Lost? Of course not.

[☆ Y e l l o w ☆]

No cat had noticed her as she quietly slipped out of camp. If anyone had noticed, they hadn't tried to stop her. After the naming ceremony ended and the Clan started to calm down, Whiteheart found herself with her thoughts running worriedly. She was still high-strung from the frightening battle with the dog and her mind was jumbled with all the recent events. And she knew staying in the crowded camp would only make her more anxious. So, despite her new fear of the territory, she ventured from camp to take some time by herself.

She purposely went in the opposite direction of the chestnut tree, where they encountered the dog. Terrified that there may be more dogs lose somewhere, she scented the air constantly. But she never caught another whiff of dog scent. As she walked she was able to think more about all the troubles that plagued the Clan, and her as well.

She worried about Honeypaw, the apprentice who had been struck by the dog and knocked out. Would the younger cat be okay, she wondered? Feathercloud probably knew what she was doing. Although she had a lot of patients to divide her attention between, she had faith in the medicine cat. And then when she heard that they were possibly going into battle against ThunderClan, Whiteheart hadn't known what to think. Of course she didn't think the fighting was necessary. It was only ShadowClan trying to weaken the already small ThunderClan. If it was more territory they needed, couldn't they just expand backward, away from the other Clans? They wouldn't have to patrol as much or worry about prey-stealing from other Clans. She sighed inwardly at the situation. She didn't understand many things, including the reasoning behind much of Clans' actions.

It occurred to her finally that she had wandered quite far, almost as far as her thoughts wandered. She was still in ShadowClan territory, but approaching the edge of it, a place where cats didn't often go. Nearby she heard a splash and a frog jumped into view, creating ripples in the small puddles it hopped in. In a flash Whiteheart had pounced and killed it. At least now she had something to take back to camp. She looked around uncertainly, trying to remember the last time she had been in this place. The ground was still soggy like most of ShadowClan's territory, but the undergrowth was more thick here and there were far less trees. Her tail twitched nervously as she thought of backtracking to more familiar territory.

((For Whiteheart and Lark.)) x3

[spike]

Wynter had allowed him a moment of rest. Well, she actually had shooed him off quite rudely. The tom paused and ruffled his wiry pelt. He sighed as he glanced downward at the puddle closest to his paws. "Nightfur," he growled viciously. "Why'd ya go, huh? Why?" His claws unsheathed and buried into the mud before he lashed out with extreme speed to tear at the reflection. He hated his reflection. He saw the insanity.

"Wynter will be mad," he then murmured. "Be good, Lark. She'll say to be good. Be good, be good." His pale eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion of the mind. His body, the muscular legs stretching far for more coverage, flowed well over the thick mud. Though he was of the ThunderClan progeny, Lark found that the mud was not a hassle. Not to mention the supposed "reek" of ShadowClan was nothing.

"ShadowClan?" Lark said aloud as he caught a fresh scent of them. This was the edge of the territory. Lark might've been insane, but not stupid. He roamed only the edges. "Just as Wynter said to do," the rogue whispered. "Just like Wynter said." He snuck through the long, looming shadows in search of the owner. It really wasn't hard to see the white she-cat nearby. She just stood out.

Actually... she was pretty. Lark found that she reminded him of Nightfur's sister. This she-cat had the touch of black, a bit less than his memories showed, that was a perfectd compliment to the white. Yes, she was a fine reminder to his past. His ears flicked to hear the splash as well. While he did not pounce, she did. Lark hadn't realized the hunger he was in until she returned with the frog. He had only hunted for Wynter and the No-Name cat. He hadn't hunted for himself. "Oh," he moaned as his stomach echoed the call a bit louder. "Wynter doesn't feed me," he whispered so quietly that the words rumbled together. "Don't feed me. Fed her, don't feed me. Fed her, don't feed me." He shook his head then decided to go for whatever was best for him.

Lark walked ahead and tried to look frightening. He tried to glare and bristle dangerously. But this she-cat just reminded him too much of his past. She seemed nervous anyways. Why take advantage of that? How cruel could that have been on her? He felt his face fall and his pelt suddenly aquired a heavy feeling to it. Worn. That was the word that described how he felt. Worn. So he just cautiously walked forward with his body tucked down slightly. He had little sense in the way of hunting ShadowClan prey. He had to hope that he could pull off the 'hungry loner' look. He was sure he was in her view now. So he averted his eyes from hers and tried to clear his throat. "S-sorry, sorry," he stammered and repeated. "I don't wanna bother you. No, I don't wanna. Sorry, sorry. But I'm hungry, you see. You're a good ShadowClan cat. A good cat, yes indeed."

