Silverspectre was a loner. He just prefered the company of himself more than others and well, it seemed like the others either understood it, or perhaps even shared that sentiment too. He often snuck into the camp silently from some strange back entrance no one had patched up yet, or preferred to avoid it all together, and frankly, he was so used to being somewhat invisible to everyone–all those loud, flamboyant others–that he almost blocked them out completely.

He was observing a butterfly flutter across, its wings vibrant with the shine of iridescent light, like scales or magpie feathers, changing color whenever the light was different, when suddenly his silence was interrupted by a voice, and the disappearance of the insect. He felt almost a little crestfallen at that, before turning to the cat who spoke, blinking in surprise, as if to ask: wait, what? You're talking to me? I thought I was invisible around here.

The hesitation could be seen all over him, from the way his ears were a little flatter than usual, his neck-hairs standing a little too ruffled, his paws tucked in, tense. He didn't quite know how to say no, so he gave a tentative–albeit reluctant–nod. She seemed like a chatty type; he only hoped she didn't expect much conversation from him.

to the trashcan with you but ily

While his legs were longer, his steps were plenty slower, keeping at a pace just behind Meadowlark. It was easier to let her lead; she seemed like she knew where she wanted to go and after all, he was here on her invitation in the first place. His head was already beginning to drift to the clouds when her voice shook him out of the maze of his head. Preference? Frankly, he didn't care. Any hunting ground was good ground for him; he was adaptable after all. Still, she probably expected an answer, and he opened his mouth in an attempt to give her one.

Nothing came out.

He swallowed, clearing his throat to try again, but she spoke first. He gave a sigh of relief. Thank the gods. The Ravine sounded fine. He could do the Ravine. Rabbits were fun, after all; they reminded him of his first home. He could imagine it, the tundra like the color of his pelt, the snow high, brushing against his fur, his hind legs pushing forward as he leaped forward to carve a tunnel through the snow...his minded drifted like the flurry of flakes in the winter storm, walking the boundary between listening to Meadowlark speak of this and that–small talk, really–while he gave an occasional nod.

He wasn't much of a talker after all, it was more comfortable letting her continue, and she seemed like she did a good enough job filling in his blanks too. He let a small smirk appear on his face; this, at least, he could do. He was glad she didn't expect much of a reply.

He gave her a look over as she spoke, his brow furrowing slightly as she asked her question, as if curious whether that bothered her, skeptical of the other cat's assumptions. It didn't really bother him what others thought–his siblings from another litter mostly thought he was something that needed to be spoon-fed everything, and well, he had always been a bit of a disappointment to his mother even if she never said anything about it. His throat made a sound akin to a chuckle at her words, his claws peeking from the edge of his paws in an answer about his own skills. There was a reason why being a ghost benefited him, and hunting was one of them.

His eyes shot to her as she gave a warning, his steps slowing down so she could go first with a more comfortable amount of space. The Ravine wasn't too difficult for him–his long, lanky legs were useful in this, at least–and he quickly took step after her. At her question, he blinked, as if surprised, before shaking his head, gesturing towards the general direction of WinterClan's border, a small sound coming from his mouth, as if he was attempting to speak but his voice refused to.

He gave her a small smile, as if both slightly amused and yet, being polite. He gave a further chortle at Meadowlark's assumptions. Of course, he knew the reputation his former clan once had–it was cold and frigid and all the cats must be as well–but it had been years since he was there. He was practically a kitten when he still lived in WinterClan with his mother; she had died only a couple moons after he was born, and he had been gone in an instant. WinterClan had been nice, but it had been so long since he had been there; he didn't know much about the place anymore.

His smile was more relaxed now as he shook his head no. No, he didn't kill anyone, it was just...better that he wasn't back there. It wasn't something he could explain, even now, why he thought the energy back home was different. His eyes turned to her paws, the way her claws clicked onto the rocks as she walked. Huh, she must be a careful cat, he thought, as he turned back to her face as she mused to herself.

He wanted to ask her a question too. His tail flicked her shoulder lightly to grab her attention, as he tilted his head to the side as if asking what her background was.

He gave her an apologetic dip of his head–he hadn't meant to scare her, and well, she looked embarrassed enough without him commenting on it. Born and bred huh, he mused, wondering what that was like. The first few months of his life were in darkness–the mountains of WinterClan were darker in the winter than anywhere else, the sun barely peeking through the dark cloud cover, disappearing only moments later as if day was never fully there. FallClan's climate was much easier to deal with rather than the higher mountains. He had learned to fall in love with the warmth that the seasons brought.

