[Ivyfeather]

Originally Posted by RosePelt145

The cold atmosphere was bitter and nippy, and leaf-bare was in full swing. Prey was scarce, so the Fresh kill Pile stayed piteously small. Every cat was working hard to keep the Clan well and strong. The camp was filled with bustling noise, warriors and apprentices and even elders working to keep the Fresh kill Pile at least somewhat stocked and the dens as closed off from the cold as possible.
In the midst of all this hustle and bustle was a young toirtoshell tom who sat in a corner of the clearing, watching the activity around him with his green gaze. Turtlepelt was his name. He didn't have any friends in SkyClan, despite his handsome features and stunning dappled coat. No, nobody even bothered to even say a simple hello. He has always been alone, but the warrior was used to it by now. Still, he longed for a friend, somebody to hang out with. Yet, he very likely could not keep said friend, since he had the unfortunate disability of being unable to talk, due to being born without vocal cords. But even if just for a little while...
Feeling slightly bored, the tom began to lick his left front paw pad, his tongue making quiet rasping sounds as he ran it over the raw skin. He had considered going to Shinefang to get the wound treated, but he would never be able to tell her the problem, and besides, it was healing well and he was doing a good job keeping it clean. After a moment of washing the wound, he set his paw down. Flicking his ears, he swept his gaze around the clearing again.
@Ivyfeather

A sleek but long-furred she-cat stepped out of the warriors dens and into the SkyClan clearing. She stretched her forepaws and sat up, leaned forward, and stretched her hind legs. She sat down and wrapped her tail around her left paw. She took her right paw, licked it, and drew it over her ears a few times. She looked up at the cold gray sky of leaf-bare and fluffed her pelt out against the frigid cold. She let her gaze drift around the clearing, seeing cats sharing tongues, sharing meals hear and there but then she saw Turtlepelt and noticed, once again, his lack of companionship. 'I wish I could be his friend, or at least talk to him, but I wouldn't want to accidentally say something insensitive or rude. I should just go over there, something will come out...or not.' Nightflower considered her first steps in making a new friend. She walked to the freshkill pile and plucked a skimpy mouse off the top and started walking toward Turtlepelt, nervous as a magpie stuck in a cave.