Wow, how pathetic this felt.

[☆ Y e l l o w ☆]

Whiteheart sensed another movement nearby and her whiskers twitched nervously. Before she looked over she knew there was someone else here. A strange scent entered her nose and she knew the other cat wasn't ShadowClan. She couldn't recognize the scent at all. Turning her head, her yellow eyes wary, she wondered what the cat would want with her. Didn't they know that this was a Clan's territory? Maybe they were a loner, or a murderous cat bent on killing any strangers they came across. Scenarios raced through her mind and her heard quickened.

But when she saw him those thoughts went away. The golden-brown tom didn't look the least bit threatening, in fact he looked a little sad. And tired and hungry too, from they way he looked and the sound of his words. The she-cat felt a little pang of sympathy that she couldn't help. Making up her mind quickly and without a second thought, she padded closer to him. Her steps were still careful but she went nonetheless. When she was a few foxlengths from him she dropped the frog on the wet ground. She could easily catch a different piece of prey. She knew she was supposed to bring any fresh-kill back to the Clan, but she had caught this piece easily so she assumed another wouldn't be hard.

"You can have it." she said quietly, glancing at him and then looking down. "Oh, and this is ShadowClan land, too. In case you didn't know. So you should probably leave soon." If he were to encounter a patrol, especially with some aggressive cats on it, there was no telling what they'd do to strange cats on their land.

((She don't make a good guard-kitty. xD))

[spike]

Lark hadn't expected a cat to actually be so kind. He was used to eating the scraps of Wynter's prey. In fact, he was used to going without it or even finding some crowfood. Lark pounced on the frog without hesitation and dug into it ravenously. He paused and glanced up at the she-cat.

"You're a Clan cat," he muttered. "Clan cats. ThunderClan's bad. ShadowClan's good. ShadowClan good. Are you ShadowClan? You smell like one. Yep, definitely smell like one." He tore another piece of prey away from the catch and sat up a bit more. She was telling him to leave after giving him prey? Well, that was the way things worked, huh?

"You're nice," he then said after a gasp. "You're very nice. Yep, you're nice to me. I'm Lark. Yep, yep, Lark. Sorry for doing this. Sorry. It was your prey." He shook his head and thought back to his own Clan. ShadowClan explored all of their territory. They tried to protect the Clan. ThunderClan, so he told himself, was nothing like that. They couldn't handle the territory. This she-cat was kind, an odd thing among Clan cats. He knew he was a rogue so finding a willing cat was odd.

Should he dare ask her name? What would be the point of that? Wynter had told him he could have no other sort of relationship, no matter if it was just peace, because his loyalties were to her. Right? He wasn't sure but this she-cat was not like Wynter.

[☆ Y e l l o w ☆]

Whiteheart was taken by surprise. He knew she was a ShadowClan cat? He knew about the Clans? One could hear by rumor, or with contact from a Clan cat themselves, maybe. She supposed it wasn't impossible but it still seemed unusual that the loner would know about the Clans, and even their names. "Y-yes, I'm from ShadowClan. My name is Whiteheart." She said after he gave his name. It seemed like the right thing to do, and just knowing her name wouldn't hurt.

Lark was a nice cat, after all. Not a troublesome loner or aggressive rogue like the Clan made outsiders appear to be. She managed a small smile at his kindness. "Thank you. And it's okay, I can catch another for my Clan. You know about the Clans?" she couldn't help bringing it up. She was too naive, and normally she kept her curiosity to herself. But she had never talked with this cat before and she naturally tried to be friendly to everyone she met. As long as they were nice, at least.

((/fail post))

[spike]

Lark tilted his head at her confusion. She seemed shocked at the idea of him having knowledge about the strongest power in the area. "Whiteheart's a pretty name. Real pretty name." He nodded several times then pondered on how to answer the question. A runaway from ThunderClan probably wasn't always a favored story.

