Life and the Smell of Fish [closed]

[Twigtail]

Renée woke up with a strong fishy odor in her nose.

Opening her hazel eyes, she found herself with her face practically pressed against old wood. A moment later, the tabby’s mind was replaying the events of the night before backwards. She remembered coming into the crate and dropping off to sleep, nose tucked under tail. Well, that had come undone. Unraveling herself, Renée rose to her full height and padded out into the alley between the empty buildings of the empty town. She extended her forepaws in front, lifting her rump into the air as she stretched, and then pulled herself forward with a flex of her strong shoulders. When she finished stretching, she stood again with a broad yawn. Another day on the road for her; she was leaving this cruddy little town behind!

But as she yawned, the fishy smell touched the glands at the roof of her mouth. It may have been more concentrated in the crate, but the scent was still there, filling the air all around her. Renée stopped yawning and breathed deeply, closing her eyes and tasting the world with her other senses. She could smell fish… and salt… and what smelled like some sort of plant life. The scents were similar to the market back in her hometown. And yet the market didn’t have wailing cries overhead, or a soft rumble somewhere off to the right. And it certainly didn’t have a breeze that carried the soft rumble on its back. Renée’s head flicked in the direction of the roar and the wind, and the breeze played with her whiskers while the scents tickled her nose.

What on earth was it? She’d never smelled, or heard, or tasted, or felt anything like it. Instinct told her that there was something new ahead of her, something she’d never seen before. And she followed it, her calloused paws carrying her with a swift lope in the direction that she knew possessed something new and different. She wove around buildings, turned corners, and saw late-morning sunlight gleaming in the alleys and on the road. And she knew she was drawing nearer. She sped up, and as her paws left the town, she saw it.

She could think of no other name for it, this thing that was amazing and huge and absolutely beautiful. Renée couldn’t help but stare at the heaving expense of bluish gray that extended ahead of her, a single giant ripple of steely color and speckled light. The sun was glittering off the surface of some endless expanse of water, something that defied all logic. Even when the tabby narrowed her eyes, she couldn’t see any far side to the water, and new senses attacked her, streaming off of it. It was singularly the most amazing thing she had ever seen. And the only name the tabby could even think of for it was a name of a thing she had never before been able to comprehend: eternity.

Stronger than even her senses was a sudden urge to run. So Renée took off, paws digging into the strange golden soil, and she raced parallel to the eternal water. Little wavelets danced around her chocolate-colored paws, silver gray against brown. Her head twisted to stare out at the watery horizon even as her legs pumped underneath her. For once in her life, she felt strong and she felt fast, racing the heaving water as it surged across the soft soil that made her paws sink with every step. Her tail was as high as her spirits. Every breath of salty, fishy air blasted into her lungs, filled her with the smell of eternity. And she wanted to run beside the water forever. She didn’t think of the town. She didn’t want the town. She wanted this water, to run beside it, to dance with it, to always be near it.

The it made her feel alive.

Finally, the tabby she-cat slowed to a stop and swung around to stare out at the great, enormous it. She breathed deeply, inhaling the smell of fish that made her tingle straight down to her toes. It was singularly the best she'd ever felt in her entire life. And the only coherent thing she could manage to mumble to herself as she stared out at the rolling waters was "Holy freaking crow."

[Flower]

Silverstripe was grumbling. As always. No surprise there. Flowerpelt was with him. That was no surprise either.
"You just have to tag along, don't you?"
"You volunteered for fishing patrol first, if I remember correctly." Flowerpelt sounded amused.
"Put a mouse in it." Silverstripe grunted.
Flowerpelt nudged him playfully. "Can't admit when you're wrong, can you."
Silverstripe made no comment, only narrowed his eyes and stared hard at the shoreline. A brown shape sat there among the beige sand.
Flowerpelt giggled at his silence. "Come on, oyster, loosen up! I know there's a pearl in there somewhere."
Shooting a poisonous glare at her, he touched his tailtip to her mouth and flicked his ears at the shape. "Your eyes are better than mine. What do you think that is?"
Flowerpelt gently batted his tail away with her paw and stared at the shape. "I think... I think it's a cat. Sitting there, staring at the water."
"A Clan cat or a rouge?"
"I can't tell. Lots of cats are brown. Let's go see." She was away before Silverstripe could stop her. He picked his way more carefully, avoiding gravelly patches. She stopped to wait for him behind a large boulder. "A snail could have done that faster than you!" she whispered. "It's a loner. From Twolegplace, probably.".
Silverstripe dipped his head briefly. "Good work," he said reluctantly. "But aren't we supposed to be fishing?"
Flowerpelt did not reply. Silverstripe prodded her. "Well?" Flowerpelt stumbled at the unexpected push and several pebbles clattered loudly on each other. "Clumsy oaf!" Flowerpelt hissed softly.
"You pushed me."
"Now is not the time, Silverstripe!"

