Post by Abyss on Mar 23, 2020 22:49:16 GMT -5
The scent of blood. In certain circumstances, it was entrancing. Attention-catching. Alluring. Blood could mean prey, or any injured animal. It could mean food, or a battle, or even be a sign of predators nearby. Many were drawn to the scent as soon as it wafted across their tongue, its trail leading them to something possibly desirable.
But this was not one of those circumstances. Even as the smell circulated through her nostrils and the taste lightly coated her tongue, Batear found herself wishing to escape from its trap rather than embrace it. For now, though, she could not. A small chunk of fur and skin that carried the scent of blood clamped gently in her mouth, a small black and white figure hanging from her jaws. Brilliant green eyes glanced down at this little creature occasionally, ensuring that the kit was awake still.
She had parted from the old fallen tree with the kit not too long ago, but had made quick work of the territory in a trot. Occasional patches of mud squelched under her paws, the land still recovering from a recent rain and covering up many scents that would normally be caught on the tall grasses of the plains.
As the distant gently-sloping hill of the camp came into view, the black Warrioress felt her muddy paws begin to take her faster towards her home. Though, she did try not to go into a full sprint, for she didn’t want the kit in her jaws to be thrown about where he couldn’t stop himself.
Black paws turned brown began to climb the slope, entering the camp to see a few others wandering about the camp. She recieved a few strange looks from her clanmates, but she pushed them away, turning instead straight towards the Medicine Cat den. Kindleflare is the only cat that needs to be with him other than me right now.
Her pace slowed as she slipped through the entrance to the den, stopping near the front but still allowing the shadows of the den to cover her. Her slender neck slowly bent, lowering the small kit to the ground and gently setting him down at her paws. When her head lifted once more, her gaze peered towards the back of the den, seeking out any movement from the bright amber-coated she-cat.
When she did spot that familiar form, there was a quiet purr that rumbled through her chest as thoughts of their last little meeting returned to her. In one of Batear’s darkest moments, the Medicine Cat had been there to tell her what she needed to hear and gave her advice. Specifically, she found that the scent of chamomile filled her nose, despite the many other herb scents that filtered through the den. Each time recently that she had caught this scent, she found herself being reminded of Kindleflare. As down on herself as she was that day, it was a fond memory. A point of bonding between she and the clan’s Medicine Cat.
“Kindleflare? I believe I need some assistance, ” she gently called, gently brushing her tail across the black and white kit’s back to keep him calm and remind him that he was safe.
But this was not one of those circumstances. Even as the smell circulated through her nostrils and the taste lightly coated her tongue, Batear found herself wishing to escape from its trap rather than embrace it. For now, though, she could not. A small chunk of fur and skin that carried the scent of blood clamped gently in her mouth, a small black and white figure hanging from her jaws. Brilliant green eyes glanced down at this little creature occasionally, ensuring that the kit was awake still.
She had parted from the old fallen tree with the kit not too long ago, but had made quick work of the territory in a trot. Occasional patches of mud squelched under her paws, the land still recovering from a recent rain and covering up many scents that would normally be caught on the tall grasses of the plains.
As the distant gently-sloping hill of the camp came into view, the black Warrioress felt her muddy paws begin to take her faster towards her home. Though, she did try not to go into a full sprint, for she didn’t want the kit in her jaws to be thrown about where he couldn’t stop himself.
Black paws turned brown began to climb the slope, entering the camp to see a few others wandering about the camp. She recieved a few strange looks from her clanmates, but she pushed them away, turning instead straight towards the Medicine Cat den. Kindleflare is the only cat that needs to be with him other than me right now.
Her pace slowed as she slipped through the entrance to the den, stopping near the front but still allowing the shadows of the den to cover her. Her slender neck slowly bent, lowering the small kit to the ground and gently setting him down at her paws. When her head lifted once more, her gaze peered towards the back of the den, seeking out any movement from the bright amber-coated she-cat.
When she did spot that familiar form, there was a quiet purr that rumbled through her chest as thoughts of their last little meeting returned to her. In one of Batear’s darkest moments, the Medicine Cat had been there to tell her what she needed to hear and gave her advice. Specifically, she found that the scent of chamomile filled her nose, despite the many other herb scents that filtered through the den. Each time recently that she had caught this scent, she found herself being reminded of Kindleflare. As down on herself as she was that day, it was a fond memory. A point of bonding between she and the clan’s Medicine Cat.
“Kindleflare? I believe I need some assistance, ” she gently called, gently brushing her tail across the black and white kit’s back to keep him calm and remind him that he was safe.
One is the loneliest number.
WARRIOR |LIGHTNINGCLAN
Silver BlooRey DVD / 534
