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𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀
𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛
𝚝𝚘𝚖
𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚜
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𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀
𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛
𝚝𝚘𝚖
𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚜
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[tagged:open. ] [ mentioned:paletuft,, lionstorm,, briarblossom. ] [ location:camp. ]
From the shadows of camp, a sleek tom sat, straight-backed beneath a cherry blossom tree. His sharp, stoic gaze staring ahead almost unblinkingly; two cold cuts of emerald. Aloof, and somewhat disconnected from the camp around him. It was a pose he usually assumed whenever he was lost in thought; an alert pose that allowed him to react swiftly whenever letting his guard down. Never truly allowing his mind to drift, even when relaxing. Not that relaxing was something the dutiful tom typically found himself doing.
Like most days, he'd risen early, took in the familiar darkness of the warrior's den, and stared blankly at the space where Paletuft usually rested. Though, unlike most days he found her nest already empty. A slightly unsettling sight of the early riser. He'd never favored sleeping in late. A small cluster of cats with piercingly sarcastic voices had gathered in the den. At the center of the noise, Lionstorm and Briarblosson. Which was no surprise, considering noise seemed to follow the two relentlessly. Still, he found himself giving the cats a pointed look as he passed; expression unreadable. He initially judged them for bickering instead of beginning their morning duties, though upon stepping out into the light drizzle, he found his own morning plans coming to a halt. With what would certainly be heavy rain on the way, hunting would be poor. There was still the option of training the boisterous young Rowanpaw to hunt in the rain. Though, a light meal before rousing her would do no harm. So it was then that the tom found himself tucked away in the corner of camp, a half eaten mouse resting at his paws.
His gaze fell on the leader's den, or rather, the three familiar pelts disappearing into its shelter. Koistar, the cat to which he'd unflinchingly devoted his life. Blizzardbrair, a cat he owed respect, and Paletuft. His mate. Someone he was destined to serve the clan alongside. He'd made peace with the idea of arranged partnerships long ago. If it was what the clan needed to thrive, then he saw no better reason to force love. Because duty had always been, and would forever be love to him. Though even as her patched pelt moved towards the den, it wasn't her his eyes chose to follow. Instead they lingered on a pelt of pristine white, long after the figures had disappeared from sight. She was the only child of his leader, someone his gaze would settle on with a detatched fascination. What type of leader would she mature into? Someone as profound as her father before her?
The strengthening of the rain roused Darkwillow from his thoughts, and he bent his neck to retrieve the partially eaten prey. It would be a waste to let it grow heavy and damp from the rain. Not when he could find some hungry warrior to pass it on to.
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