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Post by asail on Sept 8, 2008 22:01:33 GMT -5
Holypaw would continue her frantic chatter until they made their way to Steel clan to continue working on Snakekit's symptoms. Blackstar was nowhere to be seen. (Just basic description of what she do, I don't really have much else to say with her but you can pick it up still if you'd like).
The feline was still, her ear twitched at the disturbance. Her concentration betrayed her, taking a moment to look over her slim shoulder. The cat couldn't have been a few moons older than the apprentice, looking at the young male over her scarred nose. As the pale dusk became stronger the flurry of colors on her coat strengthened. Her jade eyes flickered, yet a film of indifference still fogged her stare. The feline's gaze wandered to the thresh on the ground, limp and lifeless beneath Bonepaw. The fur along her spine quivered and her cranium slowly turned away, her ears lowered as she plunged herself back into thought.
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Post by Kodiak on Sept 8, 2008 22:29:12 GMT -5
Bonepaw didn't seem protective over his kill. He didn't mind her eyeing it, only resumed his stare. His eyes flashed anxiously, attention finally returning to the thrush. His fangs cracked the bones before letting the mushed flesh travel down his throat. He didn't bother plucking the feathers, only slipped on his belly with the thrust between his paws and tore at it. Bonepaw drew back his muzzle, smirk emerging past the blood. "They stopped looking for you." He didn't say it in a teasing or humored way, only pleasantly. He had nothing further to say, as his curiousity was strictly limited.
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Post by asail on Sept 8, 2008 22:53:17 GMT -5
The feline once again broke her concentration, however it wasn't as fortified as previous. Her face had lost most of its previous rigidness, but continued to carry that expressionless stare. She redirected herself so her back faced the sun. The warmth seeping through her fur which had chilled from being exposed to the wind so long. She did not look at him with any apparent emotion, rather just as something to see. Perhaps her boredom had finally got to her. She laid on her belly, her paws bent beneath her like she was trying to warm herself further. She rested her jaw on the rock below her and blinked slowly. Even if she had no apparent emotion towards the cat she still carried a look of calm sadness and question about her.
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Post by Kodiak on Sept 9, 2008 21:34:55 GMT -5
Bonepaw let a small instinctive yet unaggressive hiss escape his lips as he dug in again, ears flicking in response. He rose, tail erect while one ear still lay flat in discontent. His gaze followed the path of sunlight that warmed her, gazing flashing. He was unsure whether he was bored enough to tattle, but Bonepaw had gotten what he wanted and he wasn't needed here any longer. His tongue swiped against his lips swiftly, slightly cleansing the fur around it. The thrush was half eaten, but he seemed no longer interested in it as he began his trek back into the depths of forest of which he came.
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Post by asail on Sept 9, 2008 22:28:04 GMT -5
The feline seemed momentarily transfixed in Bonepaw's departure, watching after him. Shortly after he left she stood to her full height, which wasn't much. Her legs shuddered once before she pivoted and turned her back on the catch with no hesitation. The tips of her paws becoming laden with dust as she made the few paw steps back over to the rock, stretching her limbs high to pull herself onto the flat rock. The rock had soaked up decent warmth in her absence and the feline appeared to take full advantage. Laying on her belly and stretching her body over the rock, her body running its length. Her face pleasant as she contented herself with its heat. Feeling the warmth sink into the fur of her sides, the light was beginning to diminish, the profound colors of her pelt darkening.
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Post by Kodiak on Feb 2, 2009 0:00:54 GMT -5
Snakekit would receive her treatments with less reluctance as before, his clear stubbornness at a temporary pause. Regret continued to drown his emotions, yet in an amount that wasn't as suffocating and unbearable. The weak feline's confidence was thoroughly crushed; ego nothing but a old remnant of his previous lifestyle. Although nothing near a heavy set cat, Snakekit's figure seemed slouched, every inch of his form sickly limp. However, the Poison clan cat felt relatively at physical peace, most of his body's aches currently snuffed. He felt fantastic, and he felt equally terrible. Snakekit's status was still utterly frail, yet he was mostly painless and at a healthier state that he had never reached before. The pathetic noises that previously dared to escape him remained locked tightly in his congested lungs, unallowing them to sound. He would remain in his dreary position while drifting longingly in his intoxicating dreams for hours, motionless unless disturbed.