However, the truth was all he had. "ThunderClan was my home. Yep, yep, my home. Now they're my enemies. Bad, bad enemies. Ran away. That's what I did. I ran away. Ran away because I lost everything. So I know of the clans. Yep, yep. I was Larkstripe. Larkstripe I was." His ears drooped slighlty but he filled his mouth with another bite of prey to stop himself. He had spoken too much. Wynter was sure to punish him now. He thought about this she-cat, willing enough to feed a rogue with nothing but the fur on his back. She had the kindest heart he knew at least. Wynter would be mad though. Oh, Lark knew he was destined for trouble when he returned.

"What about you?" he asked. "What about Whiteheart? I told my story. Yep, yep. My story's told. What about you? You gave me prey, yes you did. Talking isn't bad. No, talking isn't bad at all." He beamed in a childish sort of way at her then flicked his ears several times with sure perplexity over the she-cat.

[☆ Y e l l o w ☆]

Whiteheart kept up her smile when Lark complemented her name. How nice it was to hear something like that, to feel appreciated. She was a kind-hearted cat but didn't often get those kinds of complements. In fact words like those made her more than a little grateful.

She sat down and listened to him talk, interested. His manner of speaking was strange, but it didn't bother her as much as it might bother someone else. Everyone had their own unusual habits, she assumed. As he went on and talked, she wasn't sure if her ears were fooling her or not. It was possible, due to her confused thoughts and the fact that she was talking to a stranger. But he used to be in ThunderClan? And he had a Clan name, Larkstripe? What had made him leave? Whiteheart felt iffy about Clan life sometimes but she would never consider leaving. Would he want to talk, to tell her why he left? She felt as if she wanted to know now. Shameful gossip, but she was intrigued.

She wanted to ask him more, but he had already questioned about her. So quickly, they were already sharing so much with each other. But he looked so grateful to her, for the fresh-kill and the company. She didn't mind. Anything to help this lonely cat who she felt needed company more than she did. So she began to talk.

"Well, um, I was born in ShadowClan. And I grew up there. I have a mother, Dovepelt, and used to have a brother, Littlekit." Breezing over the less pleasant parts of her history, she went on. "I trained to be a warrior and I've lived there my whole life." What was there to tell? She thought through the possible things to say, and went on quietly. "I don't know my father. And my mother, well... Littlekit was very frail. And she worried about him a lot." she stopped, glancing at Lark again. What more would she have to tell him?

[spike]

The tom nodded hear and there to her simple story. Nothing better than simplicity. At least that was what he always thought. For Whiteheart, she was a lucky cat.
Nobody he knew had such a life of ease. Not to mention she was in a trustworthy Clan. ThunderClan was not in his mind. But that was another day.

"He died," Lark murmured quietly as she trailed off from the fact that her mother worried over Littlekit. "He died, didn't he? I can tell. Yep, yep. I can tell by the way you said it. I lost cats too. Lost lots of cats. Lost my parents. Yep, my parents. They were old. Older, not old. I lost my brother. Smokepaw was my brother. Yep, yep. Then..." His golden tabby head lowered until his eyes could not be seen by the she-cat.

Nightfur. Oh, the pain of Nightfur. He didn't blame her for dying. He didn't blame her for carrying his kits. In fact, he should've thanked her for it. However, he couldn't bring himself to do so quite yet. He still mourned for her in the way any mate should. Or... former mate. HE mourned for her because he missed her. No more friend to sleep by at night. No cat to mother the kits that sprung from the very heart that beat within him. No more companion to travel beside. No more elder to share stories of kithood with. She was everything at the time. Now she was a forgotten memory.

"Lost more," Lark added in subsitute for the name. "Lost much, much more. Life's hard. Too hard. Gotta keep going. Gotta, gotta. That's why I have Wynter. Wynter, yep, yep. She helps me. She helps me. She says she'll get back at ThunderClan for it. Get back at ThunderClan! But it's hard. Yep, yep, very hard. I'm hungry a lot. Very hungry. Lonely too. Very, very lonely. I miss my old life. I miss a lot. Yep." He was drooping again with the sorrow of it all. He lost so much it felt like now. Here he was telling it all to a ShadowClan she-cat

Why was he telling her all of this? Was he doing it because Wynter refused to listen? Was he doing it because all the moons of the weight the memories brought him was too much? Or was he just telling her because he had kept it in for so long that the dam could no longer be held back? It didn't matter. She sat and listened to him. That was more than Wynter ever gave him.

