attention [STORMSTAR]
Jul 10, 2014 14:42:07 GMT -6
Post by wish. on Jul 10, 2014 14:42:07 GMT -6
She was hungry, she was bored, and she was hungry. Runningthorn furrowed her brows in response to the carnivorous clawing and biting her stomach engaged in. At first, in the beginning, the aching gnaw was almost unbearable, but as the days turned into weeks; hunger became familiar. Shadowclan was suffering, and Runningthorn liked to think that they were suffering the most. Everything was infected. The rats from the carrionplace seemed to spread like wildfire. She couldn't leave camp without seeing their beady little eyes poking out from behind the undergrowth. It was nerve-racking to say in the least. The only thing anyone dragged into camp these days were lizards and frogs - which was fine, but it got tedious after a while. Frogs were easy to catch, disgusting on the tongue, but easy. Lizards on the other hand were tricky, they could move fast, and once you had them - you kind of didn't want them.
Thunderclan had their fair share of scrawny mice and the forlorn rabbit. They also had squirrels and the occasional bird. When she got bored enough, Runningthorn liked to sit on the opposite side of the Thunderpath and watch what little prey she could find. A part of her wanted to dip beneath the tar and steal what she could scavenge, but she knew better - unfortunately she knew better. The few border patrols reported plentiful fish in the river, it wasn't a surprise that the often plump and pretentious Riverclan was fairing well in this drought. The she-cat snorted, they were going to look ridiculous at the next gathering. Windclan would be skinnier than ever, while Riverclan could hardly show their face without looking like a bunch of conceited, narcissistic snobs. They could be sharing their fresh-kill, but instead they've chosen to remain quiet.
Everyone's chosen to remain quiet.
The she-cat rolled onto her stomach, her eyes narrowed into small slits. She had spent the entirety of the day dozing in and out of consciousness. Since everyone was either too hungry, or too tired the camp was in an extended lull. Stormstar had slowed the patrols to a maximum of three per day, and a few hardy warriors chose to hunt on their own. Runningthorn had tried to help out in the beginning - in the beginning she was willing to do whatever she could to help her clan but as time slipped by she began not to bother. The tabby she-cat wasn't very strong, and the most useful she got was catching the occasional lizard. Her agile paws proved beneficial when to came to catching those sneaky buggers but everyone was getting sick of them, her included.
But she was getting bored.
She needed someone to talk to. Runningthorn adjusted her eyes, allowing herself to draw in the camp. A few apprentices lounged lazily in front of their den, while a couple warriors preoccupied themselves with a hushed discussion. They were probably trying to figure out a solution to their 'starvation' problem. The she-cat rolled her eyes, she could tell them right here and now, there was nothing they could do. When she got bored enough, and she couldn't find decent conversation she liked to leave camp for awhile and score the territory via foot. She liked to run, hence the name, it gave her a sense of calmness through all of this chaos. It let her think. But not once did she ever stumble upon a secret, hidden lair filled with prey. The land was barren and Shadowclan was out of luck.
Suddenly a large, grey shape caught her attention. The she-cat lifted her head, a small smile threading through her lips, Stormstar. She liked the tom. He was friendly, charismatic, and insanely attractive. Runningthorn climbed to her paws, and padded toward the tom in long, loping strides. They've only chatted a few times, he was far too busy for a mere warrior like herself, but she cherished the conversations fondly. He wasn't put off by her mile a minute tongue, and she enjoyed his charm. Bluntly put, she really liked him.
"How's it going?" She meowed in greeting, her eyes alive, cheeks tinged pink - she was a little bit in over her head.
Thunderclan had their fair share of scrawny mice and the forlorn rabbit. They also had squirrels and the occasional bird. When she got bored enough, Runningthorn liked to sit on the opposite side of the Thunderpath and watch what little prey she could find. A part of her wanted to dip beneath the tar and steal what she could scavenge, but she knew better - unfortunately she knew better. The few border patrols reported plentiful fish in the river, it wasn't a surprise that the often plump and pretentious Riverclan was fairing well in this drought. The she-cat snorted, they were going to look ridiculous at the next gathering. Windclan would be skinnier than ever, while Riverclan could hardly show their face without looking like a bunch of conceited, narcissistic snobs. They could be sharing their fresh-kill, but instead they've chosen to remain quiet.
Everyone's chosen to remain quiet.
The she-cat rolled onto her stomach, her eyes narrowed into small slits. She had spent the entirety of the day dozing in and out of consciousness. Since everyone was either too hungry, or too tired the camp was in an extended lull. Stormstar had slowed the patrols to a maximum of three per day, and a few hardy warriors chose to hunt on their own. Runningthorn had tried to help out in the beginning - in the beginning she was willing to do whatever she could to help her clan but as time slipped by she began not to bother. The tabby she-cat wasn't very strong, and the most useful she got was catching the occasional lizard. Her agile paws proved beneficial when to came to catching those sneaky buggers but everyone was getting sick of them, her included.
But she was getting bored.
She needed someone to talk to. Runningthorn adjusted her eyes, allowing herself to draw in the camp. A few apprentices lounged lazily in front of their den, while a couple warriors preoccupied themselves with a hushed discussion. They were probably trying to figure out a solution to their 'starvation' problem. The she-cat rolled her eyes, she could tell them right here and now, there was nothing they could do. When she got bored enough, and she couldn't find decent conversation she liked to leave camp for awhile and score the territory via foot. She liked to run, hence the name, it gave her a sense of calmness through all of this chaos. It let her think. But not once did she ever stumble upon a secret, hidden lair filled with prey. The land was barren and Shadowclan was out of luck.
Suddenly a large, grey shape caught her attention. The she-cat lifted her head, a small smile threading through her lips, Stormstar. She liked the tom. He was friendly, charismatic, and insanely attractive. Runningthorn climbed to her paws, and padded toward the tom in long, loping strides. They've only chatted a few times, he was far too busy for a mere warrior like herself, but she cherished the conversations fondly. He wasn't put off by her mile a minute tongue, and she enjoyed his charm. Bluntly put, she really liked him.
"How's it going?" She meowed in greeting, her eyes alive, cheeks tinged pink - she was a little bit in over her head.