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Post by asail on Feb 3, 2009 21:46:15 GMT -5
Holypaw was reverently quiet in continuing her treatment, an odd shift. Her gate halting and distracted, but her distance did not, even momentarily, hinder the concentration she spared her work. Tending to Snakekit's wounds with finesse and perfection, offering him light, gentle smiles that reflected her usual but not current personality. She was, undoubtedly, still shaken by the events of before, but the past seemed to fuel her careful paws with greater gentleness and affection. Even when addressing his minor wounds or stiffened limbs she rubbed at his frail muscles with cautious, soothing spreads of her soft paws. She spoke simply, and rarely about light things all with an air of open gratitude and mind, although she was aware of his exhaustion and thus spoke very little. She ceased to fuss after his mental passing and cleaned her scattered medicines before trailing away to a back corner with a blissful smile curling her lips. her slim limbs tucked neatly under her breast and felt a fatigue weaken her.
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Post by Kodiak on Jan 22, 2010 0:24:19 GMT -5
Nothing but a lone tree seemed to exist in the vast, lifeless wasteland, occupied with nothing but dune after dune of sand. Eerie sapphire flashed from beneath the tower of bark, eclipsed by a white blurr of fur. “Hm? Who are you? Ah, a lost traveler. Not many a Clan cat would dare wander into this dark forest. You are brave, stranger. My name is Timescar, and this is my home.” The abstract feline gave a single flick of her wide, velutinous ears toward the immense figure behind her. Countless branches were cast over the two, dressed fully in verdant leaves of myriad different shapes and sizes. Selected parts of the tree held such offspring that belonged to that of a willow, while another end might consist of bosky maple leaves. "The Teller tree. The leaves that fall from this tree each have a distinct pattern and grow and fall in different ways, just like the many cats that inhabit your forest. By reading the grooves of each leaf, I can determine what is to come, or what has passed. You wish to have your fortune told, yes?" The pair of eerie azure orbs regarded a being before her, that of which was only an outline of a young cat. Characteristics, color, and life did not appear on this bizarre cat; it was nothing but a presence. "The winds have told me that Starclan have been speaking of a light colored cat, with eyes the color of the setting sun. Like the sun, this cat's legacy will be one that the cats' morals revolve around, like the earth revolves around our sun. He will have the blood of a warrior in his veins at first breath." Her shallow breath was drawn out as a faint whisper, carried by the winds that licked the dunes. It was a solemn sound, nearly silent and delicate. “Good bye little one, your spirit now belongs in another world." The cream colored kit rolled limply across frozen ground, freed from his mother's body. A relieved purr escaped Hailcloud, leaning toward the kit to tell the exhausted mother of its appearance. But the medicine cat suddenly jerked back, expression succumbing to a blank stupor; the kit’s eyes had already opened, revealing a pair of soft, maroon eyes. Next to him was a pale colored she-cat, whose features were terribly ravaged by scars. She remained silent as well, at a loss for words, engulfed in the young newborn’s eyes. The queen craned her neck to lick the fragile bundle of fur, but he was quickly plucked away from his siblings, grasped in Loststar’s fangs. “I’m sorry, Starlingsong, this kit is no longer yours.” Her paws flailed desperately, reaching and calling out for her kit but was crippled by her lack of energy. So frantic was the mother that she didn't notice she was trampling her other kits. An eerie wail emitted from Starlingsong. “You can’t take my only son!” Loststar simply thrust her ashen cranium to the side, the cream colored kit swinging in her jaws farther away from the queen. Her emerald eyes flashed with impatience, but beneath such frustration struggled a sliver of sympathy. "This is what I must do." Loststar had time to say no more, as blood scattered the nursery floor. The scarlet fluid trickled on the kit, dripping onto its cheeks and mouth, parted open in a mewling wail. Fresh, crimson drops continued to fall from the gash that engulfed the majority of the leader’s nose. She glared at the queens now blood burdened claws, florid green gaze burning with intensity. Starlingsong’s sides heaved in an attempt to regain her energy; every inch of her exhausted body trembled. "How dare you. " Loststar snarled through the kits delicate, taupe fur. "You understand nothing." The queen's delicate eyes begun to swell with tears. Her melancholy was so overbearing, a dizziness over took Loststar. "Why sister..Why are you breaking apart my family.." Enshrouded in sorrow, Starlingsong gathered the last of her vigor, muscles aching. She thrust her body toward Loststar, jaws gaping and reaching for the kit desperately and uncontrolled. With a curt pull of her head, Loststar lifted her jaws upward, simply putting the kit out of reach. Consequently, the queen's fangs met not her child, but her kin's throat. Powered by her blind desperation and audacity to retrieve her son, Starlingsong's bite was virulent. Her sister's blood adorned her face, burning her eyes and clogging her nostrils. She instantly released, too weak to hold on any longer, and sputtered; choked by the blood of Loststar. The leader wheezed, her nostrils flaring, but she still refused to release the kit. This only caused her more suffering, as her lungs shriveled in pain and asphyxiation, limbs locking up. "Leave. Get out now." Loststar's hiss ended in a grotesque gurgle, crimson liquid dripping between her teeth. With her sister's dying image reflected on her terrified pupils, Starlingsong froze, engulfed in a world of trepidation with only voices filled with her own regret screaming in her head. Loststar's world was fading. Her once florid emerald gaze now reduced to narrowed flints, the color withering. Her thoughts entered in one dour, broken echo. I've made up my mind..This is one sacrifice I'm willing to carry out...Somebody has to do it.. Hailcloud's eyes had never left the two she-cats, his mouth agape and his thoughts spinning. His vision became clouded, fearing the nursery walls would close in on him. "Star clan save us."
