Post by frosty ♥ on Nov 1, 2007 14:56:29 GMT -5
Name/Nickname: Frostfeather/ Frosteh
[glow=grey,2,300]Bravepaw[/glow]
A flash of grey, almost black, fur flew past. Lean, sharp muscles propelled the creature in smooth, rhythmic movements over the moorland. I t -which definitely was a cat- gave a tremendous leap over a wide ditch with only a faint rustle as the tom landed in the grass.
His eyes were vivid against his shadow-like pelt for they were a stunning dark blue which showed his deep determination.
Suddenly the tom slid to a stop, ears pricked, and then slowly sank into a clean crouch. His eyes scanned his surroundings until it stopped where some long grass fluttered gently in the breeze. He grinned and slowly brought himself forward without the slightest of sounds. In the moment where he began to rock his haunches, a rabbit shot out from the grass in a flurry of fear.
The chase began. The young cat dashed after it, his paws were silent as the rabbits own feet thumped hard against the rough moor. He could feel its tiny heart beating and his whiskers twitched with anticipation of sinking his teeth into warm prey. With a boost of energy he charged forward with this, his claws caught the rabbit’s hips and it fell. Immediately he pinned down with little effort.
The tomcat stared down at his helpless prey as it lay beneath him with beady, black eyes wide. It had stopped thrashing and was waiting for the final blow of death. Sighing softly he looked up at the stars which were twinkling down upon him. He sent a prayer of thanks to StarClan then quickly bit the rabbit’s neck causing it to go limp.
He picked up the fresh-kill, that was quite large even though it was leafbare, and started for camp. He didn’t want puncture his kill so he tried hard to lift his head high so it wouldn’t drag against the ground. The weight of the creature hurt his neck somewhat but he wasn’t about to give up.
The young grey tom’s name was Bravepaw, it suited him well. He was an athletic tom, never really the one to quit first. His personality is high spirited; it’s hard to get him down unless the other cat has done some serious damage. He can talk a little to fast but still understandable. The tomcat is brave and as loyal as can be, obvious since his name demonstrates that. When he was first born he wasn’t going for creamy milk his mother had but going exploring, another reason his name was Bravepaw. He has also seen nine moons of life.
Bravepaw slipped into camp and placed his kill into the pile of scrawny fresh-kill. The clan would be thankful for the large, meaty rabbit. Bravepaw longed to take a bite but knew it wasn’t his right. With a yawn he sat down and began to groom his ruffled pelt.
[glow=grey,2,300]Bravepaw[/glow]
A flash of grey, almost black, fur flew past. Lean, sharp muscles propelled the creature in smooth, rhythmic movements over the moorland. I t -which definitely was a cat- gave a tremendous leap over a wide ditch with only a faint rustle as the tom landed in the grass.
His eyes were vivid against his shadow-like pelt for they were a stunning dark blue which showed his deep determination.
Suddenly the tom slid to a stop, ears pricked, and then slowly sank into a clean crouch. His eyes scanned his surroundings until it stopped where some long grass fluttered gently in the breeze. He grinned and slowly brought himself forward without the slightest of sounds. In the moment where he began to rock his haunches, a rabbit shot out from the grass in a flurry of fear.
The chase began. The young cat dashed after it, his paws were silent as the rabbits own feet thumped hard against the rough moor. He could feel its tiny heart beating and his whiskers twitched with anticipation of sinking his teeth into warm prey. With a boost of energy he charged forward with this, his claws caught the rabbit’s hips and it fell. Immediately he pinned down with little effort.
The tomcat stared down at his helpless prey as it lay beneath him with beady, black eyes wide. It had stopped thrashing and was waiting for the final blow of death. Sighing softly he looked up at the stars which were twinkling down upon him. He sent a prayer of thanks to StarClan then quickly bit the rabbit’s neck causing it to go limp.
He picked up the fresh-kill, that was quite large even though it was leafbare, and started for camp. He didn’t want puncture his kill so he tried hard to lift his head high so it wouldn’t drag against the ground. The weight of the creature hurt his neck somewhat but he wasn’t about to give up.
The young grey tom’s name was Bravepaw, it suited him well. He was an athletic tom, never really the one to quit first. His personality is high spirited; it’s hard to get him down unless the other cat has done some serious damage. He can talk a little to fast but still understandable. The tomcat is brave and as loyal as can be, obvious since his name demonstrates that. When he was first born he wasn’t going for creamy milk his mother had but going exploring, another reason his name was Bravepaw. He has also seen nine moons of life.
Bravepaw slipped into camp and placed his kill into the pile of scrawny fresh-kill. The clan would be thankful for the large, meaty rabbit. Bravepaw longed to take a bite but knew it wasn’t his right. With a yawn he sat down and began to groom his ruffled pelt.
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