(Story) You Are Strange, Aren't You?

Somewhere off in the distance, Cenek fancied he could see the sun making a final gasp for attention before it was lost in a sea of darkness. Somewhere beyond the horizon. Wherever it went, he knew in his head, by some primitive instinct, that it would be back on the 'morrow. Only if it failed to rise again would he know that the Shadow Spirit had died in vain, to save the Light Spirit who surely resided within the sun. The story of Nandryx tended to have little differences in detail depending on who told it, but he remembered as a young tom, before the mountains had split and the Spirits welcomed Shadow Tribe back home, that someone of familial significance had told him grandeur stories of the Shadow and Light Spirits in particular. It was most noble of the Shadow Spirit to have sacrificed himself for his sister. For a number of seasons Cenek had liked to imagine that he could take after that example himself. However, he had finally come to terms with the fact that his own soul was not nearly so noble. Who had he ever saved? No one. He watched stoically while his friends died and finished the job if need be. Gallant warrior, fine, brave deputy. He blinked into the darkness, and wished there was someone to blame for this besides himself. It wasn't as though he wished for things to be this way, they just were. Those he had left were the few, and though the meant the world to him, he dreaded what might come of another disaster such as the war. With any luck, he would die before getting the chance to find out. That in mind, the Yellow-Shadow rolled his jaw into a wide yawn and stretched his front legs, feeling his back arch and bristle in a relief of the day's tension. Time to greet the darkness, the slid out from the arching tunnel his tribe had long called home, and found his paws taking him out towards the place where the land rose to look over the sea.

D'ialia hadn't spoken a word since she'd gotten to the Shadow Tribe camp, at least not on her own initiative.  She spoke only when spoken to, and even then her responses were clipped and short.  She followed orders that she thought were sensible without complaint, and kept her mouth shut and ignored them when she thought they were pointless.  So far, not many of those had been passed to her and she'd managed to keep out of trouble.  For the most part, at least.  She always hung on the outskirts of the clearing, watching the other cats, never getting involved but wearing a look of silent, calculating judgment.  An intelligence and darkness that didn't suit her adolescent age, for as she often wondered as she watched the others in the tunnels, she had learned some hard truths of the world at too young an age.  She'd said nothing of herself, of her family, of a life she might have had before she'd followed the exiles to Nandryx.  She was simply there, a silent, watchful presence that the others were too uncomfortable to speak to.  Yes, she knew that she made them uncomfortable.  She wore her solitude like the other warriors wore their scars, or how some cats wore their priceless gems.  She wore it like a shield and brandished it like claws—both her protection and her weapon.  She knew who the big white Yellow-Shadow was.  Cenek, the others had called him.  She'd seen him staring into the darkness, processing thoughts that she couldn't fathom and giving orders that the others obeyed with barely a question.  He was not the leader, she knew, but she knew that Tylluan had yet to prove himself as leader.  He had been just an exile after all, until he'd come walking in with a silver laughing grin and taken the place of the old leader, who'd died mysteriously in a war that was just as mysterious.  Cenek had known the cats longer.  He had their trust, though she had gathered from Cenek's brooding outings into the territory that the Yellow-Shadow didn't believe he deserved it.  A cat who questioned his own worth was a wise cat, she had decided as she stood and shook out her ash-charcoal-chalk pelt and slipped after him.  She didn't use her abilities to follow him, simply slipped between the shadows and kept her eyes on his bright pelt as she followed him.  She'd been raised in the darkness, and she knew how it moved even if she didn't know how to perfect the power they'd told her that she could wield.  She didn't like being the cat who didn't know how to fight as they did, who was only passable at hunting and who had only begun to dip into that pool of power that allowed her to manipulate the shadows that lurked as she did through the trees.  She didn't like having that weakness, and was determined to purge it.  But, she thought, as she followed Cenek's ghostly form towards the ocean where he was wandering, there was only so much she could do on her own.

