Lazy-tailed ol' Flinty

[crowfur]

A black tom walked toward Flintpelt. "If you don't want to get wet, then you'd better find a dry place. It's gonna rain soon!" the tom said, a smug grin on his face. He looked up. "Woohoo! A thunderstorm!" he cried, sitting down watching the sky. I can't wait till the flashes show up! Their so amaazing. he thought. He looked at Flintpelt again, still grinning. "Your Flintpelt right? The cat who doesn't like the den? Most rumors say your a dimwit, but I, for one don't believe it. True your odd at times, kinda like Firen. Nobody likes Firen at all, can't understand why though." he said. "Oh, sorry, the name's Crowfur. Everyone makes fun of me for my tail, so those idiots call me Crowytail. Mostly kits, but that's not bad, the warriors makin' fun of you is. Rarely happens, but annoying. For you and Firen it must be tough. Never even saw you till now, patrol a lot, and never seen Firen either." he said.

[Spiderbreath||Soul]

((That post should be ten sentences long of non-dialogue at least. I only counted about five or six in there.))

Flintpelt's eyes flicked to the tom who had just arrived, but his attention was riveted on the gathering clouds above. Booming thunder could already be heard rolling across the land, and a harsh wind was battering the trees into bent positions. Even from all the way in Thunderclan camp, he could swear he heard the rushes in the River rattle.
Not wanting to seem rude by staying silent, he turned his head slightly to the side so he could continue watching the bruised sky and speak more clearly to the ebony feline beside him.

"I don't mind the rain. And I know it'll rain soon. It's as obvious as the tail on your rump," he finished with a grin, returning the wide smile.
The black tom looked up and exclaimed loudly as he saw the darkening clouds, and then turned back to Flintpelt to speak again.
"Yeh, I'm Flintpelt. The cat who doesn't like dens. Dimwit? Who said that?"
His voice was indignant at the last two phrases, and a poutish frown was on his face. He was now facing the black tom, but, still itching to watch the clouds open and release their heavy burden, he turned once more.
"Odd may be true, but Firen's not odd. And she's right here, you know. No reason to speak about her as if she was invisible."
He flicked his barred tail at the she-cat, standing there in the cold, driving wind, fiery pelt ruffled, resembling a small fire more than a female feline.
"I haven't met many in this Clan, either, even though I've been here for quite a few moons by now. Soul I know, but I don't enjoy her company. And I met Firen just today."
He had to speak loudly for his voice to carry over the sound of the rushing wind, and he flashed the red she-cat a grin.
"And now I've met you. Crowfur, right? Can I call you Crow? And call me Flint, or Flinty. Whichever. It doesn't matter."

[Fernpaw]

((Sorry!))

Firen stood, looking up at the dark sky, riveted to the scene. When Crowtail approached, she stiffened. She never knew when some warrior came close just to pass some snide remark. When Crowfur called her "odd" and mentioned her past, Firen tensed. Her ears laid back and her eyes narrowed, regarding the tom dangerously. He had crossed the line in Firen's opinion. One wrong move and he would be known as Crowfood.

In spite of herself, Firen allowed herself to relax as Flintpelt stood up for her. Her ears still remained pressed flat to her skull as the clouds rumbled. They gave one last thunder of warning, before a driving rain poured down with so much force it nearly pressed the she-cat to the ground. Firen straightened and leaned into the rain, a purr rumbling in her chest.

[Spiderbreath||Soul]

((Nono, not you xP Crow. n_n
And by the way, nice remark xD Crowfood.))

A heavy purr of joy rumbled, it seemed, even louder than the thunder booming out from the crying heavens as it escaped the stripey tom's throat. His face bent back farther and farther, receiving the full volume of the pounding drops descending from the bruisy skies. A flash of lightning crackled like fire as it hit the ground not too far from the forest. Flintpelt could swear he smelled the scent of cinged grass far, far away as the blinding light disappeared from his eyes.

His two ebony ears perceived the purr coming from Firen's maw, and his own increased in intensity. The battering pit-pit-pit of the rain on the soggy ground hardly covered the rough sound, and the smile created on his face earlier only grew wider. A storm was an event every cat should enjoy to the last dripping whisker. Though some were scared of waters for a reason he knew not, rainstorms was his passion. Drizzle caught his attention quicker than a sarcastic remark, beating sheets would make him yowl in happiness and a windy blizzard of wetness would cause his maw to release a high-pitched cheer. His heart would beat faster and faster at every drop that landed on his grayscale coat, and the grin plastered on his face would grow and grow like a young shoot.

