Post by Dragon on Jan 30, 2009 22:59:20 GMT -5
Owlstar's soft paws laid softly upon the frozen ground. His single eye was narrowed against a feeble yet cold breeze. His ginger fur had grown out to his full leaf-bare coat and he had no trouble staying warm on the frigid day.
He pushed through the bare tendrils of the willow branches and raised his nose to scent the cool air. It was fresh, clean and free of danger, but he was still cautious. He took a few weary paw steps into the open. There was a space between the willow trees and the fronds of horsetail, and the open space was when he was most vulnerable.
Owlstar's swiveled in either direction, his sight was no longer perfect and he relied on his hearing most of the time to keep him from danger. He lowered his broad, scarred head and stalked further into the small clearing.
His paws were turned damp by clinging dew that hung onto the blades of grass despite it being nearly sun-high. He briefly glanced to the clouded sky. The sun glowered down on the cold day, its warm rays unable to penetrate the suffocating fog. The old leader let out a tiny sigh.
Owlstar shook his head violently, then hurried across the open space. He nosed into the dying fronds of Horsetail. The frost was biting into their roots and killing them ever so slowly. The leader knew though, that the horsetail would revive itself again in New-leaf and nothing would be lost.
He picked his paws up, and shook each one of them, one at a time indignantly as chilly mud squeezed between his toes. Owlstar tried not to get his belly covered in muck when he saw what had become of his beloved river.
It was shimmering in deathly beauty, the suns weak rays reflected off the surface. Owlstar's bottom jaw had dropped in shock, and he didn't notice as he sank into the mud. His river, was frozen.
He had only wanted to fish for Riverclan to fill the empty bellies of his cats. But his plan had been driven to screeching halt. He put out a paw and touched the gleaming surface. It was cold like a shrew's frozen body. He let out a soft hiss and struggled from the grimy clutches of the mud. The old leader leaped onto the clearing, and stumbled back into the willow tendrils. In all his moons he had only seen his river freeze over once.
Owlstar let out another sigh, this time for hopeless and defeated. This may be a difficult leaf-bare...
He pushed through the bare tendrils of the willow branches and raised his nose to scent the cool air. It was fresh, clean and free of danger, but he was still cautious. He took a few weary paw steps into the open. There was a space between the willow trees and the fronds of horsetail, and the open space was when he was most vulnerable.
Owlstar's swiveled in either direction, his sight was no longer perfect and he relied on his hearing most of the time to keep him from danger. He lowered his broad, scarred head and stalked further into the small clearing.
His paws were turned damp by clinging dew that hung onto the blades of grass despite it being nearly sun-high. He briefly glanced to the clouded sky. The sun glowered down on the cold day, its warm rays unable to penetrate the suffocating fog. The old leader let out a tiny sigh.
Owlstar shook his head violently, then hurried across the open space. He nosed into the dying fronds of Horsetail. The frost was biting into their roots and killing them ever so slowly. The leader knew though, that the horsetail would revive itself again in New-leaf and nothing would be lost.
He picked his paws up, and shook each one of them, one at a time indignantly as chilly mud squeezed between his toes. Owlstar tried not to get his belly covered in muck when he saw what had become of his beloved river.
It was shimmering in deathly beauty, the suns weak rays reflected off the surface. Owlstar's bottom jaw had dropped in shock, and he didn't notice as he sank into the mud. His river, was frozen.
He had only wanted to fish for Riverclan to fill the empty bellies of his cats. But his plan had been driven to screeching halt. He put out a paw and touched the gleaming surface. It was cold like a shrew's frozen body. He let out a soft hiss and struggled from the grimy clutches of the mud. The old leader leaped onto the clearing, and stumbled back into the willow tendrils. In all his moons he had only seen his river freeze over once.
Owlstar let out another sigh, this time for hopeless and defeated. This may be a difficult leaf-bare...
