thing go. Hadn't she told Brain she didn't want anyone hunting for her? Was this some subtle attempt to give her food without making her feel bad? Well, it wasn't working, although she managed not to scowl at him.

Instead, Wind pretended to not even realize she had killed his mouse for him. She swatted the creature back over to Brain, mewed, "I'll do my best," and sank into a low crouch. A whiff of mole had caught her attention, and she swiveled her ears to catch the sound of nibbling.

Out on the moors, the only thing she had to worry about was rustling the grass around her; in the forest, she had to worry about where she stepped, what she brushed, and even how high her tail was. It was a maddeningly slow process as she moved forward, step by step, taking often and lengthy pauses as she placed every single paw with deliberate softness. Finally she began to inch forward, the soft rustling she created blending in with the rest of the forest noises, and the little grey mole came into view. Wind stopped, waited as long as she could, tensed her muscles, and sprang forward.

The mole had been ready; it had heard her moving towards it, and as she sprang forward it scurried off down a hole. By the time Wind landed where the mole had once been, it was gone. The wiry she-cat released a furious hiss, tail lashing in immense frustration. After all that time, she didn't even catch it! Who could stand to hunt like this? Not trying to conceal her irritation, Wind turned back to Brain and grumbled, "When we reach the moors, you'll see why I hate this place so much." Hunger had turned her irritable, and her tail lashed as she sheathed and unsheathed her claws.

[Solo]

B R A I N

Brain was used to cats staring at him in confusion and disbelief when he commented on their attributes, because they did not know him. What seemed like a compliment toward Wind was not meant as one; instead, he was expressing delight that her name and her being matched up so well. And therein lay the mystery of the tom, chasing after things with his brain rather than his heart.

Wind was still not used to the forest floor, though her steps were much quieter than when she had first approached him, tripping loudly over various pieces of woodland carpet. Had he been more prone to emotions such as sympathy, he would have felt badly for her. Instead, he focused on the path ahead and was surprised to find a mouse not startled by the noise approaching.

The tabby killed the mouse when he inadvertently threw it at her but only tossed it back. He blinked in confusion but sat down beside the dead prey. He didn’t understand her pride as she turned to stalk some other animal. Instead, he focused on eating the mouse in a few quick gulps and watched her progress with interest, ready to see how a moorland cat hunted in the thick oak forest.

Wind failed in her attempt at catching a mole and was visibly angry about it. He ignored her remark and walked over, sniffing at the burrow of the creature. “You were decent,” he told her, the closest he could come to a conscious compliment, though the natural lack of inflection in his voice would probably be more maddening than the forest she so hated. “You gave it a try. That’s something.”

He started to walk in the same direction again, though it had originally been chosen at random. All he knew was that it was in the opposite direction of the neighborhood, and therefore there was a chance the forest could end, even if they left at the furthest corner. It couldn’t go on forever, right?

“How many generations of your family have lived on the moors?” Brain asked as he walked, not looking at her.

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