His mind wandered as droplets streamed down every strand of hair on his body. Back at that moment when Crowfur had spoken about Firen, the red she-cat had immediately taken a defensive pose and layed her ears back. She had not been happy of the remark made on her being 'odd'. She had untensed considerably, however, when he had defended her. Maybe she was warming up to him. And, above all hope, even respected him like he respected her.

[Fernpaw]

((No no, I meant sorry that I hadn't posted in like, forever! And sorry Crowfur, but Firen wasn't a Clanborn cat like Redember, so it'll take a while for her to get to know you.))

Firen closed her eyes, listening with her heart as well as her ears, so that she wouldn't miss a minute of this remarkeable experience. She felt as if the rumble of the thunder entered her and pulsed through her veins, the crack of lightning became her own body, alert and filled with readiness for whatever came at her in the future. Her fur was buffeted by the harsh winds, and she enjoyed every minute of it.

Suddenly, Firen was filled with the desire to run. To run in time with the music that nature was playing for her, to run till she could run no more, till every breath in her body was given to the fact of filling her lungs with the needed air. Slowly, Firen stood. She paced to the edge of the forest like a cat in the trance, peering in it seemed as if the slow drip of the water of the plants seemed to welcome her. With one look back at Flintpelt, her warm eyes blinked at him and said in their deep depths, I'll be back, don't go anywhere without me.

As soon as her eyes had spoken to the tom, Firen's paws sprang into action. She was off. Her paws pounded the ground like pistons, keeping the time of the rumble of the thunder. A flash of lightning illuminated her path as clear as if it were day. This was like the night that Firen had been born on. She had inherited the quick temper and beauty of her great-grandmother, and she was going to be loyal to her Clan to the end. The she-cat ran on, her mottled pelt plastered to her skin from the rain. Rain dripped into her eyes, but she shook the drops away and ran on for the sheer joy of it. To a passerby, Firen looked like a small wildfire, raging through the forest and daring for the rain to put it out.

Firen's pounding paws splashed up mud and leaf litter as she leaped over them, but she did not care. Why should she care? No one cared about her. As she thought these things, her mother's words washed over her, words that she had spoken harshly the day before she had disappeared, "How does it feel to be all alone with no direction home?"

As Firen thought these things, a new thought blotted them out, Flintpelt cares. As she thought these, she heard her father's strong voice comforting her, "Live in the Present, remember the Past, and fear not the Future, for it does not exist and never shall, there is only now . . ."

The she-cat whirled on her paw and turned, running blindly back to camp. She would follow her father's advice, she was not ashamed of her past and she didn't care about the future. Firen's sides heaved as her lungs sucked in massive amounts of air, and her paws felt like lead. When she felt like she could run no longer, she burst into the camp, and there was Flintpelt and Crowfur waiting for her.

Firen smiled at them, her eyes glowing with the exertion, her breathing coming hard and fast. As the wind tore the clouds above her to shreds, a shaft of bright light fell on her coat, illuminating it with a fierce light. Her golden orbs sparkled as she looked at Flintpelt, for the first time something called Joy filled her. She took her place a few tail-lengths from the toms, where she had been sitting before, and resting her chin on her paws, still reliving the magnificent moment where she, for one split second, had learned to fly.

[crowfur]

When Flintpelt asked who said he was a dimwit Crowfur said "Just about all the idiots. Dunno why though." he said, still grinning. As a flash of lightning split the sky, Crowfur looked up, awestruck by the way the lightning lit up the whole sky. How does lightning do that? he thought. He did this when Flintpelt made the 'Don't talk as if Firen wasn't here' remark. To that he said, "Can't really tell for sure, mostly in Tall Pines. Nice place, this wind is amazing!" he said over the gale. When Flintpelt asked if he could call him Crow Crowfur nodded. "You can call me Crow, better than stupidclaw and dumbtail." he said above the rising gale. Then Crowfur watched the sky, awestruck until he saw a flash of red in the corner of his eye, he looked and he could vaguely make out the figure of a cat in the running figure. Then the wildfire like figure ran back after a couple of minutes and sat down. Crowfur grinned more deeply, That must be Firen, a bit of exercise in the middle of a storm that short? I've been gone in the Tall Pines, running for hours straight. he thought amused. "Your Firen right? You fit the true parts of the description well enough!" he yelled over the gale. Gonna be a big storm, too bad storms don't last long. he thought as rain started hailing down harder on his head. Crow fur merely got on his hind legs for a moment to catch a raindrop in his mouth, then looked at the fiery she cat. "Good water this is, eh?" he asked to no one in particular. He grinned even more broadly, he looked like a grinning wet idiot of a cat in the gale, his fur soaked and plastered to his body. I don't think either of them are weird, maybe thats because I'm weird too. Everyone is in their own way. Who knows, maybe Firen's even nice? She didn't run from camp, I did for far less than what she endures, mostly for three day hunting patrols to get fresh kill for the clan. he thought. His extremely long tail was straight up in position, and his long claws unsheathed in the dirt to prevent himself from falling over. His lean frame looked even thinner because of the wetness of his fur. This might go well. he hoped, he didn't want Firen or Flintpelt to make fun of him like some cats did, it felt bad. He wanted to be diplomatic to them, so he might be able to make them his friends, or cats he can trust, at least. Wonder why they are made fun of, it's not like the have six claws on each foot and their teeth are as long and sharp as a streak of lightning.,he chuckled softly at the thought, No, not likely. It's probably nothing bad at all. As long as their loyal to ThunderClan it doesn't matter if their former loners or former Shadowclan warriors! he thought, amused.


