x__and when these nights get cold

[Bristleclaw]

i want you by my side.

Ohh, life.

God damn those star-loving clan cats, attacking loners with their patrols. Singe stalked through the long grasses, her brow furrowing in frustration.

Why the hell couldn't she take one damned mouse from Treeclan's territory? Sure, she had been at least a few foxlengths over where she had noticed a change in the scent of the place, but who really gives a rat's ass about territories? What true cat would really care.

A starving one, of course. But what cat was starving right now?

"f**k this!"

Singe's yowl was sure to have met those assholes' ears, over in Treeclan, but why should she care if they knew what she thought of them? It's not like she'd ever see them again, and of course if she did, they'd never see daylight after.

But, oh well. Those stupid clanners. Why live in a big group, with tens of mouths to feed? Idiotic, really.

Absolutely ridiculous. Making more work for yourself.

Within a half a second of viewing the little rodent in front of her, Singe had messily killed the mouse, while blood spattered the ground around the body. What a sight.

[Kest]

instincts are reduced to teeth that bite the hand that feeds.

"Such explicit profanity for such a pretty little cat."

A dark-furred cat shouldered his way through the long grass, his own mouse dangling from his jaws.
He was a large tom, tall and broad-shouldered, and although he was not exactly young, obvious muscles rippled under his tabby pelt. He looked rather cooly down at Singe through blue eyes.

"You might want to tone it down a bit," he meowed. "At least on the loudness front. There are young cats around."
He didn't sound particularly concerned, though. If anything, he sounded bored.

Not suprisingly.
He'd been circling the Rogue Meadow for more than half a moon now, and for the most part, it was a wild goose-chase. His nephew's scent was nowhere to be found. Every now and then, he almost thought he caught a faint trace of it...but it was only wishful thinking. Either Saigon moved on, or by blind luck he continued to evade his uncle's keen sense of smell. The first was more likely.
Or maybe he was dead.

Buster sat and tore into his mouse, looking thoroughly disheartened. What do I do if this goes on? he asked himself. If I can't find my only kin, or if--forbid--he's dead?
He turned this over in his head. He had no home, no friends, and nowhere to go.
He took a giant bite. I join a Clan, he thought. That's it, or just stay here.

Speaking of finding..."You haven't happened to see a black cat, have you? Sort of skinny, with blue eyes like mine?" he quiered hesitently.
She seemed like the might be the sort of cat who'd tear your face off for daring to adress her. Buster watched her closely from the corner of his eye, staying alert as only those with paranoia can.

[/blockquote]

[Bristleclaw]

i want you by my side.

Ah, wonderful, another cat to join her. Oh, he seemed perfectly polite, too. Great.

"Such explicit profanity for such a pretty little cat."

Oh, a pedophile here to rape her, grand. The weird ways Singe's mind worked; her first thought when she caught sight of the big, dark tom was: "Rape."

"You might want to tone it down a bit, at least on the loudness front. There are young cats around."

Singe looked up slightly from her mouse to glare at this new tom from under her lashes.

"Thanks so much for the advice, but I think I'm good. Now skedaddle."

It was obvious that he wasn't in any rush to leave, but she didn't care much for him at all, even so soon after meeting her. Well too bad, she had to look out for number one, and he came close to dead last in her books.

Singe watched as the large tom ripped at the mouse he had caught himself; a tiny bubble of respect rose inside her. At least he wasn't too much of a dumbass to hunt for himself.

"You haven't happened to see a black cat, have you? Sort of skinny, with blue eyes like mine?"

Great. Just peachy; he was only here to ask about other cats?

"No, I haven't seen any cats for a while except those fatass Treeclan idiots. You know those idiots won't even share a mouse?"

She finished with a slight grin. It wasn't her own nature to share, really. It wasn't her nature to save a dying cat.

But hey, it wasn't her nature to let that dying cat writhe in agony for too long, either.

[Kest]

instincts are reduced to teeth that bite the hand that feeds.

Buster sighed. Still no luck. Saigon, where the hell are you?

"Well, Clans can be like that, I've heard," he meowed, pushing the remains of his meal back and forth, looking thoroughly disinterested.
"You're lucky TreeClan didn't kill you for trespassing on their land. I've heard of Clans that would."

