MARSHCLAN HIGH POSITION TRYOUTS

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Nyx had just wanted a swim, for goodness sake. As Melody had, rather randomly actually, mentioned previously, their lagoon had frozen over. Not just creating a hazard and stopping a large portion of the clan's food supply from reaching the fresh-kill pile, it awakened a need in the small domestic.

She'd been sitting in her shrine- such as it were- a tiny but neat little place ensure where the stone bridge used to be. On the outskirts of town it suited her, away from all the bustle and hustle. In the older days it was also away from Fiera's nefarious and strange plots and Rohthy's evil scheming. Nyx would give literally anything for life to return to that familiar path once more. Actually, she was doing just that. On the frozen lagoon sat seven swans. Seven swans with an attitude problem and a curse. To cut a long and twisted story short, the ex-Amazonian had to sew blankets and throw it over hem without laughing, writing or speaking since the days she agreed. In return, each Märchen what-sit would grant her a wish. Each one of them. With those seven wishes she could bring Rohthy back and cure Fiera and so on.

Which was all very well and noble. But weaving was neigh on impossible to a domestic feline, even with sub small paws as Nyx had. And the fact she had to do so with stinging nettles ment her paws were swollen and sore constantly. Ow. So finally, after putting up with jabs and pain and irritation for days, Nyx decided she deserved a break. She threw down her weaving gear and raced outside. When Nyx wanted a break, the most relax up thing for he was to put good use to her gills and go swimming. The mute found herself far more at home there, among the silence and bubbles. As she scattered those blasted swans, it occurred to her the lagoon was frozen. Which was a synonym for not swimable, by chance. Fine. She'd just have to go out of camp and possibly out of territory. She wasn't needed, she held a position no longer after the mass demotion. She'd be fine to disappear for a well earned swim, right? Right. Nodding once to herself, she set off, noting the fact the last pink traces of sunrise were blossoming across the sky. Well, she'd be back for dinner.

The problem with being so small and alone, however, despite Nyx's training and pluck and knowledge, was she couldn't defend herself all so well. She found a stream that was still running. Chilly, but it'd do. Shivering as her paw touched to cold surface of he water, the fennec fox eyed cat knew there was nothing for it but to jump in. Promptly, if reluctantly, she did so. She spent a good half-hour underwater. The reprieve was bliss, chasing bubbles and powering upstream and downstream as air filled her gills. It was just so pleasurable. Breaking the surface in a less than impressive splash, Nyx made her way over to the shore. She then realised the brownish greyish shapes before her were pebbles as she supposed, but paws. The unsheathed paws of a very hostile looking Maine Coon.

To be honest, she'd stood no chance. Not only was the radicalclanner in pain from a broken jaw, cracked ribs, open cuts and bruises but she was humiliated. The hostile Tom had done the worst crime to any female. He'd defiled her by r.ping her. Considering she'd never even been particarly interested in the thought of romance, and had certainly never been in a relationship, it was a brutal slap to the face on the topic. She was no longer a virgin. Disgusted and shocked, she painfully dragged here'd to and over the border, by mere force of will and plenty of blacking out. However, in that swirling storm of emotions she had no time for common sense.

Some back ground and extra knowledge was required. To put it somewhat awkwardly and brutally, Nyx had never had her periods. okay, that's awkward. Not only that, but she was never going to. Doubtless one of the lucky Druids would discover this fact when they began the anxious wait to se if Nyx was pregnant. She wasn't. She never was going to be. She was sterile, barren, bare or whatever you choose to call it. As the ebony feline once more blacked out, a mere kilometre from camp, she was never graced with the thought.