((Sorry for the bad post, this is better. I'll be hard to make friends with Firen I know.))

[Spiderbreath||Soul]

((Wh00t...congratulations to the both of you! I'll try to do just as hard n_n
And Ferny? That post made me want to cry xD You're a great RPer! It's beautiful!
And Crowfur, great effort there n_n Big post, good spelling, everything needed!))

Flintpelt's mind snapped back to the present, and he blinked twice before realising where he was. He had forgotten, for a slight moment, the things that had happened just before. But the rain, that beautiful, pounding rain, its droplets scattering into millions of smaller twinkles to crash onto the ground, had awakened him as it fell upon his striped pelt. It streamed down his face like the tears of a thousand cats, dripping off his whiskers, rolling off his chin to darken his warm chest fur. He did not mind the cold, numbing feeling taking him over. He relished it. It made him feel as if nothing could get to him, nothing could hurt him, because he wouldn't feel it.

His eyes were still orientated towards the bruised clouds above, already lightening up as their heavy burden escaped through a invisible rip. The left eye, the red one, burned even more fiercely as the rain splattered around it. The fire in its middle seemed to dance and shimmer like a growing flame, and became bigger and bigger in his immense joy. The right eye, however, remained as passive and peaceful as ever. The blue pool had not lost its stillness, and the trees, the grass, the green things surrounding it wavered the slightest bit in a soft nocturnal breeze. All in all, it looked like the tom was about to start crying in his excitement. But none would have noticed anyway, what with the rain streaking down his ebony maw and jaws in little rivulets of darkened fur.

As he looked on to the amazing spectacle of blinding flashes of white light, booming growls echoing in the infinite reaches of the heavens and the pitter-patter of thickening drops crashing down from the bruised sky, another sound reached his ears.
A cat, one of the two beside him, was moving.
Finally, he lowered his head and took a quick glance around himself. Firen was now standing up at his side. Her paws took her to the edge of camp, slowly, as if in a transe, and she turned around to look at Flintpelt. Not the both of them. Just Flintpelt. And in her eyes was a message that made him smile even more.
I'll come back, don't go anywhere without me.
He did not know why she leapt into the darkening depths of the forest. Maybe it was because an unstoppable envy to run, run and run until she had to stop had infiltered her mind. Or maybe she wanted to let the rain wash away the burden she always carried, the insults, snide remarks and hating glares she received. Whichever, it was her own matter, and she would tell him, or anyone else, if she felt like it.

He didn't really listen to Crowfur's answers. All he could see was the small, firey form of the female cat running out through the trees, winding around their thick trunks, pelt darkened by the water but burning just as fiercely. All he could hear was the resounding beat of the dropping wetness, the almost imperceptible splash of a paw descending into a puddle. And he could scent nothing, for the storm had wiped all smell away.

Relief filled his heart as he saw Firen's lean figure come bursting back into the camp, pelt dripping from the short voyage she had taken outside. Her eyes, golden and filled with fierce light, seemed to soften, and another feeling, one she had not experienced in so long a time, showed for a few seconds inside their piercing depths.
Joy.
He had seen it, felt it, and known it. Joy. All you needed to make your life better.
Her pelt lit up by the harsh cracks of lightning flashing out from the darkened canopy of the sky, she stepped towards them and set herself down a few tail-lengths away from them, where she had been before. Head on paws, she seemed to be thinking of something, maybe reliving the moments she had experienced out there just a few moments before.