[Twigtail]

Renée lowered herself into a sitting position on the wet earth, panting slightly from her sudden and instinctive running. Her hazel eyes stared out over the bluish surface of the water as she fought to catch her breath. Now that she thought about it, her chest ached from exertion, and the saltiness of the air stung at her throat. Still, she gasped in the air with huge gulps, sucking in the taste of fish and salt and unknown plant life. Her green eyes fluttering closed, she sat there, panting, listening to the strange rushing sound the water made at it heaved up to touch her forepaws, then slithered back away. She was listening to that swooshing noise, so new to her ears, when she heard a clatter from off to her left.

Her head flicked around in the direction of the noise, ears pricking as her eyes sprang open. The tabby watched a few pebbles tumble out from behind a larger rock, and she tilted her head curiously. As if by tilting her head she could better see what was making the noise. Not even by this great and incredible it, where things went on forever, she didn’t think rocks just rolled around on their own. But maybe, just maybe, there was something tasty clambering around on the other side of that big rock there, like a floppy fish or a twitchy crab. She picked herself up and, having the sense to walk slowly this time, bobbed towards the boulder, her tail raised with a twitching white tip.

Renée rounded the corner, expecting some sort of food, and it was pretty obvious that she was expectant about something. But she wasn’t expectant about finding a couple of cats crouching on the other side of the boulder. She especially didn’t think she was being spied on! Rearing back, indignation crossed her features and she let out a hiss. Other cats! Hadn’t she had enough trouble with the kittens the night before? She had just thought she’d gotten a bit of freedom, and of course the felines came trooping in right at that moment. It was Murphy’s Law all over the place.

Realizing that she was glaring at the pair of cats, the coffee-and-cream she-cat gave herself a mental shake. This wasn’t a good way to leave a good first impression, by giving dirty looks to everybody she met. Besides, maybe this time, with these cats, she could have some good, firm contact. Ears, which had bent back in her surprise, were straightened as Renée tried to look friendlier. “Hey!” she meowed, relaxing better as an affable greeting left her mouth, sounding natural. Remembering good manners a moment later, she meowed, “My name’s Renée. Who are you?”

[Flower]

Flowerpelt tensed as the she-cat glared, then when the other cat made an effort to appear friendly, she relaxed visibly. "Hello, Renée. I'm Flowerpelt. Nice to meet you."
Silverstrip reluctantly joined the conversation. He felt stiff and out of place. "I'm Silverstripe. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Flowerpelt put her head to one side, then the other. She stared hard at Renée. "Do you..." Flowerpelt paused a second. "Do you by any chance know a cat named Diana? She lived in Twolegplace. Orange and black? With a white spot over one eye?"
Silverstripe stared at her for a moment. Flowerpelt was trembling. He hadn't seen her show this much emotion for moons - not since... he shuddered. The last time she had stared with that intense look in her eyes was after she had told the story of how he had leapt to her defense in the forest when... that fateful day... He shook himself. He refused to think about it. He transfered his gaze to this Renée. She must not know that she was trespassing. But since Flowerpelt wanted to talk to her, he would keep his nose out of it.