Snakekit fast asleep, seemed at ease and physical peace. Even though the kit still appeared weak, Holypaw had done wonders to his health. A faint voice sounded from just athwart the box, originating from a pale mahogany she-cat who was engulfed in Poison clan scent. "It's me, Tawnyspots. I mean no harm." Her mew was lowered into a hushed hiss, yet the dialect was gentle. She looked wary, even though she had peaceful intentions. "I'm sorry to barge in without warning..but..Hailcloud couldn't be bothered, he said he had newborns that needed his care. I..I understand the severity of my actions against the warrior code, but we are healers, we do not harm each other, we treat. That's why I was hoping you would listen." Her gentle gaze fell on her delicate feline paws. Snakekit's steady breathing rasped in the background. "Holypaw, I need your help. All of Poison clan does. Doublestar, he teaches the apprentices healing skills, yes, but that's not the only importance of a medicine cat. This clan needs guidance, more than just from a leader. We lack Starclan, I haven't heard their voices for moons..And I just don't know what to do. Please Holypaw.." The medicine cat's eyes flashed with emotions of pain, and her limbs trembled. Suddenly, the caution fled from her eyes; concern replaced with deep confusion and recognition. The honey pair was locked on Snakekit. "That's Doublestar's son! Why he's been missing nearly two moons. How is it you came upon him?" Tawnyspots instinctively cringed as she let volume of her voice increase, her body lowering to a crouch. Regret and apology radiated from her.
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Post by Kodiak on Feb 11, 2010 22:23:02 GMT -5
Frogpaw flopped down onto his flanks, an uneasy sigh escaping the normally energetic tom. His spirits had been dampened slightly, as he had been denied access to the nursery when he had been promised a visit. The apprentice gave the medicine cat Hailcloud no complaints, but felt disappointed all the same. Slow, gentle winds ruffled his chocolate tabby fur, and he suppressed a shiver. The young cat curled his slender tail around his side, a hesitant paw drifting near the fresh kill pile. He tilted his petite head to the side, contemplating what prey to make his meal.
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Post by johnblakeman on Feb 11, 2010 22:48:32 GMT -5
bigpaw walks up to frogpaw "whats wrong with you?" he askes as he sits down beside him
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Post by johnblakeman on Feb 11, 2010 23:13:55 GMT -5
bigpaw dies
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Post by asail on Mar 7, 2010 2:25:08 GMT -5
The arch of her back stiffened, a hiss spitting from her mouth as the clamor disturbed her, and the ends of her pelt became defined in bristles, the fur within her ears pressed severely against her skull. Waterpulse exited from the back den, harshly addressing a queen of under age in her alarm. “Stand down!” The Queen resigned herself from her curious motions with a frightened expression, Waterpulse reconvened and faltered her steps a moment, sharply directing and her stare and grave disposition. “Go to the Back Den, there are kits there. Do not harm them, do not leave them, keep them in your sight, and I mean it!” The Queen sped off immediately, her bloated and swollen frame squeezing past at nimble, rushed angles. It wasn’t so much from fear but a sense of earnest, the old Queen normally had a very jovial poise, a sweet and humble nature. However, she was very serious in regards to her duties, primarily, the safety and security of the Nursery. The padded lichen and moss the Nursery so coveted scuffed and displaced by her reckless, brisk motions, she came to the subjected den, shuddering as she passed her sisters and the clotted blood swept by. Her ears once beckoned in contempt at her skull pivoted erect and alert. She would speak in a hushed tone with consideration for the kits and troubled mothers, but her tongue was sharp and astounded as her body practically unglued itself from the earthen floors as she instantaneously halted and burst before the haven. “By StarClan’s name, what is--“ Her voice was cut, lungs pierced by an unfriendly choking wind, and the chill hardened her drying throat and crack the tissue and set it simultaneously aflame and burning with the freeze that stalled her words. Her lucid eyes, large and almond-shaped were fixed on the scene, and her voice returned in breathless trials. “Loststar, you… Hailcloud, she needs medical attention--” Her voice paused again, eyes stealing a glimpse of the frail, crumpled form she was so familiar with, and, suddenly, she seemed to understand. Having primarily recognized the symbols, but now understood them, and her eyes became softened by pain. “Loststar, please… I know you are not well, but, I beg of you… A kit needs the milk of its mother if it is to survive,” The pace of her voice had sped gradually as the urgency of her stifled desperation inked her speech, and her eyes grew tender with pleading. “Please, the kit must stay. The sun is high and would burn the flesh beneath his thin fur, the poor dear could become severely damaged if exposed to the light so early! You do not need permission from an old Queen to do as you please, but… I could arrange a den in the Nursery for you, or a larger one, where both of you may reside…” Waterpulse was not oblivious to the tensions in the room, moreover she knew her suggestion was almost ghastly under the circumstances, but her tongue raced beyond herself in her terrible anxiety. She crept forward a tad, paw touching softly in a quiet, endearing step, round-tipped ears bowed and hovered. “Please, Loststar, one family has already been lost today..” Her heart clenched, choking her voice slightly, but her eyes remained endearing and intent.
