Post by Deleted on Jun 27, 2019 19:39:35 GMT -5
BELIEVE IN STRENGTH
Pumafang
TREECLAN - WARRIOR - 30 MOONS
The sun had felt exhausting earlier in the evening, beating down on the valley relentlessly. Pumafang's chocolate black pelt had sucked in heat for hours, making the tom's lumbering strides falter ever so slightly at the end of the day. He had a few warriors with him for the sunset border patrol along NightClan's Deer Path, and regardless of how level-headed his comrades appeared, the air had felt still and electric the entire patrol. He had chosen more passive personalities, though there was no mistaking the aura of hostility towards NightClan that seemed to shroud TreeClan in it's entirety.
At this point, Pumafang was just glad that the fat, steaming sun had collapsed under a peach-grey horizon. The sky was dimly lit, and a ghost of a moon could be seen in the east past the deciduous forests and open plains. Past the mountains and the beyond, sitting on its pedestal in the sky away from the petty conflicts of those beneath it. Pumafang often wondered about the universe and its happenings, but nothing was more grounding than looming war, tense and hot in the souls of both thunder and shadow.
What a bother. Pumafang thought as his patrol made their way back through the Shallow Marsh. But at least we didn't have problems this evening.
All those accompanying him were quite familiar to the deputy: he wanted to have a team of cats who worked well together if things turned sour. Cougarclaw was one of his past apprentices: although stupid, he was a kindhearted and composed tom. Blackwater, his mother, was a loyal and willing warrior. Rocktail was a cat he often preferred with him on patrols due to her obedient and laid back demeanor. Slightly against Pumafang's will, Elmstrike had persistently offered himself as well. It took a lot to anger the small tabby tom.
It had been a tiring few days after the gathering. Midnight patrols had been set up a couple days after the gathering. Any eager volunteers were priceless to the deputy, Elmstrike included.
Pumafang foresaw his own presence on the midnight patrol in a few hours.
As they made their way through the marshes, Pumafang noticed a familiar scent. Falconstorm, and Foxfur. He thought, waving the patrol back towards camp without him. They were likely tired and ready to relax and fill their bellies after a long, sweltering day.
Not more than short traipse through the marshes brought him to the medicine cat and his escort.
"Go back to camp and fetch yourself a good meal." Pumafang meowed flatly to the younger, ginger furred tom, watching calmly as Foxfur trotted off with a newfound bounce in his step.
It was quiet for a few moments before Pumafang started up again.
"I take it NightClan didn't ambush you while you were herb-hunting." His voice rumbled unenthusiastically, burying his sardonic comment with a bleak report. "All seemed calm today. We passed by a NightClan patrol about halfway along the border between the Great Maple and the Shallow Marsh, though luckily they seemed to be uncharacteristically composed. No less than expected from a patrol led by Pinewhisker herself."
Honestly, Pumafang was surprised at the she-cat's recovery and presence as a leader still, in some regards. He couldn't help but to think how different things could have been if Lionstar hadn't injured Pinewhisker and forced her demotion from leader to cripple.
His amber eyes searched Falconstorm's gaze carefully.