The soft thud of his paws on the warm earth echoed in the Yellow-Shadow's mind, and he walked he seemed content to melt into the sound. To let it take him as a grand companion, the sound of his own feet a grand thing indeed. Hear that? That's the sound of living. He snickered quietly to himself, wasn't there a day when each cat realized themselves to be alive? It seemed not, there were plenty who seemed to ignorant to notice. To appreciate the fleeting moments in which the heart beat echoed within one's ears. Surely they could all hear it. He might have chosen to ignore it himself, but that it was of some small comfort. He could spend his life thinking of the day's work and what the next day would bring, but it seemed more effective to expand the horizons a bit. He had found that, if he took a deep breath and let the sounds and smells of the world wrap themselves around him, he could twist them as he wished, and knew by heart exactly what needed doing. Fetch new bedding, send a patrol towards the Earth Tribe border, go hunt. Bring back something big. And yet, it was such a relief not to have to make the big decisions. What time he had missed spending with the previous Silver-Shadow he blamed almost entirely upon the position. It demanded so much, there was little room for relief and rationality. He was convinced it had contributed in driving Killian mad, and was curious to wait and see if it should do the same to Tylluan. Leaders rarely lasted more than a turn of the seasons, the only leader who still stood from the time before the war was the Silver-Fire, and she was young to the position even then. After a time, he began to sense that something was different, if not amiss, from his usual night walks. He made no motion to signify his awareness of this, but paused to dig around at the root of a tree, and simultaneously flicked his ears to and fro. Another cat, surely. He thought he could smell them even though the leafy debris, though the scent was only somewhat familiar. Shadow Tribe, but not yet deeply rooted in his mind. He continued forward a few steps more, picking up the previous pattern before stopping still. In one swift move, he drew the shadows around himself and disappeared within them. "Curious." He mumbled, his voice deepening with the forest's echo. He made himself to be left, right, everywhere and nowhere at once. "No need to be secretive. You've come to join me on my walk, have you? No motive?" He contemplated letting the shield down, but that would be too easy and not as much fun. He was genuinely curious about this visitor, but resolved not to be too welcoming. If this individual, female by the scent, wanted his trust and even temporary companionship, she should have to earn it.

D'ialia's pawsteps, as light as they had been before, came to a halt.  She peered around with those ghostly purple eyes, that eerie stare that seemed to pulse in the dim light.  The bright white of his pelt, which had been so easy to see only a moment before, had vanished into unfamiliar darkness.  It wasn't often that D'ialia could call darkness itself unfamiliar—she had been raised by it, after all.  She'd thought herself to be nothing more than another shadow before she'd joined with the other exiles and come to Shadow Tribe's home beneath the hills of their territory.  But these shadows made her blind.  They were not hers to join with or even hers to command.  They were his, and they were as foreign to her as the territory she suddenly found that she was supposed to call home.  But he had noticed her—of course he had.  She wouldn't have followed him if he hadn't been a cat to be reckoned with.  His voice came from everywhere at once, emitting from all scraps of shadows at her paws, every patch of darkness between the leaves.  But she did not look around and try to pinpoint where it would be coming from.  It would be pointless, she knew as she flicked her nicked ear and padded to the place where she had last seen him.  She sat down, her shoulders squared and the tufts of long fur on her forehead and spine stirring gently in the wind.  She stared straight ahead, knowing that he was in the darkness and the darkness was everywhere, as it always was.  Such power… she would cover herself in the shadows if she could.  She would breathe as they did, writhe in the wind and settle in the stillness at the bottom of a gully, creep longer in slow movements that no eye could perceive.  But it was a power that she did not know how to wield.  Not yet, at least.  This Yellow-Shadow was the darkness, in a way that was only illusion but at the same time as real as the rest of the forest around her.  She knew he was testing her, and she'd expected nothing less the moment she'd set out after him.  "Does anyone truly have no motive?" she asked the darkness, neither tilting her head left or right, her gaze never wandering to try to pick him out.  She simply listened, breathing and feeling the shadows breathe like sentient beings in the night.  "There is always something we wish to gain, whether we know it or not."  She had a strange way of speaking, one that was hard to describe.  A light lilting to her voice, a steadiness to her words that suggested that they were chosen carefully… but an easy calm that seemed as simple as plucking them out of the air like leaves in the wind.  You only had to know which way to reach.

