Ripple's Den

First topic message reminder :

A large dark brown tom with familiar Bengal markings padded through the forest. His face expressions were a mixture of amusement, excitement, impatience, and most of all, fear. He padded on the white ground, his fairly sized paws crunching on the snow. He sniffed every bush and tree, curiosity flooding his eyes. "Wow..." He looked like a fully grown kit, examining and observing everything. "Twig would surely like this..." He whispered to himself. His striped peculiar looking tail waved behind him, coming barely next to his side. The tip was slightly rippled and curved at the end, like it was cut off with a curvy knife. It came to sight that it was only a half tail, due to a small accident in his past.

He sniffed a bush at the edge of a stream and poked his head through, discovering a hidden cave beneath the white layered plants. "This seems like a good spot." Walking in, his tail lashed behind him nervously, the plants brushing against his body. He plopped inside and what seemed like an underground cave appeared ahead. there was several pieces of crowfood creating an odor at the edge of the cave. He swept them out the den and sat on an already ready den, warming up inside it. Smiling to himself, he glanced around what already seemed to be his new home. It was dark and musty, the stench in the den creeping onto Ripple's nose.

He winced at the unbearable scent and rose from his nest. Stepping out, he broke some branches and created a hole in the bush covering his den, letting in a reasonable amount of sunlight. Sniffing around the den, he already noticed the strong scent clearing up. Nodding pleasingly to himself, he stepped out. Sniffing cautiously, he scented some mint on a nearby bush. Ripping a few leaves from it, he padded back into his den and placed them around. The slight scent of mint rose in the aroma, creating a sweet yet tasty smell. He sighed at the unbearably beautiful smell and sat in his den, enjoying the delicious aromas.

Tumble flattened her ears, feeling slightly foolish. "You have a point," she said, "but I'm not familiar with how they live. How am I to know that they don't cast you out into a cave if you fail to prove your worth to them?" She shook her head, becoming almost angry at this talk of Clan cats. "Your mother was in a Clan? Why aren't you with her?" While Tumble didn't usually show much interest in other cats' histories, she had thought that if you were born into a Clan, you usually stayed there.

"Trust me. I'm not part of a clan. And I never want to be." He sighed slightly. "My 'mother' left me as a young tom, shortly after I escaped from my twoleg nest near the clan territory to go see if they would accept me and her in. We were both rouges at the time." They accepted her, but she forgot to come back for me. And after over a day of waiting, I figured she didn't want me anymore. So I left and didn't risk revealing myself." He pawed at the ground.

"Oh." She flattened an ear awkwardly, unsure of what to say. "Er. . . . That's tough. I'm sorry." Tumble paused, narrowing her eyes and tilting her head. "But that doesn't give you any reason to hate the Clans--only to hate your mother."

He nods slightly. "Yeah, I guess so, but I thought that they may have killed her at the time, so I was scared, and ran away. She might still be alive now..." He shook his head again and sighed. "But I just never... really liked them, and I don't have a reason." His eyes widened, realizing what he just said.

She flattened an ear and tilted her head slightly to the side. "Really? You really don't have a reason? Well, that's no reason to hate someone at all." Tumble frowned, looking at him critically. "Why would they accept her as a warrior, only to kill her later?"

He puts his head to the ground. "Honestly, I have no idea. They probably didn't kill her." Sighing, he stood and started licking a spot of his fur vigorously. "This part of my fur itches real bad." He mumbles.

"Too bad," she muttered unsympathetically, licking a paw and drawing it across her ear. "Think you got a tick or something?" Tumble sat down, tail stretched out behind her, not wrapped around her paws as she'd seen many she-cats do. She flexed her claws, digging them into the soft mud by the riverbank and enjoying the feeling of cold on her paws.

He glanced at her. "I don't really know... maybe. I clean my fur everyday... It'd be weird If I do have one." He st down and began to dig through that part of his fur, trying to find what was wrong. "Have you gotten any ticks before? You sound like you're experienced with that type of problem."

"Experienced?" Tumble repeated. If cats could raise their eyebrows, she would have. "What cat isn't, other than pampered Twoleg pets?" Tumble was disdainful of those who were unfamiliar with vermin like ticks and fleas. Every cat should know how to take care of themselves. "There's one trick that the nasty Clan cats use. I don't know it. Just gnaw 'em off or something. Doesn't matter to me."