could've been the champagne || intro

There is a point in Coalwhisker's day where he has a lull in duties, nothing to do until evening patrol. Free time he would rather spend alone, Coalwhisker slinks from camp, unobtrusive in his departure. His long tail flickers behind him and, as he walks, head low and the points of his shoulders rolling with every step, Coalwhisker is guided by memory to his destination. He moves fluidly between brambles and underbrush, a skill he had to learn quickly to avoid having his fur pulled off after a moon. 

Coalwhisker slows as he approaches his destination. A tree, small for a tree but still large for a cat, with pale bark. The edges of it's graygreen leaves are tinged with a sharp, evening orange. This tree has been a favored spot of his since his arrival to ThunderClan, and the base of it is well-worn with proof of his sharpened claws. It is a quiet and sweet-smelling spot, good to curl up against and fall into the quiet of introspection. 

Time passes, and Coalwhisker meditates on his day. Eyes closed, large ears in a resting position. An inhale, an exhale, and a splat. 

He isn't certain what exactly hit him, but the change is immediate. Coalwhisker startles into a jump, landing on all fours stiff-limbed. His breaths come shallow, and his rapid pulse thrums in his ears, in his paws. For a long moment, Coalwhisker remains as he is, frozen and too frightened to move, as if there is an unseen predator lurking nearby, and his moving would be what draws its attention. 

The spell is broken when the source of the hit becomes apparent. Right in front of him, a fruit falls and turns to mush as soon as it hits the ground. Coalwhisker jumps once more, but this time his fur settles after he lands, and his tail slowly unfurls from his belly. It had just been a fruit to hit him, then. Coalwhisker shakes himself like a dog dispelling water, then swipes a paw over the back of his head, and is relieved to see a glob of over-ripened persimmon fall from his neck. 

Just a fruit.

Coalwhisker settles back into his spot cautiously, looking upwards as he sits under the now-identified persimmon tree. It's branches hang heavy with more, but no more seem to be right above Coalwhisker. For now, he should be safe. 

Solarflare, the brutish warrior, unfurled himself from beside his mate. Stiffling a yawn, the large creature stirred from his slumber and took slow, long steps towards the entrance of the warrior's den. His ivory fangs shone in the morning sun as his lips parted with the forcefulness of his yawn. With a shake, the tom finally found himself awake and ready to begin his day. Tasking himself with a patrol around the clan, the feline's golden hued fur bristled slightly as the cool autumn air hit his pelt. "I swear, it's getting colder with each passing light." His hope was that soon, this would all be over soon. That leaf-bare wouldn't be so unpleasant. The warrior remained optimistic as he padded towards the unknown, almost as if he was trying to put all the positive vibes out there to the world. That's when he saw Coalwhisker.   

Already skittish, Coalwhisker stiffens with the arrival of Solarflare. ”Brute,” He says as way of greeting, although his voice lacks the bite to make it an insult, ”You sounded like a badger. One can walk without shaking the ground, you know.” Still, Solarflare had been worried enough by Coalwhisker that he had come running for Coalwhisker's aid- even if the threat was little more than loose persimmons. Coalwhisker was appreciative, even if it ultimately wasn't a danger.

”Nature is the enemy, without a doubt.” The chilling of the moons would undoubtedly give rise to conflict, but for now it was the trees dropping their bounties that troubled Coalwhisker, and as such it was what took his focus. ”Better a persimmon than a hickory nut, one may say, but they aren't who was so callously struck by...” As he speaks, Coalwhisker paws distractedly at the back of his head, until a stuck pit is dislodged and Coalwhisker interupts himself with an ”A-ha!”

The little flea-bit arrives next, and Coalwhisker's nose scrunches. ”Coalie. Don't make a habit out of that one.” Coalie. The mind of a kit was a mysterious and frightening thing indeed. The rest of it, Coalwhisker doesn't deign with a response. He isn't afraid of fruit, he's afraid of unknown noises, as anyone else would and should be. Whatever higher powers there may be save him, Coalwhisker cannot even question what Mushroom is out for because he called the both of them uptight.

Coalwhisker wasn't going to be bested by a kit, ”What about anything I do makes you think I'm uptight? If any of us are uptight, it's you. Right?” The no you response was an airtight defense.