Post by Deleted on Nov 4, 2018 16:54:45 GMT
THERE IS A THIN LINE
between what is good and what is evil
I will tiptoe down that line but I will feel unstable
It was another cold day—another morning punctuated by dawn snows—and everything was quite thoroughly covered.
Jaythorn roused himself early that morning, just as the sun cast its pale light throughout the night-darkened sky. He stretched the stiffness from his muscles, fluffed his pelt against cold, and curled his tongue in his gaping maw all at once. It felt as though he’d been resting on icebergs all night. Every inch of him was stiff and cold, and he couldn’t help the pang of longing for his old nest towards the center of the den.
But that was long gone. After he’d up and left the Clan, it hadn’t just been the respect of others he’d lost. Now his nest sat at the entrance of the warriors' den where the wind rattled the walls and tossed the lichen drapes to nip and bite at his short tabby fur. It was hardly the sort of arrangement you’d want, especially during leafbare when warmth became so precious. But he hadn’t dared to complain and had endured the cold in sullen silence.
At the very least it keeps me from oversleeping, thought Jaythorn, who was too cold to even consider going back to sleep.
He blinked and, once all of his waking rituals had been completed, peered outside.
The snow this morning had been heavy. It covered everything from the dens to the fresh-kill pile, reducing the scenery to unidentifiable lumps.
It hardly looked like the type of weather to be out and about in, and yet, after glancing towards the fresh-kill pile, he didn’t see what else to do. The clan needed prey, after all—just as he needed to regain the trust of his clanmates—which left him with only one option, and not one he favored: he would have to hunt.
He grimaced, glancing over his shoulder at the resting shapes. Surely I won’t have to go alone. His copper glaze flitted from one resting shape to the other, until—as if StarClan were answering his pleas—a grey-and-white tom stirred within his nest. Amber eyes blinked blearily, unfocused and tired, but awake nonetheless. Jaythorn couldn’t have asked for better luck, especially considering just who it was waking before him.
Boulderfang. He dimly remembered the tom being mates with his sister Ashflight, and though they no longer shared the same nest, Jaythorn still felt an invisible bond with the tom. After all, they were bound by blood now. In a way, he was his brother—something he had never had or known growing up with his two sisters.
But should I bother him? There isn’t a cat in the forest that would go trekking in this mess… He faltered, but Boulderfang had not gone back to sleep. It was worth a try, even if the outcome was hunting alone.
“I’m glad to see someone’s awake,” Jaythorn mewed, regarding the bicolored tom thoughtfully. “I'm going hunting. Care to join me?”
Jaythorn roused himself early that morning, just as the sun cast its pale light throughout the night-darkened sky. He stretched the stiffness from his muscles, fluffed his pelt against cold, and curled his tongue in his gaping maw all at once. It felt as though he’d been resting on icebergs all night. Every inch of him was stiff and cold, and he couldn’t help the pang of longing for his old nest towards the center of the den.
But that was long gone. After he’d up and left the Clan, it hadn’t just been the respect of others he’d lost. Now his nest sat at the entrance of the warriors' den where the wind rattled the walls and tossed the lichen drapes to nip and bite at his short tabby fur. It was hardly the sort of arrangement you’d want, especially during leafbare when warmth became so precious. But he hadn’t dared to complain and had endured the cold in sullen silence.
At the very least it keeps me from oversleeping, thought Jaythorn, who was too cold to even consider going back to sleep.
He blinked and, once all of his waking rituals had been completed, peered outside.
The snow this morning had been heavy. It covered everything from the dens to the fresh-kill pile, reducing the scenery to unidentifiable lumps.
It hardly looked like the type of weather to be out and about in, and yet, after glancing towards the fresh-kill pile, he didn’t see what else to do. The clan needed prey, after all—just as he needed to regain the trust of his clanmates—which left him with only one option, and not one he favored: he would have to hunt.
He grimaced, glancing over his shoulder at the resting shapes. Surely I won’t have to go alone. His copper glaze flitted from one resting shape to the other, until—as if StarClan were answering his pleas—a grey-and-white tom stirred within his nest. Amber eyes blinked blearily, unfocused and tired, but awake nonetheless. Jaythorn couldn’t have asked for better luck, especially considering just who it was waking before him.
Boulderfang. He dimly remembered the tom being mates with his sister Ashflight, and though they no longer shared the same nest, Jaythorn still felt an invisible bond with the tom. After all, they were bound by blood now. In a way, he was his brother—something he had never had or known growing up with his two sisters.
But should I bother him? There isn’t a cat in the forest that would go trekking in this mess… He faltered, but Boulderfang had not gone back to sleep. It was worth a try, even if the outcome was hunting alone.
“I’m glad to see someone’s awake,” Jaythorn mewed, regarding the bicolored tom thoughtfully. “I'm going hunting. Care to join me?”
Tags: @edda | Word Count: 482
Notes: Let's get this show on the road~
Notes: Let's get this show on the road~
MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0
