Username: /Trainwreck/
Cat Name: Mosspelt
Gender: Tom
Rank: Warrior
Age: 28 Moons
Clan:HurricaneClanPrompt: Mosspelt gripped tightly onto the wet bark of the ancient oak trees, his claws digging in deep. It was smooth and slippery underneath his paws, making it even harder for him to cling to. The sporadic gusts of wind did nothing to help the situation. The world below him was flooded over with brown, murky water that rushed by with an intense pace. His scouting mission was not going well. The water showed no sign of receding any time soon which meant the Clan would have to venture even further into two-leg territory more than they already had.
With a hefty sigh, Mosspelt steadied himself on his haunches, getting ready to make a leap toward another branch on a different oak tree. He set his gaze on one that was coated in dense amounts of Spanish moss that hung low off the branches. With near perfect accuracy, Mosspelt landed on the branch, his claws getting entangled in the soft, green substance. He used this to his advantage, hoisting himself up onto the branch. He scanned the area, trying to mark out a pathway to get back to his camp without falling into the water and meeting a rather harsh death.
A strong gust of wind suddenly battered at Mosspelt’s black fur, knocking him off balance. He scrambled to regain his balance. WIth only a pawhold on the branch itself, he felt himself slipping down, tangling up in the webbing. Blood began pounding loudly in his ears, almost blurring out the sound of the rushing water below. Scraps of moss fell into the water and was swept away in an instant. A new form of panic kicked in and Mosspelt hauled himself up onto that branch, clinging on desperately for dear life. He forced himself to get closer to the truck of the tree where the surface area would be greater.
Mosspelt searched for a way out, unsure of which tree was the right one. At this point, he began to jump up to higher branches, completely confused and terrified.The smells of the flooded bayou took over any other scent that could have possibly been lingering, including his own. His claws had bark, moss, and dirt struck underneath them and worsening his grip. Everything around Mosspelt looked the exact same. Thick oak trees, draping moss, and quick, brown water that foamed around the base of the trees. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the blood rushing in his ears and the sound of the water. His own thoughts couldn’t be heard.
A sense of doom began to settle in as he came to the realization he would meet his fate if he didn’t keep moving. Balancing himself on the new branch he was on, he took in a deep, long breath to clear his head. He needed to remain calm. Looking around, he realized that the water was still rushing inward and that he needed to follow it. Eventually, he would reach the mainland and hopefully, dry land.
Extra:St. James Infirmary/
That's Life