- Jul 8, 2022
- 19
- 0
- 1
Charcoal pads patter the mud, footsteps calculated and carrying the weight of himself and a rather large chunk of wood near a thick stretch of murky bog water. The sounds of toads sing loudly here at night.
(epilogue- feel free to skip) He’d been with Shadowclan for several moons now, had come to them in their early stages with a near-fatal wound. He had been fifteen moons young- raised by rogues and torn apart by them all the same. He had come to Shadowclan as an apprentice, and had served all the same- earned a name in honor of his forest-cat mother Wasp.
His parents though violently different yet had raised quite the chivalrous young man. While his father Caledon was beyond the scope of reason and morality, a thuggish stray alley-cat with a reputation of thievery- his mother was a posh woman, stuck in her ways- would slap his paw for chewing loud, or having a hair out of line. Somehow, this made for a pleasant man- a simple man (end)
The chunk of bark, he wedges into the ground with a jolty dip of his head, the soft mushy mud grumbling lowly with his disturbance. It stuck from the ground bizarrely, but it would surely serve its purpose later in the night when the sun finally sinks- and it was so close to camp he would find no trouble making his way back.
He’d turn to see eyes watching and offer a kind smile, " power of strategy " he explains simply- his wintery white coat offering no favors in the way of hunting but- he had adapted accordingly. " where are my manners, afternoon- have a good day? " the battle withered man offers kindly.
(epilogue- feel free to skip) He’d been with Shadowclan for several moons now, had come to them in their early stages with a near-fatal wound. He had been fifteen moons young- raised by rogues and torn apart by them all the same. He had come to Shadowclan as an apprentice, and had served all the same- earned a name in honor of his forest-cat mother Wasp.
His parents though violently different yet had raised quite the chivalrous young man. While his father Caledon was beyond the scope of reason and morality, a thuggish stray alley-cat with a reputation of thievery- his mother was a posh woman, stuck in her ways- would slap his paw for chewing loud, or having a hair out of line. Somehow, this made for a pleasant man- a simple man (end)
The chunk of bark, he wedges into the ground with a jolty dip of his head, the soft mushy mud grumbling lowly with his disturbance. It stuck from the ground bizarrely, but it would surely serve its purpose later in the night when the sun finally sinks- and it was so close to camp he would find no trouble making his way back.
He’d turn to see eyes watching and offer a kind smile, " power of strategy " he explains simply- his wintery white coat offering no favors in the way of hunting but- he had adapted accordingly. " where are my manners, afternoon- have a good day? " the battle withered man offers kindly.
♛