Post by alee on Jan 4, 2016 23:06:51 GMT
The sun was just rising over the distant hilltops when Swiftfoot emerged from the warriors' den, her amber gaze rolling critically over WindClan's camp. A few of the kittens had already awoken, as they tumbled out into the waning dawn's sunshine scuffing playfully at one other; the Elders' were also making use of an early morning, their skinny bodies slinking out of their den's shadows and curling up by the sunniest spots nearest to the fresh-kill pile. The lukewarm New-Leaf air was savored by all; now that Leaf-Bare was nothing more than a distant memory, many cats had allowed themselves to finally take a step back and relax.
Swiftfoot had to admit, she wouldn't be a cat if the idea didn't somewhat tempt her. There was a dull ache throbbing in her tired bones, possibly from a botched hunt she'd attempted on a lone patrol last night, and her paws were practically burning with exhaustion. A long day of rest was honestly what the deputy needed. Of course, there was work to be done and as one of the seniors of WindClan she could not be seen dillydallying about the fresh-kill pile like a lazy apprentice. No, definitely not. If there was one thing Swiftfoot was known for, it was her hardwork and determination; she was not one to sit by, content to waste a day lolling around.
Bounding up to the fresh-kill pile, she snatched a juicy looking hare from its contents. As the rich meat melted in her mouth, the brown she-cat sat back and pondered on her duties for today. The fresh-kill pile was fine, she supposed. It wasn't empty, nor was it overflowing. Still there were many cats to feed, and more prey could never hurt. It would certainly make up for her failure of a hunt yesterday, where a rabbit had successfully managed to taunt her by using its many burrows as an escape. She was still seething bitterly over that embarrassment.
Swiping her tongue clean over her lips, Swiftfoot pulled herself to her paws and glared fixedly at the warriors' den. It was settled then. A hunt was most definitely needed. And she'd take the first to rise, as punishment for their 'sleeping in.'
@bruisedsoap
Swiftfoot had to admit, she wouldn't be a cat if the idea didn't somewhat tempt her. There was a dull ache throbbing in her tired bones, possibly from a botched hunt she'd attempted on a lone patrol last night, and her paws were practically burning with exhaustion. A long day of rest was honestly what the deputy needed. Of course, there was work to be done and as one of the seniors of WindClan she could not be seen dillydallying about the fresh-kill pile like a lazy apprentice. No, definitely not. If there was one thing Swiftfoot was known for, it was her hardwork and determination; she was not one to sit by, content to waste a day lolling around.
Bounding up to the fresh-kill pile, she snatched a juicy looking hare from its contents. As the rich meat melted in her mouth, the brown she-cat sat back and pondered on her duties for today. The fresh-kill pile was fine, she supposed. It wasn't empty, nor was it overflowing. Still there were many cats to feed, and more prey could never hurt. It would certainly make up for her failure of a hunt yesterday, where a rabbit had successfully managed to taunt her by using its many burrows as an escape. She was still seething bitterly over that embarrassment.
Swiping her tongue clean over her lips, Swiftfoot pulled herself to her paws and glared fixedly at the warriors' den. It was settled then. A hunt was most definitely needed. And she'd take the first to rise, as punishment for their 'sleeping in.'
@bruisedsoap
