Post by ROWANSTAR on Jun 12, 2014 21:42:58 GMT -6
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[attr="class","rowanquote"]the war is won before it's begun,
[attr="class","rowanpost"]The sky was cloudy, a mixture of gray and off-white clouds which threatened to fill the earth with water. His pale green eyes gazed upwards at one precipice which resembled the claws of an angry bird about to tear the world apart. Around him, no trees stood that would shelter him from this inevitable downpour to come. He was in the open, where he had not been since the previous gathering. He didn’t like to be here. Visible to any eye that gazed upon his flaming ginger pelt – a coat that would be hard to notice by a predator, or enemy cat for that matter. Beneath him, mucky water with who-knows-what lurking around his paws. Disgusting things, no doubt – like tadpoles, or worse – leeches. He almost had to stop himself from shuddering at the thought. Before him, RiverClan’s territory. He had walked along the edge of the lakeshore, through WindClan territory, past the Horseplace and finally, to here.
Rowanstar’s agenda was simple: to find any clues to the cause of clan cats dying. But even here, as he stood in a deep pool of filth, threatening to suck him under at any time – mud caked around his paws, he could feel – he was frozen in his thoughts. The reformed Warrior Code said that he could travel through RiverClan territory if he wanted, as long as he stayed within a couple tail-lengths of the lakeshore… He just didn’t know if Magpiestar or some other RiverClan patrol would attack him anyway. After all, things had not be so… kosher between them, lately.
He wasn’t afraid. Oh, no. In fact, he would do it without hesitation… if not for the fact that he had come alone. Then again, a whole patrol might have seemed far more threatening and suspicious than he would look going in by himself. His paw pads felt itchy, a tingle in them from standing amidst sopping wet mud. His once-bright fur was now dripping, medium-brown half way down his body. From afar, he might have given the impression of being a weird looking tortoiseshell. Yet up close, his unmistakably broad face and shoulders could be recognized as him by most cats in the clans. His tail tip poked through the surface of the swampland like a river monster, even twitching as if searching for food.
Rowanstar let out a deep breath, and then turned back.
He trudged through the marshy waters the way he came. He nearly tripped once, but caught himself. Ugh. It was difficult just walking through it. For the last leg he gave a jump and a hop and then a leap, splashing the entire way, until he was on dry land again, closer to WindClan territory than anything. He would feel safer if a WindClan patrol found him instead of a RiverClan patrol, anyway. At least they hadn’t recently accused his clan of murdering kits, and they seemed to have more sense than Magpiestar – that was for sure. He could smell the horses from the Horseplace, but ignored it in favor of cleaning himself off. He sat and raised his back right paw to his mouth, ripping and tearing at its pad to clean it up as much as possible. Soon, he would move on to his belly, his thighs and his back. His ears slanted to and fro in search of any noises he could construe as dangerous or interesting. He wouldn’t hunt here, of course, but it was always good to know if he were about to be ambushed.
Rowanstar’s agenda was simple: to find any clues to the cause of clan cats dying. But even here, as he stood in a deep pool of filth, threatening to suck him under at any time – mud caked around his paws, he could feel – he was frozen in his thoughts. The reformed Warrior Code said that he could travel through RiverClan territory if he wanted, as long as he stayed within a couple tail-lengths of the lakeshore… He just didn’t know if Magpiestar or some other RiverClan patrol would attack him anyway. After all, things had not be so… kosher between them, lately.
He wasn’t afraid. Oh, no. In fact, he would do it without hesitation… if not for the fact that he had come alone. Then again, a whole patrol might have seemed far more threatening and suspicious than he would look going in by himself. His paw pads felt itchy, a tingle in them from standing amidst sopping wet mud. His once-bright fur was now dripping, medium-brown half way down his body. From afar, he might have given the impression of being a weird looking tortoiseshell. Yet up close, his unmistakably broad face and shoulders could be recognized as him by most cats in the clans. His tail tip poked through the surface of the swampland like a river monster, even twitching as if searching for food.
Rowanstar let out a deep breath, and then turned back.
He trudged through the marshy waters the way he came. He nearly tripped once, but caught himself. Ugh. It was difficult just walking through it. For the last leg he gave a jump and a hop and then a leap, splashing the entire way, until he was on dry land again, closer to WindClan territory than anything. He would feel safer if a WindClan patrol found him instead of a RiverClan patrol, anyway. At least they hadn’t recently accused his clan of murdering kits, and they seemed to have more sense than Magpiestar – that was for sure. He could smell the horses from the Horseplace, but ignored it in favor of cleaning himself off. He sat and raised his back right paw to his mouth, ripping and tearing at its pad to clean it up as much as possible. Soon, he would move on to his belly, his thighs and his back. His ears slanted to and fro in search of any noises he could construe as dangerous or interesting. He wouldn’t hunt here, of course, but it was always good to know if he were about to be ambushed.
[attr="class","rowannotes"]598 words for MAGPIESTAR. notes. bad post is bad.
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