signal fires (open)

The night was something special to the black medicine cat. With its silence and shadows, it stretched across the land in a way that day could never change, and brought the air of uncertainty with it After all, the night hid things that they day tried to bring to the attention of all. He supposed, he was a bit like the night, and that was the way Beetleberry would rather have it too. A cat that moved in a way that could decide the fate of anyone who stepped out without the upmost care. The thought brought the faintest smirk to the tom’s face as he turned away from the last few berries he’d been carefully storing away in the front pockets of the den.

Flurrypaw was like usual, asleep. She seemed to do that a lot, enough to make him roll his eyes almost permanently. He supposed that was better than hearing her talk ever moment she was conscious. There were worse cats in the clan, but he sorely wished that the apprentice of use to him wasn’t such an irritation at times. Then again, slowly but surely, they were adjusting. He was getting used to her questions and she seemed to want to put effort into the training, which would always be beneficial. Soon enough, he’d be able to introduce some of his beliefs to her, after she came in contact with the other clans for the first time.

Looking toward the den entrance, however, he decided that he did have one more lot of berries to collect, for the pile that was carefully concealed behind a few rocks at the very back of the den. His special supply for those who needed to be gone. Night would always be the best time to restock that particular pile after all, and not a trip he needed his apprentice for. Careful and quiet paws led him out of the den, and carefully across the camp, picking his way along the small path between nests and sleeping bodies toward the entrance. His black pelt meshed well with the darkness of the night. Soon enough he was emerging from the camp, and quietest eased himself past the entrance guard, offering a small smile as he went. The cat didn’t question him.

However, up the hill toward Outlook Rock, he could see another figure. Rowanfrost, if he was correct. That was a cat who would more than likely question him if he were to simply continue. No, instead, Beetleberry made up his mind, and moved forward, graceful, smooth movements turning slightly more bouncy and carefree as he approached the rock, gaze moving up toward Rowanfrost. “You look more alert than our main guard over there,” he meowed softly, gesturing with his tail back toward the camp. “Are things peaceful enough out here to be safe to venture?” There was concern laced into his voice as he glanced across the moors, before back to Rowanfrost, amber eyes gentle. Not that he cared if it wasn’t, but, it made sense to ask, at least for appearances.

There was a slight twitch to the medicine cat’s tail, bright amber gaze focused too carefully on the warrior’s every move, as Rowanfrost gave a shrug and seemed, well, as though he was above his companion across the moor. The mere thought made Beetleberry’s whiskers quiver with amusement. Warriors were so cute sometimes in their big strong act, as though they were better than each other and those around them. All of them were the same in the end. Cats with claws who lay at the mercy of the deciders of fate. The black tom resisted the urge to shake his pelt in preference of watching the crooked grin that settled on the other tom’s face.

“All the excitement out here keeps me awake.” Ah, sarcasm, what a wonderful way to start a conversation. Beetleberry hid his inner exasperation with an amused twitch of his whiskers, one ear flicking as he ducked his head slightly. “Safe enough for a kit without it’s mother. Out for a bit of late-night gathering, then? Some herbs only perform their best when harvest in the dark?” Oh if only Rowanfrost knew. That would clean up this attitude of him somewhat. But, no matter. The truth wasn’t important to warriors. Instead, Beetleberry gave a chirp of a laugh, giving a little shrug. “I, um, I don’t know if they do or not. I’m sorry,” he meowed, giving a sheepish grin and ducking his head.

Please. Don’t insult my art. “I um, couldn’t sleep, though, so I thought, hey, a little walk and some tasks done while Flurrypaw sleeps sounds like a good idea!” His voice held a lot of cheeriness, a quiet sort that didn’t quite interrupt the silence of the moors, but injected enough energy into the air to stand out as a different noise to the expected. The medicine cat’s ears flattened against his head for a moment, before straightening, as Beetleberry did, folding his paws in close to his body. “But, you’re always so swell to have a chat to, so I thought I’d come say hi!” Yes, as swell as a two day-old mouse. Beetleberry ducked his head again. “Am I the only one that’s come out this way? I’m sorry to disturb you.”