W.hitepaw
"When you're happy like a fool, let it take you over. When everything is out, you gotta take it in."
The rustling of leaves and moss welcomed Whitepaw to the land of the waking. His small form was huddled beneath his bedding, nearly invisible in the thick of it. He could see his breath as he breathed the cold air, and blinked against the stinging air, his dark blue eyes squinting. He sprawled out as he stretched, his long gangly legs going every which way as he tried to extend his muscles.
Whitepaw was thin and the cold had managed to ruffle his white and brown fur, giving him the shakes as he rose. His belly rumbled with hunger, but he doubted he'd be able to take from the kill before he'd contributed anything. Opening his tiny jaws wide in a yawn, and letting out a little mew, Whitepaw squeezed from the apprentices den. He still had some getting used to, sleeping in there. It was nothing like that sweet smelling nursery he'd grown up in. Shaking his chilled body, he padded out into the middle of the camp, blue eyes searching for his mentor.
"Oh, this has gotta be the good life."
G.hostfang
"Is it worth it, can you even hear me? Standing with your spotlight on me. Not enough to feed the hungry."
The white and cream warrior sat on his haunches, perched into a halfcrouch on one of the larger roots of the forest's tall trees. It poked out of the frosted ground, curling downwards again before disappearing into the ground. Ghostfang's ice blue eyes were narrowed lazily, directed at nothing in particular ahead of him. The tom's fur was lined comfortably over his back, growing sideways in some places against the scars. His ears twitched with the breeze, but other than that he looked quite statuesque. Ghostfang sat just outside the camp, his claws curled into the root on which he sat. He hadn't been called for any sort of duties, nor had he any apprentice to mentor. He was fond of watching the little scraps grow, but his ways were rather harsh and he was usually given the more burly looking kits. With a twitch of his whiskers, Ghostfang slid his eyes to his left, hearing the muffled mews of cats just a little ways away. He rarely left the ara of the camp when he wasn't on any sort of patrol. Instead he sat a sort of unappointed guard.
"I'm tired and I've felt it for a while now."
(( What's the time of day? ))