as low as low could be [aspenpaw/open]

[Coon the Illusionist]

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[atrb=background,http://i295.photobucket.com/albums/mm141/Spottedbelly/Basiliskmain-1.png] Doing. "Talking." Thinking. "Others talking." A cool wind blew through her fur, unusual for this time of year. It came in random streams, interrupted by the medium-to-large boulders that absolutely coated this part of the countryside. She hadn't needed to wander far to see this place, and it just looked so picturesque that she just had to explore it. Though, could this have housed the 'clan' that the warrior of HillClan or TreeClan or OakClan; or whatever the hell that place was called; spoke of? Ah, it was possible. But, as all the thrill-seekers and 'adrenaline junkies' of the world hold as their motto: 'What's life without risks?' And of course, every cat had a bit of thrill-seeker in them, and the green-eyed rogue was no exception. She padded forward, her piercing eyes darting left and right to make sure no warriors were about. She didn't want to be forced off like a simple nuisance. She was better than that! However, the young rogue was going deeper and deeper into this so-called 'Clan', and someone was bound to appear. Her face took on a displeased scowl, but her paws just kept moving forward. Ah, let the warriors come! She mentally yelled, her expression shifting to one of insane excitement and thrill. Let them come by the dozen! I can take 'em! She thought about yelling this to the sky, but her brief burst of energy ended, and she rationally decided against it. But, she still stood by her mental exclamation. Those moronic 'Clanners' could come by the hundreds, and they would never catch her, in her own opinion. Her expression shifted to a simple smug grin, and she continued further into the territory. Her green eyes flashed with another, yet slightly more subdued, adrenaline spike. She could manipulate anyone! She was the real basilisk that her mother had once spoken to her, back when she was slightly sane. She was master of death! In other words, she could afford to be smug. notes;; muse suddenly died for some reason...but it's not too bad. tags;; evening and aspenpaw word count;; 328 muse;; 5/10

[---e v e n i n g]

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[atrb=background,http://i295.photobucket.com/albums/mm141/Spottedbelly/Aspenpawmain.png] post--others--thinking--speaking The sun beat down upon his pelt and sparkled on the nearby stream so that his reflection glowed when he bent down for a drink. Small silver fish swam by, not enough for a meal, but enough for a small hungry tom. His stomach rumbled just at the thought. Aspenpaw circled, or rather jumped across the mini-stream back and forth. There was a small gully under the water where she could see the tiny fish. The speckled fish swam in small groups, and unlike the usual gray-silver fish that was usually seen through the territory, they were rainbow colored, glinting in the small rays of sunlight that snuck under the gully, welcoming them like a long lost friend. He sat down, careful not to let his shadow fall into the stream like what the elders advised him to do if he ever went out fishing. Though, it was a bit uncommon for BoulderClan to fish, it wasn't banned and His eyes glinted, his claws unsheathed ready for a catch. He stared at the small fish unmoving. His eyes were soft and filled with wonder at the weird way the fish acted. Weren't fish usually solo? Didn't they just, you know, fend for themselves? She never saw them in 'clans' like his own when he had traveled near a river or stream. Then again, he didn't usually come this way for herbs so he never really would have seen it, and so far, he hadn't been out of camp in some time --well....except a few couple of days ago, but that didn't really count, did it? The wind soared through the trees, making his pelt rustle. It was green-leaf, and the creamy whiteness that covered the tree tops and grass at his feet, was slowly starting to fade away. The atmosphere lost its density, making it hard to breathe. When you blew outward, you could see the steam from your warm breath, radiating in the air. He didn't understand why the fish were out. It was pretty cold, even if today was warmer than usual. Except for the drastic temperature change, everything was normal. Usually during this season, it was dead hot --but for some reason today, it was pretty chilly --mostly from the breeze. It was one of those rare days that Aspenpaw was happy. For some reason, he felt light, and as carefree as he'd ever been. Of course, being the unlucky tom that he is: Ouch! Foxdung, he looked down at his paws, a sticky, maroon trail of blood flowed from a scratch in it. He sat down to inspect it. Puss oozed out from the spot, and he winced it pain. Urg, it was bad enough that he had to tend to others' wounds, but now he had to get hurt as well? Only StarClan could grant him this horrifying luck. Groaning, he pulled the thorn from his foot. Chervil, right? That's what he needed. Reluctantly, he got to his paws and limped toward the eastern side of the territory where he knew where some herbs grew. He padded forward for a while, until sleep nestled itself under his eyes. Mousedung, I can't sleep now, but despite his words, he soon found himself dozing off. Awakening, he looked around at his surroundings. His eyes widened as he didn't recognize where he was, opening his mouth, he let the scents come familiar with him. It smelled like BoulderClan and looked like it too, yet, strangely, it looked entirely different, and gave off an entirely different smell as well. Wait, no, he was still in the same territory --but another cat, one he didn't know, was slinking around. Who's there? he called out angrily, You better get off our territory, rouges aren't allowed here, this land is ours! he narrowed his eyes. ooc: -Headdeskheaddeskheaddesk- OH FAIL

