Post by chey on Mar 27, 2016 2:26:09 GMT
Spring brought gentle mornings to the forest. Soft blues and even softer clouds painted the sky, nebulous as they hovered silently over the swamps. The shallow waters were typically noisy during this hour, the many bellows of toads and frogs bickering back and forth in a language unbeknownst to their neighbors. One in particular had made it's spot just above the shallows, perching on stone warmed by the sun. It's slime covered arm wiped over it's crown, two swollen eyes blinking one after the other.
Though perhaps ugly in appearance, it's life was quite beautiful. Their throaty chorus was a nuisance to some, like an itch that never leaves or a random twitch of a muscle. For others, a comfort. It was the howl of summer nights, the feeling that comes from a day well spent and practiced youth.
For others, it meant the chance to be alive.
In moments the swamp fell silent, save for wild sway of a patch of undergrowth. Grey and white emerged from the reeds, shutter speed quickness dethroning the creature from their rock. For a few seconds did they squabble, white fur occasionally making its appearance beneath the green before even that too seemed to vanish. While the disturbance was sudden, even more so was the feline that pranced lightheartedly through the watery brush. From her mouth there dangled the legs of her prey, it's last spasms
wriggling occasionally as she toted its body away from the shallows. Her paws were browned, and wet stains of mud flecked across her usual white coat. Despite all of this, the purr and glow of her joy were enough to otherwise skim over her filthy frame.
There was nothing like hunting. With it's stealth and required gait, it only came to natural to the she-cat. In the midst of it all she noted the quiet connection between her and the earth. Grass between her paws and cool laden winds tickling between her whiskers. If mother nature were real she would have the sun on her skin, and laps through the world leaving life in her wake. She must be shy as someone who has never been seen. If she is real, then Shellheart is one of her children, and she knows better than to believe that Shadowclan territory is all that there is for her to inherit.
It draws her, the boundless land that escapes the borders.
That she would even allow her mind to wander there causes her ears to flatten momentarily.
She had always had this look about her kept locked away. It was only ever shown in these times, when the early morning left her feeling like rest of the world was still quiet and fast asleep. Her gaze was a look of otherness, of soft eyes that see too far, and thoughts that walked to the edge of the earth. Little did Shellheart know that she was already the places she wanted to visit, the pieces of her speech too subtle for most to understand, but pungent in their wanderlust. That she was, in fact, the embodiment of the adventures she was parched for.
With the burnt sycamore in her view, her eyes instead trailed somewhere farther from it. The border, still very similar in its appearance with the rest of Shadowclan territory caught her eye. Drapetomania coursed through her, and though in hindsight she was no slave her heart surely felt captured. Her pink nose twitched at the thought, some silent habit she had brought upon herself whenever she battled with such things. Even still she wondered the concept of her heart. It was a wild creature, and perhaps that's why ribs are cages.
When physical hunger washed over her she thought of the community north of her, and the law that ruled her. Grip tightened on her prey, and she quickened her pace.
As she approached the tall shell of tree, a peculiar scent struck her frozen, nearly dropping her catch in shock. Slowly and carefully did she lay it in front of her, her slender body crouching through the grass. Caution traced her pawsteps as she grew closer, ears swiveling. Despite the danger the could have been looming, she wondered if the previous lizard she had buried by the tree earlier had attracted something. Her head poked through quietly between the tall growth, heart racing with what was brought to view. Loner, she assumed rather quickly. The toms smell neither reeked of clan cat nor the flowery air of a kittypet. Something rattled within her, something akin to anxiety as she watched the theft taking place in front of her.
Surprisingly, Shellheart remained quiet for a moment, simply observing. Tabby markings were lined throughout his fur and she immediately thought of her brother. No one could convince her otherwise that Wrenstrike would be at the toms throat in a instance, all claws and bared fangs. And yet, perhaps that would have been the right thing. Her nose twitched again, thinking of her mother and the praise that would have resulted after such action. On a practical note, all of Shadowclan was too familiar with his kind. Rogues and loners alike had been a nuisance to the cats of the swamp, remembering Rosestar's frustration after the events with Leaftalon.
Still there remained a strange peace residing in her as she continued to watch him. However a sense of duty overpowered anything she had originally felt, and it was then that she made her presence known.
"If you were that famished," she started. "You could have simply asked." The cheeky playfulness of her tone amused her, surprised her even. A complete turn from obedient heart that had made her walk just seconds before. Shellheart's tail rose, an unusual confidence and comfort radiating from her gait as she approached the tom.
"I still would have said no, but at the very least, it would have been the polite thing to do." A quiet purr emanated from her chords, and she could have chimed a laugh from her behavior. Shellheart was predominantly a quiet creature, a soul that does what she is told and was ever conscious of the consequences that followed if she didn't. Instead she was consumed with the desire to know, and understand. It was unexplainable even to herself, and she fought with the decision to embrace it or fear it.
