Every Single Place I Roam [closed]

The thick swath of gorse that carefully concealed the vulnerable contents of WindClan's camp was heavily laden with fresh growth, bright flowers and buds weighting down each of the spindly tendrils that curled skyward in a menacing gesture of strength. The entirety of the camp was dusted in a soft coating of brilliant yellows and greens, the dry grounds revived by the gentle kiss of warmer weathers. Soft springs of sweet grasses and vibrant heather blossomed up from the sandy hollow of the camp, aiding the fallen flower petals in their unwitting attempt to further soften the ground below one's paws.

Although Brindlestar took care in her exiting of the gorse tunnel to ensure that her coat wasn't unintentionally snagged against the curling claws of the hanging thorns, even the gentlest movement was enough force to send down a shower of enticingly sweet petals raining down against her back. Tongue curling against her teeth, she resisted a shiver at the faint prickle of the hooked gorse thorns scoring lightly through the wild mane of her coat. It had only been a moon or so since she had officially taken over WindClan, but she still made an effort to attend patrols as needed- it felt too strange to hang about camp, especially knowing that she still had two Apprentices to oversee.

Shaking away her dusting of overly sweet smelling little flowers and growths, the lanky she-cat turned to await the entrance of her companion. Rockpaw had earned his new name and status the previous evening, and now he would be given his traditional first look at the Clan's territory; an adventure that would likely take up a good portion of their day.

Rockpaw gobbled down a mouse in a few bites as Brindlestar exited the camp. He swallowed and glanced at the camp a final time before trotting after her, tail high. It was his first time out of camp, and the gorse tunnel pulled and scratched at his thin pelt more than he would've liked. Rockpaw shook out his fur and glanced at his mentor, who was looking at him. He gave a small smile and turned to survey the moor. It was a large, open plane. Beautiful golden grass swayed gently in the breeze, and Rockpaw's gaze wandered farther, up towards the sky. It wasn't blocked by the open land, and Rockpaw liked that. He glanced back at Brindlestar and asked, "Is it always this pretty?"

A soft puff of laughter escaped Brindlestar's teeth in the form of a steamy cloud, the damp warmth of her breath rapidly dissipating alongside the slippery presence of early morning humidity. Even to those who completely lacked a sense of situational awareness, it was obvious that Rockpaw was practically overcome with a tangible excitement at his first glimpse of the vast outside world. Redirecting her gaze towards the seemingly infinite smear of grasses and freshly-blossoming foliage, the Leader couldn't help but agree with her younger counterpart's sentiments- the moor was quite beautiful, a far cry from the muddy expanse of hills and shriveled grasses that it had become during the cold season. "Hardly," She refuted with a slight twitch of her ears, "During Leaf-Fall and Leafbare, it's so barren out here that one would think the entire territory had been ravaged by a fire." For a moment, it was almost as though she was speaking to Breezepuddle again, the young tom's mannerisms reminiscent of her late daughter's palpable delight during their first excursion of the territory.

Gesturing for Rockpaw to follow close behind, Brindlestar hardly wasted a moment before she began to make her way up the incline that encircled the camp. The gradual slope that concealed WindClan's camp was hardly steep, but the recent onslaught of heavy rains just made the journey a bit more tedious and difficult. It was hard enough to push through swathes of prickly grasses, but it was even more difficult to do so while attempting to not stumble over a cleft or protruding rock that was uncovered by the frequent Newleaf rains. As Brindlestar and Rockpaw worked their way towards the crest of the ridge, the steady hum of the wind rose to a choppy buffet that whipped and lashed at the lush grasses and flowering plants that resided along the slope. Although it was quite warm already despite how early it was in the season, the insistent presence of the wind was hardly enjoyable- in fact, the initial step up to the top of the ridge blasted the Leader in the face with a bout of wind so strong that it nearly sent her staggering back a pace or two.

Reflexive tears rushing up to meet the harsh slap of the wind, and austere features awkwardly crunched up in an attempt to combat the unwanted stimulus, Brindlestar turned to look down at Rockpaw- who had yet to reach the top of the slope. "The wind will stay pretty strong while we're traveling the highlands," She had to raise her voice quite substantially to make her cautionary warning heard over the hum of the wind, "But that's where all of the exciting sights are found- and I believe it's safe to assume that you'd prefer to see all of the places that your Clanmates speak of?"

Rockpaw inhaled the sweet scent of the flowers blossoming along the edge of the camp entrance, reveling in the cold air that sharpened their fragrance. He jerked his head up as Brindlestar answered his question, and he flicked his tail, marveling once again at the huge expanse of waving golden stalks. I don't think I'll be able to imagine what that looks like until I see it for myself. It looks too nice to ever change. But Rockpaw trusted his mentor, and his gaze swept the moor, drinking it all in before he turned to her, quickly falling in line behind him as they began to walk.

