- Jun 14, 2024
- 26
- 8
- 3
The greenleaf breeze, usually as soft as his mother's long - forgotten paw, has turned vicious today—it howls through the trees, making a haunting sound as if the ghosts of warriors past sweep between the trunks they once roamed. It sends Coltkit's floppy ears swinging every which way and sets the dark tufts of fur that drape over his nose to whipping the space between them. The sky remains dayglow - blue and unsullied by the grim promise of storms, though, and so the boy is not to be deterred from his self - imposed mission.
The vibrant sky and the breaking open of closed petals to breathe perfume has beckoned forth a wide array of butterflies despite the day's ferocious winds. Rich orange and velveteen black, brilliant purple - edged blue, white so pure it seems to glow—these colors and more paint the low parts of camp, where the bugs frantically flutter around bushes that spill over with blossoms.
Coltkit drops to a crouch, bunching his white - dipped haunches in a passable, if paling, imitation of what he's seen the apprentices showing off to each other around camp. His half - moon eyes are firmly fixed on a butterfly with wings carpeted a vibrant magenta, as stately as crushed - velvet robes, his heavy tail wagging behind him and stirring up small powder - puffs of dust. This is the perfect opportunity to prove himself to be a real ThunderClanner, like Howlingstar 'n Roeflame 'n Twi! Speaking of the tabby - marbled kit, he imagines presenting his friend with the cool colors of the wings, and his small maw curves into a childish smile.
He springs, putting his namesake disproportionate limbs to use, and snares the butterfly handily in one paw—it'd be surprising if he didn't, given the excessive size of the white mitten. The boy swoops cleanly earthward from his sky - reaching leap, landing in a plume of dust quickly whipped away by the wind. When he raises his paw slowly, pink tongue poking between outsize milk - fangs, his tail begins to wag anew in a puppyish display as he examines the semi - crushed butterfly, its wings retaining their brilliant hue.
" Caught one! " he proclaims triumphantly to nobody in particular. He kind of hopes someone's watching, though, so they can see just how much of a real ThunderClanner he is! Scooping his victim clumsily into one big paw, he squints, searching for the familiar visage of Twilightkit. He thinks the other kit would, like, really, hopefully, maybe, like it!
The vibrant sky and the breaking open of closed petals to breathe perfume has beckoned forth a wide array of butterflies despite the day's ferocious winds. Rich orange and velveteen black, brilliant purple - edged blue, white so pure it seems to glow—these colors and more paint the low parts of camp, where the bugs frantically flutter around bushes that spill over with blossoms.
Coltkit drops to a crouch, bunching his white - dipped haunches in a passable, if paling, imitation of what he's seen the apprentices showing off to each other around camp. His half - moon eyes are firmly fixed on a butterfly with wings carpeted a vibrant magenta, as stately as crushed - velvet robes, his heavy tail wagging behind him and stirring up small powder - puffs of dust. This is the perfect opportunity to prove himself to be a real ThunderClanner, like Howlingstar 'n Roeflame 'n Twi! Speaking of the tabby - marbled kit, he imagines presenting his friend with the cool colors of the wings, and his small maw curves into a childish smile.
He springs, putting his namesake disproportionate limbs to use, and snares the butterfly handily in one paw—it'd be surprising if he didn't, given the excessive size of the white mitten. The boy swoops cleanly earthward from his sky - reaching leap, landing in a plume of dust quickly whipped away by the wind. When he raises his paw slowly, pink tongue poking between outsize milk - fangs, his tail begins to wag anew in a puppyish display as he examines the semi - crushed butterfly, its wings retaining their brilliant hue.
" Caught one! " he proclaims triumphantly to nobody in particular. He kind of hopes someone's watching, though, so they can see just how much of a real ThunderClanner he is! Scooping his victim clumsily into one big paw, he squints, searching for the familiar visage of Twilightkit. He thinks the other kit would, like, really, hopefully, maybe, like it!
