- Dec 27, 2022
- 355
- 51
- 28
Gravelpaw has never had much interest in make-believe games, even when they were small, hardly more than a kit. They prefer games that aren’t so… juvenile. Such as the game they’ve come up with—though they wouldn’t be caught dead calling it a game—that involves a bunch of pebbles and a need to be prepared for when another clan decides to attack them. They don’t haven’t any pebbles to accurately represent Tigerfrost, though, and it’s important that they get one because he’s a lead warrior now, and he will be a key piece in any battle that WindClan may have.
Gravelpaw does not manage to find a Tigerfrost stone, but they find something better. Prettier, at least. It’s a gray-brown rock, and it sparkles delicately in the sunlight. "Perfect," they mumble under their breath, scooping the rock up with a snowy white paw to move it back into camp. It’s smooth and flat—with the exception of the large crack down the center of it, showing jagged edges and sparkles on the inside—and it fits perfectly in their paw. For a moment they simply stare at it, studying their newest find. It’s too large to represent any WindClan cat, but too pretty to be used to represent any of the maggot-eating cats of the other clans.
Maybe it will be Outlook Rock. The thought sends their head spinning for a moment—that would be a brilliant strategy, they think. For WindClan, Outlook Rock would be a great place to go if they were surrounded, since it’s the highest spot on the moor. With a sharp sigh, the apprentice turns to face the nearest clanmate. "What do you think of Outlook Rock." It isn’t phrased like a question—more a demand for an answer, their face expressionless except for their typical narrowed eyes.
Gravelpaw does not manage to find a Tigerfrost stone, but they find something better. Prettier, at least. It’s a gray-brown rock, and it sparkles delicately in the sunlight. "Perfect," they mumble under their breath, scooping the rock up with a snowy white paw to move it back into camp. It’s smooth and flat—with the exception of the large crack down the center of it, showing jagged edges and sparkles on the inside—and it fits perfectly in their paw. For a moment they simply stare at it, studying their newest find. It’s too large to represent any WindClan cat, but too pretty to be used to represent any of the maggot-eating cats of the other clans.
Maybe it will be Outlook Rock. The thought sends their head spinning for a moment—that would be a brilliant strategy, they think. For WindClan, Outlook Rock would be a great place to go if they were surrounded, since it’s the highest spot on the moor. With a sharp sigh, the apprentice turns to face the nearest clanmate. "What do you think of Outlook Rock." It isn’t phrased like a question—more a demand for an answer, their face expressionless except for their typical narrowed eyes.
[ DEATH OF A DREAM ]