[ti]Private[/ti]I've Been Watching You

[Fireflake]

Vulture the Rogue

---

Vulture's crisp blue stare was fixed in Honeyheart's general vicinity. His vision had improved with a recent growth spurt and now allowed him to see so much more. It was the main reason he had been able to catch the crow now dangling from his jaws, as his own scent had started to block out those around him. He didn't mind at all. The tom hoped that his smell and the increasingly dismal state of his pelt would cover up his relative lack of fighting skill and scare off potential attackers. That and he didn't want to waste time grooming away the dust he'd wiped from the area he'd set up his new nest in. Vulture frowned. It would take him quite some time to amass the same kind of collection of twigs and bones that he had slept on before the move.

The tom flicked a dark ear. He was thinking too much and doing too little. The rogue strolled toward Honeyheart as if it was merely a casual situation. As if he hadn't been staring solidly for a while. As if he hadn't looked up to her since he was a kit...
Patience was helpful sometimes, but he found that he used it as an excuse to miss opportunities. "Hello," he greeted, placing the crow on the ground in front of the she-cat. He nudged it forward. "Prey?"
Personally, he found the warm blood uncomfortable and preferred to wait or eat things days gone, but most of the group seemed to disagree. Vulture poked the fresh-kill forward once more.

All the while he stared. There were a couple of blinks, glances away, ways to show he wasn't offering any kind of challenge. After a few moments, he broke his gaze to scrape it across the house instead. His fur prickled. "Interesting place..." he commented. A pause. Then, "Come outside?"
Vulture's eyes flicked down briefly to Honeyheart's claws with great interest and a hint of something a tad more bitter, but quickly reached back up for her face.

---

ladyspectral

[ladyspectral]

Honeyheart was grooming, preparing for another night out on patrol. Her claws were ready to go, she just needed to take care of her own vanity. She paused as she was about to swipe her paw across her face, a smile spreading on her muzzle as she watched Vulture approach. "Vulture. It's good to see you, and thank you. You seem to be settling in well as a hunter, you've grown very well."

Her head dipped, but she paused as the tom spoke again. It had only seemed like a few quarter lunar cycles ago when he had been a tiny kitten, stumbling around the alleyway. How time passed, and how cats grew. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't as proud of him as she was any of her sons. So far, he had proven himself far better than his traitorous father.

"Of course, Vulture. What's on your mind?" She asked, rising to her paws. His bitter gaze didn't escape her attention, glancing down to her own artificial claws. He didn't seem to be challenging her, however... She started off toward the hole in one of the windows, expecting the young tom to follow along beside her. "I hope nothing is troubling you."

[Fireflake]

Vulture the Rogue

---

A touch of pride fluttered in Vulture. He had grown well. And hunting... he had learned to be good at it after choosing it by a whisker over fighting. These thoughts didn't show much. He was too focused on getting Honeyheart to come outside. Once she agreed, he allowed his ears to perk up. The tom tried to stroll after her but ended up in a brisk, jerky walk.

Nothing troubling me? Between very few social interactions, let alone fights, and being removed from his home, as well as thoughts of his father still hovering ominously over him, it seemed there was very little he wasn't troubled about. That was without mentioning the questions he had for the leader. But Honeyheart hadn't asked what was troubling him. She had said she hoped nothing was, and he grunted appreciatively in response.

Slipping through the hole in the window after Honeyheart, Vulture almost immediately looked more comfortable. A cool breeze blew some of the dust from his fur. "I wanted to talk to you," he said simply. "To ask some stuff."
The tom kicked away a small pebble. "Like what the group's doing now. Killing clanners, staying back..? Why?"
They had seemed to quickly give up on convincing the warriors that they were wrong. Almost as quickly, they'd given up the alley. They'd run away in his eyes.

---

ladyspectral

[ladyspectral]

Honeyheart hesitated. "Vulture... None of the cats we have tried to convert from the clan's way of life have been successful. Each time it has ended in the clans attacking. It's clear that the brain washing is too deeply ingrained in their minds. And we need to grow, train more before we begin to attack directly again. Though I'm growing more confident with our size. Perhaps we've been idle too long, however."

