Post by !TiGER_ on Dec 20, 2008 12:40:54 GMT -5
The clearing was bathed in weak, pink-and-orange sunlight streaming in from over the treeetops. Brownpatch's pupils were beginning to dialate as the sun set. Although she, like most cats, preferred to sleep at night, twilight had always fascinated her. Nobody would be willing to follow her in the dark; they typically preferred to stay in their dens and sleep. Her own brother, Whitetail, was doing just that. Now, however, she wanted to be alone and explore what mysteries the forest hid. The sun sunk a few inches below the tops of the trees, silhouetting the foliage against the painted sky. She turned so that the light was to her back and ventured into the forest.
Here it was much, much darker. Brownpatch could not see the brilliant hues that had greeted her in the clearing and was instead living in shades of black, dark green, and navy. Nevertheless, she could still see every detail of the frost-covered shrubs and trees surrounding here. She wondered what possibly could have happened in the undergrowth long before she was born. An invasion? A medicine cat's secret affair? Murder? Or simply exploration for the sake of exploration? She shrugged and continued on, trying to avoid catching her long pelt on various thorns. The endavour was pointless; the type of cat who would be able to navigate such a hazardous part of ShadowClan territory would have short, thick fur and long, willowy legs. Brownpatch's size still gave her an advantage over whatever creatures lurked in wait: She was sufficently large to scare them off. If even a fox trudged out of the bushes, she would be able to either frighten or injure it, enabling her to get back to camp in one piece. After a minute or so of walking deeper into the forest, she turned back in the direction of the clearing.
It was past dusk upon her arrival. The sun had disappeared for good--until morning, at least--but the ground seemed to emit a faint, ghostly glow. She looked up at the moon and at Silverpelt. Their reflections was what made the newfallen snow seem so luminous. Brownpatch coughed twice to clear her throat and then turned once more, this time heading in the direction of camp. She was attempting to remain stealthy and silent to avoid waking up the rest of ShadowClan. All was in vain; each pawstep brought the crunching of the icy snow collapsing under her feet. It wasn't long before she slipped on a particularily solid patch of snow and fell headfirst into a tangle of branches. Brownpatch snarled furiously before untangling herself from the branch pile and continuing once more on her journey to camp. It was pointless to remain quiet now--she would be surprised if half of ThunderClan wasn't waiting at the border to see what in the name of StarClan was going on.
Here it was much, much darker. Brownpatch could not see the brilliant hues that had greeted her in the clearing and was instead living in shades of black, dark green, and navy. Nevertheless, she could still see every detail of the frost-covered shrubs and trees surrounding here. She wondered what possibly could have happened in the undergrowth long before she was born. An invasion? A medicine cat's secret affair? Murder? Or simply exploration for the sake of exploration? She shrugged and continued on, trying to avoid catching her long pelt on various thorns. The endavour was pointless; the type of cat who would be able to navigate such a hazardous part of ShadowClan territory would have short, thick fur and long, willowy legs. Brownpatch's size still gave her an advantage over whatever creatures lurked in wait: She was sufficently large to scare them off. If even a fox trudged out of the bushes, she would be able to either frighten or injure it, enabling her to get back to camp in one piece. After a minute or so of walking deeper into the forest, she turned back in the direction of the clearing.
It was past dusk upon her arrival. The sun had disappeared for good--until morning, at least--but the ground seemed to emit a faint, ghostly glow. She looked up at the moon and at Silverpelt. Their reflections was what made the newfallen snow seem so luminous. Brownpatch coughed twice to clear her throat and then turned once more, this time heading in the direction of camp. She was attempting to remain stealthy and silent to avoid waking up the rest of ShadowClan. All was in vain; each pawstep brought the crunching of the icy snow collapsing under her feet. It wasn't long before she slipped on a particularily solid patch of snow and fell headfirst into a tangle of branches. Brownpatch snarled furiously before untangling herself from the branch pile and continuing once more on her journey to camp. It was pointless to remain quiet now--she would be surprised if half of ThunderClan wasn't waiting at the border to see what in the name of StarClan was going on.