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[Coon the Illusionist]

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[atrb=background,http://i295.photobucket.com/albums/mm141/Spottedbelly/Basiliskmain-1.png] Doing. "Talking." Thinking. "Others talking." Her ears perked up as she heard a faint noise. Not a prey sound. A sound of a cat. And yet, instead of rationally running back to her 'home' in the outside of the wheat-filled place, her black paws carried her farther and farther forward. She noticed quite a few plants growing about; perhaps they were herbs? One in particular caught her attention; it smelled so sweet. It was a large, fernlike thing with white flowers. And the scent...just wonderful. However, she was not entranced, and she knew that even the sweetest plants could be deadly poison. But, this didn't look like the 'deathberries' that she had heard about, and it certainly looked useful. She just pulled out some of the roots, just to be safe. She didn't know any poisonous roots. She kept it hooked on her claw, too. Just to be safe. If she was going to die, it wouldn't be the fault of some plant. The noise cut itself off, and the young rogue didn't know whether to relax or be alert. She decided on relaxing, and looked around for some food. The first thing she laid her eyes on was a rabbit. A plump-looking one too. She smiled a fanged, malicious smile, and got into an elementary version of the supposed 'hunter's crouch' that seemed to work so well for those idiot 'warriors'. She pounced, feeling as light as air, and the rodent attempted to bolt when it saw her pelt launching towards it. But, the claw that wasn't holding plant roots caught it by the tiny, fluffy tail, and dragged it back. Then, because she was feeling smug, she decided to take a go at doing her killer gaze. She inhaled deeply, then held it. She always found that keeping her lungs from getting any air seemed to intensify her focus, and she'd need that now. She gave the piece of prey a long, hard glare that made it look like she was trying to gaze into its soul. She added the insane fanged grin as well, just for effect. She barely even heard its breaths get shallower and shallower, and then stop. The young rogue broke the gaze then, exhaling a sigh of victory. It had gotten so scared, that it had stopped breathing altogether! She let her smile fade into a mere smug grin, and she dug in, tearing off the meat in greedily big chunks. Once she had finished her meal, she batted the bones into a shrub and went on, belly full. But then, the sound resumed. And now it was close enough to make out words. "Who's there?"

[/i] the voice called out. By the tone, it was rather angry. She tried to make out other knowledge based on it. It's male, that's for sure. The rogue with the killer gaze thought. And definitely...young. Hah! This isn't a warrior! It's just some kit wandering around! I could take him easily. The angry, young male voice continued on, despite what she thought about him. "You better get off our territory, rogues aren't allowed here, this land is ours!"

She couldn't help it. A bout of insane laughter rang in the air with a bell-like tone. It was not malicious laughter, but laughter as if finding something extremely funny. This cat was sounding oh so scary, but that young tone! It was an oxymoron in itself, and such a funny one. She almost fell over laughing, but the roots she was still carrying would get in her eyes. "Is it now?" She commented, still laughing a little. "I didn't notice, what with the fact that the only cat here is a tiny little kitten trying to sound scary!" She laughed again, her eyes almost tearing up at the sheer hilarity of it all.

But, her ears were still alert. She was pretty young herself, and there could be more warriors who wouldn't be as hilariously moronic as this kitten. Her claws were still unsheathed, but she doubted she would need them. Who knew? Perhaps this tiny little freak would just run back home and leave the young black-furred rogue to waltz back home with an air of victory. But somehow, she doubted that, too.

After all, no cat likes being insulted. And even tiny, sniveling kits like this one were cats all the same.

notes;; muse came back!
tags;; aspenpaw
word count;; 723
muse;; 8.5/10

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