Post by alee on Aug 12, 2016 7:19:07 GMT
Shards of golden sunlight stroked a pelt of dappled gold, turning the she-cat's fur into a blazing mottle of autumn foliage as Quailwing moved beneath the high arc of the sun. Each breath was chilled to the bone, tendrils of wispy fog burbling up from the peaty earth and grasping at her paws, snaking around her legs and clinging to her lithe form until she seemed to have melted into the very mist itself.
It was the height of morning, just before the sun had reached its peak in the cloudless sky above. The meadow stretched on for what seemed like all eternity, grass and flowers and dusty spotted dandelions unfolding out into what would soon meld through to WindClan moors. On the horizon perched the looming shape of Highstones, their rocky peaks reaching to poke at the heavens above.
Lean muscles rippled beneath a fine thin pelt, the grass sweeping to part as the RiverClan warrior strolled through, her tail lolling high and head raised with barely concealed pride. Each and every movement was brisk and swift; each step poised and confident, as if she owned the very land on which she walked. Quailwing had always adored the fresh RiverClan fields of New-Leaf, when the mice skittered to and fro beneath blades of luscious green, and the birds twittered happily overhead as they rode the wind to yonder.
"Now ain't this a pretty sight," Quailwing mused, a sigh escaping her lungs as she lulled to a halt and arched her back in a long, rippling stretch. Forelegs extended, spine uncurling as the kinks and cracks of last night's sleep left her form in an exhilarating rush. As she steadied her shape once more, a happy purr throbbed deep in her maw, eyes closed as she savored the feeling of the breeze stroking at her flank, and the song of active wildlife touching at her ears.
As if on cue, a water vole ducked past, skirting just beneath her belly. And that was when a malicious grin spread upon her lips. A beautiful day for a vicious hunt! Muscles bunching, she wasted no time in shooting off after her chosen prey. "You ain't gettin' away yet," the warrior growled, as she skidded to a turn and caught sight of a small tail disappearing under a tousle of reeds. Nowhere to run now, little vole. You're mine!
@jeopardy
((finally got something up for these two))
))
