- Jun 7, 2022
- 418
- 150
- 43
It’s a quiet, blisteringly warm day, with a harsh sun hanging overhead and not a cloud in the sky. The very air seems heavy, sticky with humidity. Mosquitoes buzz incessantly at brown-furred flanks, and a striped tail flicks constantly to drive the pestering bugs away. It is, otherwise, a good day. No sign of the twolegs, no one else has been injured, and no one already injured has been in enough pain to warrant Clayfur wallowing in his concerns.
Lazing beside the river, the striped warrior allows himself to relax, though he is hesitant to let his mind wander. He needs something to do. He isn’t hungry, but the mindless motion of it sure sounds comforting. Hazel eyes catch on the moss that clings to one of the dry rocks, and the tom blinks slowly. Once, twice, three times. He draws himself to his paws, striding closer to lie down beside the rock. Then, with a sigh, he rips at the moss with his teeth.
It doesn’t taste good, is the first thing he notices. Bitter and somewhat rough on his tongue, it catches awkwardly and causes him to have to chew harder than he should. His brown nose wrinkles as he chews, but he doesn’t stop chewing. He just can’t stop himself from continuing to chew.
Lazing beside the river, the striped warrior allows himself to relax, though he is hesitant to let his mind wander. He needs something to do. He isn’t hungry, but the mindless motion of it sure sounds comforting. Hazel eyes catch on the moss that clings to one of the dry rocks, and the tom blinks slowly. Once, twice, three times. He draws himself to his paws, striding closer to lie down beside the rock. Then, with a sigh, he rips at the moss with his teeth.
It doesn’t taste good, is the first thing he notices. Bitter and somewhat rough on his tongue, it catches awkwardly and causes him to have to chew harder than he should. His brown nose wrinkles as he chews, but he doesn’t stop chewing. He just can’t stop himself from continuing to chew.
[ WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? ]
