Post by SOOTNOSE on Sept 26, 2016 12:15:41 GMT
Sootnose would always be a cat of many questions. They never made it out of his mouth, of course, never tested the waters of other minds or tongues. They swam inside his head, a constant pool that ideas and thoughts leapt out of like fish, before disappearing back into the vast mass once again. Always before he could do more than touch them with a claw or two. In many ways, that was for the best. After all, if he lingered on some of them for too long, his paws might have carried him further than the sandy hollow. One paw in front of the other carrying his great black and white mass beyond the hollow, to the thick, dense darkness of the thunderpath; he’d go well beyond that with time.
However, as per usual, the thoughts slipped away, and the warrior stepped down into the soft, sandy clearing, shoulder slouching, and sat with a dull thud. Bright yellow-green eyes flicked up to the morning sky, all pale blue, splattered with drifting white and grey clouds. A continuing shifting horizon that flickered across the slowly rising sun. Shadows stretched across the forest flow below, the trees around the edge of the hollow rustling with the gentle breeze, leaves casting dancing shadows across the sandy ground. A bird called out in the distance, a call for a hunter. Or at least, that would be how he always interpreted it as. In all respects, it was his sort of day, the peaceful, average kind.
It was almost a shame that he had to spend it actually doing something for the good of the clan. He liked Whitepaw enough, she was fiery and a pawful, but, he liked her spirit, even if her tongue was a bit to uncontrolled for his liking sometimes. However, he treated it just as he did any cat with a tongue that moved as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, with a sleepy smile and an occasional bob of his head. Of course, fight training would always bring those words into a different context, and that was the activity of the day. As much as he’d prefer the simplicity of the hunting lesson, fighting was important too, and as the activity they spent less time on than he was sure the apprentice wanted, well, occasionally he needed to refocus from what he wanted to do for once.
If he had his way, leaving the camp wouldn’t be particularly high on the priority list. Slowly, the tom’s shoulder slumped further, until he slipped down into a lying position, folding his paws slowly under his heavy form. The tom’s long patched fur took a moment to settle, but he paid it no mind. No, the warrior’s gaze found itself on the sky once more, ears pricked. No doubt Whitepaw wouldn’t take too much longer to arrive. She knew where and when they were meeting. Any time between the moment and her arrival was more peace for him. More peace to avoid thought-fish with.
However, as per usual, the thoughts slipped away, and the warrior stepped down into the soft, sandy clearing, shoulder slouching, and sat with a dull thud. Bright yellow-green eyes flicked up to the morning sky, all pale blue, splattered with drifting white and grey clouds. A continuing shifting horizon that flickered across the slowly rising sun. Shadows stretched across the forest flow below, the trees around the edge of the hollow rustling with the gentle breeze, leaves casting dancing shadows across the sandy ground. A bird called out in the distance, a call for a hunter. Or at least, that would be how he always interpreted it as. In all respects, it was his sort of day, the peaceful, average kind.
It was almost a shame that he had to spend it actually doing something for the good of the clan. He liked Whitepaw enough, she was fiery and a pawful, but, he liked her spirit, even if her tongue was a bit to uncontrolled for his liking sometimes. However, he treated it just as he did any cat with a tongue that moved as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, with a sleepy smile and an occasional bob of his head. Of course, fight training would always bring those words into a different context, and that was the activity of the day. As much as he’d prefer the simplicity of the hunting lesson, fighting was important too, and as the activity they spent less time on than he was sure the apprentice wanted, well, occasionally he needed to refocus from what he wanted to do for once.
If he had his way, leaving the camp wouldn’t be particularly high on the priority list. Slowly, the tom’s shoulder slumped further, until he slipped down into a lying position, folding his paws slowly under his heavy form. The tom’s long patched fur took a moment to settle, but he paid it no mind. No, the warrior’s gaze found itself on the sky once more, ears pricked. No doubt Whitepaw wouldn’t take too much longer to arrive. She knew where and when they were meeting. Any time between the moment and her arrival was more peace for him. More peace to avoid thought-fish with.
