Warriors | One-shots

Scriptorial || Round Gamma «Entry»

❝ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ's sᴏɴɢ ɪs ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴ. ❞

✧ ༻⋆ ✿ ⋆༺ ✧

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ | sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ | 997

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ᴀ ᴘ ʀ ɪ ᴄ ɪ ᴛ ʏ ᴄ ʟ ᴀ ɴ
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Leaves danced playfully as a chilly breeze blew by, carrying a few of them to the horizon. The aspen trees ran tall, standing silently like sentinels, threatening any passersby that carried ill intentions. The rising sun dispatched a unit of light down to patrol ApricityClan's territory, covering the forest with a brilliant shine.

The bengal she-cat ran, her paws seeming to barely brush the ground. The sensation was that of swimming expertly through water, instead of running steadily across the grassy forest floor - fluid instead of solid.

The grass was plentiful, despite the cold, each blade dripping with morning dew, forming their own waterfalls as it bent down from the weight. Hints of flowers poked around at certain corners of the forest, hiding themselves from Leaf-fall's cold.

The she-cat paused and turned her tawny head behind her. "Hurry up, Sleethawk!"

A streak of silver appeared beside her, abruptly stopping. Sleethawk raised his head, panting slightly.

Mountains in the distance reached up to the sky, seemingly attempting to compete with the sun. The familiar smell of aspen lingered around Jaguarstrike's nose, making her smile unconsciously. Birds chipped as they woke, greeting the morning enthusiastically.

Jaguarstrike resumed her run after Sleethawk caught his breath, lavishing the chilly breeze that ruffled her fur while she ran. She took note of the aspen trees that offered ApricityClan protection, feeling grateful.

She clawed her way up onto a high branch, looking down at her Clan's territory. She felt her lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery, and a warm feeling rushed up her chest. Home.

She directed her iridescent green eyes to a large pile of pebbles that was stacked up neatly - it was high, and seemingly mystical. She faintly heard the sound of Sleethawk clawing up the tree as she closed her eyes, reminiscing.

"Why do we each own a pebble?" Jaguarkit asked, pawing at her pebble.

Quiverfeather, an elder, chucked. "It is a tradition, little one. Every cat has a pebble which they mark with their claw mark. Our claws are powerful enough to make a small dent in them."

"What about stillborn kits?" Jaguarkit asked, wide-eyed.

"Their pebble will be stacked on Pebble Hill, unmarked," Quiverfeather responses, shaking her head slightly. "A true tragedy."

Jaguarstrike exhaled softly, opening her eyes. My parents' pebbles are among others'.

She felt Sleethawk give her a tiny nudge with his nose, hinting that they should get down to walk somewhere else. After they were down, Jaguarstrike took some time to let the scenery of brilliant golden leaves of the aspen trees sink in. A true beauty, she mused.

They continued, this time walking. Sleethawk stayed silent, but his presence always lingered around Jaguarstrike, making her feel safe. This is the closest I can get to solitude without panicking.