Fisher's Point
 

Re: Fisher's Point
 

Re: Fisher's Point
 

Mulberry limped around the lake, wary of more sharp hooks to watch out for. Yesterday, she had been pursuing a squirrel and had landed on one of the cursed things. It hurt like a thorn, but proved much more difficult to remove, as there were barbs on it. She had finally gotten rid of the hook that evening, but it was swelling and she hoped it wasn't infected.
She crept up on a little wooden structure, making sure no cat was in it. Or any other animal, she thought, trying not to think of the day three days ago that she and her brother Cricket had walked unsuspectingly into the cave that had been theirs for moons and had been ambushed by a fox. They drove it off, but Cricket...
Mulberry willed herself not to think about it as she entered the shelter and curled up in a corner, feeling more lonely than ever.

Re: Fisher's Point
 

Re: Fisher's Point
 

Anteater crawled around, flat on her belly. She was trying to be careful, quiet; she had just recently discovered the abandoned camp, and through the stench of fish, she could tell there was still activity. By what, however, remained a mystery. Her theory was that it was a few rats- a nest, perhaps. Really, that was just what she hoped. Anteater was starving, her frame was growing more and more gaunt; the icey winter air was a major discouragement whenever she attempted to leave her nest in order to hunt.

But Anteater knew she would wither away if she kept that up; and her animalistic desperation to survive her thrust her out of the dirty city into the outskirts in search of rats or mice. She heard the rattling of metal in a trash pile nearby. A rat snuffing around for scraps, she decided.

Anteater crept towards the trash, listening carefully for the shifting of the debris, heavy breathing, the pattering of little feet. She couldn't help but drool. She came upon a disturbed pile of garbage, and sniffed at it to try and pick up a trail. The rancid odor of fish and scum sullied her nose, but she tried to follow it best the could. It led to a sizeable wooden box, which looked worn and moldy. The lid was slightly ajar. Readying herself to pounce, Anteater forced her head inside, drool dripping from her chops.
- @elysian hi : D

Re: Fisher's Point
 

~claw walked by the lake watching the other rogues... as his stocky , tell build walked towards all of them~

Re: Fisher's Point
 

// open!

The ragged grey tom slouched past the ruins, his nose twitching at the scent of stale fish. Bleh—not at all his favorite prey, but he'd still eat it. They were no different than slimy rats, really, mixed with the scales of dead snake.

He paid little attention to the discarded rubble lying around, brushing his tail against the trash when possible in hopes of warding off potential rivals. Granite rarely strayed far from the twolegplace; he hadn't been since that little molly gave him an unjust wake-up call. Fool—what had he seen in her, anyway? Nothing at all. Hoped she liked those cursed kits.

With a low growl, the older tomcat kicked at some strange clanging object [some sort of tin/metal can], sending it bouncing noisily into the distance. The place was beginning to crowd up. He didn't like that.

Re: Fisher's Point
 

Re: Fisher's Point
 

Blossom padded through the wasteland of little stabby things, gazing around intently at each and every next pawstep. She had no intention of stepping on one before she could find herself a nest at least. An old barrel lying on it's side provided an opportunity. It must have once held fish, it reeked of them, but unlike the majority of the things around here, it was fairly whole and wouldn't leak when it rained. She didn't forsee the potential for motion, it seemed stable enough as she climbed in, so Blossom got out again and set off, looking for materials to build her nest. As she continued through the area, noting the amount of cats that were appearing, she padded up to one of the cats right in the very middle. She was social, and liked to talk, so she found someone to do so at the first opportunity. Have you been here long? she asked politely, her eyes still roaming the area. @bmkmb

Re: Fisher's Point
 

(open)

Dawn was generally against social interaction. But she definately craved order. The cats here seemed peaceful enough, and were starting to organize a little. So after her family split up she decided to come here. Dawn was only 7 moons old and didn't have much experience with other cats. She was a good hunter and a decent fighter, though. She had settled in in hopes that this place would grow into a democratic, organized community. She was scoping out the area, trying to avoid the others.

(Yay, outsider plots!!!)