Crowfur had begun talking again. For some reason, Flintpelt felt that not many cats were listening. This thought brought a faint smile and a chuckle to his lips, though he quickly hid it. He did not want to look as if he was making fun of the tom. The ebony feline was friendly and hadn't meant to insult Firen. He was also made fun of, and knew what it felt like. But it was hard not to laugh at that silly grin on his face, and his emaciated look with his fur plastered to his lean figure.

Once again, Flintpelt went back. He wondered why the other cats had made fun of him when he had just entered the Clan. He didn't think they were insulting him because of his roots, no. They all thought he was a loner. But maybe his strange pelt, blotched and striped, his lazy attitude, stupid grins and hopeful comments sounded funny to them. They didn't to him. They were only attempts to fit in, and things he did from instinct. Nothing strange or abnormal.
Dimwit, they said. But why?

[Fernpaw]

((*Stands and takes a bow* Why thanks! I worked hard, good post too, Crow and Spidey!))

Firen turned her head toward Crowfur, eyes darkening as the feeling of joy fled to be replaced with wariness. She tilted her head as she regarded him, a smile playing around her maw. "And you, Crowfur, are just as you've been described. Ebony black with a nonstop tongue," she mewed.

The she-cat turned her head toward Flintpelt, he was silent. Not that that was unusual, he probably was listening to the forest. She knew how that was, often she too was captivated by the slight sound of a rain drop in a puddle, or the rustle of leaves. Firen's probing gaze searched Flintpelt's face for a sign of what he was thinking.

((Bah! , I don't know if that was 10 sentences or not, I'm all RPed out by my long post before!))

[crowfur]

A crack of thunder diverted Crowfur's attention so he didn't hear Firen at all. "How does it make that noise without anything to produce it?" Crowfur said to himself. He watched the rain pour down in thick sheets above him. How do the clouds make rain fall? And how does the clouds disappear after a storm? he wondered, his grin turning in to a thoughtful frown. The wind was almost unbearablely strong and cold, his thin coat of fur was soaked and he was starting to become cold. He unsheathed his claws to go, but the wind got twice as strong for a minute and was knocked face first into a puddle of mud. He got up quickly and sat and dug his claws in the ground. The wind was slowly getting weaker, the rain not falling as thickly the storm was slowly passing. Crowfur had an unhappy frown on his face when he tried to shake the mud off, but luckily the rain soaked some of it away. Well, that could've gone better. he thought as he dug his claws deeper into the wet dirt, half mud by now. He looked toward Flinty to see if he was cold, or if he saw him fall and was laughing at him.

[Fernpaw]

Firen sat bolt upright as she heard a splash above the sound of the driving rain and thunder. She whirled around and saw Crowfur picking himself up out of the mud. The she-cat swallowed a laugh and padded over to the tom. She averted her eyes from the piercing eyes of Crowfur and asked the ground, "You might want to clean yourself up before you dry yourself off. Dried mud is a pain to clean, I should knot," Firen grimaced at the memory. She had been drinking from a puddle when she had been shoved from behind. Mud had covered her entire body, but before Firen could pick herself up and hurl herself at the shover, she had realized by the laughter that with so many cats around her she had realized it would've been impossible to tell who had pushed her. It had taken a incredibly long time to wash the dried mud off her fur. It had tasted bad, too.

Firen's eyes burned with the memory, but she took a deep breath and pushed the memory to the back of her mind. She met Crowfur's eyes for an instant before glancing back down at the ground.

[crowfur]

Crowfur merely rubbed his face in some wet grass nearby to get some of the mud off. "Can't really wash the mud off if I fall again into mud!" he said, noting that the storm was getting weaker. "Oh, and I think you meant to say I should know, not I should knot!" he said, a grin returning in his face. Storm's going' down, good, no more mud for a bit. Winds are weaker, rain is less heavy and fall in pathetic patches now. he thought. Then Firen took a deep breath. "Something bothering you?" Crowfur asked. Remembering something? Memories can be horrible, like when I got my tail stepped on as an apprentice, a lot. Darn that hurt! he thought as he looked at the fiery she cat. Not weird, what's the word, er.....er.... Straightforward, yeah I think that's it, straightforward. That sounds right. he thought, half expecting Firen to not even pay attention. She's attracted to Flintpelt, sounds fitting. Their both made fun of every moment of their lives., he shuddered at the thought, For no reason at all. Not being accepted to any extent at all. he thought, shuddering again.

[Spiderbreath||Soul]

((Wow xD Wait up!))

