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Post by elmfrost on Apr 2, 2011 17:25:32 GMT -5
 [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,399,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true] | [atrb=background,http://i54.tinypic.com/ehaxxj.jpg]Bird song filled the fresh morning air, the chill of the leaf-bare air sending an unwanted chill along the tom's spine. The sun, even though it continued on it's steady climb toward the highest point, didn't seem to be giving enough heat for all it's shine. Then again, maybe he just wasn't feeling it. Wouldn't be the first time. Letting out a long breath, Elmfrost wrinkled up his nose as he stared down at the small pile of rabbits and field mice that were thrown into the centre of the clearing. It was really quite sad, and a clear sign that they really needed to do some sort of hunting patrol. If not for the sake of something to do, then for the fact it was pitiful that no one had gone out yet.
Tabby and white pelt puffed out against the cold, the tom stalked toward the main nestle of warriors, tail flicking aimlessly behind him as he moved. He knew the dawn patrol had already headed out, but hopefully, there was someone at least that wouldn't mind leaving the confinements of the camp. Too bad if there wasn't, someone was going with him out there. He wasn't the type of cat who sought out company most of the time, but with leaf-bare well on the way, he wasn't about to just go out and do all the effort himself. Head lifted high and his usual, emotionless look plastered across his face like a well-crafted mask, he reached the group wit a rumbling purr.
“Alright you lot, any volunteers for a hunting patrol? The pile's looking pitifully small,” he meowed loudly, glancing around the camp to check if anyone else who was out further out caught his words. WORD COUNT: two nine one TAGGED: open
NOTES: short, but we all need more posting action, so feel free to join! |  [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,399,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true] |
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Post by robinfeather on Jun 30, 2011 14:37:52 GMT -5
Robinfeather wasn't very good at this..."sleeping" thing.
She lay with her head on her paws, staring out the entrance to the warriors' den. The dawn patrol had already left - she'd been unfortunately passed over for the job, and she was pitifully, pathetically bored. Resting in the warriors' den was so uninteresting, so useless, and it made her feel like she was turning into a lazy kittypet already.
See, Robinfeather lived on working for her Clan. So much that she refused to take a mate - as though she were a medicine cat, she'd claimed the Clan as her mate and kits, her family. She even lost sleep from working constantly to hunt and patrol the territory, even at night. Sleep was useless, and wasted time that she could be spending being productive. She loved being out on the moors, loved hunting and patrolling and simply being who she was, where she was. It was a noble thing to be a Clan cat, but nobler still to be of WindClan.
She lifted her head from her paws at the sight of a familiar tabby-and-white tom: Elmfrost, the deputy. She dipped her head in a polite greeting as he stood at the entrance.
“Alright you lot, any volunteers for a hunting patrol? The pile's looking pitifully small."
Elmfrost's deep, powerful voice echoed through the den, and Robinfeather felt a jolt of excitement not unlike the moment before an apprentice receives their warrior name. She hopped to her feet, shaking a piece of reed off of one of her white hindpaws. "I'll go, Elmfrost," she mewed, and shook out her thick, ebony pelt.
Though Elmfrost had about as much emotion on his face as an oak tree, Robinfeather still enjoyed his presence. He was a very loyal deputy, in her humble opinion, and that was all that mattered. Who needed emotion? WindClan didn't need emotional cats, it needed strong, capable cats. And Elmfrost certainly fit that criteria.
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