Maybe it was time to send a patrol out, raise havoc in the clan territories again. It had been a long time since she had shed clan blood, watched the life drain from a cat in her claws. It was time to come out of hiatus.

The fact he instantly looked more comfortable outside the den wasn't missed by the ginger and white she cat. "You haven't been adapting well to the rotting den, have you?" She stated, voice gentle as if she were speaking to one of her own kits. "You have much on your mind, and you have my ears. Now and any time you need them."

[Fireflake]

Vulture the Rogue

---

Vulture nodded as Honeyheart spoke, but he couldn't control the dissatisfaction splattered across his face like a recent kill's blood. The best he could do was look away. Turn his face away and keep his eyes fixed on her, that is, because looking away completely was like defeat. With the thought of fighting to placate his mind, Vulture forced down his doubts.

The rogue looked to a building in the distance as Honeyheart commented on his comfort outside of the rotting den. His tail flicked in annoyance. This motherly attitude was making it difficult to keep up his tough look. Clearing his throat, he shrugged. "I'm adapting," he stated simply when he turned back. Her gentle tone caught him off guard. His own was gravelly and apparently incapable of being soft, just barely out of the realm of a kit's despite those days being a season gone now. He glanced down at his paws.

"So that's a yes on killing clanners?" Vulture confirmed bluntly. "Got it."
That annoying little chirp in the tom's head that told him killing them wasn't the best option-- his conscience, maybe-- was silenced. Of course they have to die. They have to die because... because they're the reason we had to leave the alley. Vulture said nothing, as he often did, while he worked through the reasoning in his head. This was a neat little place to put his anger. Apparently this isn't the first time they've done it, either.

"What happened at the park?"
Vulture looked up into Honeyheart's eyes, trying to catch them with his own. While he maintained this stare something else called for his attention. He had to ask. It was almost as if he physically couldn't help himself, and the words pushed through his teeth like those of an enthusiastic kit, somehow still managing to be monotone. "Is that where you got those claw... things?"

---

ladyspectral  I can't believe it actually took me a month to reply to this, especially after I asked for it. Sorry about that. :S

[ladyspectral]

"Well, if there's anything I can do to help you adapt, let me know. I'd be happy to assist in any way I can, dear." Honeyheart responded, examining the tom with an unmistakable expression of pride on her face.

"I don't want to risk anyone else's safety trying to save the brain washed and insane, Vulture. I can't justify it if they aren't willing to save themselves. And traitors... tend to repeat their actions given the chance. Every member of the alliance is like kin to me, and I care for each one as if they held my own blood in their veins." She explained,"The only good your father did was bring you and your siblings into the world. He threw away his life here, for nothing. I was going to ask him to serve on the council, actually. He threw it away."

"What happened at the park?"

The question brought up an old pain, the thought of her beautiful son's slowly fading face that caused her heart to ache. The grief was evident in her eyes, in the drooping corners of her mouth. She inhaled slowly before speaking, considering her words carefully. "Eaglewing killed Lynx in the park." She meowed gently, voice solemn and sober. To think, she had thought Weaseltongue's loss was bad enough.

[Fireflake]

Vulture the Hunter Rogue

---

Vulture nodded and flashed a brief grateful look. He didn't nod again until his father was mentioned, at which point the only emotion he showed was distaste. Still, he listened with pricked ears to Honeyheart's philosophy regarding the rogue group. She treats us all like family. Hm. Vulture... didn't do that. He hardly treated half of his family like family. Others he watched, but he didn't know them.

The tom faltered at her reply to his question, unaware of how to comfort Honeyheart, or of if he should even try. He defaulted to hatred.
"Eaglewing was a stupid cat. He wasted his own life and-" and your son's. But bringing that up didn't help him. He finished shortly, "Me or Buzzard would've killed him."
Honeyheart had been nicer than he would have been, given the chance. But he wasn't given the chance.

Vulture paused to regather his thoughts. Again, his short speech was getting in his way, just like his stupid short claws. He glanced down at his paws before jerking his gaze back up. "The park with the clans, I meant."
He shook his head as he spoke, partly because he didn't care for the answer anymore and partly to shake away thoughts of his father.

