Post by pekoyama on Oct 15, 2019 23:46:19 GMT
nettlestripe.
" There's no 'I' in team. There's a 'me' though if you jumble it up."
" There's no 'I' in team. There's a 'me' though if you jumble it up."
the drizzle of the orange morning sun cast against the branches of the bush that surrounded the warrior den. the warmth of other warriors battled against the cool air of leaffall. the familiar scent of wind and dew filling the air with a heavy coat. towards the back of the warrior den, laid a blue tom. his face covered by his feathery tail, his paws curled against his chest, taking in slow and shallow breaths as his pink nose twitched. the murmurs of the clan caused his ear to flick, slowly blinking the sleep from his eyes. his head rose after several moments to let his maw open and curl into a quiet yawn. flexing his claws against his bedding edges, raising onto his three blue-grey paws. taking slow and cautious steps, the satisfying popping in his stiff joints as his tall falling close to his hind legs. hobbling out of his nest. his left leg holding a large nub and a giant scar around it. Nettlestripe left the den but recoiled for a moment as he was hit with the cool wind, the smell of dew and leaves hit the roof of his mouth. rasping his pink tongue over his dry nose as he raised his head out to get another sniff. his clanmates must’ve did their own business without him. his amber eyes gazing among his clanmates, narrowing into slits as he met with familiar eyes. his tail tip flicking with unease meeting those judgemental eyes. those same eyes that haunted him in his dreams, he limped to the side of the warrior den. laying down into his silver stomach as he laid his front paw over the nub. covering it as his eyes gazed up into the cloudy sky, the sky of warm orange and pink that splashed against the sun like a tortoiseshell cat. nettlestripe gazed at the dawn sky with his usual nonchalant look. his eyes remaining cold and tense, almost holding a mysterious aura. his pelt holding a light orange color on the silver of his blue-grey tabby fur. Nettlestripe couldn’t push out the thoughts of stares peering against his striped pelt. lowering his amber gaze to meet the familiar and disgusting faces of his clanmates. His face remained eerily calm. the depth of his eyes was a distinctive look of exhaustion as his dark ears were kept up and alert. slowly lowering his head to rest against the ground, his other forearm closing closer to his front arm almost defensively as he watched the clan bustle with activity. He felt useless, but he wasn’t going to let that cause any visible weakness. He was in pain, and soon, he would chew up some seeds to dull that main. Just for a few moments. rasping his pink tongue over his whiskers in an almost impatient manner. he couldn’t wait to take a munch on some poppy seeds.