#btw tundra is techncially desert so there's not actually much precipitation & it wouldnt snow as much as it does in this story

[sedge-and-sanctuary]

Moon Two - Thawcreep

Sedgeclan has no deputy! Sedgeclan has no medicine cat!

While exploring the territory, Coniferstar meets a loner named Silent, who declines to join the clan. 

Silent - Male - 81 moons Loner Charismatic Great Hunter and Helpful Insight

Coniferstar has begun to know the territory, by now. Strangely easy to get turned around, in the flat, wide sameness of the tundra. Unfamiliar plant-scents tickle his nose; strange flowers and spicy-smelling, woody shrubs. There would be plenty of time to learn their names, and functions. For now, Coniferstar creeps through the rippling sedgegrass, following a different scent– Cat. A lone tom, with no smell of sickness on him. Coniferstar had caught his scent-trail near the border, and tracked it here– to the edge of an icy, trickling stream, where the stranger sits, washing his ears lazily. Coniferstar lingers in the undergrowth, for a time, watching the big, white tom. His fur blends well with the Thawcreep snow, still clinging to the tundra here and there. Older than Coniferstar, judging by the yellow of his teeth, but not too old– yes. He might do. “You look a strong cat,” Coniferstar says; the stranger startles, as he steps out into the open. The stranger’s pelt bristles, but he doesn’t move. “Strong enough,” he says, evenly; his voice is deep, and smooth. “Who are you?”

Coniferstar blinks warmly, keeping his claws sheathed only by force of will. “Coniferstar. A newcomer to these lands. And I mean you no harm.” The big tom studies him, for a moment, pupils thin as thorns in the wide, bright gold of his iris. His fur, by degrees, settles back against his spine. “Then I’m Silent. And I don’t mean you any either.” “A pleasure, Silent.” Coniferstar lets out a purr. “I don’t suppose you have a moment to speak?” Silent flicks an ear, glancing at something over Coniferstar’s shoulder; Coniferstar follows his gaze. Sees only the hazy, purplish line of the horizon; a white fur of low-lying cloud. “Don’t suppose I do,” Silent says. “Snow’s coming.” “There’s shelter at my camp.” Coniferstar speaks maybe a little too hastily; winces, at the note of desperation in his voice. He wonders if Silent hears it clear as he does; sharp and loud as hawks crying. “And at my den.” The loner’s voice is not unsympathetic; but he stands, to leave. “Take care, newcomer. Maybe I’ll see you around.” Coniferstar pauses, for a long, long moment– something gnaws at his belly, hungry, though he’d eaten well that morning. But he dips his head, eventually, gracious, and turns to go. The leader’s den is cold, that night, the stone leeching heat from Coniferstar’s fur. The silence of the camp, around him, presses in. Coniferstar works his claws into the earth. Maybe recruitment wouldn’t be as easy as he’d thought– but of course. A big, strong tom like that had no reason to join up with a clan. An idea taking root, Coniferstar lets out a breath, relaxing, and settles his chin onto his paws, to sleep.