Her nimble paws cushioned her breast in a neat spread, she felt a weight in her light limbs as a slight fatigue set into aches. She remained, however, composed, and though there was no one to be pleasant to her eyes stayed bright and ears attentive. Albeit, her stare had distanced a tad and the pricked ends of her eyes were relatively more bowed than her usual polite reserve, grin at a rest as she thought. Holypaw’s right ear flicked as a foreign scent alerted her, her jaws opened to capture the scent on her tongue, at its strength she turned with alarm in ready in her throat, but she eased. “Tawnyspots…” She breathed, as the tension slipped from her face, grinning partially out of relief, but the implications of the meetings kept her settled. “I hardly recognized your scent without… No, never mind.” She refrained from mentioning, recalling the rumors she had heard, of the changes, of Doublestar. She raised gradually, her eyes of a calm concern at the female’s trembling. She glanced momentarily to Snakekit, confirming his dozing, the stare returning back to her. She listened quietly with a sincere gaze, a gravity fixed her but a kindness kept the harsh elements shallowed on the surface, stepping softly toward her, but only so much. “Tawnyspots, please, you’re talking in circles,” She purred softly, smiling lightly in an attempted act of comfort. “My mentor has told me a lot of you, and I met you some moons ago when I just became an apprentice. I have no doubt this is for your clan, and I will pray to the Stars your pardon. I will listen.” Her whispers passed her lips with Snakekit in mind, her whiskers hardly stirring, but her genial voice carried well. As Tawnyspots continued to speak a range of expressions took Holypaw’s small frame; from shock at the cat’s beseech and a severe austerity at the extent of Doublestar’s recklessness to a deep, sympathetic solace. She was silent a moment, contemplating all she had heard, but as her jaws opened to speak and her eyes, bright and troubled, were vexed with an apologetic bemuse the revelation occurred, and her speech collapsed. She peered at his tuckered form, round orbs spanned and lingered there even a moment after the other had cringed. Her eyes refocused, a shudder passing through her form, only then did she notice his continued slumber and a sense of ease alleviated her, shrugging her shoulders and loosening her lips to curl. An anxiety pricked her paws, she carefully walked beside the other. “This way.” She did not lead far, merely outside of the box at the shadow of the flaps. The box towers were stacked in cumulative excess; one could hardly exit one without walking right into another. There were primarily five large pyramids of clumsy towers, falling all about the factory and conveyor belts. Holypaw rested, poised straight as she sat and paws leveled. “I apologize, I didn’t want to wake him… He’s my friend, and I want him to get better,” She paused to intake a breath, and as she spared it with an almost lost speech, unsure of what she should say, blindly following any certain fact, glancing away at the worn floors. “I need to be there when he wakes up… I don’t want him to feel alone. I’m not sure what I can do, but I’ll help if I can,” Her eyes flashed as they returned, with a boldness, and a bravery. “I’ll…” She trailed, remembering what had happened that day, what had almost been done. Her voice weakened, and a pain burned with her valiance. “I’ll meet you on your side of the river. At the tracks while the sun banks.” The muscles in her paws teased, constricting and shaking faintly. Her eyes remained steady, a quivering strength regained in her speech as she spoke. One’s Duty, One’s heart, and One’s life, there is no discrimination between them, there is no superior. The words of her father.
“Dive bomb the mouse burglar~!” Shrilled a virile voice, the pitch volatile and, though deeper than some of the other youth, was indisputably juvenile. Whether Frogpaw was ready or not a muscled girth would slam into his side. Beaverpaw’s thick, black padded feet and slender back a spiraling, tumbling onslaught. Laughing heartily, pawing and grabbing at the holds of Frogpaw’s fur so the momentum would knock wind and air and dust, brows and lips high in chuckles and play as his wished his clumsy death roll to continue. “You’ve stolen your last morsel, Fox breath!” He was barely able to jeer through the tussle and puffs of laughter. Endless spurs of dust and earth scattered and displaced in their wake.
