This place is {{Poisoned}} with {{silence}}

[Crimsonheart]

The tabby cat pelted through the forest at the bottom of the moutains. She looked around adn stopped when she came to a clearing. She shifty her deep misty blue gaze to a tree. There usually was a bird sitting in the tree but today there wasn't.

"Curse it. I haven't eaten since yesterday."the she-cat hissed. Her name suited her attitude. Poison. It was perfect, since she named herself. Licking her dark brown tabby pelt, Poison picked up her black paws adn began to pad away.

She looked around and saw nothing. It was so quiet that she felt like yelling. "My name is Poison and I rule this part of the land!" she yowled. Echos repeated her words and she smiled. IT was like having other cats with her, though she wasn't very social.

[Hawkfeather]

"Oh really?" The soft voice could hardly be called intimidating, yet there was a sharp, deadly edge to it. A small black she-cat, barely larger than Poison, stepped out of the shadows. Venomous green eyes stared at the younger cat, unblinking. A dead mouse was next to her paw.

"I was here first, you know." Languorwine, better known as Lang, meowed. Her tone was mild, but her green gaze certainly wasn't. She started licking a dark paw, her ears pricked.

[Crimsonheart]

Poison growled when she saw the she-cat. Not saying a word, Poison let her misty eyes rest on Lang. "Why are you here?" Poison hissed, not knowing who this new cat was. Poison seemed to be a little, well, nervous. She had never seen another cat but she was brave.

Brave enough to laugh in the face of death. Like she had many times before. Poison swished her tail back and forth.

[Hawkfeather]

Sensing this cat wasn't hostile (at least not to the point on jumping on her with claws unsheathed), Lang relaxed. A little, at least. She hadn't survived for so long by dropping her guard everytime a stranger didn't try attack her outright.

"I could ask the same of you." She replied, letting her paw fall back to the ground. "Still, to answer your question. I am, above all, a wanderer. I guess I couldn't really care less if you do claim this land. Few come here, and it's practically over-flowing with prey. Foxes and badgers are the only trouble. "She half-shrugged.

"I'm Languorwine. You can call me Lang." She eyed the other she-cat speculatively. "Judging by your earlier claim, you're Poison." This was spoken as a statement, not a question.

[Crimsonheart]

Poison nodded, even though it wasn't a question. The she-cat was ready to unsheath her claws at any given moment, but she relaxed slightly. "So, Lang, how long have you wondered these lands?" Poison asked, a spark of interest in her eyes.

[Hawkfeather]

"Time loses its meaning as you grow older." Lang meowed cryptically, her eyes narrowing. She fell quiet, pausing for a moment as she thought. "I was born to a rogue group." She meowed at last, her voice thoughtful. "I left at the age of...what, ten moons?"

Lang shrugged. "I arrived here roughly....four, five sunrises ago? What about yourself?"

She didn't really mind this youngling knowing her history. It wasn't as if she was part of the rogue group she was in. Not like Poison would be tagging after her too.
Who cared, anyway? History was history, and in the past.

[Crimsonheart]

"I have lived on my own since my first moon... About 5 almost 6 moons maybe?" Poison mewed, her eyes fixed on Lang's. Poison's fur bristled a little as she thought of her parents, than a wicked smirk crissed her face. The smirk turned into a small, some-what awkward grin.

"What rouge band were you part of? I have heard of many." Poison asked, her eyes shifting from Lang to a tree once or twice.