This is New *open*

[Holly]

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[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][bg=ffd952] Tonks stood at the mouth of a dark ally within the twolegs doman. She let out a small sigh. She had been through so much in the last few moons. She watched her father and mate kill each other, she was exiled from Frostclan, and worse of all, due to all her stress her kits were all stillborn. She let out a pitiful mew. "Well, Tonks,"Tonks mewed to herself, "We've been through so much, if you died in this place it would be fine." The she-cat honestly though it would be easiest that way. She rose into her paws and walked into the ally. She went up to the first trashcan and dumped it. If clattered to the ground. Tonks jumped at the sound. She let out a small sigh. She went through the scraps. She was already skinny and as the days go by she keeps getting skinnier. She had refused to eat after she learned all her kits were dead. The she-cat felt nothing, but sorrow. She lost everything. Even her mother who if she saw she'd shred him and he would shred her. Tonks Doing "Tonks Speaking" TonksThinking "Other person's cat talking"

[Juniper]

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[atrb=background,http://i437.photobucket.com/albums/qq95/amanda1472/wee2.jpg] The small but growing bundle of ginger fur crawled through the scorching desert, wincing as his golden fur felt a searing sensation. It was like being fried alive. The relentless newleaf sun blazed beams of boiling light over the dry terrain. Plants were sparse there; what little managed to survive was shriveled and desperate for the rains promised to them now that leaf-bare had slid into newleaf. But no rain had come, not even an accidental sprinkling of the vital liquid. Then again, this desert didn’t need it. But still, wishful thinking was always nice… Weedpaw, on the other paw, needed it. The spoiled apprentice was accustomed to residing in a land of bitter-white snow, where water could be produced by crushing piles of ice. A strong flow of the life-granting stuff even wound down the steep mountainside, stretching to immeasurable limits until it emptied into AspenClan’s Reflection Pool. It was mighty, it was breath-snatching, it was powerful, it was… water. And here in the wastelands of the island, there was no water to be discovered. Weedpaw gave a groan of annoyance, hoping to entice the fluffy clouds above to shower his with their cool tears. It did not work. Evidently they were used to desperate and dehydrated cats begging for their mercy. As the cruelly smirking sun clambered across the dusty sky, Weedpaw made progress. He knew the journey out into the spacious SoulClan territory was length and dreary, and had calculated that by departing the camp in the mornings he would successfully arrive at the SoulClan camp by nightfall. But he was a poor thinker and wound up taking tentative steps onto enemy territory when the sun had yet to sink below the horizon. It was just past midday, and Weedpaw quickly scurried into the welcoming shade of the roof of the Twoleg nest that marked the edge of the SoulClan camp. A large crash greeted him as he pressed his body against the rough surface of the nest. Heavy, silver-tipped objects landed on his paws, inciting a pained yelp. A soft murmuring accompanied the clanking racket produced. Slivers of irritation embedded themselves deep into his skin as he skulked over. “What’s with all this noise…” he muttered to himself, determined to halt whatever it was. The putrid stench of moldy crowfood hit his nostrils, causing him to shrink back. A pale she-cat with prominent ribs jutting out scuffled amongst the Twolegs’ litter. She was starved and familiar looking. Despite the smell, Weedpaw swiftly approached her side. He tentatively poked her raw shoulder with the tip of his glorious ginger tail. Gently, he queried, “Don’t I know you? I’m Weedpaw, from FrostClan. Weren’t you originally there too? I thought I remembered you when I was a kit…” A sorrowful expression fraught with sympathy entered his amber eyes. His heart ached for her. He had heard rumors that she had lost her kits. He had lost his parents; he knew the all-too-familiar feeling of losing one’s family to death’s cold embrace… “Weedpaw speaks” Weedpaw actually thinks (rare) Weedpaw does (usually before thinking) Word Count 502 Tags Tonks OoC What’s her Clan name again?

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[Holly]

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[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][bg=ffd952] Tonks was to busy to hear the pale apprentice approach. She had to find food for herself or she'd die. She found a few bites and gluppled them down. She jumped so high as the tom rested his tail upon her bony shoulder. She turned to the young tom. She smelt Frostclan on her she let out a small growl, but stop, it wasn't his fault. She frown turned into a smile. Ah it was Weedkit!“Don’t I know you? I’m Weedpaw, from FrostClan. Weren’t you originally there too? I thought I remembered you when I was a kit…” Tonks gave a small smile to the apprentice."Yes, you do. I'm Sweetsoul, Skyheart sister, but I now go by Tonks. Although when I left you were still a young kit. You no longer look like a kit. Look at you, your a strong young tom now, oh your mother would have been proud of you.""Tonks purred at the apprentice. "What are you doing so far from Frostclan, Weedpaw?" Tonks Doing "Tonks Speaking" TonksThinking "Other person's cat talking"