- Jul 1, 2024
- 47
- 6
- 8
Cricketcry sat in the outskirts of the hallow, his moss-hued eyes glinting in the crawling shadows. The minute tom's head was inclined slightly upwards, exposing the delicate ginger fur of his throat. The sky shifted between shades of blue to swatches of orange and red as the sun and moon fought the timeless battle of who would be center stage. He remained there, statuesque, watching daylight vanish. Cricketcry cherished these quiet moments where the clan was hushed and the nighttime bugs sang their songs in the foliage. When he saw the first stars appear and pulse subduedly, he lowered his mottled head and his neck this way and that, relieving tension that built up. He exhaled softly, pleased by the beauty of dusk, as he always would be. In the distance he could hear the mewing of kits settling down in the nursery hushed by their mothers and other soft murmurings of felines. He exhaled contentedly and rolled his shoulders back. Despite appearing content, the bicolored tom was troubled as he knew that sleep would resist him, as it often did. Thus why he remained in the hallow-- it was better to not be in his nest and be unable to sleep and potentially disrupt the rest of his counterparts by his persistent tossing and turning. Cricketcry frowned.