[Twigtail]

The initial shock of seeing two completely strange cats beginning to fade, Renée glanced from one to the other, her ruffled fur smoothing as they introduced themselves. While the she-cat with the orange fur seemed pretty friendly and happy to talk (which was a relief, because the lonely tabby had been feeling very out-of-place and unwanted), the gray-black tomcat didn’t seem to be overtly pleased with her presence. Their names were peculiar, that was for sure, but they sure were descriptive of themselves. Suddenly, the brown tabby’s eyes, which had initially glazed over the tom, snapped back to him (as they tended to do with toms, anyway). Holy crow, this cat was covered from muzzle to tail with scars!

She didn’t have any time to dwell on it, though. The she-cat—Flowerpelt, Renée reminded herself—began to speak, and the tabby’s eyes shifted, a little unwillingly, to her fellow female. Flowerpelt started shaking, like she was afraid of something, and the cocoa-colored cat glanced over her shoulder, wondering if there was anything unusual. Well, aside from the crazy wide-stretching water and the rough soil. But nothing struck her, and Renée realized that the orange she-cat’s eyes were locked on her. The tabby was a little startled, to say the least, and hastened to answer the question.

“Um… Diana? Uh, no, no, I don’t think so, I—” Renée’s speech suddenly cut off; she was too busy sucking in a gasp of breath to finish what she’d been saying. Memory tickled at the back of her skull, making its way forward. Diana wasn’t a name she’d heard in a long while, not since before the first time she’d been taken by humans. The appearance didn’t come to mind, unique as it was. Just the name, echoing around like it was something important. But where had she heard the name before? Had she met the cat, when she’d lived in the town so far from the empty one far behind her on the sand? Or had the name come from her mother’s mouth?

While she had thought, Renée’s hazel eyes had slipped slightly out of focus. With alarming suddenness, they focused on Flowerpelt, matching stare for intense stare. “I think… maybe, but I don’t know for sure.” She was obligated to answer the original question; it was only fair, just before she hammered off her own. “Did you know a cat named—” The name caught in the chocolate tabby’s throat like a fish bone, and it hurt her with a sharp pang to force it out. “—Harriet? My mom? Do you know my mom?” As soon as she got past the difficult part, Renée was firing off the rest of her question. Could she have made it? Was she on her way back home? Was there really, truly, and fully a home waiting out there for her? These questions, though, the orange she-cat wouldn’t have been able to answer, so she didn’t ask.

[Flower]

"Harriet..." A faint stir of memory came to Flowerpelt. "Yes... I think... a friend of a friend of my mother's, her name was Harriet. My aunt - my mother's sister - we got news from a loner once that she was settling in well with her new Twolegs and lived near a friendly pampered cat named Harriet. But the town they lived in was nearly a moon's travel away and it must have been five moons ago... I never heard anything else about her."
Silverstripe was alarmed. This was unprecedented. Was Flowerpelt sharing gossip with this kittypet? Did this unknown kittypet even know how to hunt? Judging by the smell of crow-food, she didn't. What could Flowerpelt gain from this? Uneasily, he stayed out of it.

[Twigtail]

Harriet… MOMMY… It hurt, physically HURT, to think about her. A face not unlike Renée’s own swam into sight in her mind’s eye, the milky scent of well-cared-for perfection settling over her for a brief moment before being snatched away by the salty sting that came off the water. And for a moment, Renée hated that smell. She hated the weird rushing sounds it made, how the wetness clung to the fur around her pads. Why couldn’t they let her be, let her go in peace? Let her go back to her mommy, who loved her and she loved in return? With Harriet, there was never the hurt and the wet and the hunger and the stupid-butt cats who thought they knew every blasted thing in the world while they knew NOTHING!

And then the anger crumpled inside her, and her long, slender tabby legs wouldn’t support Renée’s weight anymore. She slumped to the sticky, clumping soil in front of the other two cats (not that, at the moment, she particularly cared there were another two cats there). Extending her legs out in front of herself, the tabby dropped her snow-white chin on them. One moon away, and five moons ago. What was that, six moons total? There was no way she would be able to even survive another two moons, let alone four more on top of that! The only town for ages had absolutely no humans in it, and much as she despised them for taking her from her friends and family, Renée relied on them totally.