Interesting, very interesting. Cenek's eyes followed the Pink-Orange Shadow without wavering. She didn't seem the least bit intimidated. Made no wild attempts to locate the exact source of his voice, did not try to hide or run. Ah, but this was her element too, wasn't it? She could find him if she had the control, but she was young and new to the business of shadow manipulation. That sort of thing took time and great amounts of effort. Even he was still learning. There were still plenty of skills he had yet to master, but he as all Shadow Tribe cats should be, he was determined to increase his power without fail. Air Tribe was known for their speed, Fire Tribe for ferocity, Earth for strength, Water for knowledge, Light for heart, and Shadow for wits. A well trained Shadow Tribe feline needed to be loud and forward in neither offense or defense to win a fight. Play to the enemy's faults, let them come to you and attack before they know what hit them. He liked to observe, it was one of those things they did best. Shadows were friends, nobody seemed to notice their existence as they sat quietly and became ears to the world. Silent and unnoticed. The fact that this cat, despite having lived with her fellows for only a short while, had a grasp of this was perhaps what impressed him the most. She must have befriended the shadows long ago, perhaps even before her tattoo became active. And now she sat so close to him, he could have leaned over to whisper in her ear. She was nearly staring right at him, and in the darkness, his darkness, he smiled. "And do you know what you seek to gain? I don't doubt you realized I would notice you eventually. You're smarter than that, I can tell. But you are strange, aren't you?" He let the barrier down, and the yellow grin that crept across his face glowed brightly in the youthful darkness. His body appeared next, white and pure but for the scars of past battles that adorned his face and neck. He was as like to snow as she to tar. He felt oddly intrigued. It was always interesting to meet new acquaintances, but far better when they had to offer some form of mental stimulation. This one, he thought to himself, will not be boring.

"I like being strange," she replied to the darkness.  Her gaze found him the second his tattoo flickered into sight, and she watched him carefully, calculatingly as the rest of his body appeared.  But besides her glance in his direction as she located him, she didn't move.  Even though she knew she was being tested—judged, even—she was at the same moment judging him.  She only briefly took in the scars on his body before she searched his eyes for those scars that truly mattered.  She could see that he had plenty of them, but she had been expecting that too.  Any good warrior could brag about his battle wounds, strut through his tribemates and boast about past glories and enemies that they'd fought within an inch of their life.  Those stories didn't interest her nearly as much as the ones that refused to come out to the surface.  Any cat worthy of the shadows had to have shadows within him as well, just as any worthy Fire Tribe cat, she reasoned, had to have a spark within their hearts.  She'd seen far too many cats within Shadow Tribe without that darkness that she'd brought into herself in order to survive past kithood.  He was older than she was by at least two season cycles, probably more, but she could see those same hard truths etched within his gaze.  And he was intuitive, she noticed.  He'd already formed an opinion of her only by her simple movements, her calm way of holding herself that was almost a threat.  She wondered if he'd been watching her as well, the way she'd been watching him for the few weeks she'd lived with the cats in Shadow Tribe.  She wondered how much he knew about her already.  She thought she knew why she had followed him, and the fact that he'd disappeared so completely into the darkness only spurred her desires further.  She was attracted to his power, almost the way a moth was attracted to light.  Both could ultimately lead to destruction, but she knew that too.  It had never stopped her before, and risks were only an unspoken part of life.  To avoid them would be not only cowardly but stupid—if she could become powerful enough, the risks would lessen on their own.  But here was her deputy, who seemed at least as interested in her as she was in him and who had made a spectacular, if a bit flamboyant, display of his power.  Was it for his benefit, or for hers?  "I want to learn," she told him simply.  Of course, that was it, wasn't it?  That was why she'd come in the first place, though she hadn't been able to really understand it until the words were out of her mouth.  This system of apprentices and mentors, of skill sets and moons of training… she was too old to have learned in the manner that the apprentices had.  It was better—she would have driven any mentor crazy.  It took a lot for her to unbend her pride enough to ask this white, scarred, powerful cat for his help.  But that didn't matter.  Her pride didn't matter as much as what Cenek could teach her.  Even when she spoke, it was more of a statement than a plea, as if she would turn and leave without another word if he refused to help her.  