"Though I'm not sure that civility is even relevant now considering," she paused, looking to him and the half covered prey. "...Whatever it is you're doing with my kill."
notes: *buzzes excitedly*
Though perhaps ugly in appearance, it's life was quite beautiful. Their throaty chorus was a nuisance to some, like an itch that never leaves or a random twitch of a muscle. For others, a comfort. It was the howl of summer nights, the feeling that comes from a day well spent and practiced youth.
For others, it meant the chance to be alive.
In moments the swamp fell silent, save for wild sway of a patch of undergrowth. Grey and white emerged from the reeds, shutter speed quickness dethroning the creature from their rock. For a few seconds did they squabble, white fur occasionally making its appearance beneath the green before even that too seemed to vanish. While the disturbance was sudden, even more so was the feline that pranced lightheartedly through the watery brush. From her mouth there dangled the legs of her prey, it's last spasms
wriggling occasionally as she toted its body away from the shallows. Her paws were browned, and wet stains of mud flecked across her usual white coat. Despite all of this, the purr and glow of her joy were enough to otherwise skim over her filthy frame.
There was nothing like hunting. With it's stealth and required gait, it only came to natural to the she-cat. In the midst of it all she noted the quiet connection between her and the earth. Grass between her paws and cool laden winds tickling between her whiskers. If mother nature were real she would have the sun on her skin, and laps through the world leaving life in her wake. She must be shy as someone who has never been seen. If she is real, then Shellheart is one of her children, and she knows better than to believe that Shadowclan territory is all that there is for her to inherit.
It draws her, the boundless land that escapes the borders.
That she would even allow her mind to wander there causes her ears to flatten momentarily.
She had always had this look about her kept locked away. It was only ever shown in these times, when the early morning left her feeling like rest of the world was still quiet and fast asleep. Her gaze was a look of otherness, of soft eyes that see too far, and thoughts that walked to the edge of the earth. Little did Shellheart know that she was already the places she wanted to visit, the pieces of her speech too subtle for most to understand, but pungent in their wanderlust. That she was, in fact, the embodiment of the adventures she was parched for.
With the burnt sycamore in her view, her eyes instead trailed somewhere farther from it. The border, still very similar in its appearance with the rest of Shadowclan territory caught her eye. Drapetomania coursed through her, and though in hindsight she was no slave her heart surely felt captured. Her pink nose twitched at the thought, some silent habit she had brought upon herself whenever she battled with such things. Even still she wondered the concept of her heart. It was a wild creature, and perhaps that's why ribs are cages.
When physical hunger washed over her she thought of the community north of her, and the law that ruled her. Grip tightened on her prey, and she quickened her pace.
As she approached the tall shell of tree, a peculiar scent struck her frozen, nearly dropping her catch in shock. Slowly and carefully did she lay it in front of her, her slender body crouching through the grass. Caution traced her pawsteps as she grew closer, ears swiveling. Despite the danger the could have been looming, she wondered if the previous lizard she had buried by the tree earlier had attracted something. Her head poked through quietly between the tall growth, heart racing with what was brought to view. Loner, she assumed rather quickly. The toms smell neither reeked of clan cat nor the flowery air of a kittypet. Something rattled within her, something akin to anxiety as she watched the theft taking place in front of her.
Surprisingly, Shellheart remained quiet for a moment, simply observing. Tabby markings were lined throughout his fur and she immediately thought of her brother. No one could convince her otherwise that Wrenstrike would be at the toms throat in a instance, all claws and bared fangs. And yet, perhaps that would have been the right thing. Her nose twitched again, thinking of her mother and the praise that would have resulted after such action. On a practical note, all of Shadowclan was too familiar with his kind. Rogues and loners alike had been a nuisance to the cats of the swamp, remembering Rosestar's frustration after the events with Leaftalon.
Still there remained a strange peace residing in her as she continued to watch him. However a sense of duty overpowered anything she had originally felt, and it was then that she made her presence known.
"If you were that famished," she started. "You could have simply asked." The cheeky playfulness of her tone amused her, surprised her even. A complete turn from obedient heart that had made her walk just seconds before. Shellheart's tail rose, an unusual confidence and comfort radiating from her gait as she approached the tom.
"I still would have said no, but at the very least, it would have been the polite thing to do." A quiet purr emanated from her chords, and she could have chimed a laugh from her behavior. Shellheart was predominantly a quiet creature, a soul that does what she is told and was ever conscious of the consequences that followed if she didn't. Instead she was consumed with the desire to know, and understand. It was unexplainable even to herself, and she fought with the decision to embrace it or fear it.
"Though I'm not sure that civility is even relevant now considering," she paused, looking to him and the half covered prey. "...Whatever it is you're doing with my kill."
notes: *buzzes excitedly*
