For some strange reason, throughout all of history, black had always been associated with the most unsavory of connotations; evil, death, malevolence fit for the devil. Wanxi had no answer for this strange turn of events; perhaps it was because black never seemed to be naturally found in nature? Perhaps because the color made them feel uncomfortable, obscured entirely in the darkness of night? Except Wanxi could list so many lovely things the absence of color had managed to bring the world; the raven for Edgar Allen Poe to write into existence, deep black volcanic rock for building indestructible buildings out of, the color of the sky so that galaxies and cosmos could be seen better against the backdrop. After listing all of this, Wanxi came to the most logical conclusion. People were simply scared of things they did not know. Wanxi might have supposed this to be the reason for her loneliness, but she could not ignore the fact that she already pushed every potential friend away before they could contemplate the color of her pelt.

For now, however, she felt more at home than she ever had under the kind, twinkling starlight, smiling cheerily down upon her pelt and draping her in a celestial glow. The cat slipped through tall prarie grasses and sagebrush dusted with late night snowfall, dragging along with her precious cargo. Her back was laden with a large leather-bound bag, dried in the sun and created entirely by her own paws. It was filled to the brim and outlines of large, rectangular objects jutted from the sides of the bag. It made her back sag and her legs tremble under the weight, for she realized now she had overpacked out of jittery anxiety. Her eyes were blown wide and her tail lashing from the physical exertion, a stranger to the frail she-cat. She gulped in deep breath of stale air laced with leaf litter and pheromones, and exhaled a breath she was unaware she had been holding as she recognized the scent of borders. A smile erupted across her face, yet it felt strange and odd. Wanxi realized she had not smiled in a long time. Still beaming, she collapsed onto the ground and unlaced the leather-bound bag from her back. There, she rested, watching as the outlines of small hawks, warblers, and tanagers flitted across the night sky.

[size=9pt]"I'd spill the beans and tell you they're as juicy as they look, but Feathers here isn't big on PDA."

Moon's always been messy-looking. He takes the word disheveled and puts it in bold and italics just to give it a good shot at doing his disgrace of a mane justice. But, here and now, he's taking it to a whole new level. Bite marks on his neck and blood still staining his caramel fur, the lion looks like Halloween's come early. But his blue-bagged eyes are no less warm, no less welcoming as they curve into half crescents, subtly limping paws carrying the lion forward as he passes Gabriel and knocks him over the head with his ragged tail in a way that exudes some dysfunctional fondness. He stays quiet, for once, letting the two others present ask the questions.