He dug his claws into the slippery ground. Rockpaw would not be the definition of graceful. He was lanky, with big paws and feet that always seemed to trip over themselves. Determined to make a good impression on his mentor, he carried on, somehow only tripping a few times. After one such time, he puffed up, noticing how the wind had grown stronger. It made sense, as they were gaining in elevation. Rockpaw's thin coat didn't protect him well, but he enjoyed the feeling. When he glanced around, it was beautiful to see the moor rippling in the wind, as if it were a sea of golden grasses, with waves upon waves crashing down on eachother. Glancing back up at Brindlestar, he puffed out a cloud of breath and quickly scrambled forwards, fluffing out his wiry coat as best he could. He had to prick his ears to catch her words, and even then, he missed a few. The wind will stay strong... traveling the highlands... exciting sights... to see all the places...

That was certainly enough to persuade him to join her, and he scrambled up, using Brindlestar as a windbreaker. He stared down, whiskers twitching, noting how the camp seemed smaller from this distance. "Yes, please! It's so pretty from here already." Rockpaw gave her a grin, bouncing up and down on his toes, waiting for her to continue. The wind wasn't bad if she took it for him, as she was currently doing.

After catching wind of the blatantly obvious excitement on behalf of Rockpaw, Brindlestar couldn't help but snort out a dry laugh- which was quickly consumed by the enveloping hunger of the relentlessly rattling winds. Living out on the moorlands was hardly glamorous, even during the more forgiving seasons such as Newleaf- the initial flowering was likely the most visually pleasing aspect of the craggy hills and slopes. Perhaps she had been too quick to berate the forest-dwellers and Kittypets for doing everything in their respective powers to avoid exposure to the elements. If flowers were one of the most exciting things to look forward to, then perhaps the other Clans weren't wrong to give such befuddled glances.

Blinking back a secondary wave of instinctive tears and sniffling that arose from the choppy slap of the wind, the Leader briefly directed her attention skyward. An inky blot was idly drifting by, several countless leagues high above where the pair of WindClanners stood, a sorely evident mark against the starkly colored late morning sky. Keeping track of the whereabouts of the hawks and other predatory birds that plagued the moor was often the best indicator of whether or not any prey was to be found during the day- although it inevitably meant that there would be fierce competition to reach the unlucky victim first.

Giving herself another rigorous shake, which was worth absolutely nothing in terms of providing any further relief from the way the wind plastered and buffeted her fur in different direction, the Leader redirected her attention to her younger counterpart. "We'll start with traveling the borders," Brindlestar mewed, raspy voice forced to a higher level than normal to ensure that Rockpaw heard her clearly, "And if we're lucky enough, we might stumble across something worth hunting while we're out- that'll be a good way for you to test out your basic skills." Striding forward once more, the Leader forcibly reigned in her pace to a brisk trot as she began to trek in the direction of the hawks, hoping to ensure that Rockpaw wouldn't be anymore worn out than absolutely necessary, considering that they had quite the day ahead of them.

Rockpaw nodded at his mentor's words, not willing to dry his voice out by yowling over the wind. Head down, ears flat against it, he prowled after his mentor, fighting desperately not to lose his footing. The wind buffeted his pelt as they trotted together. As Brindlestar glanced up at the sky, Rockpaw did the same, curious. Was that a bird? It looked like a small, dark blot, but it was either a bird or a twoleg thing. Rockpaw glanced at Brindlestar and tried to think about where they were going, but the a sudden gust of wind broke his concentration, and he sighed, a sound that was immediately lost to the breeze. After that, he devoted all of his thought to making it to... wherever they were going.

Reflexive tears continuously simmered in the corners of Brindlestar's narrow field of vision, a glistening haze that effectively captured the damp sunlight, splintering into a collection of crystalline fragments on the very edges of her line of sight. Every futile attempt to gather up a semblance of regulation in regards to her breathing, which was made staccato by the unforgiving presence of the wind, was quickly derailed by an unseemly sneeze or two. The one truly unbearable aspect of the warm seasons- all of the star-forsaken pollen and flowers just made everything so unpleasant! Biting back another dissatisfied sneeze, the young Leader forcibly concealed a wince as her fur was once again unpleasantly plastered about along the length of her body in a destructive array.

The moorland cats continued their slow-going pace for what likely felt like several hours, snaking a winding path up through steep clefts and rolling ridges as they pursued the idly drifting hawks, only the occasional shrill shriek providing evidence that the predators were aware of their unwanted companions.

The moorlands rolled out before Brindlestar and Rockpaw, a vibrant sea of hills and clefts freckled with the soft presence of new growth- an enticing blossom of greens, golds, and purples that stood out immensely against the lackluster soils of the rocky earth. The dark smudge of the treeline, slowly creeping across the length of the horizon, gradually grows closer and closer under their steady trekking. Before them, a gently rounded hill softly gradually sloped out with each incremental tail-length, eventually providing the cradle that offered up the secluded gathering place of Fourtrees. The air was heavy with an unpleasantly muddled mess of scent-markers here, the familiar scent of WindClan diluted by the stale presence of other Clans.

"Fourtrees," Brindlestar mewed after gradually halting at the gentle crest of the ridge they currently stood upon, "admittedly not very impressive during the day, but it's quite the spectacle whenever you're here with countless other cats during the full moon."