Flytail
48 Moons
He/Him
Shadowclan
Flytail blinked slowly at the wide-eyed apprentice, ears twitching forward with quiet amusement. She looked like she’d seen a fox—or worse. Him. He wasn’t that scary, was he? Then came “Mister Stripes.” His whiskers twitched. “Well, that’s new,” he said, voice low and dry. “Not sure if you’re trying to be polite or just nervous. Either way, it’s… creative.” He tilted his head just enough that the pale stripes along his jaw caught the light. “Guess I’ll take it.” He sat down, not close, but close enough to see every twitch of her whiskers and the way she stumbled over her own words. She looked like she was torn between running and asking more questions. That, more than anything, kept him there. When she started talking about WindClan, bright and eager, his expression stayed mostly unreadable—but the flick of his ear said he was listening. He caught the stutter in her sentence, the sudden backpedal.Interesting. But he didn’t pry. ShadowClan cats didn’t have to ask to learn something; they just waited for others to say too much. “Pheasant,” he repeated with a snort. “Must be nice. We get frogs, mostly. Some birds, if they’re unlucky or stupid. And no, you’re not missing much. Frogs aren’t bad, just… wet.” He paused. “Caught a bat once. Nasty thing. All wing and teeth.” At her hesitant question, his gaze flicked back to her. Narrowed a little. Not with suspicion—just something sharp and thoughtful. “We’re managing,” he said. “The thaw’s been kind. Prey’s moving, marsh isn’t swallowing patrols whole, and no one’s caught greencough in a few sunrises. I’ll take it.” He leaned forward just slightly, his eyes unreadable, a little amused “You always chat this much with strange toms from the swamp, or am I just lucky enough to be today’s exception?”
@
versailles