Chapter Text
Windover Farm was bathed in the pale light of dawn as the sun began to peek over the horizon, scattering milky rays across the scratched earth and mossy walls of the yard. At its heart, a cool morning breeze rippled through silky fur as a stocky cat slunk beneath a clutter of discarded wood that had originally been set aside for burning by the farmer, although it had been resting against the wall of the tool shed for long enough that a tangle of weeds now sprouted at its base. Of course, this was hardly a concern of the resident farm cat, seeing as the flowering borage and golden dandelions attracted an array of crawly little things for him to hunt and play with.
Rough planks of splintering wood grazed against his spine as the black and white tom slid deeper into the pile, ears twitching to pick up the faintest scuffle of tiny bodies fidgeting in the gloom. A barely-perceptible rustle of fur snapped the cat's attention to his left, pupils dilating in anticipation as his muscles pulled taught against his frame, ready to react. Then, in a flurry of chaos and dusky brown fur, a startled mouse was snagged by thorn-sharp claws and collected tensely in the predator's warm jaws as they clamped around the ripples of it's still-fluttering heart. Barley snorted gently as he began reversing out of the tight space, paws finding careful purchase on the damp ground as he pushed himself backwards, careful not to drop his catch. He ignored the uncomfortable drag of his fur being pulled in the wrong direction as he managed to extract himself from the woodpile and allowed a satisfied chirp to rumble in his throat when he finally dropped the dazed mouse, and watched with careful interest as it attempted to crawl vainly away from him. The tom reached out a paw to bat tentatively at the sorry creature, letting his claws snag on the thin membrane of it's skin as he hooked it closer, nostrils flaring excitedly at the warm scent of blood that radiated from the limp body.
He allowed himself a few moments of play before finally, becoming bored of his game, the cat nosed over the mouse's damp fur and finished it off at last with a sharp nip to its upper spine and took it carefully in his teeth, carrying it off to find a quiet corner of the farmyard to eat.
The roof of the old cow shed was mossy and cool beneath his paws as he prowled along the overlapping tiles, skirting broken indents and sharp edges with a practiced confidence. When Barley finally settled on the rough slant and stretched his hind paws out behind him, the farm was beginning to wake up, meaning that soon he'd be settling down out of the way to sleep through the routine chaos that would stretch through most of the day. Dipping his head to wash his white foreleg, the tomcat listened idly to the world below.
Over by the farmer's cottage, he could hear the dogs whining as they were called in from their nightly freedom and returned safely to the kennels, their half-hearted protests followed by affectionate grunting from their master. Barley rarely found himself troubled by the dogs on his hunts, they were easy enough to avoid once you learnt the pathways they liked to follow, and even when he did have the occasional run-in with them he'd managed to assess that it was unlikely their behaviour towards him was much more than playful despite how disconcerting it was to have two slobbering beasts charging in your direction.
Across the yard, the cows were baying noisily as the Farmer's wife approached with the familiar feed bucket, tutting and smiling at their eagerness. Barley found her less intimidating than her mate, and on occasion, would sit just out of reach and watch with careful interest as she busied about with various chores, unwilling to get close enough for her to touch but confident that he was safe despite his instinctual wariness. It was nice in a way to sit in the company of another creature and have nothing expected of you. When the days were long and he found himself missing the comfort of his sister, Barley would find himself shadowing the Twolegs as they busied about the farm, liking that they didn't pay him much attention. He'd been here for a few seasons now and for the first time in his life he finally felt a sense of security, the farm was his home.
A loud squawking caught the farm cat's attention, dragging him from his thoughts as he looked over to the chicken run to find the cause of the commotion. The hens had worked themselves up into a flurry of anxious clucking, migrating away from the far side of the enclosure and bustling together in a wary flock. Barley pushed himself up to sit on his haunches and craned his neck to try and find the source of their worry. It was only when he was close to disregarding the hassle that his blue eyes caught the tiniest twitch of movement through the wire. It was the smallest speck of white tucked away in the shadow of the barn, flicking from side to side in an agitated manner. The tom pinned the movement under his gaze as he began to stalk along the edge of the gutter, the wispy fur of his belly brushing against the hard roof tiles. He set his paws down carefully with the purpose of a trained hunter stalking his prey, trying to figure out what creature had made the chickens so frenzied as he carefully crawled his way to the edge of the old roof. The white speck slid forwards around the chicken run and then Barley's eyes snagged on something poking out from the shadow... A small, black muzzle.
