Post by Gemini on Nov 14, 2020 11:53:46 GMT -5
I need your love like the flowers need the sun 660 words -- ♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 with Robinflight |
Umber visionaries scrutinized amidst the thick-bodied tomcat, glimpsing around around the campsite. He wondered a ton about the future, where he'd be and how much he'd improved and grown. Flameriver found the experience of clan life, thrilling, enjoying every curve and shift it is prone to take. Between each reign, he was intrigued, curious of the intentions of every leader that steps up. There was tons to learn.
Flameriver was still young, taking average steps in the lead of his future. Flameriver wandered how it felt to stand up there, upon the Ancient Stump and announce words across the camp. The conformity of leading was something Flameriver couldn't comprehend, bewildered of whether or not there are secrets kept. He hadn't known much about leading, as it wasn't quite his forte. The ginger tabby raised his crania, lurking toward the exit of camp, extending his lengthy legs onward. The tom's behemoth digits caressed and kissed the earth, colors vivid with the season.
His flame-colored pelage fit well during Leaf-fall, considering the multiple arrays of orange, umber, browns, reds, golds, yellows, and what's left of green. The key to survival within the clans was learning through experience, and maturing with improvement of one's self as a whole and technique. Flameriver wondered when his movement and ability would begin to wither away. What age would he be? The feline found himself low against the ground, pupils dilating as his abdomen hung to the terrain.
The tomcat had spotted a robin taking flight upward, soaring across the vast, cerulean abyss above. The robin dove downward, swooping down to snatch a worm. The robin found itself resting on a low branch of the Great Maple. He simpered, approaching the massive tree. He hoisted his physique upright, unsheathing his sharp talons, raking them down on the bark. He began sharpening them, keeping a keen eye on the winged creature. After a moment of clawing at the bark, he shifted to the back of the tree, raised on his hind legs. The ginger tomcat lunged upright, forcing his way up the large stump. Once upon a low branch, he pulled himself up, leaping toward the next branch. Bird-brain. He huffed, figuring he could've waited for the bird to take ground.
Flameriver's confidence took a downfall, not feeling so condescending after this move. The plump feline noticed the robin nesting two baby birds, a grin masked upon his countenance. Two frontal digits extended forward, talons hooking the decolletage of the robin, pinning it toward the thicker end of the branch. His tail lashed, jaws clenching on the back of the bird's neck. He glimpsed toward the squawking robins, seeing they weren't very meaty. The tom shrugged, knowing that any food was good during these seasons, especially with leaf-bare on it's way.
In winter, it was being under a dove grey sky the colors of my world don their winter pelages, each hue darker and richer than before, thicker as well to maintain body warmth. The path sparkles and crunches, like sugar underfoot, and the coolness brought him right into the now, into the moment of life. Though the flowers sleep and the trees show their lofty arms once more, a smile plays upon when. For as much as he loved the summertime, he loved the winter too. For every perfume of the meadow, there is the earthy loam of the newly-lit forest floor. He enjoyed all seasons, portraying the nature as beautiful, each season bringing something different.
The tomcat shifted back amongst his haunches, bringing his left paw toward his mandibles, departing as he cleansed his digit. Flameriver's gaze diverted downwards, the reverberation of the squawking beginning to irk the feline. He trekked slowly toward the baby birds, blowing them both to the cranium. His powerful blows took them out, halting the sound of the baby robins. He huffed, closing his vibrant visionaries for the silence. Finally.
