Post by wish on Feb 23, 2023 20:00:14 GMT -6
After the snow, came the winds. Cold and blustery, they ripped through the redwood forest, pilfering everything beneath its frigid touch. Great snow drifts gathered outside of their camp in towering piles. Hunting was almost impossible, and as the week progressed, the fresh kill-pile was beginning to dwindle, and cats were going hungry. As if summoned, Ruefeather's stomach started to growl. He passed an awkward glance at his sentry partner, Wisteriaflight, and winced. He would've preferred to suffer in silence, but his belly said otherwise. Straightening, he tried to push away thoughts of food and glanced out at the blistering tundra of white. What were they even supposed to be watching for? Intruders? Would anyone be foolish enough to try to venture out into the storm to attack their camp?
The wind wailed and howled through the trees as if answering his question for him. They were simply guarding the camp and watching for any stragglers. A large hunting party left earlier that morning, sent out to try and find any prey. It was a fool's errand, but Ruefeather wasn't going to try and stop them. They could use whatever prey they managed to bring back to camp. Easing back onto his haunches, the black and white tom fluffed out his pelt in an attempt to stay warm. They were largely protected from the winds by the camp's entrance, a large hollowed out redwood tree, but it was extremely cold, at least compared to the inside of the warrior's den. His face softened.
He hoped Fayre was staying warm and doing fine without him. Ever since Mlikblaze's confrontation, he was worried some of his den-mates were picking on her for being a former rogue.
Ruefeather glanced at Wisterflight out of his peripherals. He didn't know much about the spotted she-cat, despite being only a few moons apart in age. Again he lamented his need for solitude. If he didn't spend so much of his youth by himself, he probably would've known more about his clan-mates, and perhaps he'd have some friends. It's not too late to start. Came a voice that sounded eerily similar to Finchstar's. The tom cursed his former mentor, though he was right. It wasn't too late. Awkwardly he tipped his head toward his den-mate and tried to start a conversation. "You're not too cold, are you?" He asked, though he was sure his voice was nearly lost beneath the whirling winds. "We could probably guard the camp a little further in." He made a face. "I doubt anyone's going to be launching an attack on us in this weather." Stars, talking about the weather. How lame.
The wind wailed and howled through the trees as if answering his question for him. They were simply guarding the camp and watching for any stragglers. A large hunting party left earlier that morning, sent out to try and find any prey. It was a fool's errand, but Ruefeather wasn't going to try and stop them. They could use whatever prey they managed to bring back to camp. Easing back onto his haunches, the black and white tom fluffed out his pelt in an attempt to stay warm. They were largely protected from the winds by the camp's entrance, a large hollowed out redwood tree, but it was extremely cold, at least compared to the inside of the warrior's den. His face softened.
He hoped Fayre was staying warm and doing fine without him. Ever since Mlikblaze's confrontation, he was worried some of his den-mates were picking on her for being a former rogue.
Ruefeather glanced at Wisterflight out of his peripherals. He didn't know much about the spotted she-cat, despite being only a few moons apart in age. Again he lamented his need for solitude. If he didn't spend so much of his youth by himself, he probably would've known more about his clan-mates, and perhaps he'd have some friends. It's not too late to start. Came a voice that sounded eerily similar to Finchstar's. The tom cursed his former mentor, though he was right. It wasn't too late. Awkwardly he tipped his head toward his den-mate and tried to start a conversation. "You're not too cold, are you?" He asked, though he was sure his voice was nearly lost beneath the whirling winds. "We could probably guard the camp a little further in." He made a face. "I doubt anyone's going to be launching an attack on us in this weather." Stars, talking about the weather. How lame.
wc 438 | Silverfire
☆ WISH ☆
