some legends are told [open, preferred skc] Mar 16, 2016 23:53:58 GMT
Post by crescendo on Mar 16, 2016 23:53:58 GMT
and i can't stop til' the whole world
k n o w s m y n a m e !
The forest was teeming with life—this had to have been the “New Leaf” that Sloe sometimes spoke of when she’d been teaching him. The start of it had been a little chilly for him, but gradually life bloomed over the entire forest. Prey seemed to stir under every blade of grass. At one point Kit had been startled by two young rabbits springing a mere whisker’s-breadth from the tip of his nose. This had been well away from the border, and he’d given chase but had ended up empty-pawed. Sloe had barely begun to teach him how to hunt mice before she fell ill, rabbits seemed frustratingly out of his reach. At seven moons old he was starting to feel the pangs of his lack in knowledge of the world.
Now, of course, he could taste the smell of all sorts of tempting prey. Even near the border he could see whiskers peeping out from between blades of grass and birds that fluttered noisily over his head. Kit’s paws itched to give chase as he carefully stuck to the scent marks. He felt exposed even under the lush trees—his brown tabby pelt had been perfect for hiding in the area he’d grown up. Then again, if it were colder he felt he would have blended in far better. Amidst the lush green undergrowth and the dappled sunlight that filtered through budding leaves he felt like he stuck out like a great lump.
I’ll catch them this time for certain, Kit thought, twisting his ear to hear behind him. He knew little of the Clans beyond what Sloe had told him—or simply what he’d overheard as superstition from other cats. The main lesson, of course, being that no cat should go near their borders. That they patrolled them diligently and would tear the fur off of any who was fool enough to trespass.
Since Sloe’s painful death he’d been trying to find said patrol. It had taken him a bit of thinking outside the box to consider that the cats didn’t march up and down the borders constantly—which made sense he supposed. If he wanted to patrol his own homeland he wouldn’t sweep the border at all times, but send out cats at certain times. The issue had been discovering when Clan cats set out to do this mysterious patrol. He knew they went, because the border’s scents never waned. However, he daren’t wait for them all day. The young tom was terrified at the prospect of overstaying what fragile welcome he might have even just at the boundary line.
Of course this meant that his scent had been at the border—and frequently too. He wove carefully through green grasses as he kept his ears strained for sound. The young tabby was clearly no older than an apprentice—a bit puny at that. He hadn’t been eating properly for a moon, unable to catch prey effectively with the clumsy paws of one inexperienced and untaught. He’d be lying if he said the only reason he was interested in joining a Clan was because of the fascination he held for the strange cats. This was slowly becoming a matter of life and death—Kit could join a Clan, or he’d eventually have to find a group of Rogues to take him in.
“Here,” Kit decided, satisfied as he found a nice tree to sit next to. He nestled himself against the bark—foolish for a cat to do so close to a border as it could corner him, but Kit was young. The tom carefully settled down, curling his brown tail over snowy paws and staring out at the forest with wide eyes. His heart hammered in his chest, Don’t panic. Don’t be aggressive. Be polite. Be friendly. Don’t be hasty. Oh Sloe, I’m sorry, I know you never wanted me anywhere near these cats.
' c a u s e i w a s o n l y
born inside my dreams
born inside my dreams
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OOC: ad on craigslist reading: starving young child seeking forever home LYRICS: 'Centuries' by Fall Out Boy