Post by trissea on Aug 12, 2008 13:47:56 GMT -5
Dank, musty smells overpowered the feline's nose as he slipped into the undergrowth, his bright amber orbs glinting in the sudden loss of light. The hunter's pelt was sleek and dark, blending him to his surroundings as he searched for his prey. The maw opened slightly, revealing long, sharp canines and smaller, whiter teeth, as he took in the scents of the damp plants, sorting the different things he smelled. Owl, but very stale. A patrol had passed through here in the morning. And, he noted triumphantly, a frog. A forest frog, which was rare to find, especially in the green-leaf heat. But if a cat was to find one, it would be here, the constantly wet and cool territory of ShadowClan.
Iconically he was the poster child for a ShadowClan cat- strong, mysteriously handsome, gloomy and almost intense in his silences.
In reality he was anything but. ShadowClanners are usually innocent cats, but for their reputations to be plotting liars, stealing, weasel-like felines.
Darkbird was all of those things and more. He was, as nobody would ever know, a killer. But he had done it for love, hadn't he? So was it wrong? Some might say so, but the warrior did not care either way. The past was the past. The future was going to be the past one day, and the present, as soon as you think of it, is the past. As hard as he tried, he could never catch the present in his claws. It always slipped away, becoming the past before he could understand what was happening now.
He had given up on cats and Clans and light a long while ago.
Now it was just him and his silent voice in the darkness, his claws unsheathing as he pinpointed his prey.
The poor animal was clueless as to it's approaching doom. Not that it would have mattered. The tom let himself smile slightly, anticipating the blood of the frog as he took its life, warm and metallic in his mouth. He was a tail-length away when he leapt, pinning the amphibian to the ground and killing it swiftly.
Not the first blood on his paws.
Not the last.
He cared not for Clan customs; he had hunted earlier and brought it back. He did not eat sitting or lying down, he ate standing, gulping hungrily, soaking in the frog's small life and strengths. Taking them to be his own.
Iconically he was the poster child for a ShadowClan cat- strong, mysteriously handsome, gloomy and almost intense in his silences.
In reality he was anything but. ShadowClanners are usually innocent cats, but for their reputations to be plotting liars, stealing, weasel-like felines.
Darkbird was all of those things and more. He was, as nobody would ever know, a killer. But he had done it for love, hadn't he? So was it wrong? Some might say so, but the warrior did not care either way. The past was the past. The future was going to be the past one day, and the present, as soon as you think of it, is the past. As hard as he tried, he could never catch the present in his claws. It always slipped away, becoming the past before he could understand what was happening now.
He had given up on cats and Clans and light a long while ago.
Now it was just him and his silent voice in the darkness, his claws unsheathing as he pinpointed his prey.
The poor animal was clueless as to it's approaching doom. Not that it would have mattered. The tom let himself smile slightly, anticipating the blood of the frog as he took its life, warm and metallic in his mouth. He was a tail-length away when he leapt, pinning the amphibian to the ground and killing it swiftly.
Not the first blood on his paws.
Not the last.
He cared not for Clan customs; he had hunted earlier and brought it back. He did not eat sitting or lying down, he ate standing, gulping hungrily, soaking in the frog's small life and strengths. Taking them to be his own.