Sisterly Meeting

FEATHERSTEP
With Honeypaw freshly distracted and tasked with apprentice duties to do throughout Ravenclan's camp, Featherstep took her opportunity to flee from her growing family, friends, and apprentice to pursue her own, personal tasks... And maybe some hunting while she was out, too ( to avoid stirring too much suspicion upon returning ). The task at the top of her to-do list, however? Is to find Purrella, and question the strange rogue about their previous encounters and conversations. Featherstep didn't like the idea of someone knowing more about herself than she did.

  So the pointed she-cat looked.
    And looked.
      And looked.

It's only when her muscles protest her long strides and her paw pads ache from being far too used for the day that Featherstep finally decided that she was due a break. Far from Ravenclan's camp and heading deeper out the territory than in, Featherstep found herself a nice boulder to lounge upon— an activity that she was hoping to indulge in, in peace. The young she-cat heaves herself up and onto the worn stone, claws scrabbling against the rough texture before she reaches the top with a grunt.

Balancing herself on her newly found sunbathing spot, Featherstep breathes a sigh of relief as she relaxes in a way that allows her to meld into the rock similarly to a puddle. Belly pressed flat against the cool surface, Featherstep stretches out her legs and tails with a deep exhale to try and calm her growing irritation. She'll just have a quick rest, and then... Get back up.

Maybe she'll prove to be more successful in a few minutes.

PURRSEPHONE
It was spring, thank goodness. Purrsephone thought that if winter had lasted any longer she would have been permanently blue at all of her ends. (A fascinating thought in theory but not one she herself was willing to execute.)
Now that there was officially no snow left - save for a few morsels between the most shaded corners of the valley - the new blooms of spring and summer got to work on decorating the fresh sprigs of grass with beautiful seas of purple and gold. As a molly of culture Purrsephone was infatuated endlessly by the fruits of warmer weather, and flowers were by en large her favourite.

Knowing this, Purrsephone’s chosen field was nothing short of predictable. Ravenclan’s territory was one that Purrsephone found herself well acquainted with as of recently — and after meeting her half-sister, Pumpkincloud, next to the border, it was only natural that the slender dark molly would stray close to her family again. Plus, Ravenclan’s foliage was lush — nothing like the drier cliffs of Snakeclan’s mountains or the dense undergrowth of Lynxclan’s forests. Wildflowers grew without a care in the world, their delicate petals fanning out to catch rays of sunlight and the attention of plump honeybees.

Purrsephone was in Ravenclan’s territory by now, padding gently alongside a small sandy bed that was rife with dandelions. With a lax pace, the lone feline tipped her head towards the earth and sniffed delicately at the small yellow buds — tail waving high in the air. It was almost as if she wanted to get caught. Any trained warrior would be able to hear the shifting of sand and grass beneath her paws, and the gentle rustling of low-hanging branches suddenly disturbed by her movement. Additionally, while Purrsephone was not a pungent molly, her rather minty aroma stood out viscerally amidst the damp wood and dust.

FEATHERSTEP
The last thing that Featherstep had expected upon laying down was to actually find someone, just... Not the cat that she was previously looking for. She knows that it's another feline, at the very least, by the way that mint floods her senses, causing the she-cat to crinkle her nose. The scent was far from foreign to Featherstep— she would check in with Bat regularly, and the dark-furred cat often smelled of the herbs that he willingly chose to surround himself with. But that doesn't mean it's a scent that she particularly enjoys encountering, especially at times like this. Frowning to herself, the she-cat wills herself to lift her head and look around her surroundings.

She notices the rustling, next. It causes her ears to perk and alarm to rush through her person, although Featherstep knows better than to fall to paranoia. This could easily be one of her own clanmates, or... Maybe an unfortunate prey animal— who knows. Either way, the cream warrior knows that it's time to stand to her paws and investigate. So she does just that, begrudgingly shifting her weight and leaving the peace of the rock that she had settled herself upon in favor of her duties as a Ravenclan Warrior.

