Post by rain on Aug 11, 2008 9:50:46 GMT -5
SILKENTHORN.
Masterful paws led his easy gait, the gentle swishing of his tail releasing no sense of urgency. No, Silkenthorn had all of the time in the world. His nostrils bend around the familiar scents of the forest, a comfortable sigh slipping from his lips; this really was perfect. He loved the Woodlands as much as he loved the rest of Thunderclan. There was something about being here, knowing that this was where he was supposed to be…it was almost as is Starclan had placed him here for some unknown reason. After all, what had he done that was fantastic? He’d yet to play a part in any ground-breaking scenes that might shift the future of the Clan forever. So why was he meant to be here? Because he was. It was simple, leaving nothing to ponder. He was here, so obviously, he was meant to be here. And that was the end of that.
Keen ears flutter atop his head, taking in the near-silent steps laid by small hooves. Swiftly ducking into the shelter of a nearby bush, Silkenthorn quiets his breathing as a doe and her fawn amble past his hiding place. His amazed eyes trace the delicate motions of their slim appendages, how they seemed to dance across the forest floor. He watched with interest as the mother deer paused to sniff at a patch of grass, her baby skidding to a halt beside her as he awaited their departure.
A far-off noise echoed through the forest, too far away to put a label on, but enough to startle the magnificent creatures. The doe immediately sprang off, her lithe limbs charging forwards. The youngling followed at once, gracefully falling into stride beside his mother. “Goodbye, little one,” Silkenthorn murmured, emerging from the bush. He stared in the direction in which the deer had disappeared, a contemplating gaze held by his sage eyes. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, his stare grew sharp once more. He gave his frothy pelt a good shake, freeing it from traces of leaves that had been discarded by the bush.
Silkenthorn picked up a steady jog, heading nowhere in particular, just enjoying the sweet harmony of motion. He couldn’t move quite as gracefully as the deer, but that was the way of nature. Starclan had blessed him with a sharp mind and claws instead of a dancing gait and, to be frank, he was glad. They were pretty enough to look at, but a wince was drawn across his features at the thought of what might happen if that little fawn happened across a hungry wolf. The way of the predator was natural, yes, but sometimes it seemed a bit too savage for Silkenthorn’s taste.
He slid to a stop beside a small puddle, bowing to lap at the water. Rising from the pool, his tongue lashing over his dampened whiskers, Silkenthorn lowers himself into a sitting position. He had enjoyed his stroll so far, but soon it would be time to return to camp. He almost wished he had some kind of company to join him on the hike back to the Thunderclan camp.
Masterful paws led his easy gait, the gentle swishing of his tail releasing no sense of urgency. No, Silkenthorn had all of the time in the world. His nostrils bend around the familiar scents of the forest, a comfortable sigh slipping from his lips; this really was perfect. He loved the Woodlands as much as he loved the rest of Thunderclan. There was something about being here, knowing that this was where he was supposed to be…it was almost as is Starclan had placed him here for some unknown reason. After all, what had he done that was fantastic? He’d yet to play a part in any ground-breaking scenes that might shift the future of the Clan forever. So why was he meant to be here? Because he was. It was simple, leaving nothing to ponder. He was here, so obviously, he was meant to be here. And that was the end of that.
Keen ears flutter atop his head, taking in the near-silent steps laid by small hooves. Swiftly ducking into the shelter of a nearby bush, Silkenthorn quiets his breathing as a doe and her fawn amble past his hiding place. His amazed eyes trace the delicate motions of their slim appendages, how they seemed to dance across the forest floor. He watched with interest as the mother deer paused to sniff at a patch of grass, her baby skidding to a halt beside her as he awaited their departure.
A far-off noise echoed through the forest, too far away to put a label on, but enough to startle the magnificent creatures. The doe immediately sprang off, her lithe limbs charging forwards. The youngling followed at once, gracefully falling into stride beside his mother. “Goodbye, little one,” Silkenthorn murmured, emerging from the bush. He stared in the direction in which the deer had disappeared, a contemplating gaze held by his sage eyes. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, his stare grew sharp once more. He gave his frothy pelt a good shake, freeing it from traces of leaves that had been discarded by the bush.
Silkenthorn picked up a steady jog, heading nowhere in particular, just enjoying the sweet harmony of motion. He couldn’t move quite as gracefully as the deer, but that was the way of nature. Starclan had blessed him with a sharp mind and claws instead of a dancing gait and, to be frank, he was glad. They were pretty enough to look at, but a wince was drawn across his features at the thought of what might happen if that little fawn happened across a hungry wolf. The way of the predator was natural, yes, but sometimes it seemed a bit too savage for Silkenthorn’s taste.
He slid to a stop beside a small puddle, bowing to lap at the water. Rising from the pool, his tongue lashing over his dampened whiskers, Silkenthorn lowers himself into a sitting position. He had enjoyed his stroll so far, but soon it would be time to return to camp. He almost wished he had some kind of company to join him on the hike back to the Thunderclan camp.