The dark tabby extended a claw, hooked one of the mouse's delicate exposed bones, and spun the carcass around in a circle. He preceded to do this for at least another minute, creating a shifty rasping noise that was probably very irritating to Singe.

He said, "It's just that I'm looking for someone of that description. Name of Saigon."

Buster paused and glanced at the she-cat. "If you happened to run into him, you could tell him Buster's looking for him."
He went back to pushing the mouse around. He doubted she would actually say anything even if she did run into him.
"It's not like doing an act of kindness would kill you."

A note of irritation crept into his voice there. Some of these cats were so self-absorbed that they refused to do even the simplest of favors for another cat. It was absurd. It was like their self-imposed aloofness was some sort of image they felt they had to maintain. What, was it about looking tough? 'I'm one tough loner, don't need no one, biaaatch!'?

Buster ran a claw through the mouse's body, pinning it to the earth with a growl. Absurd.

[/blockquote]

[Bristleclaw]

i want you by my side.

"Well, Clans can be like that, I've heard."

Singe snorted, her grin growing.

"You're lucky TreeClan didn't kill you for trespassing on their land. I've heard of Clans that would."

Her smile faded a bit, her sage green eyes narrowing.

"I bet I could outrun 'em."

The mischievious glint came back into her eyes then, and she looked at Buster with a slightly crooked yet pretty, charming grin. She fell lightly onto her belly and began to tear into the mouse she'd caught, splattering more of its still warm blood onto the ground.

The gray and white tabby finished the little rodent quickly, chewing to the beat that Buster's raspy spinning was making. As soon as her mouse was gone, the only thing left its skeleton, the sound immediately began to annoy her.

"Stop it!"

"It's just that I'm looking for someone of that description. Name of Saigon."

Singe didn't respond, only continued to glare at him for the noise he was making.

"If you happened to run into him, you could tell him Buster's looking for him."

Rasping noise gone; she was happy and began to actually listen to Buster.

"It's not like doing an act of kindness would kill you."

Oh of course, using sarcasm against the mean rogue, that's right. But, she knew that if she ever ran into this Saigon fellow, she'd remember Buster, and think, Well, why not.

Singe thought for a moment, then answered in a sharp mew.

"Fine. If I ever see this Saigon cat, I'll tell 'im.

But, who is this guy? What're you doing in the Meadow?"

[Kest]

instincts are reduced to teeth that bite the hand that feeds.

"Thanks," he said shortly.

"But, who is this guy? What're you doing in the Meadow?"

"Well..." Buster hesitated.
Then: Screw it. It's not like it's some big secret.

"Saigon's my nephew," he meowed. "It's sort of a sordid story, actually. My brother and I used to live in this forest about a moon's walk from here. The place was almost empty; no Clans and almost no cats but ourselves. Me and Minh, his mate Chloe, and his three sons, Veldt, Mau, and Saigon. But then there was FangClan."
The dark cat scowled, a low rumble rising in his chest. "They were a hell of a lot nastier than the Clans around here. They had no honor, no real organization...stabbing each other in the back at every opportunity. Filthy cats," He spat. "They traveled out in gangs, basically screwing with cats they came across. They came across us one day, and by the time they finished their fun, only Mau, Veldt, Saigon, and I were alive."
This was awhile ago. Buster's voice stayed low and growly with irritation, but most of his anger had faded with time. So he remained relatively monotone, even when he went on to the worst part:
"We had a few moon's peace. Then they came back. This time, they killed Mau, Veldt, and Veldt's mate. I don't remember her name. They knocked me into the river. They took Saigon."
His unsheathed claws dug into the earth. "When I recovered, I followed them. I have a sense of smell that's better than most cats, so I managed to track them down. It took awhile. Both my recovery, and the tracking. And when I got to FangClan, Saigon was gone."
Buster clicked his teeth together with something like satafaction. "FangClan are cowards," he said. "All I had to do was show them their apprentice's body and they bowed right down."

Buster fell silent for a few moments, concentrating on digging a hole in the dirt. He scooped the mouse's remains in and buried them.
Then he finished: "I tracked Saigon's scent here. Then the trail ran cold."

He gave a short, huffy sigh, then began cleaning one paw. Matter-of-factly, he added, "I haven't smelt a hair of him since. He's my only kin, so I either need to find him, or find his body."
Buster wasn't the sort who'd shy away from a statement like that. Saigon might very well be dead; why bother pretending?

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