Barley opened his mouth slightly as he drew in a breath, trying to pick up a scent before he leapt down carefully onto the frayed, wooden pallet leaning up against the wall of the old cow shed, it creaked beneath his paws as he eyed up the ground with a bob of his head. The tomcat's movements were far from graceful as he landed with a thud on the damp soil and glanced over again to the shadow he'd been watching. He assumed it was another cat, they weren't uncommon to run into with the groups of strange wild cats living so close, though it had been a while since he'd seen one. Barley padded cautiously closer, his senses on alert for any sign of danger as he reached the corner of the chicken run and peered around it. The tom felt a small jolt of surprise twitch through his pelt as he was met with with two owlish, green eyes staring back at him. He was right, in front of him was a small black cat pressed low into the wood sorrel in the verge at the base of the chicken wire, a white-tipped tail coiling behind it and worrying the taller plants with its movement.
"..Hello?" Barley found himself speaking first, his brow slightly furrowed with uncertainty as he watched the cat, trying to figure out if he recognised it. He was scrawny from what Barley could tell and his pelt was dull and a little tangled, like he hadn't been able to groom it properly in a while. The small tom was drawn in on himself as if to seem as non-threatening as possible and his eyes flickered around in a skittish sort of way before finally meeting Barley's, the stranger swallowed as if struggling to get the words out.
"Hi- I'm uh..." He trailed off, a sort of helpless look in his eyes like he was willing the other tom to understand without words. Barley felt a wave of familiarity at the cat's demeanour and his face softened automatically. He sat down carefully in the weeds and let his head tilt ever so slightly, waiting for the other cat to go on. The tom's face scrunched in an almost pained expression.
"Sorry- I know you don't know me and this is going to sound ridiculous but I just- I need you to believe me." As the black cat continued, he seemed to gain a little more confidence, his speech becoming less staggered.
"Me and my clanmates actually passed through here a while ago on our way back from Mothermouth- you saved us from the rats, remember? and- and Bluestar lost a life?" Barley felt recognition flood through him instantly, he had seen this little black cat before, hovering at the back of a patrol like he was willing the ground to swallow him whole.
"Yes! sorry, yes of course- I remember now, go on." He watched as relief softened the cat's features, feeling an unexpected twinge of concern. Whatever this cat had gone through must have been bad for him to seem so on edge.
"Well something...happened. I saw something I shouldn't have and I can't stay there anymore so I was just wondering if it would be..." The tom swallowed, looking terribly awkward. "Possible.. to..."
Barley lowered his head a little, keeping his movements slow so as not to startle the other tom.
"You're welcome to stay here if you'd like to." He cut in, twitching his ears slightly as the cat began rambling about how he'd stay out of his way and wouldn't be a bother and all sorts of other frantic nonsense. Barley tuned him out a little, it was rather disconcerting to have gone so long without proper conversation and suddenly be bombarded with a wall of nervous chatter.
"Seriously, it's no bother-" He mrowed placatingly, getting to his paws and noting how quickly the other cat jumped to mirror his movements. Now that he was standing, Barley could see that there was a subtle lankiness to the other cat's limbs that had been hidden by his previous stature, and as they walked, the black tom moved twitchily, like he was struggling to stay in line with Barley's slower gait and was stopping himself from walking ahead.
"My name's Ravenpaw- sorry, forgot to say." The other cat commented as they reached the gap at the base of the barn door and Barley crouched to crawl through.
"Barley." He replied, feeling the scrape of jagged wood against his spine.
"I know."
Barley glanced back at Ravenpaw. The tom was a silhouette against the sunlight streaming in through the gap behind him and lighting up the swirl of dust particles drifting lazily through the stuffy, hay-scented air. His fur was slightly rusted where the sun caught its edges, and he stood stiffly like he was waiting for an order, unsure of himself.
Barley cleared his throat. "The farm's busy in the day so I usually sleep through it- you can make a nest wherever you'd like." With a brisk nod he turned away, trotting across the old floorboards towards the ladder that lead up to the hayloft, there, a well-worn nest was already waiting for him near the edge of the loft. Barley liked being able to see what was going on below while he dozed just out of the way. It gave him a sense of security to be able to see exactly what was happening around him, allowing himself to assess whether a quick getaway through various escape routes would be necessary. Of course he hadn't needed to use one for moons now, but habits from his kithood had yet to truly leave him. Maybe one day they would, but for now he planned to stay vigilant, especially with a new cat around.