- May 9, 2024
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β ALL THIS EFFORT π π π ββββββββββββ
The cool damp air of an early new leaf morning lays quiet and gray over the Riverclan camp. Leaves heavy with dew drooping low to brush shyly against the sparkling damp grass. Pikefoot had woken up early today without even trying, maybe a bird song had stirred her or a particularly determined dew drop had made it's way through the woven reeds of the warriors den. She hadn't really been sure, she just found herself awake before most everyone else to the quiet dawn and the steady comfort of her clanmates' breathing.
She sleepily blinks soft amber eyes against the warming breeze as she sits in the empty clearing, her striped tail wrapped neatly around her paws and head turned up to taste the air. The sweet fresh scent of morning on the river is one of the greatest things to wake up to she decides with a nod. And in a movement of sudden decision she stands and stretches her paws out in front of her. Needle sharp claws press into the soft damp soil and the dappling of her shining, spotted tabby coat ripples in the growing daylight, muted warm undertones glowing like a hot summer afternoon beneath the trees before she stands straight again and makes her way to the previous days fresh kill pile. Whatever is remaining isn't much to pick through, nothing but scraps really. She pokes at the head of a once shining fish and a previously plump and fresh water vole that had certainly seen better days.
"That's nothing to feed a clan with." She remarks quietly to herself, deciding to turn away without taking anything.
"I suppose I can do something about that then, can't I." The statement added after is said with an air of self confidence and pride in her own hunting capabilities. It was where she earned her name after all. Pike, for her beautifully spotted tabby coat, not unlike the shimmering fish beneath the water. But the name goes beyond looks. Sheathed behind soft furred paws are fiercely sharp claws well trained for flipping fish from the watery depths, a skill she learned as an apprentice and honed and practiced for moons to get it exactly right. She still remembered fondly the days spent on sun warmed rocks above the water, watching intently at the world underneath. Some days she would catch nothing. Sitting hours in the hot sun with nothing to show for it. But she was determined to get it right and get it right she did. Her eyes glimmer at the mental image of her proudly trotting into camp holding a glistening trout, it shone a sparkling rainbow in the sun with four claw marks on its side. It was a skill she was more than proud of to make a name for herself with. So she stands up with a swift turn towards the river, head held high and a smile turning up the corners of her maw. Let's go fishing.
The cool damp air of an early new leaf morning lays quiet and gray over the Riverclan camp. Leaves heavy with dew drooping low to brush shyly against the sparkling damp grass. Pikefoot had woken up early today without even trying, maybe a bird song had stirred her or a particularly determined dew drop had made it's way through the woven reeds of the warriors den. She hadn't really been sure, she just found herself awake before most everyone else to the quiet dawn and the steady comfort of her clanmates' breathing.
She sleepily blinks soft amber eyes against the warming breeze as she sits in the empty clearing, her striped tail wrapped neatly around her paws and head turned up to taste the air. The sweet fresh scent of morning on the river is one of the greatest things to wake up to she decides with a nod. And in a movement of sudden decision she stands and stretches her paws out in front of her. Needle sharp claws press into the soft damp soil and the dappling of her shining, spotted tabby coat ripples in the growing daylight, muted warm undertones glowing like a hot summer afternoon beneath the trees before she stands straight again and makes her way to the previous days fresh kill pile. Whatever is remaining isn't much to pick through, nothing but scraps really. She pokes at the head of a once shining fish and a previously plump and fresh water vole that had certainly seen better days.
"That's nothing to feed a clan with." She remarks quietly to herself, deciding to turn away without taking anything.
"I suppose I can do something about that then, can't I." The statement added after is said with an air of self confidence and pride in her own hunting capabilities. It was where she earned her name after all. Pike, for her beautifully spotted tabby coat, not unlike the shimmering fish beneath the water. But the name goes beyond looks. Sheathed behind soft furred paws are fiercely sharp claws well trained for flipping fish from the watery depths, a skill she learned as an apprentice and honed and practiced for moons to get it exactly right. She still remembered fondly the days spent on sun warmed rocks above the water, watching intently at the world underneath. Some days she would catch nothing. Sitting hours in the hot sun with nothing to show for it. But she was determined to get it right and get it right she did. Her eyes glimmer at the mental image of her proudly trotting into camp holding a glistening trout, it shone a sparkling rainbow in the sun with four claw marks on its side. It was a skill she was more than proud of to make a name for herself with. So she stands up with a swift turn towards the river, head held high and a smile turning up the corners of her maw. Let's go fishing.
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