Post by Ringtail on Mar 8, 2018 0:40:45 GMT
"My kits! My kits!!" A shrill yowl from a worried she-cat called among the thorny bushes from inside a nursery. A pale she-cat rushed from the nursery, frantically searching for her young. Leaves crushed under her paw pads, yowling about her kits. The clan rose in a frantic panic, searching for the missing kits. It was..until they realised. One of their older, best known warriors was gone.
Weaseltongue. Known for his amitionious ways....was gone..Along with the missing kits.
The aging tom had stolen the kits.
He had lied to the wrong set of cats and caused too much to even try and fix. May having caused his clan thier lives. He sprinted with the two kits in his mouth, not daring to look back, for fear it self was on his hind legs.
The clan searched every onch of the camp territory, expecting the young kittens to show. But they never did. Weaseltongue took a frog-leap over his clan's border, padding along to the next encampment of the neighoring clan. The territories were small in this area and had very easy access to each other. The sleek brown tom slipped into the neighbor clan's camp, squeezing through a small access hole in the barrier. It was enough for him to get through, as he had used this numerous times to meet a good friend of his.
But now was not the time for a friend...He had to hid these kits.
He slipped through towards the small nursery opening that was a mouse-length away, slowly dropping the kits to the ground. With a quick glance, he waved his tail to the kits, as if like a final goodbye, and he vanished back among the dusky morning air, as if a weasel sneaking into the daylight.
Weaseltongue. Known for his amitionious ways....was gone..Along with the missing kits.
The aging tom had stolen the kits.
He had lied to the wrong set of cats and caused too much to even try and fix. May having caused his clan thier lives. He sprinted with the two kits in his mouth, not daring to look back, for fear it self was on his hind legs.
The clan searched every onch of the camp territory, expecting the young kittens to show. But they never did. Weaseltongue took a frog-leap over his clan's border, padding along to the next encampment of the neighoring clan. The territories were small in this area and had very easy access to each other. The sleek brown tom slipped into the neighbor clan's camp, squeezing through a small access hole in the barrier. It was enough for him to get through, as he had used this numerous times to meet a good friend of his.
But now was not the time for a friend...He had to hid these kits.
He slipped through towards the small nursery opening that was a mouse-length away, slowly dropping the kits to the ground. With a quick glance, he waved his tail to the kits, as if like a final goodbye, and he vanished back among the dusky morning air, as if a weasel sneaking into the daylight.
-------------------------------------
"So Weasel my boy, how you feel about that?"
"Feel about..what??"
"Oh you know, the memory we just TOOK a look at.."
"Well...It was something..That I am not proud of.."
"Well..I never thought of you to say such a thing.."
"Two-Leg Female, you should realize that I wouldn't, but I have.."
"Well I did create you..."
"....And?"
"Well...Oh forget it.."
"Speak up She-Two-Leg..I can't hear you."
The writer has left the building, and all you can hear is laughing...They are not good at interviews..Nor are they serious about them.
Our feline friend is just shaking his head. He will never understand humans and their humor.
