a [TOUCH] and [GO] thing

[Myxomatosis]

There was conflict on the outer boundary of Mistclan. It would be obvious, even to a casual eye; the three rogues had waylaid another, a lone tom, to get his kill. In the swirl of hisses and flashing claws, one form rose out of the middle, knocking one of the rogue trio out of the way. The lone rogue was a large tom, larger then his three opponents, and it was just as clear he was suppressing himself. He could cause more damage then he was. But one of the other rogue snapped at his neck, seeking to seize it in a crushing death blow, but he didn’t allow this, jerking his body backward quickly to imperatively dodge such an attack, one heavy paw darting out as he lunged at the other two the side, smashing down full force in the junction between the other tom’s neck and spine. There was a sickening crunch, the sound reverting through the area, and the body hit the ground. Gold eyes, one amber-gold, the other, the blind one, pale-gold turned to see the other two rogues who would have ended his life on that day were already fleeing. Myxomatosis sighed, loosening his shoulders as he stood there. There was a breeze, cool and comfortable, but still, he just didn’t understand why. Was prey so scared that the three had chosen to risk their life to steal the small rabbit he had killed, and one actually losing his life? He regretted killing the other tom, another sin to add to the weight that would forever burden his heavy heart.

Salvationchain would be sad. That thought brought pain, and Myxomatosis buried his love’s memory away, deep inside his heart once again. Almost as if he had forgotten his dinner, he turned to look at the rogue he had killed. ”You died honorably.” For there was no more honorable than dying in battle, save for dying in protection and defense of one’s clan. The scarred and battle weary brown tom moved; paws digging into the soil as he begun to dig a shallow grave so to bury his foe. It was hard to explain what he was feeling, had to confirm anything really, but the black tabby-streaked face of his, the only part of his body with those dark markings, was blank as he dug away.

[Shadow Spirit]

The pretty leader loooked fragile, but she was as strong as the waters that churned in the river. Light on her feet and quick as a falcon, she was often mistaken for something other than a cat. She stood high on the stones overlooking the river, slick with green-leaf rain. She presided over her glimmering home with all the tenacity of a badger and the tenderness of a kit-mother. So to say she was surprised to see warriors being buried on her territory, was an understatement.

She flew down to the cat who seemed to be the victor of the battle. Even through the acrid stench of blood, she could tell he was a tom.

"Just what do you think you're doing?!" she demanded of him.

[Myxomatosis]

The she-cat, one filled with the air of authority, did not originally elect a response from the large brown cat, his paws scraping away at the ground until he had himself a shallow tomb for the deceased rogue tom. Then he looked towards her for the first, time, his black tabby-barred face expressionless. The right eye, sun-gold and bright, remained fixated somewhere in the distance, while the darker left eye, the color of dark amber, watched her.

Ah, she was young. Younger then he was by moons and moons, true, but experienced as well. The tom that had once been Wutaiclan’s top executioner finally shifted, his head bowing respectfully. “He was an enemy who fought grandly in battle, leader-dono. It would be dishonorable to allow any warrior’s remains to be desecrated by the night scavengers, so I shall bury him.”

[Shadow Spirit]

Lillystar was surprised by his formality. The bowing and his speech were much like Dragonpelt's had once been. Shadowstreak often told her of his talk ending with -san this and -chan that. She softened her gaze slightly, appealing to his respectful tone, but she was still angry.

"You might have asked first...before using my territory as a grave site..."

[Myxomatosis]

The half-blind tom blinked, bowing his head even lower. “Leader-dono, it is tradition to bury a warrior where they fell, lest they are incapable of entering the realms of Starclan.” He had a note of genuine confusion in his voice, did the young leader not know of the proper Traditions? Ah but he had forgotten tho, this was not the land he knew so well. He was far, very far, from his home. You have no home, lone ronin without a master… Myxomatosis lowered his gaze, as was proper, rathering that then to meet her gaze and hold it. He had nothing to hide; nor had he truly been the one to start any conflict within her territory. “I apologize, leader-dono. If you would like, you may take retribution of blood from me after I bury him.” Some leaders required such payments from crimes. They would wound and maul those hurt, and even facing that he would rather it happen then to break tradition.

[Shadow Spirit]

Lillystar had not heard of this custom, though it was possible that it was unique to rogues...or perhaps it was commonplace where this cat came from.

"You misunderstand me, this is not how we do things in the Clan way of life...all our dead are brought home and buried near where they lived...after the proper grieving period has been observed..." she said, looking closley at him. Not unkindly, but acutely interested.

[Myxomatosis]

His ears pricked carefully forward, eyes raising a little so to take another look at the leader-cat. “I left my home moons ago, leader-dono. I apologize; sometimes I forget that others have customs and traditions that are dissimilar from those that I once bore.” He listened to her words, nodding slightly to himself. “That is similar in such that we bury those young, or queens, or the elderly or sick near where they laired. Only warriors are buried where they fell; as a symbol of honor and respect.”