Post by Ghost the Undead Goddess on Jul 29, 2020 4:18:11 GMT -5
Timberfrost
The story's getting old but my heart is getting colder
Massive paws were near silent along the dry, cracking ground. The heat during the Greenleaf was growing more intense with each passing day, making it rather stuffy and nearly uncomfortable to move around in the normally cool forests. It seemed today had a change of pace as a fierce gale wriggled through the canopy and branches like a swift, invisible serpent.
Though not one to actually give a nod towards the weather, be it rain or snow or sun, the massive tabby found herself occasionally wanting the cooler temperatures of Leaf-fall to quickly make their way through the valley to rid the clan (mostly Treeclan in that part) of the harshest days of intense sunlight and overbearing heats.
It was a surprise, but also a blessing almost, that the forest of greenery had yet to catch ablaze.
An ear flickered as the massive tabby molly shifted and moved beneath the undergrowth, easily blending in as she listened and tracked the faint scents of prey from here to there throughout the thick wooded areas that belonged to her clan's territory. She had already reaped the rewards of taking down a squirrel to slow for her claws, it's still warm body was buried not far from where she had wandered in search of another morsel to return home with.
However, it was the familiar scent of her aging leader that caught her nose. Not uncommon, seeing as he too lived within the wooded walls of Treeclan's forest, but it seemed that he was alone based on the singular taste surrounded by that of nature and prey.
Not normally a curious cat by nature, though studious and keen to a pattern of protection, Timberfrost altered her course of movement and padded softly through the foliage towards where the Great Maple stood.
Even if she wasn't the sentimental type, the frosty tempered she-cat could appreciate the aesthetic view of the lone, aging lion standing below the largest tree in the forest. It's branches reaching out across the sky with heavy leaves drooping in it's wake, casting shadows out beneath the light of the falling sun. Lionstar sat beneath it's embrace, head back as if studying each of the branches and twigs and gnarls upon the massive girth of the Maple's barky trunk.
She wondered for a moment, how many leaders had sat there in his place, pondering possibly the same thing he was pondering.
Timberfrost was no fool, in fact she was very realistic about her life and what went on around her. Lionstar was old, his life was drawing to a close which meant that Pumafang would soon earn his nine lives and lead the clan into a new future. Into a different future than what the old lion had carved out with his paws in the clan's past.
Not even Starclan and a pawful of nine lives could prevent nature from taking it's course.
"The leaves cover the forest like a blanket of protection, but it's only as strong as it's roots." Her chilling tone sounded as the tabby revealed herself, padding forwards as the shadows of the evening light slunk away from her striped body. Those icy cerulean pools of hers held the top of the Maple for but a moment before casting her attention towards where Lionstar remained seated.
It was true, what she said. A leader was merely a figurehead, a tool of euphony within calamity. When it came to the clan as a whole, but beneath their foundation was moons upon moons of cats who had lived their lives to keep a certain lifestyle, a certain beating heart within the history.
Without a leader, the clan would move on. Without the body, a leader is simple a single feline with no power.
"You might grow roots yourself if you stay sitting too long." Ah, there was that witty sarcasm that Timberfrost occasionally shot out in a sharpened tone. Though as quickly as the faint flicker of amusement passed through her gaze, it was once again an icy, unreadable river that practically stared a whole through her aging leader as she drew closer.
She Cat | 41 Moons | TreeClan | Warrior