Some small animal scuffed patterns in the dirt nearby, leaves rustled, grass grew, and the barely audible sounds of the world were very nearly the only things that dared to penetrate the warm, soothing darkness. Cenek liked that about the world, but it did nothing for his current situation. His eyes and mind were fixed not on the sounds around him so much as the individual before him whose name he did not know. Though really, her name was of little consequence to him at this moment. He was no secondary, he could not control her with the use of her name, and it would do nothing to help him understand just who she was. For certainly she was someone, but a large number of the details lay oddly guarded beneath perhaps thousands of layers. D'ialia was not as practiced as he in that which made their tribe known, but she was proving to be a surprisingly excellent match in wits. He hated to admit it, but for someone so young it was admirable. And it made him want more desperately to reach into her mind and seek out the different bits that made it work. What secrets resided there? He almost hated not having all the details from the very start. "Yes..." The word was long and drawn out, contemplative in the truest of senses. It wasn't as though he should really take her up on her offer. He was training Sojir, after all. She was quite a handful, talking constantly and getting into no end of trouble. But he couldn't help himself. The challenge was too much, too tempting and delightful. Here, before him, was an odd breed the same and yet so very different from himself. Intrigue wormed its way dutifully through his mind and rooted itself among the other thoughts which plagued him daily. How could someone so young be so dark and strange? But he couldn't ask, that would take all the fun out of it, besides, it was highly unlikely that she should be inclined to answer. He narrowed his eyes very slightly. No, this was something almost too sacred to be spoken of at all. She would make a mighty pupil, not so much a master of the darkness as a part of it herself. D'ialia was a shadow, not to be underestimated, he saw that now. But there was still so much he couldn't see. A shadow drew itself over his eyes and his face contorted briefly with a sort of frustration that was almost painful. But it was quickly gone. "Yes, I'll teach you." He affirmed, for how could he not? The corner of his mouth twitched, in a half-attempted smile. "Forgive me if what lessons I have to teach you seem somewhat informal. I can see that you have not mastered even the most basic elements of your ability, otherwise I should not have known so soon that you were following me. But you do see through the natural shades of night, do you not?"

"See through them?" D'ialia asked, accepting the unspoken challenge of his accepted challenge without even questioning how little sense it made.  "I see with them."  She didn't miss the flicker of frustration.  She'd been waiting for such a break in his guard, a crack in his mask that let her see through.  Though it lasted a brief moment, she couldn't deny how satisfying it felt.  It was like a game, in which each tried to crack the other's façade with as few words as possible.  She tried to read him, and he tried to read her.  She liked this challenge, which was a completely new one for her.  Having grown up in total solitude, and never having interacted with others of her kind until she had seen the Silver-Air and the other exiles returning… it was a challenge which she was prepared to devote herself to entirely.  She would have to be careful, so careful if she wanted to maintain his interest.  One slip could be the end of whatever agreement they had just reached, and which she was not willing to give up in a hurry.  He didn't pester her with questions, he didn't ask her for her name.  He simply spoke a word and waited for a response, waited for her to give herself away.  This was a cat who thought like her.  Words were expendable if used in bulk, and the quiet cut of just one or two could be as devastating as a blow or as healing as a Yellow-Light's touch if used right.  She had come here for instruction, and that was what she had gotten.  But she found that she wanted so much more—a game of wits with another cat who at least matched her, if not surpassing her entirely.  A big question of a cat, a character with whom she wanted to find out more about, who she felt the unfamiliar sensation of relating to and, could it be?  Liking him, even.  Yes, he was interesting, yes she respected him already, and more than that she was not prepared to admit.  Not before she'd gotten a pawhold in the game they were playing.  She shifted slightly—she was always moving, moving ever so slightly to give the illusion of stillness.  Though she was drawn into herself, protected and ready for anything that came at her, she was not still and rigid.  Her skin would give a shiver, her ears would tilt ever so slightly, her tail would drag across the dirt.  Stillness had been death.  The illusion of stillness meant life, though it only took a shiver, a single shift, to blend in with the shadows that also gave no more than an illusion of stillness.  Nothing could ever hope to be completely still, nothing with life and energy that had a heartbeat and breath.  Only in death could cats be truly still.  She had learned that quickly, and had given up trying.

