Life in ReedClan was simple: awaken at dawn, join patrol if needed, hunt, scent, mark borders and return home to lounge in the sun. Most called them “lazy” and “unskilled”, but what was the point of getting into trouble unless one had to? Mackerelslip was always confused about her fellow Clans over such a fact. They were worried about purity, sanctity and borders. It was always borders borders borders, and by the end of the day, she was sick of smelling the dusty earth coming from across the way. The scent of fermented weeds and herbs made her nose wrinkle as she patrolled, day in and day out. While she could understand the comfort it may bring to another, it was a commodity she could not wrap her head around. However, as her patrol came closer and closer to the border, she snuck away from them in an attempt to find herself closer than ever, heterochromic eyes brimming with excitement like a kit just out of the nursery.
‘BreezeClan,’ she pondered, purring delightedly as her paws drew her nearer and nearer to the scent markings dividing the lands. The dirt squelched underpaw, and she chuckled half-heartedly as she finally made it to her destination.
“So, this is it.” Her mew was quiet, a wondering twinkle in her eye as she took the sight in, soft pelt feeling the faintest breeze coming from on high. Mackerelslip breathed a quiet sigh and sat down, curling her tail over her paws and examining the terrain before her. It made her wonder just how different their lives were compared to hers. Perhaps they didn’t have it as hard, or perhaps harder than her own. If she met another Clan cat, perhaps she could inquire.
StarClan knows that would be a big “if”, though.
Taking in the scene through two orbs the color of slitted green leaves, the tom stared at her. His expression gave no sign of surprise but instead, a modest amount of amusement. Traveler. It was an interesting choice of words, when he most expected an insult regarding the scar across his muzzle, the most popular among them, it seemed. "Solace," he repeated, nostrils flaring as a breath pushed through his lungs. "You're seeking comfort from rival, BreezeClan cat?"
His eyes wandered over the waters of their territory. The sight of their fish-scented depths reminded him of where his webbed paws came from. Though he held the ability to tread their waters, he denied it. He would forever stay confined to the land, where he belonged.
The charcoal tom blinked back to her. He couldn't help but feel interested in what she was looking for, but he didn't feel an appeal to converse with the enemy. His suspicions kept him from adventuring into the unknown. "No," he answered simply, curling his tail over his paws. "I suggest you turn away from these borders immediately."