He gave her a slight grimace at the comment about her parents, the expression in his gaze showed a sort of understanding, motioning slightly with his head to indicate that he could relate. His family was gone too, without a single trace, at least not one he could follow. He shook his head at her question, a wry smirk on his face, as if asking her the same question. Bored of the mute yet? his eyes glimmered with amusement.

(no worries b!)

While Silverspectre almost expected the other cat to be polite–even if she did have a problem with his silence–there was still an ease that settled into his shoulders as she brushed it off. A quiet sigh left his mouth, and he gave a faint smile to Meadowlark. As a kit, there weren't many who could tolerate such a silent kit–he was unnatural, they said, a sign from the stars–and even now, he felt uncomfortable with other cats, mostly because he was afraid of boring them. As he skid down to where she was standing, his eyes looked up, to the roots of the trees holding the ravine up, his head tilted as he scented the air. He could see where Meadowlark was looking at. Mice. He hesitated for a moment, before nudging the other cat, gesturing as if telling her that he could scare them out and she could catch them instead.

(honestly I find it really hard to RP this boi because how to body language)

He almost smiled at her nod before licking his chops, quickly lowering his body, haunches at the ready, preparing for a move. Then suddenly, he was but a blur of movement, powerful hind legs launching him upwards as his claws scrabbled against the rock, finding a hold into the earth for a quick moment as his claws swiped against the crack in the earth, a satisfied smirk on his face as the mice immediately flew into a panic, rushing out of their den. He lunged, teeth grasping onto one warm body before falling towards the ground once more, body twisting to land properly onto his feet, his catch in his jaws.

It wasn't anything weird really, at least not when he was living in WinterClan. He had seen apprentices practice this sort of move, teaching the kits the basics of it all. They had lived in the mountains, and hunting this way was a necessity, despite the danger of launching one's self off the side of a hill or a ravine really, but hey, he had taught himself how to do it, and after all this time, it still...worked. His eyes roamed around before meeting Meadowlark, hoping that the mice had at least headed towards her direction.

He grinned at her excitement. She had reacted fast, nimble movements making the panicked mice look like bundles of leaves they used to play with as kits. She was definitely a good hunter too, and he took a moment to stand there and admire her catch, before snapping back to reality, chasing after the mice, and trying to herd them towards her. She could definitely keep up, that was for sure. At this point, he didn't need to push himself; they had enough of a catch for the two of them to feed a few cats. He padded back to Meadowlark, his lips turned to a smile even with the mouse hanging from his jaws.

His head tilted to the side as she asked her question, before giving her another gesture towards the general border of WinterClan, a movement of his paw gesturing to an answer. When he was younger, in WinterClan. The mountains were high and they had to learn how to do that, at least. He pointed towards the mice in her grasp, a compliment on her great catch.

He chuckled at her words. Yeah, pretty much it, he thought wistfully. To be honest, there were nights when he thought back to his home and he could barely remember it. His family felt a lifetime ago. They had been happy once. Perhaps before he was born, but...his mother had been happy once. Before Goldenkit had passed away, at least. He could remember Frozenstar calling them by their names, musing over what they'd be like when they were grown. He could remember the smell of the heavy winter wind, a sharp scent that just smelled like frost. He could remember the bright yew berries and rowan trees and the queens telling them not to be fooled by the bright berries.

An almost nostalgic look crossed his eyes for a brief moment, before he turned to her with a shrug, his paws clawing at the dirt, as if illustrating his home. brushing some dirt into a mound, it was supposed to be a mountain, and he drew the three rings that had been the camp when he was there. The outer ring, where the guards, the warriors and the rescue team had lived, the middle ring, where the queens and apprentices stayed, and the inner ring, where the medicine cat and the senior warriors lived alongside their leader. He had only seen that part of the ring for moons. Things were different then.

He gave her a shrug at the whole 'holly bush comment.' After all, he couldn't quite say it was true. There were definitely holly bushes, but everything was always snowy, he could hardly tell what was underneath it. His tail swept under the leaves on the ground, as if returning her question with a: 'so is FallClan just leaves to you?' kind of question.