[justify][size=9pt]Some part of Streetpaw remembered Mariah, but that part was filled with memories of his one-and-only and Mariah was almost nonexistent to him back then. His features were carefully blank as he approached without a word, coming up to them like a shadow in the dark.
[justify][size=9pt]Streetpaw's day had been crowded with the elements. Rain at his sister's kitting. Wind as he tried out. Earth as he practiced his dancing. Fire, now, as he saw the form that had not too long ago informed him of his love's death, now burning like his heart had. He watched the two or a brief moment of silence before turning tail and running. For what?
For water. Water to put out the fire.
The same could easily have been said of the tomcat before he had lived as a loner. But after spending a week.with Sebastian he knew the betters of acting first and regretting later. Only to be used in battle, or when encountering a particularly vicious enemy. As she gave him the opportunity of going first, Streetpaw smiled. Another Sebastian tactic of his was to expect the unexpected, and he was about to see if Turtlepaw followed that rule.
He offered her a small smile, gratitude in his optics, but it lasted briefly, for a few seconds later he dove forward like a bird in flight, paws outstretched and attempting to catch hers and grab them out from beneath her.
Paws slammed into his spine, paralyzing him for the moment. He struggled a bit before stopping. There was no point. He contemplated a plan. He then grinned to himself and then twisted suddenly, rolling on his side and then lurching to his paws, freed. He wasted no time in diving for the tortoiseshell and attempting to knock her gently on her side.
He stumbled back, the impact of her paws easily knocking him off guard. Shaking his head, clearing it, he let her take the next move, cobalt eyes bright.
Street let her crash into him, the impact knocking him off of his paws and into the ground. But as soon as he made contact with the hard earth, he slid out from beneath Turtlepaw and stood, constantly smiling at her as if the entire ordeal amused him.
Streetpaw watched in awe before snapping from his reverie looking at the cat atop it. "Name and .. business? And, uh .. the heck are you .. riding?"
[justify][size=9pt]Maybe he had been an angel. Whatever. But he was evil now, especially because he was fallen. Fallen angels were rejected by Heaven, banned. Thrown out. They were no better than the Devil himself. He could sense something with Lucifer, though he couldn't quite identify what exactly. Flicking his tail quietly, the speckled silver tomcat wandered forth with a strained yawn.
"Good day, Mariah. And who else am I in the acquaintance of?" he mewed, cool orbs focusing now on the fallen angel in query.
[justify][size=9pt]The silver torbie huddled in a corner of camp, limbs sore and creaking from the efforts of training and patrolling and everything else he'd tried to manage in this ridiculous weather. He was in the mountains and suffering the worst of it along with his mountain-living Clanmates, and they had it no better. It would be a blessing to be a kit and be able to hide in camp all day without the stress of normal duties, he thought inwardly.
Speaking of kits, he nearly passed cold orbs over one among the area of camp, the child's stark white fur nearly camouflaging him completely. But his green eyes stuck out like a sore thumb, revealing him through the flurry. He staggered over. "And who might you be, young one?"
[justify][size=9pt]"A race?" the speckled silver torbie queried with obvious excitement, the prospect making his ears erect and his celestial optics lighten. He couldn't help but overhear, and had promptly ditched his lonesome sitting and padded over. Now before the gathered Clanmates, he pinned his gaze on Moosepaw.
Streetpaw was an exceptional runner. Seeing as he had practiced dancing as a younger apprentice he had nimble, elegant limbs, for speed, and strong muscles to keep him balanced and raise his stamina. Being a dancer might be weird to some, but the way his body was built was stunningly opposite from other's burly frames. He was sleek and strong, almost like a bird in his building. A hawk.
"Count me in."
[justify][size=9pt]Of course, he hadn't introduced himself. So forgetful. He pricked his ears. "Streetpaw. Nebulaheart's son, Wingpaw's best bro for life." Or he hoped. "Just returned from a rather long voyage, so you probably don't know me well."
[justify][size=9pt]Streetpaw ambled over. Powers? He didn't want or need them. He had only needed his bond with Aeropaw, but she was dead now. Gone. Torn from him. Eyes flashing with grief as he recalled her, he tilted his head to his paws and sat down. He would just learn for future reference.
[justify][size=9pt]"Exploring."
[justify][size=9pt]He looked over at Refinedpaw with a good-natured smile. "He wasn't being bothersome." he mewed. Maybe he hadn't been bothersome, but the question was a bit pressing in some ways. Icekit hadn't known. "Thank you." he added.
[fancypost borderwidth=0px][justify][size=9pt]This homecoming would not be filled with love and joy, at least not yet, for when the silver Mau returned he was missing something important. Specifically, a leg. His right foreleg had been torn off completely at the connection to his shoulder and all that remained was but a stump of bone covered in weak skin. A hasty stitching job had been done to keep the skin together but other than that, Streetpaw had nothing left of his limb and it left him to hobble around at a strange angle.
However, the male had matured since the loss of his limb. He had given himself a warrior name - Streetlights - and his eyes seemed to hold a more intelligent light but that could be a trick of the eye. Anyways, after being imprisoned and tortured in BloodClan he had plenty of time to think. And now he seemed to understand everything, or most things. He could never understand everything.
"Neb? Wing?" He croaked as he spoke, dehydration evident. He had not drunk in days nor had he eaten much, his ribs visible even now in the hazy afternoon light. "Are you guys okay? It's Streetpaw - I mean, Streetlights. I'm back. Mom? Sis?" His voice wavered. What if they'd died?
[size=8]He had arrived in the prime of grief. He could almost touch it, the entire Clan's pain so palpable that it obstructed his own emotions. His soot ears fell as he felt it and his steps deliberately slowed. However, he had to stay strong for his little girl as she hopefully came after him, she was the world to him and letting her see him so vulnerable would be the opposite of good so he sucked it up and dealt with it. He peered behind his shoulder for his daughter.
"We're here," he announced, attempting to move close to her and wrap his tail around her little body. He would protect her no matter the consequences. Streetfighter had always been a family person, after all.
