Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2016 18:02:44 GMT
ivytail
WARRIOR OF WINDCLAN
The sun was high in the sky, casting down upon the open moors and making the area bright, blinding the she-cat that lay on the Outlook Rock. She could see a few fluffy white clouds that rolled across the open skies, but there were very few that actually made it far enough to block out the sun’s harsh glare. Ivytail sighed as she looked up to the sky and back down across the moor in front of her. She supposed that some felines expected her to come hunting when she left the Clan’s camp this morning, but in reality, she had always planned to come out here and just rest. She was no hunter. She hated hunting. Just as she hated fighting as she was no fighter. She let others think it was because she didn’t want to get her paws bloodied with the liquid that flowed from both cats and mice alike, but really, that was beside the point. The thing was, when most felines got down with a hunt, when they took the killing bite on their prey, they felt satisfied. There was something hidden in those actions of stalking or running after prey that held amusement for them. It gave them a reason to wake-up in the morning, to be excited and thrilled about the new day. But she had nothing. She woke-up in the mornings feeling sick to her stomach. What was she doing with herself? What was she doing with her life? She felt like she was going nowhere.
It gets to the point at times where she even has nightmares about it. She thinks back to the night two moons ago when she sat in silence at the entrance of the camp for her vigil. This time though, she tries to speak, tries to break the silence forced upon her by the traditions of the Clan. “You are nothing but another warrior,” a voice calls out to her. ”Never forget your place and juts accept it.” If it was just a matter of her accepting it, she would, maybe. But she can’t. The thing is, accepting this life and moving on, that just feels off. It doesn’t feel right. She’d rather fight it and give her Clan a wrong impression on the inner workings of her mind then accept it and be miserable. Although Cottonstorm could be a pain at times, Ivytail was glad that the she-cat had been named her mentor those moons ago. The older warrior was able to see through Ivytail’s façade and get to the real issues that lay in her heart. Cottonstorm was able to get Ivytail through her training, no matter how reluctant the apprentice had been. Begrudgingly Ivytail did accept a part of her life – she learned to hunt and fight, if for no other reason but for survival. As a warrior she would be called on to do those things she lacked interest for. She might a swell know the bare basics instead of just standing there looking like a fool.
The she-cat let out a long sigh. She thought about all those times her annoyingly loud father told her about how she was going to be a legend one day. “You baby girl are going to be big! You were the only one to survive that litter! That means great things are in store for your future!” She huffed at his words. Her mother, who had been broken since the stillborn loss for three of her kits, looked at the love of her life and would sometimes mew, “Falconwing, leave the prophesies to Beetleberry.” And that was another thing. Her mother. Her mother was so stifling, even these days. Ivytail could barely leave the warrior’s den without her mother checking on her. “I’m a grown she-cat. I would think that I’m allowed to have my own life.” But the thing is, between everything going on in her mind and her heart, she was starting to doubt that. She was starting to feel like she would always just be a puppet. It just so happened that the master of her strings was always changing. Is it the leader, the deputy, StarClan, or her mother? She just wanted an answer, that was all. Bu she knew she’d never get one.
| 713 WORDS | open | N/A |
deltra of gangnam style