"Oh?" Cenek's whiskers twitched in amusement. She wasn't to be gotten the better of, it seemed. Not yet. There was always a risk to be taken in choosing to admit a new student, however temporary. Did she even have a mentor? Surely the Silver-Shadow had already appointed her one, or was close to doing so. And certainly the Yellow-Shadow was not the individual chosen for that burden. Though felt certain that D'ialia would be a great asset to Shadow Tribe, despite not knowing so much as her name. It wasn't, as he had decided previously, the most important thing. She didn't see through the shadows, she saw with them. Not quite what he had expected. She was young, so if he felt like it he could easily reprimand her and get on with life. If anything, he liked the idea as a power play, but even that was too easy. Anyone could do that. And besides, he was impressed, not insulted. "Good." He said instead, nodding his head ever so slightly as he kept his blue eyes locked on her violet ones. If there was anything hidden there, he didn't want to miss it on a whim. He was certain that if he looked away for one second he would miss something important. It was always something. However, he began to move then, in an obvious and deliberate fashion. He stood and came forward, circling, observing with trained eyes. She had the most basic element mastered, it seemed, next was the beautiful art of silence. "Get up." He commanded sharply. The shadows were already wrapped around his own feet. Visible though they might be, he made no sound when he walked. Rather than attempt to explain this phenomenon, he showed her, and continued to slither on legs like some great white snake. He could have hissed, and the twitching of his tail produced a rattle in some other life. It was, in some sense, a dance. The shadows invited them to come and play, so he moved with them in an accompaniment, in turn flicking his tail as invitation for her to dance with him. To move her feet in silence. Not to disrupt the musical harmony of the night, quiet as it was. No longer should the earth crunch, and leaves crackle. This too was a test, he made no attempt to disguise it. Perhaps she would learn fastest this way, as he was determined to use as few words as possible. The shadows must become the language with which they were to communicate. A thousand words could be said through a look alone, a movement just as many. So come, come. He invited her wordlessly. Come greet my challenge. And perhaps reveal herself as well, if only a little. He was somewhat surprised himself in how much he seemed to enjoy this. Cenek did not delight in common encounters often, but then again, this was no common encounter. D'ialia was proving already to be the perfect student. The perfect challenge. She had mastered the art of stillness, the art of sight, but now was time for the art of liquid movement. The dance.

D'ialia stood on his command, but she didn't join in with him right away.  She took a moment to watch him—whether she was observing his movements to copy them herself or whether she was simply challenging his authority, even she wasn't certain.  It was probably a bit of both, as she kept her gaze on his for a moment, defiance slipping through her steady gaze ever so slightly before it switched to an intense concentration.  They wandered down not only to his paws, but to his tail, the muscles in his shoulders, the ground on which he stepped so soundlessly and easily.  It was as if he was dancing among the darkness as easily as he might breathe, or as gracefully as a fish might swim.  He was in his element, of that much D'ialia was sure.  But, she reasoned as she stepped towards him, mirroring his movements, it was her element, too.  She copied him for some time, practicing his own stances before branching out on her own.  The shadows did not flock to her at once, as they had to him, but she moved with the practiced grace of someone who hid among shadows, who moved with them but did not know how to make them move with her.  She was too used to following the darkness.  She roamed where it beckoned, and obeyed the strict orders that was the only code she had known for survival.  Watching him soundlessly move with them was something she had never before experimented with, this business of commanding the darkness, mastering it, even.  Did she even want to, she wondered as she moved in a fluid circle.  She was quiet, quieter than many who could walk without the aid of shadows, but not with the same deathly silence that Cenek was commanding.  Did she want to give up the comfort in knowing a greater power, in knowing that the shadows could not be commanded by any enemy, and could protect her in their embrace?  No.  She would not believe that lie, for she had seen with her own eyes the mastery with which some of the warriors had commanded the darkness.  To master the darkness would be to master its power, and power was something that she craved very deeply.  She paused for a moment, a scowl thickening her features as she halted for a step.  Why would they not come to her?  Why didn't they obey her and muffle her steps as they muffled the Yellow-Shadow's?  She could see in the darkness as well as she could see in the daylight, perhaps even better.  She could copy the motions, the grace, but the shadows were as deaf to her commands as they had been her entire life.  Come to me! she demanded, feeling them around her but unable to grasp at their power.  Come!  

Though it required some amount of concentration to keep his steps auditorily indecipherable, he also made sure to keep as much of his attention as possible on D'ialia, if nothing to see if she would follow his example. At first, she did not. He continued on, but with guarded curiosity. Perhaps she might refuse to try? Surely that was not the case. So far she had said very little to him, perhaps a few sentences, and he felt that if she wasn't going to do what was required, she would never have expressed an interest to learn in the first place. He had no way of knowing for sure, but it seemed as though she was not the type to request something without following through. His suspicions were quickly confirmed, as she stepped out to join in the dance. The steps were incorrect, results not met, but he couldn't help the little buzzing in the back of his mind which told him that he was pleased with her effort. Again it was affirmed that she was well acquainted with the shadows, but her fault now was kindness. His eyes grazed over her form again, this cat was not one with many feline companions. She treated the shadows as a dear friend, perhaps even so much as a parenting role. Indeed, she must have learned much from them, and they did have an endless stream of knowledge to be earned, if explored enough. However, the power the Spirits had bestowed upon Shadow Tribe as well as the others required a different sort of arrogance. "We are masters of a monstrous creature." He stopped the dance and allowed his concentration to break, so that the next brush of his foot against the ground produced an audible whisper. "Command it respectfully. You are not here to proclaim yourself a friend, or an enemy. You shall be queen of the shadows, and they will not bow to you without fondness as well as force." He was neither surprised nor disappointed that her first attempt had failed. If it was so easy, she would undoubtedly have figured it out on her own before now. He took a deep breath, and let it flow through his system. The moon shone above them like cold vanilla, and it too was an ally. Without light there was only darkness, and such a mass could not hope to be controlled by even the Spirits themselves. This smaller amount of power, he felt, would quickly become natural for D'ialia. But how to show her best... "Here," He said, and moved so that the fur of his flank rested next to hers. "We will move as one, and when you find your footing it shall be only you." He began to move slowly, and watched out of the corner of his eyes to see if she would follow.

