Ryefield || She-Cat || ShadowClan Deputy
The Murky Swamp was quiet in the early morning, vision shrouded in a delicate layer of fog, the damp air heavy with the earthy scent of mud and waterlogged grass. It was unusual for both of these pelts to be out of camp at the same time, but when it happened, it was luckily to hunt together, and not for more serious matters. Ryefield had guided the pair to her favorite solo hunting ground.
Shadows stretched long under the dim light of the dawn sky, seeping through the thick mist in the air. Despite her distaste for getting dirty, her tabby calico pelt blended almost seamlessly with the dappled shadows cast by the overhanging reeds an the swamp logged trees that clung to life here. Even with some of her brighter colors, she was able to hide amongst the marshlands, and her whisper-like movements helped conceal her within.
Ryefields every step with deliberate to avoid squishing into the mud, and she took in a deep breath of the fond scent of earthy mud. They were almost upon her favorite spot when the deputy peered towards Ravenstar, mashed colored eyes of purple, blue, and a fleck of green scanning the leader for any sort of emotion, to try and gauge how she should act. “This spot always yields something,” she remarked in a smooth attempt with small talk.
Ryefield || She-Cat || ShadowClan Deputy
The swamp stretched out before them, a vast expanse of mist and murky water. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the occasional buzz of dragonflies skimming the surface of the shallow pools. Ryefield came to a stop as Ravenstar pulled ahead, an ear flicking at the snort of his words. Everything seemed still for a moment, outside of the sounds of their surroundings, and the conversation between th two. She watched the tall reeds sway in the breeze, and she could feel the weight of Ravenstar’s words settling in the air between them, like the fog rolling over the land.
She decided not to point out that while he hadn’t needed to make a point to anyone, he had still formed and stated some form of a point by choosing her, even if it was for himself. The deputy remained still to her spot, listening to his words. She didn’t know of his past, too young to have lived to see it, unsocial enough to have not heard rumors or stories. Ryefield shifted slightly, her calico coat ruffling as she looked towards him. The she-cat had never been one for grand speeches or the praise that accompanied leadership, but the more that he spoke, the more she supposed it made sense.
The reason for choosing her aside, what he wanted dwindled down to what Ryefield was out here with him seeking out herself. Friendship, to go along their professional relationship.
The murky swamp seemed to grow quieter, as if nature itself was listening to their exchange. Ryefield could feel her emotions swelling, not pride, but with a sense of responsibility. It wasn’t just the title of deputy that mattered, it was the role itself. It was the trust Ravenstar had placed in her, and the weight of it all. If there was one thing she was glad he picked up on, it was her devotion to ShadowClan and its longevity, its future. “I hope for that, aswell, Ravenstar.” Ryefield states with a dip of her head.