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Post by Kodiak on Mar 8, 2010 1:14:10 GMT -5
The feline still procured a hazy vision, a swarm of shimmering shadows engulfing her sight. Eerie orbs regarded her from a distance, enshrouded in the eternal darkness. Loststar shook her weary head, ridding of some of the disorientation that distorted her perception. Minuscule time was squandered before she discerned the place as the hunting grounds of her celestial ancestors. Consequently, she expected her forefathers and divine guardians to greet her and exhort her of precious life lost, but there was nothing but a spectral silence. Weakness did not diminish, but expanded into an overbearing amount. Her unsteady limbs trembled with a fatal mix of anxiety and exhaustion, as the world around her withered into nothing but a vast shadow. Restless lids lifted, parting to reveal a pair of pale, distress tainted pupils. The focused on the blurred form before her, Hailcloud’s downy fur reduced to nothing more than a white smear across her vision. Steady paws were busied at her throat, gingerly pressing thick cobwebs against the inmost penetration in her neck. Gravity tortured her lids until she succumbed to the weary weight; instead of unfathomable darkness however she was encountered with the endless wave of celestial eyes that had haunted her in the spectral grounds. A deep focus settled within her, and the orbs vanished, Waterpulse’s mew now in a tongue she could comprehend. Several times throughout the old queen’s persuasion the leader curled her lips and drew back the folds of her snout in defiance, but she withheld her silence. Loststar narrows her eyes into aciculate flints, her dialect clearly austere. "Very well. A separate den will be arranged." The jaded she-cat rasped, brushing away Hailcloud’s paws. Before the aged tom could oppose her actions, Loststar began to rise, her broad face nearly pressed against his. “I want you to guard the new den during both the reign of the sun and moon.” Hailcloud met her stare with worried eyes and lips weighted to form a concerned frown. “But Loststar, I have duties I must attend to daily. I cannot afford to become distracted now.” The old tom shook his massive white head, bi-colored eyes flashing. “Why don't you see if a warrior can spare an apprentice for a while?” Loststar leaned back onto her pale flanks, slender shoulders sagging and eyes narrowed. Exhaustion gripped her, and blood threatened to ooze past her cobweb barrier. “No that will draw to much attention. You are thinking far too narrow. I'll handle it.” With a dignified wave of her tail, she signaled for the queen to be dismissed. “I have agreed to your terms. Off with you then."
Tawnyspots regarded Holypaw with silent respect, not disrupting her well-calculated words. Occasionally, she would flick an amber ear, as if she either agreed in some profound sense or wanted a word in edgewise. Anxiety instantly overcame retired healer as the apprentice suggested they traveled to a more secluded area. She shuffled her paws warily, but still, offered no words. Upon following Holypaw, she kept her tail just barely hovering over the ground, ears pressed back as if determined not to be seen. But rather than appearing as a hunter, stalking swiftly and quietly, the roles were quite reversed, as she constantly threw back her head to glance over her shoulder, as if suspicious eyes may be following her trespassing form. Calm did not wash over her, even when they ceased to trek father into the unknown of a camp which was foreign to her. Tawnyspots claimed a sitting position, tail curling around her flanks and head twisting awkwardly to and fro. Her compassionate gaze flickered with animated hope. “Oh Holypaw, you don’t understand how much this means to my clan. We have lost so many kits this season, more than any other. I can only do so much without my herbs.” Grim memories flooded her thoughts, taunting the very sliver of innocence she hung on to. Kits writhing and withering beneath her paws; unsheathed claws of Doublestar tearing at the stocks of herbs in rage. Fear fled from her gaze, replaced by sincere gratitude. She lifted a delicate copper paw, and pressed the furry digits softy against the side of her chest, imagining she could feel the young heart throbbing vigorously. “This, this is what will make you the best healer the clans have ever seen.” The limb retreated back to her form, returning to support her while she rose. She dipped her sleek head respectfully, bending her cranium in a way that pointed her maw in the direction of Holypaw’s lobe. Lids lowered, her gaze was shockingly tender, as if a buried secret struggled to liberate itself from its emotion driven fetters. “He needs to come back.” She whispered with a gentle dialect, not even bothering to address the subject directly. Holypaw would understand clearly what she was referring to. “I am very gracious for you caring for him, but this is not his home. We can talk more about it later." She mewed softly, her head slipping away from the apprentice. "May star clan light your path.” She added earnestly, before dipping her head once more and disappearing beneath the fronds of heather.
