Post by Deleted on Apr 29, 2016 3:11:18 GMT
masks we wear
REMNANTS LEFT OF A TIME WE ONCE KNEW, WE CAN NEVER GO BACK TO THAT.
The moorland was quiet today. Save for the gentle tickle of the wind that sent shivering waves through the tall grass, not even the birds seemed keen to grace WindClan with their songs. The scent of moisture and ozone in the atmosphere signaled a rainstorm on the way, though it would probably be a while before it reached the Forest. The lowest sounds of thunder rumbling in the distance was an ominous sign, and perhaps the reason why nothing seemed to be out in the open despite the relatively sunny day. Still, the silence in the middle of sunhigh was a welcome reprieve from the chaos of camp, which was why he had trekked out here. Sometimes one had to just find some peace and that's exactly what Shrikeswipe was looking for. The rocky outcropping he'd chosen as a getaway was perilous on any given day, but the mental challenge of navigating the dangerous ledges kept his wits sharp and the thoughts of what awaited him back in camp at bay. Talon sharp claws scraped against unforgiving stone as he clawed his way to the top of a higher ledge, muscles pulsing beneath his long gray pelt as he was easily carted higher and higher. Aiming for the top, where he was that much closer to the sky and farther away from the troubles that plagued his mind and heart. So much was so wrong these days, and the only way Shrikeswipe knew how to deal with wrong was with his claws. There was so much 'wrong' that could be dealt with that way: warriors from another Clan overstepping their boundaries, a predator going after a kit, a piece of prey on the run that could feed one more member of the Clan. But this kind of 'wrong' couldn't be fixed with claws and fangs.
How then, in StarClan's name, was he suppose to fix this 'wrong' that infected his family?
With a small grunt of effort, the gray warrior had managed to finally make it to the summit of the outcrop, the sound of his claws scratching against the stone echoing in the silent expanse before him. Up here, the wind was slightly stronger, playing with his long pelt like it did the grass and pushing it aside to tickle his skin. The bite of the breeze had him closing his eyes and turning his back to it as he found a level spot to sit upon, turning his gaze instead to the expanse of grass that lay before him. In the distance, he could just make out the barn, where rogues and loners made their home. To his west, enemy territory, to his east, unknown borders, and behind him lay the WindClan camp somewhere. A great sigh heaved its way from his lungs as he let himself relax. No one would think to look for him here, at least no one of importance. Goldenfang might, that tom always knew where to locate him when he didn't want to be found, but he doubted his former mentor would seek him out today. For all the tom knew how to find him, he also knew when to leave him alone. And right now that was all Shrikeswipe wanted. To be alone with his thoughts and just think. Slowly, the warrior let himself slide till his stomach touched chilly rock, his fore paws hanging off the ledge as he continued to stare out into the distance. Today, he'd gotten into a fierce debate with Shrewtongue, over what he couldn't even remember, but it drove the fact that the wedge between Shrikeswipe and his family was growing everyday. Once upon a time, Shrikeswipe, Shrewtongue and Sheepwhisker had been inseparable... now looking at them, it was as though those days were nothing more than a distant memory.
Starting with Nightingaleheart's death, things just seemed to keep going further downhill. Several of Shrikeswipe's family still grieved the tom; his mother especially. Shrikeswipe on the other hand knew he would one day see his father and sister again, and refused to grieve them anymore than he already had. They were hunting and sharing tongues with StarClan now, away from pain and hunger and illness. Why should he grieve them when their suffering had long ended? The only thing that saddened him about their absence was that they were no longer around to talk with - perhaps, a selfish part of his mind argued, they would understand his view better. Or perhaps they would see things like others had been. Who was to know? He supposed that was what had truly brought him out here into loneliness. The lonely were better off without the company of others after all, and great StarClan did Shrikeswipe ever feel lonely today. His heart clenched in his chest at the thought, so tight and painful his claws unsheathed unconsciously to grind at the stone beneath him. The only thing he could do with his claws in this situation. How he was suppose to find the words to fix this misunderstanding was beyond him - he'd always been an action first think later kind of warrior.
A sudden sound from below caught his ear, his forest green gaze flicking downward and tearing his thoughts away from the serious things. Raising his head slightly, he searched the grassy terrain for any sight of a body. One soft whiff of the wind, and he easily recognized the fragile scent - one that caused his heart to sputter against his rib cage. "Didn't think you'd be out here. Are you on the hunt? Or just patrolling?" he called down, though not unkindly. Never unkindly.
967 WORDS | @lost ONLY | BROODY KITTY IS BROODY. xD |
deltra of gangnam style