Post by lion on Nov 23, 2012 18:23:41 GMT -5
[style=padding:5px;][style=font-family:verdana; font-size:16px; text-align:left;]RATE YOURSELF AND RAKE YOURSELF He raked his claws down the rough pine bark, feeling his nails bump between the cracks and crevices already formed on the trunk. Landing his two forepaws lightly on the ground, he looked up at where he tore through the bark, already smelling sap beginning to ooze out from the trees new wounds. He turned then, looking down at the ground as his hard, quiet steps took him across fallen pine needles and dirt.
Today camp was crowded, there were too many cats around, too many elders wailing for their apprentices, or otherwise should be known as temporary slaves. Too many kits screaming out from play, too many warriors passing by, talking, staring, whispering, judging... And somehow, in the deepest, most remote corners of camp, he was still in the middle of everything. He had to leave, he needed quiet, he needed to be alone.
Dark amber eyes looked up. A tree, one that had seen better days. It was like the rest, only it was laying on the ground, sleeping forever, indifferent to the bugs that crawled under its skin and the moss and mushrooms and grew all around it and fed off of whatever life force it had left in it. He stopped and stared at it for a while, feeling empathetic toward the tree. He most definitely had bugs crawling under his skin, making him feel uncomfortable and uneasy. And there were those who fed off of his life force, depending on him to hunt the prey and feed those who couldn't do so themselves. Depending on him to go to battle for the sake of their lives. But there was one thing that Lionstorm was that the tree wasn't; he was still standing tall.
Today camp was crowded, there were too many cats around, too many elders wailing for their apprentices, or otherwise should be known as temporary slaves. Too many kits screaming out from play, too many warriors passing by, talking, staring, whispering, judging... And somehow, in the deepest, most remote corners of camp, he was still in the middle of everything. He had to leave, he needed quiet, he needed to be alone.
Dark amber eyes looked up. A tree, one that had seen better days. It was like the rest, only it was laying on the ground, sleeping forever, indifferent to the bugs that crawled under its skin and the moss and mushrooms and grew all around it and fed off of whatever life force it had left in it. He stopped and stared at it for a while, feeling empathetic toward the tree. He most definitely had bugs crawling under his skin, making him feel uncomfortable and uneasy. And there were those who fed off of his life force, depending on him to hunt the prey and feed those who couldn't do so themselves. Depending on him to go to battle for the sake of their lives. But there was one thing that Lionstorm was that the tree wasn't; he was still standing tall.
TAKE ALL THE COURAGE YOU HAVE LEFT
WASTE IT ON FIXING ALL THE PROBLEMS
ooc : out of character chatter [style=font-size:10px; text-align:center;]image by play4smee on flickr
[/color][/style]THAT YOU MADE IN YOUR OWN HEAD
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