SEVEN BILLION SOULS — MEETING & ORIENTATION [08/03]

[Heatherpaw]

Heatherpaw was new-- that was all there was to it. He flicked an ear as the leader began her announcements, observing how different they were from the announcements in his home clan. The revolting stench from the bowl, however, had his real attention. It did not smell like something that was healthy, even though it looked like the blood of a freshly caught rabbit. He wanted to prove to this group that he was no pansy, but what did it truly entail?

The former WindClan apprentice knew that this was a rogue group full of wild monsters, but nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to see. Just like that, a ghost would appear out of nowhere-- a small dilute silver calico. Did these Rosebloods have the ability to always talk to their ancestors? In his home, only the medicine cat could talk to StarClan. If someone died in battle here, would nobody ever really grieve, because their clanmates-- no, fellow rogues-- could return to share tongues with them?

The black tom's amber eyes were wide open in shock as he stared at the ghost. It was only her words that snapped him out of it. The spirit mentioned the consumption of blood. The idea mildly freaked him out, though he refused to show it. More interestingly, it was mentioned that the liquid in the bowl was in fact some sort of poison-- no wonder it reeked. He listened to the scorpion-tailed lion monster tell off the ghost. How rude. Did they have no respect for their ancestors? Were their ancestors not the ones that kept them safe?

If this was indeed poison, surely the ghost was here to protect them and the potential newcomers, or was she? She seemed almost unwelcome to the group, which surprised the young tom. Of course, the idea of butchering a prisoner also horrified Heatherpaw. He wanted to be strong and to join the savage group of rogues. However, he was not aware of just how deep their brutality ran. If anything, he would prefer to consume the blood of someone, rather than beat someone who could not fight back. There was no honor in the latter. Did he have any right to speak, though?

"You're... not really trying to poison us, right?" he clarified, amber eyes focused on the cheetah leader. It did not hurt to ask and verify, after all. Rushing blindly into doing something could be deadly. Or, perhaps this was a test of some sort, like an assessment to join. If so, Heatherpaw wondered if they were being assessed on their bravery or their cunning in this particular instance. It would make sense to use something deadly in such an assessment. This was no clan, after all. This was a group of savage rogues: The Rosebloods.