Finally, after her eyes had just started to droop shut, the brown tabby heaved herself to her petite white paws and once again registered the presence of another pair of cats. Renée couldn’t dwell on sad things forever. If every cat did, they’d soon fall into despair as a species, and there’d be no more left. They’d all have lost the will to go on living, but it wasn’t as though this tabby was depressed. She just happened to have been uprooted each time she settled into a place, and now she wanted to go back to the base of her family tree. But like she’d gotten on the first time, so she’d not let herself completely go to pieces. She couldn’t go home, so it looked like she had one option. Staying here.

Renée started, hopping a small step away from the other cats. She had only just realized something! “Hey, you guys are alive, right?” she meowed, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully for a moment. It might sound like the stupidest question ever asked, but like she’d said, she depended entirely on humans. There were no humans here, and yet, cats were still surviving. How?!

“How’re you guys alive? How do you eat?!” How could they find it without garbage cans to raid and road-kills to find? It completely defied logic! Then again, so did the great big it of the heaving waters. This place sure was full of strange phenomena.

[Flower]

Silverstripe gave a singular cough that sounded suspiciously like a giggle when Renée asked her question. Flowerpelt was not as amused. "Hush, Silverstripe. You can't expect her to know. She's lived with Twolegs all her life, probably." She turned back to Renée. "We hunt for our own food. Mice. Voles. Fish. Much better than trash from Twoleg nests. Fresh-kill instead of crow-food."

[Twigtail]

Renée tried to be polite and keep herself from eavesdropping when the she-cat, Flowerpelt, went to address the heavily scarred tom. So, instead of listening to the few words the orange cat quickly meowed, the brown tabby found her gaze straying to Silverstripe—again. It was hard not to! How on this good, green earth (which, actually, Renee had only recently discovered was, in fact, very green) could any cat get so mutilated? He looked like he’d been put into one of those human contraptions from the kitchen! For peat’s sake, he was missing an eye! Could he even see very well? But Renée didn’t get to look as long as she would have liked, because Flowerpelt was addressing her, and a reluctant tabby had to listen. But she wouldn’t be so unenthusiastic for long.

“You hunt?” Renée’s ears went back to make room for her eyes, which were trying to bug straight out of her eye sockets. “Cats still do that?” Always, the tabby had assumed that hunting was something that only those wild, slightly barbaric felines of times long past had done; certainly no Town cats needed to hunt. Of course, it all sounded very romantic: a cat fending for herself, living with complete independence, eating the way they were intended to. But again, it was so barbaric! So primitive! So… not Town-like.

Flowerpelt was totally right. Anything at all—no matter out of whose behind it came—was better than the poop she’d eaten the night before. As she remembered the rotten fish she’d found in the garbage can and somehow forced herself to choke down, Renée swiped her tongue around her snow-colored muzzle. She could still taste the rancid too-sweet grittiness. That was food fit for crows, not cats! For once in her fifteen-month life, Renée found herself agreeing with another cat… not that she’d confess it or anything so weak-seeming.

Something else was bothering the Town cat. Actually, it was just a piece of vocabulary she was unfamiliar with, which was odd. Renée had thought she was on top of all the latest Town lingo; she knew the words like Road and Vehicle and Building. [Where Renée came from, they had their own words for such things, because they came into contact with them so often. They weren’t exactly the English terms, but whatever the feline equivalent would be.] But maybe Two Leg Nests were something that these weird hunting cats came into contact with. The coffee-colored she-cat hated to sound stupid, but before she could stop herself, she wondered aloud, “And what the heck are Two Leg Nests, anyway? Do they walk?” [Subconsciously, she was jumping from question to question to keep her mind off heavier matters.]

[Flower]

Silverstripe noticed her staring. Uncomfortably, he shifted around. He had thought he was used to cats staring, but now some loner-kittypet stared at him and his resolve shattered to pieces. Even when she looked away, he could still see it. The look of horror. Pity. And the inevitable touch of "Thank StarClan I don't look like that!". Although, come to think of it, this Renée probably knew next to nothing about StarClan.
“Cats still do that?”
"Of course we hunt." Flowerpelt assured her. "What else would we do? Root around in a Twoleg dump? Or live with Twolegs and eat stuff that looks like rabbit droppings? Ugh!" She shook out her pelt in disgust, gratified to see Renée's look of growing surprise.
“And what the heck are Two Leg Nests, anyway? Do they walk?”
"No. The nests that Twolegs live in. The boxy, square things. You know." Flowerpelt was getting confused. What kind of cat didn't know the names for things like this, probably after growing up in one, too? Then she reminded herself that she had lived far away and probably wouldn't know the same words the Clan did.

