Post by Fireflake on Jul 13, 2018 3:06:21 GMT
Vulture the Rogue
A young tom prowled through the Twolegplace, his head bobbing with each stride. His light blue eyes raked his surroundings. Nothing here... or there... Most of his pelt was a dusty chocolate colour, dusty both because of dilution and because of actual dust that clung to it. In contrast, the white splashes on his chest and paws had clearly been groomed recently. Vulture aimed to project an overall threatening air, but an excited glimmer writhed in his eyes when he raised his head toward the sun.
Adventure! Exploration! Not a single pawstep went by without the tom noting what was around him. The feel of gravel under his paws and the few patches that seemed sandy, along with the scents of others passed by. Long passed by, he hoped. And that was just the ground! Vulture's fur began to rise and he immediately forced it flat again. He didn't want others to know how new this all was to him. He'd been allowed out of the den for a long time, but only for the past few days had he been a hunter for the anti-clan group he was in. That's what this was supposed to be; a hunt.
Vulture tried to keep his mind on track and inhaled deeply to catch any scents in the stagnant air. His ears flicked back and his eyes narrowed. There was more than prey here. If there was any prey here, that is. He lashed his tail once in case he was being watched and tried to discreetly glance around him. Not as discreet as he'd hoped, since his paws had apparently glued themselves to the ground as soon as he smelled cat-scent.
Adventure! Exploration! Not a single pawstep went by without the tom noting what was around him. The feel of gravel under his paws and the few patches that seemed sandy, along with the scents of others passed by. Long passed by, he hoped. And that was just the ground! Vulture's fur began to rise and he immediately forced it flat again. He didn't want others to know how new this all was to him. He'd been allowed out of the den for a long time, but only for the past few days had he been a hunter for the anti-clan group he was in. That's what this was supposed to be; a hunt.
Vulture tried to keep his mind on track and inhaled deeply to catch any scents in the stagnant air. His ears flicked back and his eyes narrowed. There was more than prey here. If there was any prey here, that is. He lashed his tail once in case he was being watched and tried to discreetly glance around him. Not as discreet as he'd hoped, since his paws had apparently glued themselves to the ground as soon as he smelled cat-scent.
LupTacco
