Gonna take you all the way down [GoosexMud]

[Whiskers [Archive]]

Today was a rare day, for Goosefur anyway. On this day--relatively bright and nice and warm out, thought not too warm, which was unusual for greenleaf--she was actually going on a hunting patrol. She was actually doing warrior duties as opposed to skirting out of camp before she got caught up in one. Sure, the patrol consisted of her and Mudstream, who was a warrior she barely knew, but still. It was her duty to go and catch fish or voles or other furry, tasty creatures, and she would do this duty as opposed to border hopping in hopes of spotting her real friends.

How did she get stuck doing this again? Goosefur was always very careful to wake up first to go hunting by herself. She would come back to camp with her prey, expertly caught, and then take a little nap. Then, as the dawn and hunting patrols of first light came back in and cats were milling about, waiting to get assigned to other patrols, she slipped on out again, to do whatever she wanted. This way Goosefur barely got put on border patrols and rarely hunted with a group, which is the way she liked it.

But Mudstream wasn't that bad. And getting assigned to hunt with one other cat wouldn't be as bad as three more, or four. What she knew of the rather good-looking tom was that he was quiet, soft-spoken and generally her opposite. His silence made her a little nervous (she didn't like it when cats didn't talk to her; it made her feel the need to talk more) but overall, she was rather pleased it was Mudstream and not a big group of cats who would order her around.

Still. Knowing Goosefur, she would probably chatter the entire way and scare off all the prey with just her talking. It wasn't her fault of course. She was born this way. It was Starclan's.

Goosefur sat, fidgeting by the edge of camp as she waited for Mudstream to appear. Oh yes, she was nervous. It was definitely going to be an interesting morning.

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[Poi]

[bg=33450c][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] Hunting Duty. Not a bad day, and not a bad assignment. Although not necessarily skilled in this area, Mudstream was a good finder, keen with his senses. If possible, he'd let his clanmate make most of the kills. He cocked his head as he heard who this patrol was made up of. Of all cats, he was to hunt with Goosefur. Loud, energetic Goosefur. That's just fantastic. He nodded, but took a glance around camp before rising to his paws and trotting towards the exit, where he saw the she-cat already waiting for him. It was odd, he usually didn't see her assigned to many duties. Actually, he hardly SAW her at all. It seemed whenever patrols were being organized, she was no where to be found. Funny how that works sometimes. With a flick of the tail, he managed to dispose of the thoughts that had been flying about his mind, and instead pictured the events ahead of him. Considering Goosefur's typical personality, he may have to do some calming of her nerves. In other words, he may have to talk. He didn't much like that idea. His voice was more comfortable in his own head than spoken aloud. Not that he disliked Goosefur, per say, but he simply found it difficult being around her sometimes due to his lack of interaction, and her abundance of it. Oh well, so it goes. He approached the female gracefully, slowing as he came into her proximity. He nodded, suggesting his readiness to leave, and prepared for the smothering of words to be laid out upon him. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.... he'd have to wait and see. Thinking Speaking

[Whiskers [Archive]]

Goosefur gulped when she saw Mudstream approach her. Already, whatever fake confidence she could muster was draining out of her as she realized the reality of what she was about to do. She was about to go on a hunting patrol, alone, with someone she didn't really know. It had been so long since she had attempted to make any friends. In fact, she never really tried. Loonstep, Cranetail and her sister had been simply given to her by the universe and they were all she had ever needed. Now, separated from them, she had gone for moons barely talking to someone on a deeper level. She had no idea how to truly make a connection. She had no idea how to make a friend, even though she was considered a friendly cat.

So what was she going to do? What was she going to say? It was a mystery even to Goosefur. Who knew what was going to pop out of her idiotic mouth the second that Mudstream arrived--

Oh and now he was here! And he was just staring at her like she was supposed to do something. Like she was supposed to be the responsible one! Like she had to say something.

Welp. Here that went.

"Mudstream!" she exclaimed happily. "Isn't it the prettiest morning you've ever seen? Just the best morning for a hunt. I was just thinking this and hey, it's always nice to hunt with someone else, don't you think? Oh gosh, we're going to have so much fun--do you know where you want to hunt? Personally I was thinking that we could go down to the river and swim a little, but then again, the undergrowth is just teeming with prey these days because it's such a beautiful summer! So it's really whatever you want."

She laughed a little, awkwardly and nervously. Already, she knew that Mudstream probably thought she was insane. And that was too bad. Looking at him, Goosefur thought that he looked kind and decent. He could make a good friend. In fact, in some ways, his reserved nature reminded her of Loonstep. And here she had gone and messed it up with her silly, stupid words and horrible, unattractive, kittish personality.