"Someone there?" Featherstep questions as she bounds down, warm sand and pebbles digging into her paw pads as she makes her landing. Head angled forward, the warrior scents at the air with a grimace. Well, whoever it is, they're certainly not the cat that she's been looking for... And although she isn't typically one to indulge in curiosity, Featherstep wonders if this is a clanmate or someone else— certainly not the red-furred tomcat that she had been running into... Leopardfern didn't strike her as one that enjoyed plants.

So that leaves this down to a careless clanmate ( she can think of a few ), or a stranger that will require her to follow through with her former training. "And don't pretend you're not here," The molly adds, in an attempt to intimidate her potential opponent. "I could practically scent and hear you from camp."

PURRSEPHONE
Purrsephone had hardly paused for a moment to nip the buds of some sweet-smelling roses before her shifting paws called Featherstep into action. The slender rogue was delicately angling her chin amidst the cluster of thorn-laden stems, an unfortunate place to be when Featherstep decided to break the tranquil silence.
Shock led Purrsephone to flinch, drawing some of her soft fur dangerously close towards the brambles before she pulled herself away.

A part of Purrsephone wanted to sigh despondently as she tore her odd eyes from the red roses — there went her chance at seasonal decor for her nest... she would have to come back later for those. Roses were tough to come by in the valley, and Purrsephone wanted as many as the earth could spare to give.
For now Purrsephone decided to be reasonable and wait, peering slightly into the underbrush. The voice that she had heard was that of a presenting female... young, too. The usage of ‘camp’ let Purrsephone loosely in on the identity of her mysterious spectator.

Ah, oh dear, had she traipsed too close? Purrsephone twitched her whiskers, drawing her tongue across a paw to smooth out the ruffled fur across her jaw, picking some loose foliage on the way. Some clan cats were overtly hostile, but running would start a chase — and Purrsephone wasn’t in the mood to run anyhow. (She never was.)

”Ah, did I stray too close to the border? My apologies, really.” Purrsephone hummed, pricking her tufted ears to catch the slight rustling of underbrush. ”May I make a request? if you’re going to try and slaughter me, please do make it quick — I have plans for dinner tonight that I’d hate to miss.”
Purrsephone’s tone was gently regaling as she waited for her adversary to arrive. Many clan-born felines were all talk, and if they tried anything more Purrsephone was sure that Purrella would take care of them for her... so she had nothing to fear.

FEATHERSTEP
The sound of an unfamiliar voice is both a good sign and a bad one. On one hand, the she-cat that Featherstep is quickly approaching seems to be passive. If the response that the warrior has received is to tell her anything, that is. On the other hand... This is an unfamiliar voice, and thus an unfamiliar cat, and that means Featherstep has to work and tell her to go away. Then again, this situation could be much worse: the stranger could be aggressive, and a fight would be on Featherstep's paws. One that she was confident she would win, but would also be thoroughly annoyed by.

So she draws out an exaggerated sigh as she listens to the stranger speak, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes at the big, fancy word that's thrown somewhere in there— Starclan, slaughter? That seems a bit excessive. Slinking toward the she-cat, Featherstep is allowed a closer look at the molly as she begins to close the former distance between herself and the intruder. The cream molly would be surprised by the well-groomed appearance of the other if it wasn't terribly obvious by her voice and scent that she put pretty much all of her effort into everything involving vanity.

Featherstep would be... A little bit of a hypocrite if she commented any internal criticism about such a fact.
Even if Featherstep did know how to fight on top of her own vanity.

"I'm not going to slaughter you, shit—" Featherstep scoffs as she eyes the other carefully, her ears pressing down to her head with irritation. "—Do I look like I have the time or energy to do that? I don't. You were interrupting my very important break, in fact." Featherstep sticks up her nose with an unimpressed huff, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes yet again. This cat should consider herself lucky that she hadn't stumbled upon someone more fight eager; like Kinkbite.