D'ialia didn't hesitate this time.  She moved along with him, concentrating no longer on watching him.  She did not gaze at his movements and attempt to copy them, but instead let out a breath and felt the changes.  Unused to contact but for once not shying away from the touch of another cat, she let her fur shiver against his, feeling the pull of muscle beneath his pelt.  Instead of simply observing the clearing around her and stepping lightly and carefully, she felt the cool of grass slipping against her paws, and sensed flaws in the terrain that she stepped across.  It had been so natural to move among the shadows without commanding their power, to know and copy their movements without truly being one with them in a literal sense.  She had worn the collar, allowing the darkness to guide her, allowing it to pull her where it wanted and to follow obediently like a trained dog.  She would no longer be the slave, but what the Yellow-Shadow told her had been true.  They were the masters of a monstrous creature.  D'ialia had shed herself of the collar the shadows had once held her with, when she had stepped from its security to join the exiles.  But trying to slip it around the neck of that creature, trying to grip the other end of the leash, would be as useless as trying to catch it with her claws.  It would not respond to an arrogant show of brute force, and it would not bow to her if she commanded it without authority or respect for the power it could give her.  So she moved with Cenek, finding her footing at last and slipping gracefully from his side once she had the gist of the movements.  But D'ialia could think for herself, and she did not copy what he had done blindly even if she understood now how he had done it.  She flowed across the ground on her own, in steps that felt natural to her feet, steps which fit her isolation and darkness but also her spirit and her pride.  She danced among the shadows like she had done it all her life, and tried once more at calling upon their reserves.  She did not hold the leash, she did not demand that they bow to her simply because she demanded it.  Instead, she invited the darkness to dance with her.  She called it to her side like she was calling old friends to share a walk which they had walked before but never been completely in synchronization.  But when they flocked to her, it was she who took the lead, who led the steps across the ground and whirled like the dark slipping down the valleys at sunrise.  The darkness was her partner, but she held the reigns.  Her tattoos glowed, the fanged, laughing grin creeping up to the corners of her eyes, the bat-like wings splaying across her forehead.  She glowed the color of sunset and sunrise, and the light excited the shadows.  They clung to her paws, muffling her steps little by little until all her sounds disappeared completely within their dark void.  After a moment of walking with the shadows, she circled Cenek, almost as if she were inviting him back to the dance as a second partner.  Her eyes were on him, a stare that was half pale pink and half burning orange as she lightly pranced backwards.

Cenek's own tattoo, which made little impression upon his face when it was inactive, was not nearly so striking even when it glowed as brightly as a firefly, for indeed it was of a similar hue. He paused in his own dance as D'ialia found her footing, and was content to cease a practice he had grown accustomed to throughout the seasons. Unlike her, he had grown up in Shadow Tribe and known little else. They had suffered a sort of death after the defeat of the Golden Butterfly. Those who were left had gone into the mountains, and returned only within the last cycle of seasons. They had grown strong, and he had watched them grow with a quiet sort of pride until the war came. It had driven them all mad, and Shadow Tribe as well as the others was torn to pieces. Watching the Pink-Orange tattoo D'ialia sported snake across her face with colors bright and elegant, he couldn't help feeling that this was, in some way, a sort of rebirth. The exiles, for all they had suffered, were bringing life back into the husks of the great Tribes. There had been some discussion as to whether the tribes would survive at all, but he knew now for certain that they would. And that knowledge, as well as the life that came from it, was a beautiful thing. He was so content to stand back now, that when D'ialia began to circle him, he couldn't help feeling surprised. His tattoo flickered briefly, as it voiced for him what was essentially uncertainty. Leading came naturally to him, that was his territory and well within his element. Following was a different story, particularly when the offer came from someone other than a Silver. So he hesitated, uncertain of how to react. But then something he recognized to be admiration nudged at the ink of his consciousness. She had found her way in the dark remarkably well, and was far more bold than any Pink-Orange he had met before. He felt an itching temptation to ask her a thousand questions, but such a move would be conceding defeat, and he was enjoying this game far too much. So instead he began to move again, with liquid fluidity, and wound himself through the threads of dark so that his fur seemed to become stained with it. It felt as though the air was full of static from this shadowy dance, and Cenek took advantage of the opportunity to manipulate the shadows, so that they might dance as well. Shapeless forms twisted and oozed from the darkness, graceful and silent. And he moved around her as well, not quite touching, but so that at moments their faces were very close, and his mouth parted in the hint of a smile. Try and keep up. His eyes teased.

