|
|
Post by * foxthorn , on Apr 14, 2011 17:46:58 GMT -5
Foxthorn was hungry. His stomach growled, and because of it he was grouchy and nervous. His limbs were leaden with fatigue. At an elderly 96 moons, he was in lots of danger during leaf-fall and leaf-bare. However, the stubborn tom refused to be treated differently. Food was given to queens and elders first. Often, he got last pick - and that was usually a mouse. Because of this, he mind was whirling and disoriented. He felt asleep on his paws. However, he was determined to do his duty. Taking first pick would be like admitting that he was an elder, and although many of his childhood friends were elders, he knew that he could never give up what he loved.
Shaking, he wandered through the neat rows of pine in the tree-cut place. It was leaf-fall, and cold, so the monsters that ruthlessly crushed the trees were gone. He had sense enough not to crunch a twig or dead leaves; he was hunting, after all, not gallivanting aimlessly through the tree-cut place like an apprentice. However, he could have been more focused, because little mice scurried from just underneath his paws and he seldom noticed. When he did, he cursed under his breath and promised himself he would catch it next time. But his paw steps were getting slower and slower, and starting to drag. His mind whirled, and his body caused him to sit down suddenly for a moment, stricken with fatigue.
But he was stubborn. No, he wasn't hungry, and his limbs weren't aching because of that, he told himself. It was...it was the weather. Dark gray clouds shielded the sun. Okay, maybe he was hungry, but not that hungry. All warriors were hungry in leaf-bare, and they didn't dramatize it like he did. And the aching limbs were not because he was hungry. It was the change in the seasons. No, no, he wasn't an elder, and only elders got that! He shook his head stubbornly and the world twisted and flailed. He couldn't see for a moment, then the world came back, turning and spinning. He was still on his paws, thankfully. No, there was nothing wrong with him. He was just the regular leaf-bare warrior.
|
|
|
|
Post by bliss on Apr 17, 2011 18:23:49 GMT -5
Ears pricked and mouth opened, the plump kittypet headed through the treecut place. Her blue eyes examined anything and everything for danger. She wasn't use to being out here. She was used to being near the barn off of Windclan territory. She didn't know why she had traveled so far. She thought she was curious and wanted to meet the wild cats, but now she was scared. She was already limping and scratches ran down her left flank.
She had been spotted by a Shadowclan patrol and had meant to run the other way. Now she didn't know where she was. Her white and brown fur was matted with blood and dirt and she looked utterly exhausted. After a few moments she sat down and began to lick her wound again. Her tongue ran over the bloody gash. She hated the taste of blood, but she had to keep it clean. At least she knew that. Her ears stayed pricked and she paused to sniff the air. She could smell other cats, but she was pretty sure they were gone by now.
She got to her paws again and headed off. Her belly fur brushed the ground, trying to run from one piece of cover to another. She was towards the middle of the treecut place now, her muscles shrieking protest as she continued onward. Suddenly, she froze. Her ears went flat against her head as she spotted the tom. He was tall and brawny with white and ginger fur. Something seemed familiar about him, though. She breathed in his scent and her tail stood straight up as she recognized it. It was close to Ravenfeather's! Maybe this cat was from Windclan as well.
She headed over to him. "Hello," she mewed, limping over to him. When she was a fox lengths away, she sat down. A sigh of relief escaped her as her muscles began to relax. This tom would surely protect her! If Ravenfeather was nice, then so must his clan. Her blue eyes were warm and friendly.
((Bliss is a kittypet from the barn near Windclan territory. Her and Ravenfeather are friends. She's only 9 moons old. She's a Siamese cat.))
|
|
|
|
Post by * foxthorn , on May 1, 2011 12:09:28 GMT -5
Sitting back heavily, Foxthorn noticed a small shape at the edge of his vision. Slowly the fur on his spine pricked up and his claws unsheathed. He backed away slowly, a snarl on his jaws. He then realized that this was not WindClan territory, and with a slightly depressing sigh, he sat again on his haunches, his head heavy. Leaf-fall was taking its toll on him, and like every leaf-fall, soon he would be like a living skeleton. He liked to kid himself that he was contributing to the Clan, but really he wasn't. By giving his food to apprentices and young warriors he was giving energy to play and frolic, not help the Clan as he thought. Really, if the prey were to go through his body, it would be put to much better use.
Either way, Foxthorn was exhausted. His eyes started to fog up for a moment, but he quickly blinked them open again. It was a young she-cat with strange but beautiful markings. She was very young; a kitten, actually. Apprentice age. He had never seen her markings before; cream off-white covering most of her body with mud-brown masks over her muzzle and ears and over her paws. She had bright blue eyes, and her fatness gave away the fact that she was a kittypet, as well as the disgusting Twoleg stench radiating from every hair on her pelt.
However, what caught her attention more was the overwhelming stench of blood from her pelt, and she was in fact ripped up. ShadowClan clung to her, and she looked very frightened. Dirt and debris were caught in her fur and in her wounds and Foxthorn almost shook his head in disgust. Did this she-cat not know how to take care of herself? Just thinking about shaking his head made Foxthorn a little bit dizzy. "Did you run into a ShadowClan patrol?" Foxthorn growled, and his paw-steps were strong as he strode toward her. Sometimes things were more important than himself. Though he was chiefly loyal to his Clan, he still had a semi-warm heart toward other cats, and especially those who had been heartlessly ripped up by a ShadowClan patrol. Could they not see that she was a kittypet, and not doing any harm?
"Do you know how to take care of yourself?" the large ginger-and-white tom growled roughly, quickly grooming the clumps of fur between her wounds. "Keep your wounds clean, or infection could kill you!" With that, he started to deftly twist bits of dirt and pebbles from her wound. It had to be clean. There was no doubt that him doing this would sting; it would actually probably hurt the young she-cat a good deal! However, it served her right for not using common sense and trying to keep her wounds clean. He could do this, but the warrior promised himself that he would not look for herbs for her. Any herbs e found could be spent helping his Clan.
|
|
|
|
Post by bliss on May 1, 2011 12:35:56 GMT -5
The beautiful she-cat's eyes brightened a moment as he walked over. He said something about Shadowclan. She was a bit confused. Was that a forest cat term? Maybe. Then he said something about keeping her wounds clean. Her fur grew hot with embarrassment. Of course she could keep her wounds clean! Well, the ones she could reach, at least. Then she felt a tongue start rasping over her wounds.
She flinched away and ducked. She hissed in pain, but that didn't stop the larger tom. He continued to clean her wounds. After a moment the pain began to ease and she purred a bit. "Sorry. I was just looking for a friend. I think you might know him. You both carry close to the same scent, at least," she mewed, raising her blue eyes to look into his green ones. She got back to her paws. She was clearly much smaller than him.
"I'm Bliss. I'm looking for Ravenfeather. He said he would come and visit me again, but I haven't seen him for a while," she added, tilting her head a bit. The beautiful kittypet was clearly oblivious to territories and the warrior code. She had no idea Ravenfeather might get in trouble for this.
|
|
