Post by Deleted on Aug 17, 2014 19:57:02 GMT -5
He almost didn't want to dip his paws into the water, it was so glassy-smooth. In the pool, Roseheart watched his reflection: watched his ears twitch, each side, watched his dark nose turn side to side, his forehead tilted forward to inspect the top of his head.
The heat wasn't oppressive today, but it was sunny, so he tore himself from admiring his reflection and dipped his forepaws in the chilly water. A pleasing, crawling cold climbed his front legs, and he sat down to dip his nose in as well. The chill continued through his head and upper back, quickly at first, but slowing to a near halt in the center of his spine.
Roseheart let out a long, contented purr, a resonant rumble that filled the pool's hollow edge and sounded across the water before him. Part of the territory bundled with being absolutely massive was having a fittingly broad voice, and he'd always been proud of the carry in his purrs and mews. Of course, his old mentor had tried to tone his noise down,
'You're too loud, Rosepaw, you'll scare everything away for a mile across,'
,to absolutely no success, of course. At least he tried. For all the lip and trouble Roseheart had given the old tom, his training never slacked in quality. It was only now, after the death of his teacher, that he had begun to appreciate the hard work.
A breeze ruffled his substantial fur, and he let his ears fall forward to expose the fur behind them to the air. It was hard work, having such a thick coat in a hot environment, but at least he enjoyed comfortable Leaf-bares. Many a cold night had been supplemented by a shivering pile of short-furred cats cuddling up to his sides to steal some radiant heat (some nights he felt downright hot, though he knew he was less than five tail-lengths away from a snowbank).
The wind fell still, and a stagnant air pocket settled in his fur. Roseheart sighed and dipped his nose into the water again, letting his eyes fall shut.
The heat wasn't oppressive today, but it was sunny, so he tore himself from admiring his reflection and dipped his forepaws in the chilly water. A pleasing, crawling cold climbed his front legs, and he sat down to dip his nose in as well. The chill continued through his head and upper back, quickly at first, but slowing to a near halt in the center of his spine.
Roseheart let out a long, contented purr, a resonant rumble that filled the pool's hollow edge and sounded across the water before him. Part of the territory bundled with being absolutely massive was having a fittingly broad voice, and he'd always been proud of the carry in his purrs and mews. Of course, his old mentor had tried to tone his noise down,
'You're too loud, Rosepaw, you'll scare everything away for a mile across,'
,to absolutely no success, of course. At least he tried. For all the lip and trouble Roseheart had given the old tom, his training never slacked in quality. It was only now, after the death of his teacher, that he had begun to appreciate the hard work.
A breeze ruffled his substantial fur, and he let his ears fall forward to expose the fur behind them to the air. It was hard work, having such a thick coat in a hot environment, but at least he enjoyed comfortable Leaf-bares. Many a cold night had been supplemented by a shivering pile of short-furred cats cuddling up to his sides to steal some radiant heat (some nights he felt downright hot, though he knew he was less than five tail-lengths away from a snowbank).
The wind fell still, and a stagnant air pocket settled in his fur. Roseheart sighed and dipped his nose into the water again, letting his eyes fall shut.