D'ialia met his challenge with vigor.  Though the shadows around her paws flickered occasionally, sometimes fleeing back to the dark or even to Cenek, she always managed to bring them back to her.  Each interval grew longer and longer, and soon she was silent for most of the time that they danced.  But while she was silence, they were silence, the adrenaline which rushed through her ears and kicked at her heartbeat made her feel as though they were moving to a rhythm.  The power was almost music to her ears, and she found that she did not need outside stimuli to mark time for the dance.  She circled Cenek, her eyes never flickering away while they were close, matching him step-for-step.  Using the power that she'd finally tapped into was draining on her, but she barely noticed amidst the thrill of the control and the concentration of the dance.  He was more powerful than her, more practiced, more elegant, but she was improving with each step and seemed ready…. no, determined to keep up.  When he made the shadows kick up and flicker like fire around the edges of the clearing and even among their paws, she was once again overwhelmed with a sense of awe.  If she practiced, she too could wield this power.  He had already taught her how to walk as the shadows did, how to call them to her and creep them over her pelt as she moved soundlessly.  He had taught her the steps of the dance, and then had taught her the dance itself.  She had seen his surprise when she had invited him back, and it surprised her as well.  Challenging the Yellow-Shadow, it seemed, was not proper protocol within the hierarchy of the tribe.  But he had followed her, hadn't he?  They were following each other, as she lead the dance and passed it off to him, then lead it again in the next moment.  It was as if they heard the same rhythm, as if she knew what his next movement would be without even thinking.  She whirled, picking up her speed as she continued the circle.  Her heart raced and her legs grew leaden with fatigue.  Her ears drooped and her breath came harder, but still she didn't break a step as she passed through the shadows that he was animating.  She would not stumble under his gaze.  She would not fall even though the exhaustion threatened to make her clumsy.  It seemed that she would continue until the exhaustion made her drop, and indeed she was determined to do so rather than let him break the power first.  

Round and round they danced, more quickly and with more energy than had been required of Cenek for quite some time. But it wasn't like fighting, not even against an invisible enemy. This was dancing in a purest form, and it came so naturally now that he felt as if he could go on forever. He had almost forgotten how young his body still was, how he could still move his legs and twist his back in whatever way he saw fit. To dance! But it was practiced, rehearsed, something that had to be built up to. His student, he soon began to remember, was only just beginning to learn the power which came with controlling the shadows. This silent dance would be much more draining on her than on him. He saw it in the way her muscles moved, hear it in the rapidity with which her lungs contracted. She was tiring, though she did not stop. But that was what he admired about her, she wasn't going to quit. It would have been easy, just stop the placement of feet upon the ground, and there was nothing for the shadows to silence, nothing to keep the dance alive. It would crumble quickly and silently, leaving a brief but desolate echo in its place. So he continued to dance as well, with all the speed and power he dared to exhaust. However, it seemed somehow cruel to continue at such a pace without pause to breathe. He could see that his student was tired, and while was enjoying the dance as much as she was determined to continue it, little good would come if she over-exhausted herself. The sun was long gone now and the dark of night had grown thicker, encouraging beasts who knew or cared little of any Tribe, regardless of their abilities. The shadows may offer protection, but only as long as they had the strength to provide control. So he began, subtly at first, to slow the dance just a little. Make it lighter, easier. They had danced in joy at the strength of this power Shadow Tribe possessed, now he shifted to dancing for the peace and protection it provided. Slower steps, to let their feet float just above the shadowed earth. It could rise them as easily as swallow them, and their Tribe should gladly let it do both. But not without command. He eyed D'ialia for a moment, as though wondering if and how she would adjust to this change in tune. If she would even be able to, without collapsing. But he quickly seemed to decide that enjoying the flow of shaded steps was more pleasant, and closed his eyes, brushing past her as he moved. If she could hold up no longer, the sound, he hoped, might warn him in time.

