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Post by Ten on Sept 20, 2008 13:12:19 GMT -5
Her green eyes narrowed. She didn't like secrecy. That meant no speeches, no lectures, no campaigning. She was too blunt and open a cat for espionage. However, she had to consider it.
Taking a seat, Woodstripe asked, "And how would you propose we do that? What would we say without making things obvious? I'm inclined to think cats would be more willing to accept me as leader if I were the one to convince them they needed one. If they thought it was their own idea, they might choose someone else."
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Post by jamie103 on Sept 20, 2008 13:16:05 GMT -5
"I've already thought of that, too," Blackfur said. "If you see cats in trouble, go and help them. And I mean serious trouble. Trouble they can't get themselves out of."
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Post by Ten on Sept 20, 2008 13:25:18 GMT -5
"Are you questioning my honor?" the tabby growled. "I would do that whether there were something to gain from it or not. Besides, it's not every day that some cat is in drastic peril. And even if one were, it'd likely be the kind that affects everyone - like a drought or flood. We'll need a more effective plan than that. I don't think the secret way will work."
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Post by jamie103 on Sept 20, 2008 13:39:02 GMT -5
Blackfur was taken aback by Woodstripe's words. Perhaps she was right. "All right, then," she mewed. "What do you think we should do?"
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Post by Ten on Sept 20, 2008 19:42:41 GMT -5
"What I've been doing, of course: demonstrate the need for teamwork and unity in everyday life - like in the rat hunt. We all worked together to earn our meal and we couldn't have done it alone. It's a small example how much we need to be a group, not a mass of individuals. However, there are some cats who still resist the idea. I'm not sure how to get the message across to them..." She let the sentence trail off.
ooc| Is she still concerned about Tawnyfur and Frozenheart?
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Post by neffy on Sept 21, 2008 19:58:02 GMT -5
Brushface rolled on her side. Somewhere, babbles interrupted her attempts and freed her blind observations. Her blurred vision could decipher two cats. Their mouths moved rapidly and outward spewed quick words. A frown sat on her blocky muzzle and her ears erected. Although she was old, delusional, and her vision was going, her hearing was dead on.
"Was'sat 'bout bein' a leader 'n dep'ty?" the she-cat asked. Far be it from her to realize how rude it was to interrupt their conversation and feel ashamed for eavesdropping on a supposedly private discussion.
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Post by Ten on Sept 21, 2008 20:30:21 GMT -5
Woodstripe glanced at Brushface, then at Blackfur, concerned. It'd wouldn't be good for her image to be seen talking to that cat. Then again, she could use it to her advantage - an act of charity: Woodstripe, the great leader, was humble enough to speak to the lowly.
The tabby turned back to Brushface and beamed. "Yes, what you heard is correct. I plan to become leader of the clan. We need a skilled, determined cat to guide the clan in this time of darkness. As far as I know, I'm the best cat for the job. It's my duty to the clan to become leader."
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Post by neffy on Sept 21, 2008 20:40:56 GMT -5
Brushface blinked once and smacked her parched throat.
"This ain't no clan 'n it nev'r was one. You ain't got no duty; most cats won' listen to ya'. 'Sides, won't be long 'fore we're outta here. I can feel't'n m'bones."
Brushface laughed, stood shakily and smiled in Woodstripe's direction.
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Post by Ten on Sept 21, 2008 20:48:25 GMT -5
"You're incorrect about a few things, Brushface," Woodstripe mewed, reminding herself to keep her temper in response to the crazed elder's blatant ignorance. "We did used to be a clan. Have you not heard the stories? And with my help, it can become a clan once more. Don't you agree that organization and leadership would do everyone some good? A clan gives you food every day, cats you can count on, and something to be proud of."
It sounded persuasive to her. However, she also had to remind herself that this cat she was speaking to had lost all reason.
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Post by neffy on Sept 21, 2008 21:04:46 GMT -5
Brushface was reminded of a time when she was not looked upon as crazy. The time was no happier, but she did recall stories; stories she'd clung to for far too long–stories of life outside the walls. Oh, there were others, such as the ones Woodstripe referred to, but Brushface paid no heed to those. Her only wonder was if perhaps there was a way out, despite the rejection of such an idea.
Brushface returned to present day and coughed something terrible before she spoke.
"Stories don' mean nothin' 'n nobody needs y'r help. Mebby but wut do I know, huh?"
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