Post by Thyme on Aug 20, 2010 1:47:38 GMT -5
A chill breeze whistled against Pinestorm’s fur, and he shivered awake. Blinking around blearily, the tom cat saw that the warrior who usually slept beside him had just left. He shrunk back into his warm, mossy nest, curling his fluffy tail over his nose as he tried fruitlessly to return to sleep. With a wide yawn, the tom stretched, pushing himself to his paws. He flexed his claws in and out, feeling the top of the cave scratch the fur on his back. It felt grand, and he rubbed even more along his spine, reveling in the energizing feeling. A small purr of pleasure rumbled in his throat, and he closed his eyes, stretching even further.
Pinestorm padded slowly out of the den, now greeting the chilly weather head on. It wasn’t quite deep leaf-bare yet, but there was a definite taste of it in the air. Frost had already been gathering on the ferns overnight, as he had observed the previous morning on the dawn patrol.
He glanced over at the fresh-kill pile and noted that it looked rather low. No surprise there; it was likely that many of the other cats had eaten. Although, wasn’t it supposed to be the apprentice’s job to make sure the fresh-kill pile was well-stocked? Clearly they had been slacking. Pinestorm raked his gaze around the clearing, seeking out any apprentices unlucky enough to be caught in his glare. From the looks of it, most of them appeared to be out, probably training or hunting. As long as he didn’t have to deal with them, he was perfectly happy.
He sat down, as deep in thought as he could be. He didn’t bother grooming himself yet – he couldn’t concentrate on two different things at once. Well, he could head out and do some hunting to increase the fresh-kill. Or he could go ahead and patrol the border on his own. No doubt the scent marks could always use some refreshing. There was always the clearing too. Now that it was after green-leaf, there was a much smaller chance that any Twolegs would wander around their territory. They didn’t like to be out in the cold – probably something to do with their distinct lack of fur. His tail lay flat out behind him while the very tip flicked rather sporadically about on the ground. An uneasy shadow hovered over his face, showing his discontented wonderings. Small clouds of dust floated around the long-furred tail and drifted onto his pelt turning the dark brown stripes a lighter shade.
Finally a blank look settled over his face, and he blinked again and again, completely unsure of what to do next. He’d entirely lost his train of thought. He got to his paws again, and stood still, fumbling through his tiny stack of previous thoughts. Free thought was not his strong suit. Oh where was some instruction when you needed it?
Pinestorm padded slowly out of the den, now greeting the chilly weather head on. It wasn’t quite deep leaf-bare yet, but there was a definite taste of it in the air. Frost had already been gathering on the ferns overnight, as he had observed the previous morning on the dawn patrol.
He glanced over at the fresh-kill pile and noted that it looked rather low. No surprise there; it was likely that many of the other cats had eaten. Although, wasn’t it supposed to be the apprentice’s job to make sure the fresh-kill pile was well-stocked? Clearly they had been slacking. Pinestorm raked his gaze around the clearing, seeking out any apprentices unlucky enough to be caught in his glare. From the looks of it, most of them appeared to be out, probably training or hunting. As long as he didn’t have to deal with them, he was perfectly happy.
He sat down, as deep in thought as he could be. He didn’t bother grooming himself yet – he couldn’t concentrate on two different things at once. Well, he could head out and do some hunting to increase the fresh-kill. Or he could go ahead and patrol the border on his own. No doubt the scent marks could always use some refreshing. There was always the clearing too. Now that it was after green-leaf, there was a much smaller chance that any Twolegs would wander around their territory. They didn’t like to be out in the cold – probably something to do with their distinct lack of fur. His tail lay flat out behind him while the very tip flicked rather sporadically about on the ground. An uneasy shadow hovered over his face, showing his discontented wonderings. Small clouds of dust floated around the long-furred tail and drifted onto his pelt turning the dark brown stripes a lighter shade.
Finally a blank look settled over his face, and he blinked again and again, completely unsure of what to do next. He’d entirely lost his train of thought. He got to his paws again, and stood still, fumbling through his tiny stack of previous thoughts. Free thought was not his strong suit. Oh where was some instruction when you needed it?
