just a good time | pine cone + intro


New member
Jun 7, 2022
Opening ocean blue eyes a soft yawn pulls from the chest of the cinnamon tiger. His fluffy tail curls against him before he slowly stretches out his limbs and moves to finally stand. He is not too comfortable in the swampy marshlands. It drags at his fur and makes the long strands stick uncomfortablely against his skin. Sometimes it is bother some and sometimes he can bear it. At the moment he is clean after having spent a good measure of time picking and pulling at his own pelt. With a small smile pulling at his muzzle he steps from his nest and looks around the camp grounds. Seems things have been bustling while he took his nap. As is the norm but he merely stretches again with an arch of his back and a good afternood call to those he passes by. Though he has his disklike of the place he knows he can not simply up and leave. It's home despite the mud and minimal items to eat. He has caught a bird here or there because of his jumping skills.

But perhaps he will go and see for himself what he can catch today. Hopefully something his mate will like, maybe sharing with their children? With a small tsk he sets off into the territoy and almost immediately gets sidetracked. By what one may ask? My a simple pinecone that he pounces on. Roughly he bounces it against the ground and chases after it, tail whisking behind him as he tries to keep himself stable.​

Howling Wind had been returning to the colony's camp with a (horrible tasting) toad clamped in her jaws when she came across the sight. Halting, she could only watch with amused interest as their leader's mate skittered about in the pine needles, pawing at a pine cone. In such a drab place, it always brought a smile to her face to watch her denmates find some fun. She knew she had to rely on such things in order to be happy here, as the mud and damp smell never did her any favors. She watched him bat it to and fro for a moment before she sat down, eyes glittering before she cleared her throat, meaning to draw Amber's attention.
One of the most baffling things about Briar and her mate were how polar opposite they were. One would never catch the leader rolling around with a pinecone for the fun of it, but for a cat like Amber, it was the most natural thing. The tom was warm and cheery where Briar was cool and gloomy. It was a wonder the two of them had ever become a couple or started a family together. Yet here they were, proud parents to three kits now grown and stronger than ever.

Briar was heading out for a hunt when she caught her mate playing like a kit with his pinecone. He had an audience in Howling Wind, who was clearing her throat to announce her presence to him. Briar couldn't help but chuckle. Oh, Amber. It was this part of him that had made her fall in love, realize that life was not always so serious and did not need to be taken as such all the time. "Having fun there?" she asked him before turning to her companion. "Hello, Howling Wind. How are you?"

╰☆☆ The black and white queen finds herself watching Amber gambol around the marsh after a pinecone, pale green eyes twinkling with amusement. It's so rare, she thinks, to find a tomcat with a spark of life in them after a certain number of moons past kithood. Her own son had never really had that fire, that light, that Amber himself still had. But Ash's father...

Twilight's smile fades, but remains set across her white muzzle. She gives Briar and Howling Wind an affectionate glance. "A kit at heart," she says, her tail curling. She sometimes wondered how the no-nonsense Briar and sweet, silly Amber had ended up together. Twilight supposes that old saying about opposites attracting could be true after all.

"What, you two not keen on joining him?" She teases the other she-cats. Part of her wants to chase pine cones and bat at leaves, though motherhood and hardship have long buried her own childhood in practicality, in gloom. It's unfortunate, she thinks. Perhaps she can return to that state someday.