(so darn sorry for the wait)
Beguile wrote:ＮＥＷＴ
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Loner || Female || Tags; Reddish
The young tom bounded ahead, and Newt chuckled, quickening her pace as her companion seemed rather eager to get on his way. Her mind began to wander, and Newt frowned among her thoughts. Had Reddish made the right choice? The voices in her head had disagreed, and for some reason, she just had to get the young tom back to what was now NightClan. Reddish had began to speak, and Newt turned her attention to the tom as he spoke of a clearing, before he stopped for a moment, considering his words. He was quiet for a moment, and Newt tilted her head to the side, saying nothing as he finished off his sentence and forced a smile onto his face. Perhaps something traumatic had occurred at that place? Newt had no means to pry, so the she-cat quietly followed her friend, chewing the bottom of her muzzle as she too, was silent. "The cat that Silverwing elected to be their leader is my half-brother, you know," Newt spoke, looking over at her friend, whiskers twitching. "We have not spoken for a while, dear Hatter and I. It is nice to see that he is doing something good with his life."
Reddish's whiskers twitched in surprise and he turned back around, surveying Newt curiously. "You guys are littermates?" he asked, curious. His gaze glanced over Newt's pelt, the shape of her body, her facial features; if he looked very closely he could see distinct resemblances; he couldn't be sure, but perhaps it was in the angling of the pointed ears, the length of the tail, the sharp clean gaze of both their eyes; yes, they did look rather alike.
"That's pretty cool!" he commented. "I'm sure he'll be a great leader, he seemed pretty nice. Viperstar sounds like a good name for him," he added, purring.
His pawsteps slowed until he was ambling mildly along the path. With a jolt he recognized the well-worn trail; very, very faintly he caught a whiff of his own stale scent wandering along the path. He glanced up, and there was the old spruce tree that he used to like climbing.
Ahead, the mountains loomed. The snow had mostly covered it, but he could still see the huge, tumbled rocks and the crumbled cliffs that had taken his siblings' lives and almost his own. They had reached the clearing.
Now he was perched right between the graves of Tawny and Skipper, his brothers. Paws carefully placed so as not to disturb the soil of their resting places, Reddish pointed with his tail up into the mountains.
"When I was a kitten, I lived with my father and littermates right up there," he mewed to Newt, feeling the need to break the silence. "It was real hard finding prey, but we got by. And the view was great."
He inwardly sighed and added wistfully, "I had a younger brother named Sparrow, once. He was a sickly kit and was pretty weak, but every morning when the atmosphere was clearest, he'd drag me up and make me watch the sunrise with him," he recalled.
He gazed at Newt, and with a sudden jolt he realized he hardly knew the kind, caring she-cat that stood before him. "Where did you use to live when you were little?" he asked, a curious look on his wide eyes.