The tom with a russet hue to his shaggy pelt was fully bowled over, a flurry of limbs and slender tail. He shook his head, ridding his petite cranium of his tail that draped over it. His emerald eyes flashed in suspicion."What? Prey thieves? Where!?" He shouldered Beaverpaw off with a hefty shove of his slender frame, leaping to his paws clumsily with a shaggy pelt covered in dust. A cherubic being occupied the corner of the hollow, divine gaze flickering with zealous spirit. The slick she-cat, dressed in gorgeous splashes of white, ebony, and heather gray, was born upon the name of Sagepaw. She let a timid giggle escape her delicate jaws. "Come on, he couldn't of hit you that hard. You made it seem as if the whole of Lion Clan trampled over you!" Scorchpaw, a smoky onyx apprentice with a golden ring of fur fastened around his muzzle, emerged from the den. A look of indignation was displayed from the tom; it was a challenge for him to suppress a condescending smirk. "Really, you think by now the lot of you would stop acting like kits." He shot a hardened stare at his sister, Sagepaw, and twitched his whiskers in satisfaction when a steady flow of submission engulfed her. Frogpaw continued to stare at the trio with such an addled stare, as if he hadn't the faintest idea what any cat was mewing about. "There!" A feline had entered the clearing, his dominant figure framed by broad shoulders and thick, burly fur. Slender yet maturing fangs were fastened around a surmounted finch; it was merely a mass of feathers, once elegant wings wings crumpled beneath it it and slumped on each side. The much more callow apprentice Frogpaw lashed his sleek tail, and with a impressive thrust of his hind legs, flung himself at the newcomer. "Mangy prey stealer!" He yowled fiercely, but merely reflected off the much larger cat's heather colored form. He had, however, managed to knock the bird from his firm grasp. The ashen tom, Wolfpaw, shook his head, exhaustion overcoming his worry even before speaking. "What will Aspentail say to me if I bring her a dusty bird?" He murmured, lost in a jungle of thoughts. Frogpaw instantly leaped to his paws. "I'll ask Roanfur if I can go fetch her a new one!" He tossed the jumbled mew over his shoulder, already racing toward the warriors den. Scorchpaw snorted, his onyx lips curled in amusement. "Please. You barely know how to chase your tail, let alone pursue a bird." Frogpaw skidded to a stop, velutinous copper ears succumbing to the niches behind his downy skull. He fastened his contumacious gaze on the more experience apprentice. “Why do you have to act like a bossy fur ball all the time? You think you know it all?" Crestfallen at the behavior of her brother, Sagepaw gazed at her paws quietly. Scorchpaw licked a shadow colored paw daintly, before bringing it swiftly over an ear."I know enough. Could you say the same?” “Who’s that yelling into the den?” An irritated hiss sounded from a cantankerous source inside the dark den. Frogpaw, just realizing he’d been in front of the haven of the warriors this choate duration, spun around his bistered mahogany hair on end and a mischievous glint in his eyes.“Lionclan, ROAR!” The tom's loud, yet falsetto mew echoed in the cave. Suddenly a paw encouraged by provoked ire pierced the shadows and lashed out at the apprentice's face. With an aghast yelp, Frogpaw dashed before being swipped at by Dustshadow. He hid behind Sagepaw and Beaverpaw, if the apprentice had remained in the general area. “He’s going to flay me!” He whimpered with his usual callow voice, delicate whiskers trembling.
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Post by Kodiak on Mar 14, 2010 2:27:58 GMT -5
MEOWZA
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Post by asail on Apr 10, 2010 4:50:56 GMT -5
White ears twitched upon the slanted face of Waterpulse’s humbly bowed head, watching Loststar’s frequent distaste with an anxious, steady eye that peered gently up at her leader. The ascetic, solitary beats of her heart and rise of her blood and the waxen, hinged puppets of her lungs, tense and stricken and mechanical in their halting pulsations, instantaneously relaxed. The sorrow in her eyes, the heat of her blood, and the rust that harbored her lungs emptied and cooled, chaste maw parted and emitted a relieved sigh in spite of herself. “Yes.” She conceded simply, she felt her words would not be particularly desired at the moment and noted silently it would be best to show gratitude for the next half moon or so, for the negotiation did not fair without its contentions. She stayed a moment, sparing attention to assure any order directed or preferred was not missed, though the queen was not slow and soon affirmed the information was not for her ears. Albeit curiosity prickled her she turned away her sleek head and she burned with a distant shame. Waterpulse’s orbs spanned quickly, and reversed back to Loststar at her address, and the muscles along her fluid spine stiff and the fur somewhat bristled. “Yes. Thank you, Loststar. I shall prepare the den personally.” She receded quickly, a submissive mew just catching from her voice. She slipped from sight, with her shoulders still arched and head still low. Her tail brushed the ends of the tunnel’s lichen, pads gripping the moss and tender earth, a huff of air escaped her. She retired to the third den, it was mostly for large litters and so was canopied by vaulted bracken and low hanging brush. The queen swept earth and moss, perusing other nests for feathers and branches to line and enclose, spruce needles in the overhang and ochre leaves with broad, handsome veins. Pale nose cloyed by the fragrances of earth and marsh as she touched the leaves and ground. Her mind scarcely wandered, still affected from what had occurred. Though, she was not without a fleeting heart, for a heavy distraction weighed her, and a dreadful yearning to soothe it made the pelt of her neck quill.