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[Poi]

[bg=33450c][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] His ears perked up as he heard a voice from behind him. Goosefur, of course. Did she just constantly feel the need to speak? Whatever the reason, he perked his ears to listen to whatever nonsense was to come out of her mouth. Oh hush now. Mudstream, what is with the insensitivity?! He clawed himself inside, wondering what was up with him today. He put a smile on his face and listened, though in slight astonishment, to the blabber from his clanmate. He ignored all of her speech except for the question of where to hunt. He parted his mouth, glad that not everything she had said was meaningless. He had to give her props for her attempt, though. It was far better than some others. Mudstream has that affect on others, usually making them act immature. "Oh, right," he thought about it for a moment before responding, "I think the river is a good idea." It may have appeared for no reason, but he decided on the water because he figured talking wouldn't be as big of a deal. And after all, he wasn't entirely opposed to getting to know Goosefur. She seemed quite nice, actually. Without waiting for a response, he started that way, but slowed his gait to let Goosefur catch up to him. Walking side by side would be a good gesture, he figured. He tried to be alright with the patrol. Goosefur couldn't be too bad. Thinking Speaking

[Whiskers [Archive]]

Great. Goosefur was already feeling foolish. She had just thrown herself to the wolves (so to speak) in a desperate attempt to charm the whiskers off Mr. Mudstream here, to extend the olive branch of communication and potential friendship with the gung-ho temerity that only one completely unashamed of oneself could give, and she had been rudely brushed off as though she was nothing more than a burr in his pelt. She had spewed out kindness and charm by the bucketload. She had practically pounced on Mudstream with her benevolence, the potency of which was enough to knock any young tom off his paws, thank you very much. The sheer power of her smile should be enough to clear storm clouds for Starclan's sake! What more could she do? Oh yes, she had done everything right. It was Mudstream, not herself, who was simply too uptight, too stiff to appreciate her. It was as though her smiles and giggles and attempts at conversation had stuck itself up his backside permanently, an ailment that now lodged a grimace on his face like a tick on an elder. Well! If he was going to be so mechanical as to make a pleasant hunting trip impossible, she would return the favor--

Oh, who was she kidding? This was all her fault. Oh yes! Goosefur could barely lie to a kit, let alone herself and the truth was this: she was unbearable, obnoxious and hardly let the poor tom get a word in edgewise. She was not charming. She was not pleasant either. She was practically artificial in her friendliness, not because she hated the tom or anything, but because she was so nervous that she was shaking out of her fur! And Mudstream could see through her clearer than any river. Of course he would answer her so uninterested. She had just severed any chance at an amicable relationship between the two of them because of the thousands of personality flaws that made her unattractive, unappealing and annoying.

At least she couldn't get any worse.

"The river! Good choice," she laughed out nervously, her tail curling a little as she looked away from the cat and toward the wilderness that lay before them. Once they were hunting, it was possible that the awkward air around the two of them would dissipate...so Goosefur could only hope. "I'm pretty wonderful at fishing. Not that--I'm not bragging of course--I just really--it's why I chose Streamclan you know, when the clans first got started, instead of some other clan or instead of staying with my sister--I thought...fishing! Great fun! Streamclan, yay!"

By the end of Goosefur's tirade, her mouth snapped itself shut before any other nonsense could worm its way out. She always talked too much when she got nervous. Or when there was a silence. Oh goodness, why was this such a very, very loud silence?! Why wasn't he saying anything? Why?! Just--Starclan have mercy! She would have to talk again, she just had to!

"...Fishing, then? Yup better get started don't want the clan to starve lots of hungry cats and cute little kits dying for a bite better get a move on high-ho let's go!" Goosefur squeaked out rapidly. She turned tail and scurried into the bushes, headed for the river with her head low.

...Turns out this could get worse. And it just did.

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[Cloudbat]

A certain black she-cat lounged on the riverbank, a decently sized fish in a freshly buried scrape beside her as a light breeze attempted to play with the wet fur plastered to the upper half of her body. Giving up, the current of air instead swirled around her short ears before wrapping around Goosefur and bringing her scent to the lounger.

Oh spare me, thought the queen. I'm having a nice little hunting break and blabbermouth has to show up.

Queen? Why then, shouldn't she be in the nursery?

Yeah, screw that crap. Antheart needed a break from her bundle of joy. Gorsekit had just fallen asleep when she'd left, anyway.

The breeze was also kind enough to alert her to the presence of another cat - Mudstream, a decent enough chap if a bit taciturn. Still, nothing wrong with that.

"Oi. Gabby goose. Mud man. If you're gonna hunt, try and not disturb a woman's rest, capiche?" So saying, the she-cat laid her head back down in the cool mud-sand.