- Dec 17, 2022
- 680
- 374
- 63
Though the weather has kept WindClan stuck to the bowl of their camp for far too long, but work cannot cease in its entirety. A patrol had been sent out to survey the damage and try to catch enough for a full belly or two, and he trudged along near its head without complaint. Though he is lowered beneath the stormy gale, his broader form offers some protection to those that follow him. Just in case, however, they stay far from the gorge. These gray and violent hours have brought a crashing to their ears. In the distance, but loud as a crack of thunder or the breaking of bone, he has heard the falling of trees. They draw nearer to there now, to the horseplace and the yawning absence that life had filled not long ago.
It seems that their beasts had been corralled to the barn, and their kits tucked away inside. It is empty and cold, as gray as the storm. With a flick of his tail, he urges the patrol to wait and lower themselves. In a momentary lull of the storm, a shout rings out like a shot. A twoleg, dark and swaddled in layers he cannot make sense of. They hold something in their great paws that is long and grey, and gleaming at its edge. In a feat that makes even Sunstride draw back in surprise, its limbs swing and descend. A loud thunk resounds upon impact with a branch that had come down into their territory. A moment, and it strikes again.
"Be careful," he says, though he knows his words are snatched by the wind. "We should keep our distance." So far it seems that their downed trees had not harmed WindClan's territory where it mattered, and Sunstride would not push their luck.
It seems that their beasts had been corralled to the barn, and their kits tucked away inside. It is empty and cold, as gray as the storm. With a flick of his tail, he urges the patrol to wait and lower themselves. In a momentary lull of the storm, a shout rings out like a shot. A twoleg, dark and swaddled in layers he cannot make sense of. They hold something in their great paws that is long and grey, and gleaming at its edge. In a feat that makes even Sunstride draw back in surprise, its limbs swing and descend. A loud thunk resounds upon impact with a branch that had come down into their territory. A moment, and it strikes again.
"Be careful," he says, though he knows his words are snatched by the wind. "We should keep our distance." So far it seems that their downed trees had not harmed WindClan's territory where it mattered, and Sunstride would not push their luck.
- ooc: —
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- "speech"
