[PRP] Two Travelers (Wolf/Smoky)

[belloblossom]

Wolf was a loner, but if you asked him, he really didn't care for that title. He preferred to be called a traveler, because he didn't spend all that much time alone these days. His mate, Kestrel, was often with him and when she wasn't, it was because she was occupying the territory that they'd made their den, for him to return to after doing a sweep of the wilds nearby. He wasn't patrolling the borders - there weren't borders in the wilds, despite what some other loners might tell you. It was every cat for themselves out here and with his lady love making a home for them for the night, he wanted to make sure that any new neighbors were friendly ones.

It getting on to dusk by the time he was coming back, having scouted out near everything except for the old thunderpath. It was easy finding cats laying along the thunderpath when the sun was high in the sky, because the path became warm - like one giant rock to sun yourself on. It was a delight - if you didn't mind the company. Why, he'd even seen youngsters pretending to die horrible deaths upon the thunderpath, as though struck by one of the fearsome monsters that were common in the Twolegplace. Far enough from this old thunderpath that any real worry in finding a monster here was slim to none, but he wasn't sure he liked seeing such dramatic, grizzly displays from the youth of today. Oh dear, did he really just think that? He sounded old.

Shaking his head with a chuckle, he came to stand on the old thunderpath. It was cool to the touch and even in greenleaf, it was only going to get cooler as the sky turned dark.

"Well... Time to head home." He said to no one, for he could see no one on the thunderpath and he wasn't, at least currently, scenting the air for strangers. It was too soon to tell if this negligence would be a mistake for him or not. @Umbrefox

 

[Umbrefox]

Smoky had come a long way from his old home on the ranch, the familiar mountains and their blueish fog. He had always felt like he had some greater purpose out there than just catching mice around the small den that the twolegs stored the cattle feed in. Then one morning he felt a calling to follow the mountains; without a single doubt he began his journey.

The journey was much more of a trek than he every expected. Early on he stumbled upon a well worn dirt twolegs trail and he though this might be a sign, a relief from trudging through the undergrowth. For a while he was able to steadily follow the path but many obstacles arose. Weather, hunting, predators, and even Twolegs in small groups walking the trail, either halted his progress or diverted his path. There were many times when he questioned his decision to listen to this calling but he'd steady his resolve.

Now, Smoky has yet again had his path deviated off course by an encounter with Twolegs, leaving him face-to-face with a river. It is much deeper than the brooks and streams the Twolegs path had previously crossed nor could he see one of those wooden Twolegs structures that span creeks. "Maybe I should look for a better crossing?" he muttered to himself but a less rational feeling inside him urged him to hurry and just get it over with. So, he began to swim.

By the time he reached the other side, Smoky was sopping wet. He looked rather pathetic as one could see his long skinny frame usually hidden by his long fluffy fur. After shaking off as much of the water as he possibly could, Smoky decides it would probably be a wise decision to take a rest and tidy his fur. @belloblossom