Post by Ghost the Undead Goddess on Sept 10, 2020 16:05:00 GMT -5
Graywolf
NightClan She-Cat 36 Moons
It was finally starting to grow more quiet with each passing day, the constant and near insistent buzzing of bugs slowly ceasing as Greenleaf began to wind down for the next season. Bugs often disappeared during the colder and more harsher days of Leaf-fall and Leafbare. Honestly, it was plausible that every warrior within the walls of the valley would rather have snow then spend another second listening to those damned Cicadas.
Nimble paws bounced around the smooth, stone floor of Nightclan's cavernous camp. The gray she-cat they belonged too practically couldn't sit still, her plume tail wiggled playfully behind her and her ears constantly twitched above her head. Had she not been a growing, youthful warrior then an outside cat might believe she was an apprentice purely by the way she was hyper-actively acting.
In reality, she was honestly waiting for a fellow molly to finally drag her tail out of the warmth of the Warrior's Den. Graywolf had been away since about the time the sun slowly made it's decent beyond the walls of the Valley. Sometimes she was an early bird, sometimes she slept like the living dead and woke up hour late into the young night.
Perhaps she gained that trait from her rather lazy father, Bonetail.
Expressive, albeit mischievious green pools shimmered as the young warrior waited for her companion, though it was doubtful that Nettleheart was actually aware that Graywolf was waiting for her with giddy paws and hidden intentions. The dilute calico was still curled up rather close to the looming, fluffy form of Buckfur earlier when the gray molly had slipped out behind the dutiful form of Mothlight.
"I'll meet you at the Pineneedle Clearing in a bit!" Graywolf had called out behind Spiderbite's sister as the pale orange tabby she-cat went about her nightly duties per usual. That had seemed like hours ago now, though of course they pretty dilute feline was not the most patient of cats. The mischevious molly had actually agreed to go hunting, but... it wasn't as if they didn't have to do that.
Graywolf would much rather spend quality time with her molly-friends.
Ever since the loss of her sister, Crowflame, Graywolf had been struggling a bit. Of course, she hid her pain and depression underneath that thick outer layer that Nightclanner's were known for, as well as those unique carefree personality quirks of hers. She knew she wasn't the only one hurting, especially went it just came to her family members like Ghostshadow and their parents.
Nettleheart was also in a similar boat as Graywolf. The prickly molly had lost her brother and the only cat she had left that shared blood. This past Greenleaf had been harsh, that and the reappearance of the mythical owl queen, Deathclaw...
Flickering her ears, the brilliant emerald flames of the hyper she-cat grew as she spotted the pale colors of the particular calico warrior she was waiting on. "Nettleheart!" She chirped happily before bounding over like a young apprentice to where the similarly aged feline had emerged from the Warrior's Den. She looked about as confused as Graywolf figured she'd be.
"Come on, we are meeting up with Mothlight!" She purred happily, the more light-hearted emotions swimming through her gaze rather than the darker ones that still weight upon her heart as the organ beat within her chest. Flickering her plume tail, Graywolf fluffed the limb into the other she-cat's nose in that playful way she did with all cats before padding towards the entrance.
I'm Trouble, Y'all
