(alright, thanks! i'll post their starters)
Cinna-Tom-8 moons-Loner-Forest
Cinna's amber gaze was bright as he raced along a thick oak branch, bounding from tree to tree in a hustled excitement. The young tom, barely 8 moons old but already so beyond his years in maturity, had regained a kit-like gleam in his eye upon crossing the strong scent marks. He was hoping, hoping beyond all hope, that his journey had ended and he would fulfill the promise he had made so long ago to his father.
All the surrounding cats knew not to cross the strong boundaries they set about their territory, for they would be fought with tooth and claw and heart by the skillful inhabitants.
He heard his father's voice in his mind, and grinned at the thought. He was not afraid. He was not afraid because he had finally found what he had been searching for since that fateful stormy night in the alley he had known as home. He was not afraid to find the last piece of his father he would ever know.
"I'm here!" he yowled, relishing in the vast expanse of greenery, feeling the air beneath his paws as he soared over another gap. What he was not prepared for however, was the emptiness that greeted him, rather than the sturdy branch he had been expecting. The wind had thrown off his jump, and he was now tumbling in a free-fall, his descent broken only by the occasional branch in his way, though none were big enough for him to latch onto before he hit the ground with a pained yelp, vaguely aware of two voices nearby as his vision blurred.
Emberstrike-She-cat-24 moons-Warrior-Camp
Emberstrike was not in the best mood when she entered camp, but that was a surprise to no one, as it was very likely no cat alive had ever experienced Emberstrike's best mood, possibly not even the dark she-cat herself. She wasn't, however, in the worst mood either, which was good, as many cats had experienced that mood, and it was a true wonder they all escaped with their ears and tails unmarked. Then again, as strong as her anger was, her strength of will matched it, and she refused to injure her clanmates, no matter how annoying they may become. She dropped her squirrel and rabbit on the fresh kill pile, stretching the aches from carrying the large prey for such a long distance. She had found rabbits were rather rare on RiverClan's original territory, and she had travelled into ThunderClan's old turf to track one down, unable to shake the desire for a good chase. Whilst there, she had found a rather fat squirrel that she simply couldn't ignore, and had caught that too. With those catches weighing her down, she had been forced to retreat back to camp, knowing it really was quality over quantity in this case, and no one would want a rabbit dragged along the forest floor, no matter how plump it was. She relaxed in the shade by the warrior's den then, sitting alone- not unusual- and dragging her tongue through the soft fur of her chest, which was a few shades lighter than the dark ginger base coat she had on the rest of her body. She found the slow, steady task of grooming rather relaxing, and often used it as a way to unwind after a long day of hunting and such. It was no burden that it kept her pelt healthy and soft. Her green eyes flickered shut as she began to immerse herself in the patterned movements, taking the quiet to reflect back on her day.