Post by Ringtail on Aug 16, 2019 4:06:32 GMT
Like a swan, she was grace. Even has she aged, her long fur remained lush and vibrant like the feathers' she was name-saked. Light green hues danced around the camp, the warrior taking her time to silently swipe at on coming butterflies. She had the spare time too, no one had asked her to a patrol that day.
The she-cat's fur swished and swayed as she moved, dancing among imaginary snow flakes.
She was in her own world, seemingly minding her own business. If Starclan had given her wings, she would have become an actual swan, fluttering across a lake of calmness. She danced across the lounging space of the camp, her tail flickering behind her. She continued to chase the butterfly, a small yellow fluttering object mere mouse-steps in front of her.
She didn't notice her way around camp, transfixed on her prize in front of her. Maybe someone would join her?
The she-cat's fur swished and swayed as she moved, dancing among imaginary snow flakes.
She was in her own world, seemingly minding her own business. If Starclan had given her wings, she would have become an actual swan, fluttering across a lake of calmness. She danced across the lounging space of the camp, her tail flickering behind her. She continued to chase the butterfly, a small yellow fluttering object mere mouse-steps in front of her.
She didn't notice her way around camp, transfixed on her prize in front of her. Maybe someone would join her?
