there i go, turn the page
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Post by bones on Mar 15, 2024 16:10:13 GMT -6
#s://i~postimg~cc/LsfXFB3W/ant-POSTINGIMG~png ant, | | she-cat/molly (she/her)
clanless/barn cat |
Once, when they were younger, Ant overheard a queen describing fog to her kits: 'clouds, rising from the water, slowly seeking the freedom of the sky'. It was a beautiful way to put it and, since then, the red tabby had decided that foggy days were the best; as time wore on, admittedly, that fact had less to do with such a fading memory and more with the fact that they could hide amidst the fog. It muffled sound and, in the right conditions, even conceal their bright pelt. The only unfortunate thing was, in winter, that the humidity collected as dew on a cat's pelt and gathered the frigid cold of the season like a dark stone gathered the sun's heat. As a shorthaired cat, it was unpleasant to say the least - but as someone without much a home? Simply something to be endured... As she wove through the reeds, the runty former clan cat made a minimal disturbance amongst the stalks. The ground was hard and solid underpaw - likely a mixture of mud and water frozen over and over into an odd type of permafrost. They licked their lips, impossibly thirsty after hurrying from the barn this morning, and made a slow circle towards the pond at the heart of the whispering reeds... But halted. Her ears snapped forward and quivered - someone... or something, was coming. Not again, not again - her heart scratched at her chest, pounding and pulsing like it was already trying to flee her body at the mere hint of danger. Biting her tongue, she practically dropped to the ground, flattening as low as physically possibly. Her eyes darted about, fitful like a spooked bird, the fog working against her now - where was the sound coming from? Maybe she'd be overlooked? Her claws flexed anxiously. |
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storms make trees take deeper roots
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Post by cosmic on Apr 25, 2024 11:43:11 GMT -6
#s://i~pinimg~com/564x/3e/86/d2/3e86d2862b3975dbf7f2ee3ff95c2b3f~jpg Stormpaw was finally an apprentice, after what felt like two lifetimes waiting for the day that Hailstar called her by her new name. It made her even more excited, because that just meant that she was closer to getting her warrior name! She was going to tell her mother all about the names she already had picked out.
But for now, she was just having fun in the Whispering Reeds outside the territory. A little bit of her felt bad, because she knew that Wispfang had told her that they were out of the territory border. But she wanted to see them! And her mentor, Riversong, and Hailstar were all too busy to escort her.
However, she knew that she would amaze her family and mentor if she was able to pick the perfect set of reeds for her mother, to prove how far she had gone outside of the territory by herself. Stormpaw's eyes flew open as she saw them in the distance, starting a slow gallop toward the new sights and sounds. But what caught her eyes was something orange. Why was the water on the ground orange? As she quickened her pace to investigate, it turned out that it was actually something furry... water could be fuzzy?
But then, as she approached, it was a quivering, shaking cat that kept herself almost glued to the ground. She didn't smell like a clan cat, but it was a scent that she didn't recognize. The black-furred she-cat kept her tail neutral as though to not seem threatening. As much as she wanted to chase the cat away, this wasn't MistClan jurisdiction either. Plus, her combat skills were at the most basic level. "Hey, you!" she yowled from a fox-length away from the she-cat. "What're you doing out here? Are you looking for reeds too? Well, you can't take the best-looking ones! Those are for my Momma only!" |
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