Layers. He saw the world in layers.
Every being, big or small, living or not; like skin peeling off revealing muscle, muscle to veins and so on.
The sky was like a cake, stacked and stacked on each other: a blanket of gray, lines of orange, and the black silhouette of the horizon.
The black- blue, if you look closely at the misty tips. Silvery, hugging the pinkish hues of the layer above, fading. All the cracks, the bends- all rough and imperfect, what everything in nature should be. The swaying branches that were long and jagged, peaking through the mountains and the hills. It was were most this lived, including him- the ruddy colored feline trotting towards the territory of EclipseClan, where the ground was fertile and life was abundant.
But unlike many others, who in his opinion were very blind, he did not stick to one layer.
The birds.
Tiny black dots, their wings flapping up and up. Some in groups, the distinctive v-shape or even clusters upon clusters, and some, like the lone hawk, soar the skies with the company of themselves. They lived in complete freedom- the winds both their friends and enemies, the heavens their fathers and the clouds their homes.
He watched, head slowly tilting upwards, as a group of avian creatures -starlings? sparrows? swifts?- sung their melodious songs and took to the sky, their beating wings matching their beating hearts, gliding on their feathers as they formed a swirling black cloud.
They flew, too far for even his keen sight, escaping behind the dancing branches. In goodbye, he whistled a tune, stretching his throat to utter a similar sound. He was speaking bird, blue jay to be exact. It was a chant of good flight, the highs and lows of his voice matching the ones above him. He hoped they had understood. Birds often were skilled in speech of their own kind, much like those with paws and hooves and other appendages here on the ground. But of course you could never know for sure- that is, until he heard the fleeting chirp that made him grin in sanctification. The birds were impressed- literally "you are learned, docile hunter".
He sadly didn't know of any other avian language- with only a few phrases of the sweet tones of the jay taught to him by his long gone mentor, a former loner who he stumbled upon one summer day. He often craved to know the words, the pitches and chirps, of other birds- sadly he had not found one who was knowledgeable and willing.
As their bodies grew too small for his already strained eyes, he gave the sky one last look before flicking his long tail and wandering off.
Up and up- the second layer.
Flickers of the sun, the blazing color zigzagging across the land. Hot whites, bright yellows, soft pinks- flowing like a river of molten lava, a chariot of flame bringing the sun up top, ready for a new day.
He could imagine it now, he thought as his paws spread lightly over soft grass and dirt. The cloud of dark dots, spinning, calling, feasting. They would fly, fearless, into the sun river.
Fearlessness, freedom. Two things he desperately wanted. Oh to be free of doubt or worry, at the whims of nature with no fright. The tom started running, long legs racing across the terrain, paws lifting him off the ground like he was taking off. He enjoyed the wind rushing over his fur, flattening his ears with his slender tail streaming behind him. Freedom: no rules, no cares. Anything you could ever do, ever want in life, at your paws ripe for the taking. No fights, no borders; he would have anything he wished for without worry. No scolding and no thrashings. Freedom. It was chaos, to some, with no rules or regulations to follow. Where was the order? But that was it, the pure beauty of it was the unbalance, distorted magnificence.
But then again, he reasoned with himself as he scented something off as he ran, rules were nice. He had stepped over the border. Skidding to a halt, he found himself half-sitting half-leaning against an oak, a few good fox-lengths away from the border. He gritted his teeth, backtracking, sweeping up the leaves disturbed by his paws and arranging them in a pile as neatly as possible under the tree. Then he went at the point the smell was strongest, where he guessed the border was, and sat there, curling his tail around his paws. He tried not to look nervous but ultimately failed as he cautiously eyed the bushes and undergrowth, hoping no one had seen him and assumed he was a prey thief.
He calmed down after a few minutes, he fur on his neck flat and his breathing slowed. He was here as a joiner- to learn the ways of their clan, nothing more, nothing less. As he sat, he looked up high, wondering where the birds were.
Clouds were racing each other as they passed through the pale hues of the milky morning heavens, long strips of white, the pathways, with big clumps of cotton as the horses. They were playing, molded by the blowing wind using handfuls of rain.
They were created with rules, though they seem to be very lenient on their shape and size, these clouds. All made from fallen rain: not too clod or it would snow, not too much or it would just fall back down. They looked happy and excited. They were free within terms, much like he felt he was going to be, now here on EclipseClan territory.
He let out a contented sigh, his craving of being unchained now filled for the day. Under the pale light of the morning sun, one could finally see him as he was. A cat, thin yet with legs that looked to be made for running, with rusty fur, dark brown at the spine and paling down to a dusty red with white on his muzzle and around his neck. His eyes matched the color of the golden sun, clear and now calm.
He was here now, ready to live out his life not as a wandering loner but as an EclipseClanner- and hopefully learn to sharpen his skills here, for he had unbearably poor skills in everything but birdwatching and basic herblore.
As he looked on, he cleared his throat, his now young voice, this time fully feline, calling out for attention. "Hello?"