[Twigtail]

Not entirely sure how to react to Flowerpelt’s talk on hunting, Renée kept quiet. Somewhere in the background of her mind, she was wondering if herself and/or her eating habits were being insulted. But the tabby couldn’t rightly disagree, since she herself was absolutely disgusted with the aptly-nicknamed “droppings” she shoved down her gullet. She filed away the thought of hunting for later; she might try it, when nobody else was looking. How hard could it be?

Besides, her mind was required to process what else the long-haired she-cat was trying to say. Later, she might realize that she stared blankly at the two wild cats as she tried to comprehend what Flowerpelt said, mind spinning as she struggled to pick the words apart. Lots of animals made nests, but the first that came to mind were birds. Apparently, Two Legs didn’t mean a random pair of legs lying around. Maybe it was a creature with two legs…? Birds had two legs. The problem was that their nests weren’t boxy and square.

Renée was getting confused. She didn’t like being confused, because it made her look stupid in front of other cats. Truth be known, she was feeling pretty stupid, so looking the part would only be natural. But she didn’t want to look stupid, gosh darn it! “You’re not making sense!” the chocolate tabby snapped. “What kind of bird makes a square nest, anyway?” But then… what if it was some sort of weird bird that only lived by the it-water? Belatedly realizing she had to get her temper under control, the loner took a few breaths to calm herself, and the salt swished into her lungs again.

“Sorry,” she muttered, dropping her head to look at her tidy white paws while her face twisted in a scowl. “Things haven’t been going my way lately, that’s all. Getting mad.” Yeah, as if these two cats couldn’t tell already that the tabby was frustrated with life. “Never mind. Two Leg Nests aren’t that important, are they?” Renée was willing to drop the subject if the orange she-cat did, too.

While she dropped the subject, Renée also dropped her rear, sitting down again on the rough soil. Still her body was feeling the effects of weeks on the Roads and roughing it in the Towns, not to mention the run along the shore of the it-water. All of this: it was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. Or in this case, the brown tabby’s back. Not bothering to lift her stripy head to look at the two cats, she meowed, “What now?”

[ooc: LOVE THE JIGGLY THINGS!!! They are the cutest darned things!]

[Flower]

“You’re not making sense! What kind of bird makes a square nest, anyway?”
Flowerpelt struggled to come up with words that would make sense to Renée. "Not birds... Housefolk. Nofurs. Upwalkers. With yowling voices and loose colorful pelts." The expression of confusion on her face became more and more pronounced as she struggled to define the word "Twoleg".
“Sorry, things haven’t been going my way lately, that’s all. Getting mad.”
Flowerpelt purred softly in acknowledgment, dropping the subject. Silverstripe shifted uncomfortably. Flowerpelt was getting way too comfortable talking to this loner.
“Never mind. Two Leg Nests aren’t that important, are they?” Flowerpelt nodded, only too willing to drop the subject if she was. Renée dropped heavily to the sand, and Flowerpelt could tell the strain that had been placed on those muscles over many seasons of wandering.
“What now?” Silverstripe opened his mouth for a moment, then shut it quickly. Flowerpelt looked at him curiously. Finally, he spoke. He meant to challenge her for being on Clan land, but somehow, different words escaped, "You must really like the Great Water." The image of her running along the sands hovered in his mind. He pushed it away. No time for this. What was going wrong between his mind and his mouth?

((OOC: Thanks Yanno what, I'm lowering the price so EVERYONE can have some *runs off to artsy*))

[Twigtail]

When neither of the other cats replied for a while, Renée peeked up at the pair. Her gaze first went to Flowerpelt this time, who seemed most friendly; but the long-haired she-cat was looking at Silverstripe, and the brown tabby willingly returned her hazel eyes to him. The tom seemed to be wanting to say something, and Renée only had another moment to wait before the nothing-to-do-with-anything comment fell out of the dark tomcat’s mouth.

