ROEFLAME — I fell in love with the fire long ago.
While the first snow had only been a mere pawful of sunrises ago, the forest ground had already been speckled with a thin layer of the frosty powder, and while not deep enough to cause too much hindrance, Roeflames pawpads would surely not be thanking her anytime soon.
Opting for a solo hunt rather than a patrol, the cinnamon striped warrior is hot on the shaky trail of a mouse, relying solely on the scent trail to guide her to the prey.
As the scent became stronger, the young warriors hope only grew with each step, slipping through the undergrowth with growing determination.
Until, at least, she is forced back just as whiskers brushed over a border-line.
The damned mouse had taken her all the way to Skyclans shared border. Roeflame withdraws, an ear flicking with both annoyance and disappointment.
Muscles burn from exertion, and the warrior knows she should take a moment before venturing back into the withered underground.
Celadon optics are wide as they are cast sky-ward, the glaringly white clouds causing her to squint.
There would be more snow soon, more risk.
Roeflame sighs, bored of blinding herself with the sky and ready to move her attention elsewhere.
Gliding optics are frozen to a sudden halt as they catch the sight of a tree, its branches visibly different against the blend of pine and oak.
Head tilted, Roeflame moves towards where it has planted itself on the border, the scent of both Thunderclan and Skyclan balanced almost perfectly.
A dogwood tree, Roeflame recognizes it by the spindly twigs, and while there are no blossoms to adorn it in the cold season, the she-cat would know this tree from anywhere.
A forepaw pressed against the trunk, claws unsheathe and begin to dig into the softened bark. Her second paw reaches, and the small she-cat begins to climb.
The tree is small compared to its pine and oak neighbors, and the Thunderclanner perches herself on its first delicate branch only a few tail-lengths from the ground.
Nestling herself in the dip between the stem of the branch and the trunk, she lets a hefty sigh create a cloud around her.
She questions to herself if this is the same tree Snowpath had plucked that twig from, the one he said resembled an antler. The wondering takes her back to her early apprenticeship, how she was left in shambles on the heels of a condemned medicine cat who had taken her under their wing.
Another deep exhale.
Her teary-eyed goodbye to Snowpath is replayed behind distant optics, how he had stood there, star-freckled, and gave his approval for Burnstorm.
The memory makes Roeflame almost snort, of course the alabaster tom knew her own feelings before she did, and of course he was right.
Since his death, her ties to Skyclan had come to grow around more than just her first friend, and she cannot help but wonder what he would think of it all.
He’d probably have some smart-ass comment. The Thunderclanner thinks, head tilting to rest against the trunks support.
While there was an ongoing conflict on her feelings towards Dewfrost happening in the back of her mind, Roeflame thinks if Burnstorm would know what to think of it all if she told him. She wonders… and wonders… until it begins to snow once more.
"speech"
While the first snow had only been a mere pawful of sunrises ago, the forest ground had already been speckled with a thin layer of the frosty powder, and while not deep enough to cause too much hindrance, Roeflames pawpads would surely not be thanking her anytime soon.
Opting for a solo hunt rather than a patrol, the cinnamon striped warrior is hot on the shaky trail of a mouse, relying solely on the scent trail to guide her to the prey.
As the scent became stronger, the young warriors hope only grew with each step, slipping through the undergrowth with growing determination.
Until, at least, she is forced back just as whiskers brushed over a border-line.
The damned mouse had taken her all the way to Skyclans shared border. Roeflame withdraws, an ear flicking with both annoyance and disappointment.
Muscles burn from exertion, and the warrior knows she should take a moment before venturing back into the withered underground.
Celadon optics are wide as they are cast sky-ward, the glaringly white clouds causing her to squint.
There would be more snow soon, more risk.
Roeflame sighs, bored of blinding herself with the sky and ready to move her attention elsewhere.
Gliding optics are frozen to a sudden halt as they catch the sight of a tree, its branches visibly different against the blend of pine and oak.
Head tilted, Roeflame moves towards where it has planted itself on the border, the scent of both Thunderclan and Skyclan balanced almost perfectly.
A dogwood tree, Roeflame recognizes it by the spindly twigs, and while there are no blossoms to adorn it in the cold season, the she-cat would know this tree from anywhere.
A forepaw pressed against the trunk, claws unsheathe and begin to dig into the softened bark. Her second paw reaches, and the small she-cat begins to climb.
The tree is small compared to its pine and oak neighbors, and the Thunderclanner perches herself on its first delicate branch only a few tail-lengths from the ground.
Nestling herself in the dip between the stem of the branch and the trunk, she lets a hefty sigh create a cloud around her.
She questions to herself if this is the same tree Snowpath had plucked that twig from, the one he said resembled an antler. The wondering takes her back to her early apprenticeship, how she was left in shambles on the heels of a condemned medicine cat who had taken her under their wing.
Another deep exhale.
Her teary-eyed goodbye to Snowpath is replayed behind distant optics, how he had stood there, star-freckled, and gave his approval for Burnstorm.
The memory makes Roeflame almost snort, of course the alabaster tom knew her own feelings before she did, and of course he was right.
Since his death, her ties to Skyclan had come to grow around more than just her first friend, and she cannot help but wonder what he would think of it all.
He’d probably have some smart-ass comment. The Thunderclanner thinks, head tilting to rest against the trunks support.
While there was an ongoing conflict on her feelings towards Dewfrost happening in the back of her mind, Roeflame thinks if Burnstorm would know what to think of it all if she told him. She wonders… and wonders… until it begins to snow once more.
"speech"
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