D'ialia felt him slow, felt the energy of the atmosphere decline to a point where she could finally hear something other than her mad, rushing heartbeat and her overworked lungs.  He'd broken most of the connection when he'd closed his eyes, and D'ialia closed hers as well, allowing herself to be lulled by the new mood the dance had taken.  She felt a shadow brush through her fur… but no, it was the Yellow-Shadow who was both white and black at the same time.  His scent gave away as little as his face, and she could pick out nothing but the comfort he took in the slowing of the dance and the fading glow of his excitement.  She was sure that she smelled much the same, though her exhaustion now pounded on her tenfold.  Was he slowing down because he thought she was too weak to handle it?  Perhaps, but she was even too tired to be stubborn about it at this time.  She slowed with him, and she stumbled, her back drooping and her back legs nearly giving out at a moment where she failed to find her footing.  The shadows broke from her, fleeing back to lurk in the cover of the rest of the darkness.  It had grown so dark… D'ialia hadn't even noticed time passing, but here they were now, in dense midnight after what had started out as a walk in the sunset.  She heaved herself back to her paws, determined not to quit before she was finished, and completed the last few winding steps of the dance.  All she wanted to do now was collapse—she hadn't realized what a toll this power was taking on her, or how little stamina she had built up for this shadow manipulation.  The glow of her tattoos faded until finally she saw in the normal darkness, which posed less trouble to her eyes than any amount of light.  They had faded back to purple, though the usual calculating, eerie glow was mostly covered up by the dull of exhaustion.  Still she did not sit down, but stood with what pride she could muster back to herself, her tail limp on the ground and her ears drooping but her head still high enough to look up at him.  What a dance.  She had never even imagined that such a thing existed or even could exist, but when she had been caught in the ebb and flow of the shadows it had felt like the most natural thing in the world.  She had been born for this, and born too for the exhaustion that it bore upon it.  She wore it knowing that the weakness was a sign of strength—a sign that she had not given up until it had finished and she had nearly dropped dead from trying.  And he… somehow he barely even looked winded.  He had done it all his life, for season cycles where she had barely been aware of her own existence.  Her pants started to slow as her breathing became more regular, and she hesitated for a moment, unsure which of them should speak first after such an event.

As the movement of his feet finally ceased, and the dance finally came to its conclusion, Cenek released his grasp on the shadows as well. The light drained from his tattoo, and with their faces no longer illuminated they became accents to the night. With this new lack of consequence, the shadows seemed more to ignore their existence, and Cenek was content to return the favor, though it was impossible to ever really forget. He continued to stand as well, resting easily on his feet, and kept his eyes carefully trained on D'ialia. She was clearly exhausted, he was impressed that she hadn't already rolled onto her side. But the challenge was ended, the most difficult part of the first test come to a pause. He grunted in mild amusement, and a smile that was his own ghosted across his face. Tch, stubborn. He thought. Even now, her pride remained intact, if not strengthened by exhaustion. So he sat down instead, swishing his silky-furred tail from side to side contentedly, though he eyed her from his position. He had his head held high, and his eyes flashed in the darkness, to signify that he his move was not one of submission. He still felt confident, especially since the most recent subject of his teachings was so exhausted. He trusted that she had learned something valuable, and that gave him a great amount of pleasure. Nothing made him happier than for his work to pay off, and so he did not intend to neglect her, even if she was assigned a proper mentor. He had made it part of his duty to make sure that the cats of Shadow Tribe were more than adequately trained, ever since the death of his own apprentice. These cats would be strong, Cenek would give his remaining ear in order to see to it that they were. But he liked D'ialia in particular. She was strange, and that was good. Though they had scarcely spoken, she even less than Cenek himself, he felt as if he was, in some way, coming to know her better than he would through an ordinary conversation. He valued this silent understanding, and almost hated to break the spell it had cast upon the air. However, the dance was over, and as the silence began to drag out he felt that it was in fact necessary to speak once again, to verbalize at least a small portion of the thoughts which were indefinitely coursing through his mind. "I trust you found this first lesson adequate?" He asked in a somewhat mild tone. He suspected that she wanted a challenge, and more so hoped that she did. For that was what he liked, and to find someone he could consider an acquaintance, or even a friend, who shared that ambition would be most enjoyable.