Post by alee on Apr 28, 2016 12:51:11 GMT
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Squirrelsong loved the moors.
Okay, what WindClan cat didn't? That was practically understatement of the damn century, come to think of it; after all, you'd have to be harebrained to despise the land you were raised upon, the territory that had fed and sustained the Clan for generations upon generations. It was true though, as simple a statement as it was; from the sun baked grass, to the airy whispers that the wind would whisper into your ear - she savored all of it, every last drop of even the smallest of moments.
Squirrelsong honestly couldn't imagine how the other Clans coped; with SkyClan and ThunderClan cooped up by trees, trees and, hey big surprise, more trees, and ShadowClan infesting the depths of a murky swamp. RiverClan were self proclaimed 'cats of the water', and even as a small apprentice she'd been able to recognize that sole fact at her first Gathering just by their smell. (She wasn't trying to sound mean here but...yeah, they reeked of fish.) Whereas all those Clans were hustled in by their stuffy environments, WindClan was well and truly free - the feeling of a warm breeze ripping through her pelt, of bounding over paw kissed earth and sun baked grass, well, it was a feeling she wouldn't trade for the world.
Okay, maybe she was being sliiiightly sentimental, but hey, she was a sentimental sort of cat, so it worked out well! Squirrelsong slowed her run to a halt as she felt the familiar dip of Camp, her green eyes roving over the familiar sights, nose twitching at the comforting smells of her Clanmates. The warmth of the sun high overhead soaked deep beneath her fur, and for a moment she did not move, instead choosing to bask in the simple pleasure of a warm body, and a mouthful of recently caught rabbit.
With a final shake of her fur, Squirrelsong bounded into the hollow. At once a purr bubbled up from deep within her maw, as she glanced familiar faces, warm faces, faces she'd grown to deeply care about, like family. Squirrelsong dropped her rather fat catch onto the mounting prey pile and at once she flopped down to her belly, a huge sigh escaping her lungs. Well, at least she'd fulfilled one job today...! Honestly, her paws were still itching for activity, her claws begging for another thrilling hunt, but the heat had finally seemed to hook its talons deep into her bones, dragging her down into a rather sudden wave of exhaustion all the while. "I swear," the she-cat commented to herself, rasping a salmon pink tongue over her sun baked pads, "these fat rabbits are a lot faster than they look."
Again. Understatement of the damn century.
skyy and her socks
Squirrelsong loved the moors.
Okay, what WindClan cat didn't? That was practically understatement of the damn century, come to think of it; after all, you'd have to be harebrained to despise the land you were raised upon, the territory that had fed and sustained the Clan for generations upon generations. It was true though, as simple a statement as it was; from the sun baked grass, to the airy whispers that the wind would whisper into your ear - she savored all of it, every last drop of even the smallest of moments.
Squirrelsong honestly couldn't imagine how the other Clans coped; with SkyClan and ThunderClan cooped up by trees, trees and, hey big surprise, more trees, and ShadowClan infesting the depths of a murky swamp. RiverClan were self proclaimed 'cats of the water', and even as a small apprentice she'd been able to recognize that sole fact at her first Gathering just by their smell. (She wasn't trying to sound mean here but...yeah, they reeked of fish.) Whereas all those Clans were hustled in by their stuffy environments, WindClan was well and truly free - the feeling of a warm breeze ripping through her pelt, of bounding over paw kissed earth and sun baked grass, well, it was a feeling she wouldn't trade for the world.
Okay, maybe she was being sliiiightly sentimental, but hey, she was a sentimental sort of cat, so it worked out well! Squirrelsong slowed her run to a halt as she felt the familiar dip of Camp, her green eyes roving over the familiar sights, nose twitching at the comforting smells of her Clanmates. The warmth of the sun high overhead soaked deep beneath her fur, and for a moment she did not move, instead choosing to bask in the simple pleasure of a warm body, and a mouthful of recently caught rabbit.
With a final shake of her fur, Squirrelsong bounded into the hollow. At once a purr bubbled up from deep within her maw, as she glanced familiar faces, warm faces, faces she'd grown to deeply care about, like family. Squirrelsong dropped her rather fat catch onto the mounting prey pile and at once she flopped down to her belly, a huge sigh escaping her lungs. Well, at least she'd fulfilled one job today...! Honestly, her paws were still itching for activity, her claws begging for another thrilling hunt, but the heat had finally seemed to hook its talons deep into her bones, dragging her down into a rather sudden wave of exhaustion all the while. "I swear," the she-cat commented to herself, rasping a salmon pink tongue over her sun baked pads, "these fat rabbits are a lot faster than they look."
Again. Understatement of the damn century.
skyy and her socks
[attr="class","cred"]table by harja
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