- Jun 3, 2023
- 5
- 0
- 1
⋆⍋ One thing is for sure: Timberwolf is far, far from home.
They walk through a sparse grove of trees- close to, but not in, the clan territories. The scent of the clans doesn’t fill them with fear, but not due to any bravado on their part- no, this bravery is borne from ignorance. Where Timberwolf comes from has no clans, no warriors (save for the twolegs LARPing), no terms of ‘loners‘ or ‘rogues’ (again, save for the LARPers. And Timberwolf themself, as they have been known to LARP in their free time). Perhaps there was a group of cats, but they didn’t call themself clans. Perhaps there was a term for loners or rogues, but it wasn’t one Timberwolf knew- they were, after all, a kittypet in the last half of their life, though they were born a loner.
Being born a loner, maybe this is why they’ve wandered so far from home. The lanky ticked silver tabby wouldn’t usually be found so far from their twoleg’s nest, particularly not when the day was nearing its end. (They were, after all, not a particularly brave individual).
But, in this mildly grassy area, with dirt grooves worn into the ground from human kids playing and the few trees carved with etchings like ‘JORDAN X CASSIDY’, ‘BUTTS’, and ‘CASSIDY X LENORE FOREVER’, Timberwolf has managed to find a comfortable spot in the crook of a tree, tail hanging down, to watch the sun set. The air is - some may call it sweet, but Timberwolf who is used to lavender scented air fresheners and pine car hangers, would call it slightly bitter. The tree‘s texture is likewise a divided opinion between positive and negative. And, of course, the grass would seem soft to most cats whom had lived their entire lives outdoors, but Timberwolf found themself saying ‘ouch’ several times on their walk here.
Next to them in the tree is a long piece of fabric, a deep red color- with more than a few tears on its end, and a thin coating of mud and dirt. Timberwolf has resolved to try to beat some of the dirt off of it after watching the sun set, but not yet. The old, seemingly abandoned picnic table nearby would be the perfect place for them to try to do that, though they’re a bit concerned about the planks breaking. The area really isn’t taken care of, for all the signs of humans nearby.
They walk through a sparse grove of trees- close to, but not in, the clan territories. The scent of the clans doesn’t fill them with fear, but not due to any bravado on their part- no, this bravery is borne from ignorance. Where Timberwolf comes from has no clans, no warriors (save for the twolegs LARPing), no terms of ‘loners‘ or ‘rogues’ (again, save for the LARPers. And Timberwolf themself, as they have been known to LARP in their free time). Perhaps there was a group of cats, but they didn’t call themself clans. Perhaps there was a term for loners or rogues, but it wasn’t one Timberwolf knew- they were, after all, a kittypet in the last half of their life, though they were born a loner.
Being born a loner, maybe this is why they’ve wandered so far from home. The lanky ticked silver tabby wouldn’t usually be found so far from their twoleg’s nest, particularly not when the day was nearing its end. (They were, after all, not a particularly brave individual).
But, in this mildly grassy area, with dirt grooves worn into the ground from human kids playing and the few trees carved with etchings like ‘JORDAN X CASSIDY’, ‘BUTTS’, and ‘CASSIDY X LENORE FOREVER’, Timberwolf has managed to find a comfortable spot in the crook of a tree, tail hanging down, to watch the sun set. The air is - some may call it sweet, but Timberwolf who is used to lavender scented air fresheners and pine car hangers, would call it slightly bitter. The tree‘s texture is likewise a divided opinion between positive and negative. And, of course, the grass would seem soft to most cats whom had lived their entire lives outdoors, but Timberwolf found themself saying ‘ouch’ several times on their walk here.
Next to them in the tree is a long piece of fabric, a deep red color- with more than a few tears on its end, and a thin coating of mud and dirt. Timberwolf has resolved to try to beat some of the dirt off of it after watching the sun set, but not yet. The old, seemingly abandoned picnic table nearby would be the perfect place for them to try to do that, though they’re a bit concerned about the planks breaking. The area really isn’t taken care of, for all the signs of humans nearby.
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