“Great Water… is that what it is?” Twisting her head to stare back at the gray, shimmery expanse, the brown tabby let her eyes rest on the strange, beautiful, everlasting water. With every breath, more salt was entering her lungs, and once again, she stopped hating it. It really was wonderful, and Renée forgot her suffering. Her muscles relaxed beneath her thick tabby pelt, and her mind slowly unraveled from its knot. “Yeah… I’ve never seen anything like it, you know. It’s like the sky, because it just keeps going on and on. But the sky was always just like that. Water isn’t supposed to do that. Not in the Town, anyway. But for some reason it seems like it really is supposed to do that.” Realizing she was mumble-rambling, she tore her gaze from the Great Water and looked back at Flowerpelt and Silverstripe. “Go on forever, I mean. You know?”

[Flower]

"You know?”
Flowerpelt nodded. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" She was still registering surprise at what Silverstripe had asked. "I never get tired of watching it. Nothing is ever the same about it, it's free and wild. I think that's why it sends up its waves, it's trying to break out of its prison by washing away the sands." She ducked her head shyly, realizing, as Renée had, that she had been rambling. Then she looked up again, eyes sparkling. "Have you ever tasted fish?"
Silverstripe's jaw nearly flew open. Was Flowerpelt really suggesting what she was? Then he remembered Ghost and Canary, the apprentices lost in the forest. He had to admit that, really, some parts of the warrior code were useless now that IvoryClan lived alone. There was no reason not to help cats outside the Clan, really, was there?
He was almost more surprised by his own thoughts than he had by Flowerpelt's question. No, he told himself, I am a loyal IvoryClan cat. But then, he thought again of Ghost and Canary... and he had to admit, it would probably feel good to sink his claws into Patchstar's lazy pelt. He knew, then and there, what side he would choose should it come to a fight.

((OOC: Sorry for all the stuff about Silverstripe's inner monologue there... bleh.))

[Twigtail]

[ooc: Haha, I really don’t mind.]

Flowerpelt was starting to go on about how the water was some sort of prisoner… and in a poetic kind of way, Renée guessed it worked. Or was it meant in a literal sense? The tabby understood nothing about this Great Water; for all she really knew, it was in every way an animal. Idly, the brown tabby wondered what it ate… the sands that Flowerpelt spoke of? The loner didn’t know anything about sands, any more than she knew about the Great Water. Oh, and she knew tons about that water… about as much as she knew about the social hierarchy of gorillas (not to mention how she knew what gorillas were; she met up with one every other Tuesday).

In a nutshell, Renée thought about what Flowerpelt said and, not understanding a word of the ramble, promptly tossed it into the mental trash can.

“Yes,” the tabby meowed to the orange she-cat’s question, feeling slightly miffed. What kind of cat could go about their lives and not taste a fish? A cat that didn’t eat fish might as well not be a cat at all, so thought Renée. “And it’s only the most delicious, rich, and amazingest food ever to be found in the market.” Oh yes, the market was absolutely the best perk of town life, especially when some vendor took pity on the poor, skinny feline that mewled pitifully for a scrap of the fish that none of the seller’s human customers wanted. That was a rare find, no doubt, but there was always something to be found in the garbage bins around the place, and fish was a favorite among almost all of the town cats.

As an afterthought, Renée added, “Actually, I had some fish last night. Rotted can stuff. Nasty.” The brown tabby again swiped her pink tongue around her jowls, remembering the thick, rank flavor of decay in her mouth. It was edible, sure enough, but only that. She swiped her muzzle yet again, grimacing dramatically this time.

And then she was forcing herself into a sitting position, pushing up with her front paws. She didn’t see how fish could prolong a conversation, and the talk did nothing except make the loner she-cat hope that she and the orange-furred cat could be friends. “But if I’m gonna live around here,” Renée meowed, jumping back into more important issues because socializing could be saved for later, “I need to know who’s who. What kind of gangs and cliques are roaming around, where the best food is, if there are claimed territories and the like… you know, the usual business.” The tabby was determined to get through all the paperwork before she kicked up her feet for a relaxed conversation… or whatever the feline equivalent of those things could be called.