"I heard about Lynx," he muttered, ducking his head away. "From Buzz and Net-- er, Hornet-- talking... Eaglewing never told me anything."
The tom stretched out and started to slink down the street. Nowhere in particular, though he found his paws falling into the path he'd taken to the last place he caught prey. "I bet it's not easy, him being gone..." he muttered, watching Honeyheart carefully, "Lynx, I mean."

Vulture shook out his fur like an agitated dog, as if there were droplets of water soaking him that he couldn't get off. "You tell cats things, right? Like... what's with that bird always around you? And why do you have a clan name? And what clan was Eaglewing from? Did you have parents? And- I've wanted to know forever what's with your claws!"
His fur bristled with embarrassment as he finished and took a deep breath, realizing his outburst just too late to stop it. Vulture looked away into the distance and let out an uneasy purr as if it was a joke.

---

[ladyspectral]

Honeyheart rose as well, following alongside the tom. "I know you would have, Vulture, you and your littermates are loyal cats." She meowed in affirmation as she followed along. "No, losing a kit... is never easy. But I've been doing better as time passes." Net... A nickname for Hornet. Maybe the two were getting along better than what appearances suggested.

Then the barrage of questions came, and she waited patiently throughout them. "Flit, a companion of mine for many moons now. I found in the old down as a fletchling, and on a whim I raised him. He never left. And Honeyheart was never my name, really. I gave it to myself to make the clans trust me, back when I was alone. I never went back to it, it grew on me I suppose. Maybe I should. My name is Wasp. I believe Eaglewing was from Ivyclan. And, yes. I did have parents, two loners. We lived near a communal two leg den, I left soon after I turned six moons. I had two littermates, both tom cats. And my claws, I pulled the teeth from animals the two leg monsters trampled."

She peered over at Vulture. Now the young tom knew more than any other cat, she pondered what exactly he would do with the knowledge. "Do you have any other questions, dear?"

[Fireflake]

Vulture the Hunter Rogue

---

The tension in Vulture's steps began to ebb away at Honeyheart's words. His eyes widened with each answer she gave until surprise was unmistakable in his expression. A glimmer of awe, the kind he'd held but never dared to express as a kit, lingered just barely hidden on his face. He wouldn't show that fully, of course. Looking at her from the side of his eye as they walked was good enough.

Vulture was quiet for a few moments after her own question. He knew the simplest answer, the answer that required the least communication, was no. It also seemed the least helpful answer in this situation; a waste of an opportunity. Why did we have to leave the alley? Why do the clans hate rogues? Why are my claws stumpy? Vulture cleared his throat. Why thises and why thats flew around his mind but he already knew the answers. All those at the forefront of his mind had already burst out and been struck down, simply and calmly.

His eventual response was a shrug. "Some."
The tom's eyes returned once more to what Honeyheart had described as pulled teeth. There were so many things he wanted to know, but this was something he needed to know. "Do they make your claws better?"
He paused, stopped in place, then unsheathed his own. Usually a hostile gesture that empowered cats, it seemed almost the opposite for Vulture as he asked, "Could I do that?"
The rogue glanced at them. The only teeth he could imagine there were baby mouse teeth. So maybe not teeth, but something else?

He retracted his claws again and felt the need to quickly change the subject. He moved on, both in the conversation and along the street. Stumbling over his own thoughts now in a rush to get away from his own inquiry, he settled on something less than adequate. "Can I shorten your name? Hm? Honey, Heart... Neyhear?" He muttered the various nicknames he could come up with. Vulture grimaced internally but managed to contain the reaction.

---

Neehar. That's her new name.

[ladyspectral]

Honeyheart dipped her head in a nod at the tom's questioning of her claws, glancing down to his. "I don't see why not. Yours are shorter than most, but I will warn you that they can cause issues such as infections. As well as being uncomfortable and making climbing nearly impossible. I'm not sure what may stick on them, but we can see what works." Maybe the needle sharp teeth that came from the jaws of a young dog, but that was a risky thought that nearly sent a shiver down her spine.

She pondered his claws for a few moments before the subject changed to names. Neyhear. No, that wasn't going to work, she was supposed to be a fearsome leader of a clowder of psychopaths, the bane of the three clans. Not a cat named 'Neyhear', it didn't suit her reputation. "If you need to shorten it, just call me Honey, dear." She replied firmly, looking over to the young tom.