"I just need you to get off the territory," Featherstep states, waving a paw and shaking her head to avoid the thought of her brother. "Can't have my clan thinking I'm slacking on the job by having you roam around here. Bad for reputation and all that junk." ... After Fawnpetal though, could Featherstep or Ravenclan really be blamed for worrying about reputation?

PURRSEPHONE
Ah, tough crowd? No bother. Purrsephone flicked her thick dark tail, coyly observing the thickets. What emerged was nearly that of Purrsephone’s expectations — a furrowed young feline, ginger and pale. The warrior’s pelt caught the sun like a wildfire, reflecting the dark green eyes that were narrowed into unrefined slits. What the newcomer thought of her hardly mattered, at least not yet, what did matter was what Purrsephone thought of them — and oddly enough the stark ginger pelt reminded Purrsephone of someone she had met recently… Pumpkincloud, was it? A pretty ginger warrior, nicer at the expense of being rather ditzy. Perhaps the two were related.

Tucking that away for later, Purrsephone swallowed the ounce of fear still left on her tongue and tilted her head at the stranger, offering an amused nose wrinkle.

”How kind! My Aunt has taught  me otherwise, of course, she has the scars to prove her point.”  Purrsephone clicked her tongue, pausing as she wondered how to play her cards before getting daintily to her paws.
”If you must worry about reputation then surely there are worse things to fret about — ah! But I get the memo.”

Purrsephone relished in the sun for a moment — seeming to take her sweet time stretching her legs and working her paws out onto the soil. Clearly this cat wasn’t one for flattery, and there was no reason to really pry as of yet — so Purrsephone chose to listen. No harm no fowl, she did enjoy life on occasion.
There was a beat of silence as Purrsephone looked around — suddenly realizing that she had absolutely lost her train of thought somewhere and had little idea of where to begin to leave from.
”I - ah - I suppose your break is too pressing to give me a walk to the border?” Purrsephone mused sheepishly, ”The forests are all so new to me, still.”

FEATHERSTEP
Featherstep watches and listens to the she-cat in front of her closely, head lopping to the side in near curiosity as the stranger speaks. What a peculiar cat— she doesn’t act like any clan cat that the twin-tailed molly has met before… So it’s safe to assume that she’s likely a very strange cat ( maybe similar to Dripdroop ), or a rogue. Featherstep would put her bet on either one. ”Your Aunt, huh?” Featherstep huffs, and she can’t help but feel that it’s much more likely that this she-cat is indeed, a rogue. It would make sense, but at the same time — the cream molly doesn’t really care to ask. Instead, she stares blankly at the she-cat who gets up onto her paws, going on about the reputation that Featherstep formerly mentioned.

And then this stranger really just… Takes a moment to bask in the sunlight shining down and stretches her limbs with a graceful smile on her face, as though she hasn’t been threatened by a warrior who could take her on in a fight with little problem. It’s an almost laughable scene and something that Featherstep wouldn’t believe if someone had told her it was an encounter that they faced. But here she is, watching it happen in front of her very own pessimistic eyes.

The situation only grows worse, along with Featherstep’s quickly thinning patience when the molly looks around, and then looks back to the spotted warrior. The clueless expression on the stranger’s face says it all. Featherstep’s break is over, and she has no right to know peace in any shape. Featherstep almost wishes that someone else was here to place a bet with her because her original guess at the she-cat being a rogue sounds… Well, just about right. Especially since the stranger doesn’t know her way around the forests that Featherstep grew up surrounded by. This she-cat is making her miss Pumpkincloud’s company, although that is sparse and rare nowadays.

She pushes down the urge to groan as she contemplates the fact that she doesn’t have a choice but to agree to lead the molly out of the territory unless she wants to waste her time with a useless fight and/or chase. ”... Yeah, fine. C’mon, I’ll show you the way outta here.” With a sharp turn on her heel, the cream, and ginger-colored molly begins to walk away from the rogue and toward the border that she memorized. They weren’t too far, so hopefully this little escort mission wouldn’t be miserable for too long.

The only indication that Featherstep gives aside from her verbal command is a flick of her twin tails.