Post by lightning on Jan 11, 2023 16:17:27 GMT -6
"Hmm," Smokestorm hummed in thought, circling through camp in serpentine circles, waiting for some sort of inspiration to strike. Maybe here? He padded against the soil, nose wrinkling as the soft floor caved and squished beneath his weight. Nevermind. He wandered a bit further, his mate in tow, his eyes only glancing to her every few heartbeats. There she was, glowing as though a visage of StarClan. Perhaps, she had always looked as such - or maybe, only now he might truly bathe in her beauty.
He tried not to stare.
"What about here?" He asked, lifting a paw to gesture to a rare sprout of grass in the bramble forest that was ThistleClan's warren. "The roots will fortify the ceiling. I'm surprised no one else has taken this spot..." He looked it over with a narrowing gaze. Well...maybe... Again, he looked to Mistflower, waiting for approval, dismissal, some show of decision.
It had been many moons since Smokestorm had built a den. His most recent was dug in a sorrowful flurry by his sister in a desperate attempt to escape her own. before that, he slept for many moons in a shallow indent on the camp's surface, too busy to focus effort on building something more proper. Before then... Perhaps, that was back when he and his siblings had shared a den, before the flood. All of it left him desperate for direction, so afraid was he of making the wrong decision.
"Or we could check over there again," He mewed, gesturing vaguely towards the camp's exit. Another unpopular spot... probably not a good one, kits would escape far too easily. He did not turn to her then, too bashful at the thought to dare face her directly.
He tried not to stare.
"What about here?" He asked, lifting a paw to gesture to a rare sprout of grass in the bramble forest that was ThistleClan's warren. "The roots will fortify the ceiling. I'm surprised no one else has taken this spot..." He looked it over with a narrowing gaze. Well...maybe... Again, he looked to Mistflower, waiting for approval, dismissal, some show of decision.
It had been many moons since Smokestorm had built a den. His most recent was dug in a sorrowful flurry by his sister in a desperate attempt to escape her own. before that, he slept for many moons in a shallow indent on the camp's surface, too busy to focus effort on building something more proper. Before then... Perhaps, that was back when he and his siblings had shared a den, before the flood. All of it left him desperate for direction, so afraid was he of making the wrong decision.
"Or we could check over there again," He mewed, gesturing vaguely towards the camp's exit. Another unpopular spot... probably not a good one, kits would escape far too easily. He did not turn to her then, too bashful at the thought to dare face her directly.
