[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0px]The snow leopard felt the absence of a menthol between his lips and deduced that while somewhat unsettling, his decision to give up cigarettes was best. They probably don't even have any smokes around here, Palmer thought to himself as he made his way towards the border that contained RiverClan's territory. His brisk pace, brought about by the sheer discomfort inflicted upon him by the wet leaves that crunched beneath his paws, slowed once the sharp, fishy scent of RiverClan hit his nostrils. While it wasn't a pleasant smell, Palmer couldn't be one to judge -- though he had given up smoking almost a year prior, the lingering scent of his once-beloved menthols still followed him, albeit faintly. Still, it was far too easy to notice it for his taste.
A small cough, perhaps the beginnings of a cold, sounded from his open jowls before he spoke. "Palmer Sinclair," the large feline announced, his voice soft despite its deep register, "Or just Palmer, if you'd like, here to join RiverClan." His bright eyes scanned the space just beyond the border, not having yet seen any sign of an approaching RiverClanner. "If that's alright, of course," he added quickly.