by Hexxed » Mon Dec 28, 2015 11:05 am
➥ Intro posts for 3/6 cats.
➥ Are my apprentices (Darkpaw & Bearpaw) assigned mentors?
fawnspot •
she-cat | queen | crushless
location: camp || company: open
With paws made of lead, the expecting queen ambled across the clearing. Where was she headed? Nowhere in particular; just anywhere quiet and out of the way. Anyone knew she should be resting, but her sleep was ridden with memories. She had always been a sensitive, emotional one, so she had taken her mate's death harder than most. Fawnspot huffed as she found a secluded spot beside an outcropping of rock, and lowered her haunches, sitting down. Her eyes looked hazy and vacant; her fur ungroomed. Others who had seen how she had shone so brightly with love and happiness could hardly believe this was the same cat. They wondered when she would rebound because as the days turned into weeks, the day of her kitting loomed ahead, and if she treated them as poorly as she treated herself, they would surely not survive.
frostwhisker •
she-cat| warrior | crushless
location: creek || company: open
Out in the forest, Frostwhisker crouched beside the great creek, her head bent to lap up water as it flowed by. So refreshing! After she had drank her fill, she gave herself a quick wash and rose to her paws. Just before she started to head back, she heard a slight rustle. Swiveling her ear and tasting the air, she located the source: a woodland squirrel. The small creature had the same idea as her, scampering up to the water's edge, fluffy tail flicking. Grave mistake! Frostwhisker immediately slipped into the hunter's crouch, and silently approached the unsuspecting prey. At the last moment, the squirrel looked up in alarm. Too late! Frostwhisker had already sprang forward, and with a swift bite to the neck, the squirrel was done.
blacktongue •
tom| warrior | crushless
location: just outside camp || company: open
From his lofty perch, the huge, broad-shouldered tom sat silently, looking down at the Clan through narrowed yellow slits. He had climbed up an outcropping of rock that was just outside the camp clearing, the top covered in bushes and thorns. He often came to this spot, for the vantage point and the foliage that hid him from view. Blacktongue unsheathed his long, hooked claws, pressing them against the hard stone. Mostly, he came up here to think. You see, great Plans do not come about by themselves. They take almost as much rearing as a kit, with continuous up-keeping and care. And Blacktongue needed his Plan not only survive, but to thrive. One day, his time would come.