Every warriors universe has their own beliefs and ways. And yet Hemlockshade is forced to live in one where he isn't accepted.
The young feline has been running from his problems since he was a kit. Escaping the ones who had tried to kill him, he...
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chapter two . ༉‧₊˚✧ . ˚
The sun began to rise higher in the sky as Hemlockshade padded back towards the camp, his eyes focused on the path ahead. His black tail swayed to and fro as he began to become lost in his own thoughts. He loved Woollysheep, more than anything. He made him feel wanted in the village. He didn't have many felines he could rely on; him, Troutdip, and Tansycloud were the only ones he could talk to. The rest of the village judged him for his pelt color: a solid black pelt wasn't accepted in either village. He didn't really know why, but they called him a beast. He blinked his dull-green eyes. Why? He's never done anything to upset anyone. He's lived quietly in the village, doing tasks assigned to him and trying to never disappoint anyone. He faintly remembered how he stumbled across the village. Wounded, scared, and alone. They accepted him, but at the cost of feeling as if no one wants him in the village. However, despite being an outcast, he felt safer in the village than out there in the wilderness, alone.
He glanced up to the sky above him. Dark clouds were beginning to form over the trees. Leaf-fall was here, and prey would be harder to find. Since the territory was so large, they never starved or went weeks without prey. However, they would all be hibernating or consumed by other predators like hawks or coyotes. Perhaps he should hunt something and bring it to Fernwisp? He knew the pregnant she-cat's favorite prey; shrew. He would often observe the activity of the village and he noticed her eat shrew a lot more often than other prey. He didn't usually bring others prey or do kind acts for others, but maybe they'd look at him differently, rather than some sort of beast.
The oriental black tomcat gapped his mouth open, letting the scents flood to the roof of his mouth. He shut his eyes softly and concentrated. He scented mouse and robin, but the rain scent also flooded his senses. He opened his eyes. Maybe I should go further. Maybe the moors. He turned around and started towards the moors, trotting along the path, his eyes darting to any movement as if he was going to be attacked any moment. He had always been a jumpy feline, but that had partly due to his kithood, and it didn't much help growing up in a civilization where others hated you for your pelt color.
Padding into the open moors he gapped his mouth open again. The strong scent of the Peldin Province hit him like a wave, making him stop in his tracks. His eyes glazed over the territory, which was split by a large river. The rushing water was loud and obnoxious. He glanced around the territory to see if he could see any Peldin cats, but he didn't see any. Their marks were fresh, so maybe they were still here, even if he couldn't see anyone.
Hemlockshade walked around for a few moments, his eyes looking for some sort of prey, specifically a shrew. There had to be one around here; they usually liked it by the water. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest as a morning dove let out an alarm cry and flew away in front of him, just a fox length away. His fur stood on end and his eyes were wide with shock. Stupid bird, he thought, angrily.
