Post by Phoenix on Jan 20, 2018 5:43:34 GMT -5
In the beginning, the mountains of snow that fell from the sky as the air grew cold amazed him. His first experience with the white substance had been a befuddling one. It was something that, when first blanketing the ground in an unbroken layer, appeared as firm as the rocks around him but in reality was simultaneously weak enough to give way to light pawsteps and strong enough to trap entire groups of felines in caves or smother them on its slopes – or so he had been told. When packed down beneath relentless paws, it gained a hardness comparable to solid ground, but it also turned into liquid if he took some in his mouth or even breathed on it too long.
And that said nothing about the snowflakes, which fell like rain but did not get him wet until they melted on his nose.
Earlier, Leopard had overheard some others saying that this season – this leaf-bare – was milder than they had expected, and as he peered out at the blanket of white, glistening in the sunlight, from his mother’s side, he tried to imagine what a harsh winter would be like. Did the wind howl louder and blow harsher, whipping around snow like daggers? Would their camp ever be blocked by a wall of ice and snow? The world around him was so big; it was hard to imagine it being entirely filled by snow. His thoughts made him feel very small.
Turning to Cherrypool, he paused in his stride to press his nose to her fur, drawing comfort from her familiar scent that promised safety and warmth. In light of the nice weather, they had decided – or, more realistically, he had pestered her until she acquiesced – to venture out of their warm little den and into the elements; young and curious, he wanted to explore the world, transformed as it was during the leaf-bare moons. When caught in the right light, his mother, apart from her beautiful red eyes, appeared almost invisible against the drifts of snow, a fact which fascinated – and terrified, for what if he lost her? – him to no end. His spots, he had realized quickly when turning his keen gaze back on himself, gave him away. Fur still mingling with his mother’s, he turned to look up at her with bright blue eyes. ”Mom?” He asked as the question struck. ”Do you like the cold?”
And that said nothing about the snowflakes, which fell like rain but did not get him wet until they melted on his nose.
Earlier, Leopard had overheard some others saying that this season – this leaf-bare – was milder than they had expected, and as he peered out at the blanket of white, glistening in the sunlight, from his mother’s side, he tried to imagine what a harsh winter would be like. Did the wind howl louder and blow harsher, whipping around snow like daggers? Would their camp ever be blocked by a wall of ice and snow? The world around him was so big; it was hard to imagine it being entirely filled by snow. His thoughts made him feel very small.
Turning to Cherrypool, he paused in his stride to press his nose to her fur, drawing comfort from her familiar scent that promised safety and warmth. In light of the nice weather, they had decided – or, more realistically, he had pestered her until she acquiesced – to venture out of their warm little den and into the elements; young and curious, he wanted to explore the world, transformed as it was during the leaf-bare moons. When caught in the right light, his mother, apart from her beautiful red eyes, appeared almost invisible against the drifts of snow, a fact which fascinated – and terrified, for what if he lost her? – him to no end. His spots, he had realized quickly when turning his keen gaze back on himself, gave him away. Fur still mingling with his mother’s, he turned to look up at her with bright blue eyes. ”Mom?” He asked as the question struck. ”Do you like the cold?”
Don't you tell me what you think that I could be.
Leopard who Walks in Shadow
I'm the one at the sail. I'm the master of my sea.
