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Post by wintersnow on Jul 20, 2006 16:19:55 GMT -5
It was a beautiful sunset. The birds were chriping, the frogs singing. Int he distance, you could hear horses whinny. The sky was a blueish purple that made it seem like heaven was watching over. All this a beautiful, brightyful evening.
On the edge of the lake, what looked like a little snowball rolled along. It was pure white, like snow. It was so small, it could fit in the palm of a human hand. Of course, that didn't matter, sincve humans were dead. This little snowball of an animal was a cat. And his name was Wintersnow.
Its so brightyful thought Wintersnow as he walked along the banks of the lake, careful not to fall in. Little Winter was but a kitten: His parents died a long time ago, at the dawn of the coming of freedom. Little orphan Winter: That was what he was.
Of course, he had taught himself how to pounce mice, and taught himself how to swoop for fish. Birds.... he was still learning. But he learned a lot from watching other cats.
Looking in the pool of water, he thought God, I'm good at hunting. So god, in fact, I might as well catch something now. After all, I'm a self-made cat. No parents to protect me, and I survived. I'm the best cat that ever lived. And with that, he sniffed the ground for prey, in hopes of mice.
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Post by BuckskinSoul on Jul 20, 2006 17:55:17 GMT -5
Whitefire's blue eyes widened large enough to take in the entire lake of glass as he watched, awe-stricken, the cloud of white scuffling around on the bank. He tilted his own snowy head curiously. It was like looking back into the past. It was like watching himself as a kit, except this little cat did not seem to be stalking unsuspecting prey as Whitefire so ofter partook in during his adolescent years. Rising to his large, polar-bear paws and flicked his tail straight and skyward. The receding light whipped around the lake and bounced off Whitefire's pelt as he slid down the banks. For a moment, he froze, and stared into the still depths of the glistening lake. He saw a vague figure of himself. He saw the sky. Pretty blue sky....
The bleached tom shook his head. Kits were hypnotized by the lake, not Leaders! Looking fixedly at the white stranger ahead, he let out a meow of greeting, claws clinging to the graining earth. |
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Post by wintersnow on Jul 20, 2006 19:09:28 GMT -5
The sky started to turn black as the sun went down. You could see stars as far as the eye cvould see. The young white kitten stopped sniffing and looked up. It was simply beautiful: No boundaries, and no limits to where the stars can stretch. Earth... well, has its limits. You cvould see that with the extinction of dystroyers and the coming of freedom. But still., it was great to imagine what was in the black endless pit called the sky. There could be other worlds, with creatures differnt from any cat, wolf, deer or horse.
It was a whole new world at night. Winterstorm loved it. Though little orphan Winter was protected from other cats against the wolves, he knew that they could strike at any time. And you know what: He really didn't care. Because you only live once, and you need to get the most out of life, even it meant dieing a slow, painful, horrible death. Such was the "Its all about now, who cares about later" attitude of a kitten.
Sniffing the ground for mice, he couldn't find any, but he did catch a whiff of the leader Whitefire. Good evening, Whitefire said Winterstorm, happily. he and the leader shared a lot in common: They were both white. Well, that was at least ONE thing in common.
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Post by BuckskinSoul on Jul 21, 2006 13:17:19 GMT -5
Whitefire smiled down at the bundle of cloudy fur bellow him. As the cutting mew of greeting snipped into Whitefire's triangular ears, he recognized the kit as on of The Camp. He didn't know him well; he was just now beginning to sedulously commit each cat's name to memory. Sliding in a very unLeader-like fashion down the slope, he brought his body before the white kit's. As he rasped his rough tongue quickly over his ruffled fur he thought of how far from Camp they were.
"Hello there, ghostly image."
He mrrowed kindly. Up close, the small cat looked even more of Whitefire's kin.
"I'm afraid your name eludes me, and yet you know mine! A bit penurious of me, really. What brings you so far from home, little one? And to the Like of Lies?"
Concern tinged with curiosity kindled in his sky blue eyes. Bunching his haunches, he sat on the crumbling bank, careful to keep his wind-filled fur far from the water's fingers. |
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Post by wintersnow on Jul 21, 2006 18:06:11 GMT -5
Wintersnow was in heaven. Finally, a chance to speak alone with the leader! With no other cats to interrupt him, no deer or horses to trample him, no stupid, smelly wolves to try to eat him. This was great!
As the stars danced in the sky, he answered "I am Wintersnow. I come here ins search of fish, though I doubt I'll be able to catch anything in these waters. What brings you here, Whitefire? If its not too disrespectful to ask....". Wintersnow, though playful, was a typical kitten. He respected authority, and hunted for his camp. Though it was a little hard, being only an orphan kitten, he loved his life, even though his parents were gone.
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Post by BuckskinSoul on Jul 21, 2006 19:13:24 GMT -5
Whitefire flicked his ears in good interest, like the antennae of a soft moth.
"Wintersnow! How charming; it would appear that in a game of charades we could pass as kin, you and I."
The sturdy, white tom winked one of his coin-sharp eyes. The river did not stir, for it was sulking in its usual silence. As blank and quiet as a blank bit of paper, it merely reflected with wind's whisper, and denied it an answer.
"I myself was just patrolling- getting a good look at our fellow inhabitants of earth if you know what I mean."
He lowered his voice in the greatest indulgence of confidence.
"Though you seem to have chosen a more helpful path for the moiety of The Camp."
He gazed sternly out over the lake, not to be transfixed by its seductive skin.
"I never was worth half a lick at fishing. I say- leave it to herons! It's all they're smart enough for anyways."
His furry lip curled in a smile.
"But all in good fun, I actually once had a deer friend who was most assuredly heron. All she ever could talk about was fish, making conversation most difficult. But she helped me when my aching body was nearly dying with anination."
Whitefire was rather enjoying himself. It was refreshing to talk to this kitten, Wintersnow, without worrying about the pressures of his adult career. |
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Post by wowposter on Sept 10, 2008 2:08:10 GMT -5
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Post by wowposter on Sept 11, 2008 4:46:23 GMT -5
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Post by wowposter on Oct 29, 2008 8:25:20 GMT -5
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