A quivering disturbed her spine and whiskers as Tawnyspots’s grave recollection distilled something within her. A saddened compassion, a seriousness of sorts, darkened her brow, and she kept her eyes steady and sympathetic on the older female, extending a slim forearm so her slight, delicate paw rested on the other’s in comfort. The female had very slight toe bones, nimble and fragile, almost as if they were hollow inside, like a bird’s wings, an aid in her quick step. Holypaw was considerably quiet as the other talked, thoughts rampant and wracked by worried, it induced an almost distance in her expression, but only just that, her attention was never far. Whatever dialect she professed was never beyond the uncommon light mew, as her mind was fixated on much and was kept tantalized by the coming. Her orbs briefly followed the stretch of Tawnyspots’s limb to her breast, gaze returning with a great span as the female’s words flustered the beat of her blood, the slender pact of her jaw gaping a touch, the fur within her ears bristling with an instantaneous shock of passion causing the erect lobes to twitch. Her voice was warm with a nervous purr, vocals somewhat jostled by a light chuckle, face jovially contoured, eyes blithely concealed. “By Star clan, with those eyes people might believe you!” She mewled through a gay sigh, chuckle fading and stare displayed in bright return, kind and gleaming. “I’m sorry, my friend, for laughing. You’ve flattered me greatly, but those words are not meant for me,” Her sleek cranium shook calmly with her words, paw withdrawing from Tawnyspots’s as the older cat stood, a glow in her tender face. “Thank you, Tawnyspots. I needed that.” Her blood, tepid and crystallized by fearful anxieties, had been catalyzed again to flow in a vigorous gale, pumping her heart and frame with a quiet valor. The confidence of trial was in her eyes, she would perform the task, demeaning uncertainties, though they still beseeched her paws to itch. Albeit, these things dampened, scintillating expression wearied upon the cat’s ending words. A heaviness weighed her skull to dip a gentle ways with the soft fall of her eyes and mouth. She did not respond, bobbing her head in a simple, if not grudging nod, troubled orbs away, solemn with acknowledgment. “And may it light yours” She returned with feeble, but sincere breath. She watched after her a time, ears perusing the air, humid and familiar with the late sun, but heard no disturbance to suggest her capture, pivoting ears relaxed. Holypaw’s frame retained a tension that wrought her disposition, the outline of her neck bowed between her shoulders as her skull gradually lowered, lips pursed unintentionally with thought and gravity strained the innocence of her features. Her brow suddenly furrowed, subtly shaking her head in a sort of subdued fit, retiring from her subconscious and reclining on her haunches to spring decisively to her paws, slim cranium angling toward the cut in the maze. “Is insolence to dull my star and quake my council?” Holypaw faltered, her left ear twitched and harshly pivoted, swiftly recalling the attention of her alarmed stare to where sharp eyes glowered. She submitted with hasty reverence, belly pressed to the chilled floor, peering at an incline to the daunting form. “No, Blackstar! Without question, no,” She gazed at him earnestly, his pale eyes of pallid yellow severe and seething, great bulk an ascetic outline in the shadow. “I was just coming to find you, and here you are,” Her dialect was rushed but firm, without pause, without hitch of breath or tone. “Please, I realize I am needed here, but the danger others are in is dire by what I have been told. I must go to Poison clan, I must help them, in any way I can! Please.” She flattened herself further into the floor, the cold seeping into the gaps of her ribs, the joints of her bones, permeating her languid form and igniting bitter pricks to divulge her sores. The broad expanse of his white paws stirred the shadows as his massive form connected with earth, sifting dust and darkness. His white throat seemed to elongate his regal skull, looming ever more so from the high peaks as she smothered herself on the concrete. He was silent but a moment, Holypaw incessantly staring with her pleading gaze into a face much harsher than hers, strong, feral, like a lion made of stone. “For a time all cats of Star clan were trusted. My faith holds to that, even at word of her approach. However, the blood of my fellows will not be risked on preference. Upon following her scent, I am aware of all you are,” Holypaw’s eyes spanned, her leader’s did not falter, cut and glinting, but no longer possessed of the piercing light his wrath his incurred. “I will arrange an escort. He or she will stay with you until the border.” With that her eyes caught the rigorous arch of his back and shoulders, mighty flanks, the power circulating proud steps, and the solitary flick his tail; Blackstar had left. Holypaw was baffled, and laid there, lost, for a few moments, staring off with hardly a disturbance of muscle or breath. “Thank you…” She mumbled, to no one. The utterance appeared to wake her, her stiffened limbs shook and her paws touched earth fitfully as she stretched and stumbled, though her efforts to become limber were botched with anxiety and haste. Stare adverting with some relief to the exit her brisk steps would soon bring her back to Snakekit.
