Recent content by BRIGHTFIRE

Though his clanmates surge readily forwards, a stream of flashing eyes and humming fur, Brightfire lingers, a step behind, at the far reaches of Fourtrees with hunched shoulder and dipped head, a lone surveyor that drinks in the sight: there loom the oaken giants for which it’s named, the...

Insects warble shamelessly in the rare newleaf heat — a taste of greenleaf forewarned —, clashing in discordance with birdsong in a rivalry for center stage that sours and sours on his tongue. Above the sun, beating rays of gold in silken daggers, rises to the curling midday-blue, and beneath...

He trails dutifully behind Pixiedust, following the vapors of rabbit-fear that tumble clumsily off the shining pelt of this patrol’s leader, his own fur molten to dying flame in the dusk-glow. There is nothing to be awed by, Brightfire thinks as he picks at lazy scents; the red tabby is the...

Brightfire gapes shamelessly at the interloper from where he’s crouched, a well-picked sparrow rocking sleepily at his paws in an echo-motion from when he’d dropped it mid-bite. Others are quicker to reach her than he is; he does not push himself to his feet, is not quite so eager to confront...

For all his bravo, Brightfire lingers closer to Billiepaw’s proximity than Cloverjaw’s, a snatching glance having met the other warrior’s grin and taking its meaning well enough. Though he gives a single whip of his tail, a gesture in equal parts flippant and challenge, the red tom doesn’t tempt...

Brightfire is jostling with one of his clanmates, less playful than sincere, for a perceived overstep into his space as they’d walked when he spotted the pair at the border. Big and small, it is not difficult to infer this was a mentor with her apprentice, perhaps come to tour the downy-furred...

He has skirted this line countless times in the moon that elapsed, seeking signs, a patrol or lone cat by which he may gain anything — word of mouth, a sighting, some sign that he is on the right path. It has become routine that tilts dangerously upon apathy; and with Newleaf's gift — a storm...

Even wrung-dry, Brightfire’s pelt still itches with the phantom rain that had cloaked him in ice through a somber night of grooming and half-sleep, and emerging from his nest this morning, he could scarcely believe the camp could look worse than it had, storm-battered and pelted. . .and was...

At first, Brightfire had been one of the few to wander from shelter, settling with his paws tucked beneath his chest as he tilted his head back, eyes shut, to breathe in the gentle rain as it slipped through his fur and plucked ice in his skin. But when it rains, it floods — he is forced to...

A mouse's hearing is powerful, round-shell ears apt for capturing the shuffle of his fur against grass, but when his vision grows fuzzy at the edges he knows he has been here too long. Brightfire forces his pelt smooth again, a prickle going down his nape as he gingerly grasps his lone prize and...

In the time it takes the moon to swell, swallow itself, and then be born again, an ebbing white tide, Brightfire has come no closer to his object than when they had first turned their back on home. Perhaps it had been a mistake, to have listened; his brother may now be making the long journey...

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