- Mar 14, 2024
- 142
- 14
- 18
If there was anything that barncats were good at, it was raising the spirits of their fellow kin. At least, her family had always tried to do so. There was a saying that her mother would always weave into her ears, as easily as rhyme and rhythm - a happy cat is a hard-working cat..
Forenoon sun of greenleaf shone tenderly upon the moorlands, as though it lifted away the dejection of the night, watching it dissipate like plumes of steam. Only mere marginalia of the twilight besieged the sky, indigo darkness soon faulting to give way to the day. Celandinepaw hated to see the stars go but met the dawn as one would meet a hospitable guest. The gravity of the plague had not graced Celandinepaw's mind yet, as it floated above her like an exaltation of larks, swimming just in the overhead sky. She had simply been focused on her moor runner training, for her mentor had told her that the eve of her 'paw name was nigh. Thoughts of her new name burgeoned in her mind, like ivy that clambered through the crevices, and yet the future still hung above her like a weighty shadow. The wheat-tinged tabby greeted the morn with her usual ardor, as the dew collected itself upon the drooping leaves, like beads of merry light. Windclan had not been as eager the past days. Bright gazes seemed to dull and taper and groomed fur seemed to whittle and wane.
There was little that she could do, so she did what she could.
The peppy molly managed to rope some of her fellow clanmates into a game, for none could resist the cordiality of the former mouser - or, rather, they were far too embarrassed to decline her offer. She figured that greenleaf would be the perfect time to raise the spirit, for prey ran prosperous and light rained abundant. There would surely be another hour to hunt, to train, to live. As she glanced around the mismatched group of cats who she had gathered for this, she couldn't help but feel it was incomplete... Wildgrass-hued eyes darted around the Windclan camp, from each string of chatter to tangle of pitter-pattering feet of a patrol. That was, until she caught upon a bark-striped and sand-spotted feline that she didn't entirely recognize. "Hey! Hey you!" The chirrup of Celandinepaw's voice tore through the crowd, as though her claws tilled gaiety through the mire, and it was likely her most identifiable feature. "We need one more cat to join us in our game! Won't you join us, pretty please? We're playing 'two truths and a lie'! Don't worry I'll teach you how to play. You should go first!" She practically funneled Cricketcry into the mawkish circle that a few cats had created, as though she had fettled involution from the (unwilling) warrior, digging them out through divots and ditches alike. The molly had that tendency to never ask of another's directive, and unfortunately for the rest of Windclan, it was a slippery slope that even the deftest hunter could not avoid at times.
Forenoon sun of greenleaf shone tenderly upon the moorlands, as though it lifted away the dejection of the night, watching it dissipate like plumes of steam. Only mere marginalia of the twilight besieged the sky, indigo darkness soon faulting to give way to the day. Celandinepaw hated to see the stars go but met the dawn as one would meet a hospitable guest. The gravity of the plague had not graced Celandinepaw's mind yet, as it floated above her like an exaltation of larks, swimming just in the overhead sky. She had simply been focused on her moor runner training, for her mentor had told her that the eve of her 'paw name was nigh. Thoughts of her new name burgeoned in her mind, like ivy that clambered through the crevices, and yet the future still hung above her like a weighty shadow. The wheat-tinged tabby greeted the morn with her usual ardor, as the dew collected itself upon the drooping leaves, like beads of merry light. Windclan had not been as eager the past days. Bright gazes seemed to dull and taper and groomed fur seemed to whittle and wane.
There was little that she could do, so she did what she could.
The peppy molly managed to rope some of her fellow clanmates into a game, for none could resist the cordiality of the former mouser - or, rather, they were far too embarrassed to decline her offer. She figured that greenleaf would be the perfect time to raise the spirit, for prey ran prosperous and light rained abundant. There would surely be another hour to hunt, to train, to live. As she glanced around the mismatched group of cats who she had gathered for this, she couldn't help but feel it was incomplete... Wildgrass-hued eyes darted around the Windclan camp, from each string of chatter to tangle of pitter-pattering feet of a patrol. That was, until she caught upon a bark-striped and sand-spotted feline that she didn't entirely recognize. "Hey! Hey you!" The chirrup of Celandinepaw's voice tore through the crowd, as though her claws tilled gaiety through the mire, and it was likely her most identifiable feature. "We need one more cat to join us in our game! Won't you join us, pretty please? We're playing 'two truths and a lie'! Don't worry I'll teach you how to play. You should go first!" She practically funneled Cricketcry into the mawkish circle that a few cats had created, as though she had fettled involution from the (unwilling) warrior, digging them out through divots and ditches alike. The molly had that tendency to never ask of another's directive, and unfortunately for the rest of Windclan, it was a slippery slope that even the deftest hunter could not avoid at times.
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Please wait for @Cricketcry !
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( NOTE: Reference is a placeholder until a drawn reference can be supplied. Credit HERE )
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