Flintpelt could feel Firen's probing gaze fall on his face, but his eyes, which he had closed unconciously, did not open again. He let the she-cat search him for a trace, a hint of what he was thinking. He did not smile, did not frown, only kept a passive look on his gray maw. He felt suddenly tired. It was strange. He'd never felt tired before, except once or twice when the teasing had gone over the line.
The feeling soon passed, however, and he felt energy flooding back into his limbs. A ghost of a smile shivered on his whiskers as the comforting warmth penetrated his muscles.

His ears perked as the sound of a fall in a puddle of thick mud appeared over the slightly appeased pounding of the endless, battering rain. He opened his red eye, that burning ember, and glanced at what had happened, just in time to see Crowfur picking himself up from the ground.
Many a cat would have laughed at the sight. But he knew what it felt like, and did not want to inflict the pain on his newfound friend. He kept a grim silence, doing nothing, not wanting to do the wrong thing when he did not mean to.
Firen was the one who spoke. He felt relieved when she did, her voice carrying above the noise of the ceasing rain like the notes of birdsong. It calmed him in a way. He opened his eyes again, both this time, and looked on at the two conversing cats.
Firen looked so casual there, not at all tense. Flintpelt was like that most of the time, but he sometimes felt as if keeping silent and still would solve everything.

He had also noticed when the firey she-cat seemed to sigh, and took a deep breath. His eyebrow raised up slightly in a questioning position, he tilted his head in her direction.
I really do care about her, he thought to himself. This statement brought a faint smile to his lips, and he rose off of his rump to pad over to the pair's side.

At Crowfur's shudders, he tilted his head again, and repeated the inquiry that the ebony tom had voiced to Firen.
"Something bothering you?"
And he looked between the two, as if he was asking the question to both of them. Black ear flicked as a light drop of rain landed on it. He had not noticed that the water had nearly stopped, and, as he looked up, he could spot a faint dash of blue in the bruisy heavens.

[crowfur]

When Crowfur heard Flintpelt's inquiry he said "Bad memories, just bad memories." He looked at the sky, it was clearing, the storm was over. Good, no more falling in mud. he thought as he sheathed his claws. At this point he licked his paws and ran them over his face. After doing this a minute, cleaning the half dried mud off his face, he asked Flintpelt "Flintpelt, do you know why your made fun of? I can't figure any reason to make fun of most cats, your no exception." he said. I hope I didn't offend Flintpelt. he thought, regretting his words. He looked up at the clouds, hoping no one heard him. "Er, I think I'll go to Tall Pines now." Crowfur said awkwardly. He half walked half ran toward the gorse tunnel leading outside of the camp. Maybe some fresh kill for the pile, fresh rabbit or thrush are the best. Voles are nearly as good. Mice are a little small though. Rabbits are the best, three rabbits for the pile and I'll be back. That sounds good. he thought, momentarily forgetting he said anything to Flintpelt. He slowed down to a slow trot as he neared the gorse tunnel, his long tail staight up.

((I'm not sure if this is 10 non dioluge sentences...))

[Fernpaw]

((It was a typo. Sorry))

Firen looked up as Flintpelt padded to join the two of them. At his question, which seemed to be directed to both of them, she flicked her eyes away. She studied the bark of a nearby tree, as if looking for a fly. She looked at the ground and watched a beetle, she looked everywhere but Flintpelt's gaze. She shrugged vaguely, not wanting to answer the direct question.

Firen looked up as Crowfur declared he was going to Tall Pines. She flicked her tail in acknowledgement, "See ya!" she called after the cat. The beautiful she-cat tilted her head up to the sky, welcoming the warmth of the sun on her drenched coat. She hoped Flintpelt would not repeat his question.

[Spiderbreath||Soul]

Crowfur had answered, but it didn't look like Firen wanted to. Not wanting to be pushy, Flintpelt left the matter, and gave the she-cat a warm smile to show that he would not repeat the question. Once was enough.
The barred tom flicked his tail in a similar gesture of goodbye, and he called out to his departing friend.
"Later, Crow!"
His miscolored eyes returned to rest on the she-cat's firey pelt beside him. She was a beautiful feline, her fur resembling a fire more than flame itself. The two golden orbs fixed in their sockets gave away her rebellious nature, but they also held the moons of suffering she had endured. It was strange, how one single thing could have two parts entirely different from each other.

The tom became aware of the heavy water held inside his coat. He shook himself energetically, striped fur flying out on all sides as the drops flew away from him in a cascade of wetness. He settled himself down afterwards, head on silver paws, and glanced over at the she-cat.
Oops.
She was probably drenched by now. What with all the water she had received. He grimaced in what he hoped was an apologetic way, and mewed a quick 'sorry' to Firen.

((Gur, stinky post. Dunno what to say.))