Dust and earth buffed and billowed in translucent boughs, distracting the apprentice’s relentless, jovial laughter with a solitary or secondary cough or sneeze, injected by continued chuckles. “Your guard was so down~!” His voice, toned by, oddly, both masculine and youthful properties made quite a spectacle of his childish play, an oxymoron almost. As the energy of the tussle diminished by ounces toward the final tumble Beaverpaw, from some queer finesse of practice, did not land in the heap in which his victims often did. Rather, as the inevitable end grew closer still, and the rush and batter of limbs in the tumult continued nevertheless, a precise moment for release seemed to incur to the apprentice, surrendering holds and hooks to fall away, limbs tucking, skull submitting to low reaches, becoming smooth, round, and with a funny sort of dexterity rolled away in a flurry of tawny, perhaps a calmer version of what the actual attack had been. At the first rotation, when the thick black of his pads touched soil, he stopped, instantaneously, amazingly, without tread or strain, even if Frogpaw had still been spiraling, he had settled, trails of dust and earth making uncertain, fading paths about him; the high rise of his brows as well as the howl of his laughter had not ceased. With the exception of he dismal motes of dirt and dust upon his figure it was as if he had never truly initiated the attack, forelegs spread carefully, firmly beyond the virile tufts of his chest the muscles of his limbs defined, secure, thick back paws anchored to the soil. Hearty laughter continued to leave him, left ear lazily unkempt and drooped to make for a comical expression, his full tail fluffed and curled at his flank, the tip in the air. The onyx markings upon his forelegs were stark in the light, strikes of black almost like a tabby’s. He had landed somewhere around Sagepaw, his mirth had quelled a tad, no longer constantly infused with laughter, though his lips were still infused with a satisfied grin, and state interrupted by memory spurred chuckles. His person quickly soured and proceeded to with Scorchpaw’s remarks, thought evident changes in his disposition were slim, a slack in his gaiety, and a quirk of his brow and grin. Beaverpaw appeared to lack contentions, though an almost mocking lingered in his apathy, in his continued relative happiness, a derogatory nonchalance, a challenge. “Really, now? Says the mate who still bullies his sister like an insecure litterkit.” For a second, a moment, an instant, his eyes were sharp, and the charcoal marks that decorated his muzzle outline his wicked orbs in darkness. Then, instantaneously, the threat was gone, staring after Frogpaw, temper relaxed, laughing lightly with a dominant grin. “Frogpaw,” The voice was articulated with a slow grace, a poise of beautiful ease which extended from the very crown of head to the elegant, gradual stride of his massive paws. “Causing mischief again I see,” Roanfur regarded Duskshadow with an apologetic nod of his head, the glorious, disheveled tufts of his fur which rode like a mane along his neck, burning a brilliant gold in the late sun. “Please excuse his energy, I was waiting for this specific hour to train him. Damage seems to have been done already though,” His pale jade stare drifted toward Wolfpaw, though he remained beside the agitated warrior. “Wolfpaw appears to have dropped his bird. Perhaps, he could join Frogpaw and I?” His eyes again returned to Duskshadow, disposition seamlessly reserved, presenting merely the inquisition of his offer in the faded shade of his stare. “May I come too?” The voice, though deferent, was stolid and stern and rather small. Roanfur glanced downwards to a kit that had approached from the utmost edge of the nursery boundary, also rather small. The feisty kitten returned his gaze, firmly serious, and unyielding, though the arch her neck had to endure to met that gaze was undoubtedly uncomfortable. She was a runt of her litter, thin and curved, like a muscled ribbon. He looked at her a moment, her down turned mouth, her long body with diminutive features, lean muscles coarsely dressed in a pelt of russet and white. “I’m sorry. You are still too young, Weaselkit.” He smiled politely. Weaselkit’s brow furrowed, hesitating a moment, head bitterly low, she then nodded in recognition to the deputy and wandered back to were she was, powerful jaw somewhat grit. Redbirch and Robintail came back from hunting. Redbirch, distracted from some story he was telling, full attention on his sister, words muffled by the mouse in his jaws, fell on his face and started Robintail laughing.
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