Post by nightsky on Mar 18, 2007 9:16:08 GMT -5
The time has passed sun-high a few hours ago when Lionclaw pads into camp. In his jaws, he carries a small thrush, the last of the prey he has recently spent his time making trips to carry back to camp. The golden tabby makes his way quietly to the Fresh-kill pile, setting down his catch and surveying the large pile proudly. Not bad, for late Leaf-Bare. I suppose I can relax now, Lionclaw thinks in amusement, flicking his fluffy tail to brush against the stump before choosing a snowshoe hare for himself. Prey clamped firmly in his jaws, he looks around. The Camp is pretty empty looking. With a tiny shrug of his furry shoulders, Lionclaw lifts his tail and wanders over to sit near the warriors' den.
He sets the hare down, spluttering a bit because of all the snow-coloured hair that has got into his mouth. Lionclaw takes this opportunity to stretch, his long limbs easing out before him and flexing as he tenses, then releases the muscles. He does the same with his back-legs, as if he has just woken up from a nap. Then, satisfied, Lionclaw settles down to eat. He sniffs the hare, and notices that its white pelt was now flecked with slight brown. He knows this to be a sign that the unfortunate hair had not fallen prey to this WindClan warrior, it would probably continue shedding into its new bracken-coloured pelt. That means that New-Leaf is well on its way! Lionclaw purrs at the thought, for perhaps this small Clan that he belongs to will flourish with the coming of a new season. New-Leaf is birthing season, after all.
He absently takes a small bite of his catch, chewing silently as he gazes around camp. His glittering green eyes take in the scenery around him, anxious to find more signs of New-Leaf's approach.
He sets the hare down, spluttering a bit because of all the snow-coloured hair that has got into his mouth. Lionclaw takes this opportunity to stretch, his long limbs easing out before him and flexing as he tenses, then releases the muscles. He does the same with his back-legs, as if he has just woken up from a nap. Then, satisfied, Lionclaw settles down to eat. He sniffs the hare, and notices that its white pelt was now flecked with slight brown. He knows this to be a sign that the unfortunate hair had not fallen prey to this WindClan warrior, it would probably continue shedding into its new bracken-coloured pelt. That means that New-Leaf is well on its way! Lionclaw purrs at the thought, for perhaps this small Clan that he belongs to will flourish with the coming of a new season. New-Leaf is birthing season, after all.
He absently takes a small bite of his catch, chewing silently as he gazes around camp. His glittering green eyes take in the scenery around him, anxious to find more signs of New-Leaf's approach.