camp Heart of the Wicked {Intro}

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Minkbreeze

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☽ MY MIND IS PLAYING TRICKS ON ME ☾​
Minkbreeze sits within the sandy hollow of Windclans' camp, mint green gaze moving slowly over every form and movement as camp life flows before her. So many tragedies, so many whispers of uncertainty. All of it only tugged a small smirk onto the chocolate sepias' darkened maw. She continues with her grooming, seemingly unbothered by the tension that so often plagued this place she had decided to call home. Every lick is precise, her claws unsheathed as she stretches and prepares herself to start the day. Once she is satisfied with her appearance, the molly rises from her nest and moves towards a growing group of her clanmates.

Perhaps today would be a hunting day, or maybe she would be given the task to battle train now that the news of Rivers' apparent incoming attacks had been spoken. It made no difference to her, it was getting boring around here anyway. As she approached the group, Minkbreeze would place one of her well-practiced smiles onto her lips, a look that only conveyed warmth and friendliness to any who laid eyes on it, "Well, Well, don't we all look busy." She speaks in that odd, accented voice of hers, "I do hope that ya'll left something for little ol' me to do." The words are said with gentle teasing, because as a clan cat work was never-ending.

She takes a seat beside no one in particular, waiting to see what tasks would be assigned to her today.
Speech ✩ windclan ✩ warrior ✩ tags​
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Among the group of Windclanners was Ghost, an unnervingly tall, unusually dark-furred grey tabby with more scars than any one cat should have. While nobody could call him the 'social' type, with his guarded, lone-wolf naure, he was a common sight when it came to work-related things like this, seemingly willing to tolerate the crowds and 'teamwork' in echange for having something poductive to do.

Amber eyes, so dark they could pass for brown, shifted to land on Minkbreeze as she spoke, cold and calculating, always watching. She was just another of the faces in the crowd, a cat he could name and recognize but had made no effort to get to know beyond that.

"Hunting." he replied in his slow rumble, english accent heavy on his tongue. "We were just about to head out if you want to come." he informed her, to the point as he often was.
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rogue - male - 28 months (Nov 18th) - single - a very tall, muscular tabby with dark gray fur and white markings. heavily scarred with dark amber eyes ​

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──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 "You were too slow," Wolfsong says dryly after Ghoststrike's suggestion, clearly in jest, though he finds that it isn't entirely inaccurate. "Though I suppose that would still make you twice as fast as a SkyClanner." He shakes out a paw and rolls his shouders, stretching muscle in preparation for their venture out on the moors. He doesn't know Minkbreeze very well, but he trusts she's capable, as very few in WindClan seem to be anything otherwise, so at least his muscles should not have to work harder to carry dead weight. He'd like to avoid soreness later, just in case they are attacked— best to be wary and prepared.

He dips into an arching-spine stretch, and when he straightens, takes several trotting steps away. "We are lucky rabbits repopulate so quickly," he comments, glancing at his two companions with a slightly crooked smile. "Otherwise, they might die out completely by the time we're on the hunt."
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☽ MY MIND IS PLAYING TRICKS ON ME ☾​

Minkbreeze would keep her easy smile upon her lips as Ghoststrike, ever the conversationalist, filled her in on today's task before extending the invite to join them. She opened her maw to accept when Wolfsong spoke up as well, lightly teasing in his scold of her for being late but paying her a compliment soon after.

At least it was a compliment in her mind, though was it truly hard to be better than those Skyclan annoyances? She would shoot the warrior a smirk to show she appreciated his words before trotting off after him and Ghoststrike, a purr of laughter and excitement flowing from her chest, "With the three of us on the job, even their speed won't stand a change."

Minkbreeze would fall into step beside her companions as her tall, lanky frame quivered with excitement. There were very few things she genuinely loved in this world, but running was surely one of them. The brisk wind against her fur, the swish of the tall grass as she sped through them, the terrified shriek of a successfully caught rabbit cut short with her killing bite, truly there could be nothing more beautiful than all of that.

"Where are we doing our huntin' then?"


speech ✩ windclan ✩ warrior ✩ tags​
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