[☆ Y e l l o w ☆]

"Yes," Whiteheart murmured as Lark guessed correctly. "He died." Her voice faded, growing more quiet. However the reason for her solemn tone wasn't because of her brother. Back when Littlekit died she had felt terrible, but she had gotten over it with time. It was what else had been going on at the time that upset her. She didn't often think about back then, and when she did she usually tried not to let her mind linger on it for very long. But it didn't always work.

"I'm sorry," she said, giving him a sympathetic look. It didn't matter what she had been through, he had lost so much more. Whiteheart hadn't had as much to start out with as him, and he lost everything when he left his Clan.

"...Who is Wynter?" And what a strange sounding name that was. "And why do you want to get back at ThunderClan?"

((Short-ish post))

[spike]

Lark flinched at the name and yet his ears perked as if listening for the voice that controlled him. His pale green eyes flashed around nervously before he finally calmed down.

"She's my caretaker, yep. Takes care of me. Says if I do as she says, she'll help. Yep, she'll help. She hates clans. Yep, she hates clans. Her uncle is a Clan cat. Yep, yep, Uncle Badgerclaw. Says he deserves death. Death to Badgerclaw!" His eyes grew bright as he said the words in almost a chant. He had to personally bite his tongue to stop it from rattling off a ringing chant of "death to Badgerclaw" just as Wynter had taught him.

"Clans bad she says. Yep, turns good cats bad. Bad cats, bad cats. But I want back at ThunderClan. Bad cats, bad cats. Didn't try. Nope, nope, they didn't try." He began shaking his head while a look of dispair clouded his eyes in the form of memories. "Never used to be this way. No... no... never did. Used to be good. Lark used to be good. I used to be good. But ThunderClan was stupid. Stupid!"

Lark snarled and lifted his head to viciously bare his fangs. Then he covered it to replace it with the former sorrowful look. "Had a brother. Yep, he died. Yep, yep. Fox! Crazy mother fox. I had a mate. Pretty, pretty. Not perfect but pretty. Friends. Good friends. She was killed by fox too. Yep, yep, crazy fox. She was heavy with kits. Kits, kits, my kits, my kits. ThunderClan failed. Failed me, failed me!" He sniffled like a youngster while kneading his paws worriedly. "Then I ran away. Ran away far. Far, far away. Loners, rogues, kittypets. Ran to them. Tried to attack ThunderClan. Too weak, oh, Lark too weak. Nightfur's dead. Nightfur's dead. Smokepaw's dead, Smokepaw, Smokepaw!

He broke down and finally released a mournful yowl of utter sadness. As long as he had been away from ThunderClan, he rarely broke down. Wynter refused to let him. But Whiteheart didn't seem to mind his talking or his story. Nightfur, his kits, and his brother were dead. What was left in ThunderClan? What was left of his heart felt shattered and torn. Lark had always assumed he could keep it in. Apparently he was wrong.

[☆ Y e l l o w ☆]

Whiteheart thought; Wynter sounded like a nice enough cat at first. Maybe Lark wasn't as lonely after all, if he had a companion. That was, until the 'Death to Badgerclaw' part. The name didn't sound familiar but it was likely a Clan name, and why he deserved to be harmed she had no idea. As Lark went on chanting about getting back at ThunderClan she grew uncertain.

The Clans aren't so bad, she thought quietly. She knew nothing about Wynter but she had no clue why she would hate the Clans so much. Perhaps this was why they said to chase away any loners found on Clan territory. Did all loners hate the Clans and want revenge on them for some reason? Especially with that talk, she didn't know if Wynter was a threat or not. Her wondering was distracted when Lark went on to talk more about himself. The fact that he had a brother- and a mate?- who both died. Pity overflowed in her heart. Could a cat who lost so much and was so sad be dangerous?

No, she answered her own thoughts. Lark isn't bad. Whiteheart stepped closer and touched her nose comfortingly to his shoulder. Look at me, getting so close with a stranger; she could almost have imagined being criticized for it by Clan mates, but rubbed lightly against his shoulder anyway. Saying 'I'm sorry' wouldn't help anything, so she stayed quiet. And just stood there with her eyes lowered.

