Post by Dragon on Jul 10, 2009 19:21:24 GMT -5
Owlstar stared at the cats who went about their lives in quiet groups. The endless world seemed undisturbed at the days passed by as the time ticked away. His inner silence seemed eternal, his own rank within the many was an dream in itself.
The breeze with a breathy sigh against his thick pelt of ginger fur. He continued his timely watching. The world rotated around nothing particularity as each soul went about their lives.
Mice, in their silent dens wondered in fear in when their last day was to be. Their black eyes emotionless and blank. Only when hunger struck their tiny bodies would they venture into the dark realm of the unforgiving forest. Even in their haste they disturbed the silently decaying leaves that rest upon their dens. In that their fate was promised to meet the glinting claws of their feline enemies.
Even the birds worried of their destiny at their end of life. But they harbor little more intelligence then the scurrying mouse. Though they fly through the tree tops avoiding the gnarled branches with practiced agility and swiftness. Only when they land on the woodland floor to feed on the insects they so desire. They scuffle through grass and rot to feed on their personal delicacies that could cause them untimely demise.
He could continue his thought of the meek prey that lurked in the forest, but there were larger things that caught his melancholy thinking. The world gyrated about predators. The most fearsome and bloodthirsty harbored the most interest. Owlstar could think of many predators that at one point struck terror in his heart. The Wolf. The Badger. The Fox. All fears of the common cat, the reason why they hide in their reclusive dens and stalk in the shadows of the night.
One that sent chilling horror down his spine was the wolf. He could recall pain, tormenting, agony soaked pain. The smell of blood hung in his nostrils, and a cool sweat dampened his brow. The scarred tom was forced to recall how he had earned some of his scars. A single eye... No tail... ravaged ears... mangled paw... And an unseemly limp that caused him moons of pain.
Owlstar could remember the day as clearly as it was happening to him now. The ebony blackness that surrounded everything in its choking grip. He had his night eyes glinting in the darkness, but he could smell the danger that was coming. Nothing stopped his from continuing on though. Then, the wolf came. He would never back down from such a challenge. First to happen, was his paw, crushed in a grip full of deadly fangs. That wasn't the end to the suffering. With use of only three paws he barely stood a chance.
The tom remembered the rank smell of the wolf's hot breath on his skin. And the sick sensation as a canine tooth pierced the green eye. The bloodloss was phenomenal, Owlstar could hardly believe he had survive, none the less fight back, but he did... he had to. The world was odd without the other eye, he knew he would never be able to see through that eye ever again. He had rebounded, wet with his own blood while the wolf barely bled from his few scratches. Right after he struck his first solid blow, his tail was caught in the same grasp his paw had been in.
His entire body had been thrown as easily as he would've tossed a squirrel. Then, the ripping. When his tail finally broke free from his body he was sent hurtling through the air. Now, he was enraged. He had seized impossible strength, his will to live. He hadn't wanted to die but from the taste of blood of his tongue he was sure the light would free his from his agony. The wolf was ended. A bleeding wound to the throat ended one impossible mutt. Owlstar was bittersweet on his decision to live that fateful night.
The ginger cat no longer wanted to think of the other predators in the forest. It brought him ill will, and pain to his old body. He straightened himself on dry grass he lay on, he glanced at the high sun. The glowing orb moved in the sky, nearly beginning to descend once more into darkness. All he had was to sleep and maybe he would hunt afterward. He couldn't guess where his lasting path lay, but he did know it was naptime and all was well.
The breeze with a breathy sigh against his thick pelt of ginger fur. He continued his timely watching. The world rotated around nothing particularity as each soul went about their lives.
Mice, in their silent dens wondered in fear in when their last day was to be. Their black eyes emotionless and blank. Only when hunger struck their tiny bodies would they venture into the dark realm of the unforgiving forest. Even in their haste they disturbed the silently decaying leaves that rest upon their dens. In that their fate was promised to meet the glinting claws of their feline enemies.
Even the birds worried of their destiny at their end of life. But they harbor little more intelligence then the scurrying mouse. Though they fly through the tree tops avoiding the gnarled branches with practiced agility and swiftness. Only when they land on the woodland floor to feed on the insects they so desire. They scuffle through grass and rot to feed on their personal delicacies that could cause them untimely demise.
He could continue his thought of the meek prey that lurked in the forest, but there were larger things that caught his melancholy thinking. The world gyrated about predators. The most fearsome and bloodthirsty harbored the most interest. Owlstar could think of many predators that at one point struck terror in his heart. The Wolf. The Badger. The Fox. All fears of the common cat, the reason why they hide in their reclusive dens and stalk in the shadows of the night.
One that sent chilling horror down his spine was the wolf. He could recall pain, tormenting, agony soaked pain. The smell of blood hung in his nostrils, and a cool sweat dampened his brow. The scarred tom was forced to recall how he had earned some of his scars. A single eye... No tail... ravaged ears... mangled paw... And an unseemly limp that caused him moons of pain.
Owlstar could remember the day as clearly as it was happening to him now. The ebony blackness that surrounded everything in its choking grip. He had his night eyes glinting in the darkness, but he could smell the danger that was coming. Nothing stopped his from continuing on though. Then, the wolf came. He would never back down from such a challenge. First to happen, was his paw, crushed in a grip full of deadly fangs. That wasn't the end to the suffering. With use of only three paws he barely stood a chance.
The tom remembered the rank smell of the wolf's hot breath on his skin. And the sick sensation as a canine tooth pierced the green eye. The bloodloss was phenomenal, Owlstar could hardly believe he had survive, none the less fight back, but he did... he had to. The world was odd without the other eye, he knew he would never be able to see through that eye ever again. He had rebounded, wet with his own blood while the wolf barely bled from his few scratches. Right after he struck his first solid blow, his tail was caught in the same grasp his paw had been in.
His entire body had been thrown as easily as he would've tossed a squirrel. Then, the ripping. When his tail finally broke free from his body he was sent hurtling through the air. Now, he was enraged. He had seized impossible strength, his will to live. He hadn't wanted to die but from the taste of blood of his tongue he was sure the light would free his from his agony. The wolf was ended. A bleeding wound to the throat ended one impossible mutt. Owlstar was bittersweet on his decision to live that fateful night.
The ginger cat no longer wanted to think of the other predators in the forest. It brought him ill will, and pain to his old body. He straightened himself on dry grass he lay on, he glanced at the high sun. The glowing orb moved in the sky, nearly beginning to descend once more into darkness. All he had was to sleep and maybe he would hunt afterward. He couldn't guess where his lasting path lay, but he did know it was naptime and all was well.