[spike]

Lark blinked with shock at the she-cat's movement. The nose pressed to his shoulder was oddly calming when usually he was one to go mad when a cat besides Wynter touched him. Wynter had set him straight the first day and he allowed that. But now he allowed Whiteheart to do the same. His pale green eyes actually seemed to be like dew covered leaves as the inner pain settled as a wetness in his eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered. His ears flicked wildly to hear it. He had just spoken without stammering or repeating. He had just said thank you! Lark sniffled and stared at her cautiously. Then he stood slightly to brush his cheek against hers in a friendly way. "Whiteheart is a friend. Yep, yep, I'm your friend. Thanks, Whiteheart. Thanks. I didn't want to scare you. No, not scare. Just sad. I'm sad is all. You'll be my friend, right?" His eyes searched her with a hopeful look imbedded deep in the misty depths of green.

He had no one else other than Wynter. He didn't consider he a friend though. Well, there was Volepelt but his elder uncle probably assumed he was long-since dead. So a companion sounded like a kit's first bite of fresh-kill. It was like a drink of water after being parched for this long. It was relieving. The idea of it was relieving at least.

[☆ Y e l l o w ☆]

A small smile appeared on Whiteheart's face and her eyes lit up. They glowed as she stepped back and looked at him. How could she say no? She wasn't the type to be able to say no to most anything, either out of consideration or because she wasn't strong enough to. It depended on the situation. But this time she said yes because she wanted to. "Of course."

She nodded. "Lark will be my friend too." She knew it was odd for her to befriend a loner but she didn't think about that. The fact that he had been once a member of a Clan made it alright in her eyes, for some reason. Larkstripe, she thought. The name wasn't familiar but it was definitely a Clan name. It wasn't possible to know every cat in every Clan, so it was possible she might have seen him at Gatherings but didn't know his name. Not that it mattered any more, unless he was thinking about going back. Then again, if he was distrusting of ThunderClan that wasn't likely. "Do you miss being in a Clan? I know I would." she asked curiously.

[spike]

Lark was in a state of euphoria when the realization of her words kicked in. He had companionship beyond Wynter. He feared for his caretaker since she was daring to trust a poison-cat. But he still decided she needed his claws. Whiteheart was not the same. They were equals, to a sense. He was a rogue and she was a warrior. Both were cats that instantly found this companionship which was a strange thing since they had known each other less than a moonrise.

"I miss some, just some," Lark admitted as if ashamed. "There's protection. Lots of protection. Prey and more prey to take care of you. Prey, good prey. My uncle. My uncle is in the Clan still, yep, in the Clan. Volepelt! Volepelt's my uncle. Good cat, good cat. Good heart. Loved me, loved Smokepaw. I was bad. Bad cat, bad cat! I left him without saying bye. No good-byes. I feel so bad about it. So bad, so bad. He was my uncle- is my uncle. I miss him, miss him lots. Miss my only family. Volepelt was good, very good." Lark shook his head before snorting to himself.

Volepelt probably assumed Lark would just run far away, maybe get killed by a monster. Maybe attacked by a dog or just "falling" into the river. He had been sad over Nightfur's death, but not that sad. Not sad enough to end his own life. Well, he might've had he not taken a plan to go back after ThunderClan. "I can't go back, no, no, no going back. No good now. No, I'm no good. I'm a bad cat, bad cat now. Whiteheart's good. You're a good cat!" He gave a half-hearted smile to her but seemed a bit better to talk of her.

[☆ Y e l l o w ☆]

Whiteheart listened again attentively. Volepelt sounded sort of familiar, but she couldn't remember ever knowing him. He must be a ThunderClan cat. But did that mean she would have to face him in battle? She remembered that they might be going to fight ThunderClan sometime in the future, and she drooped slightly, just thinking about it. She probably shouldn't tell Lark about this. The other Clans couldn't know, so she couldn't tell him. She didn't know if it would do harm or not, although she wanted to talk to him about her worries. But Lark seemed to talk about himself a lot and she didn't want to ruin it for him.

"Thanks," she said again quietly, smiling a little. What a nice cat he was, and he seemed like he appreciated her. It was a good feeling. But the feeling didn't last long, for she just got to worrying again. "Do you like fighting? I don't. And I'm afraid we might end up fighting soon with some of the other Clans. There's all this arguing about kits, and apparently we need more land, and..." she trailed off, wondering if she was supposed to say that much, and looked down at her paws.