Post by εℓιzαвεтн. on Jun 30, 2015 11:34:16 GMT -5
ooc; Carotius for Varuin c:
ic;
Grassthorn was out alone, as he often was, wondering yet again along one of the borders. He was pacing near the corner of land that simultaneously touched the open, unclaimed fields, and the river that marked the difference between Stormclan and Midnightclan. Wind had been rushing through the forest as the last of the sun dipped below the ocean, bringing with it the smell of rain. A storm was coming, but that was hardly unusual for greenleaf nights. The hot sun seemed to dry up every pond and puddle in the territory, only for the sky to drop it all back down during the night. Used to the schedule the weather had created, most of the clan cats seemed to just stay in for the night, excluding the few patrols sent to make sure the borders were secure.
The warriors seemed on edge after the attack from Talonclan. Grassthorn didn't necessarily feel the same unease; he loved to fight, especially for his clan. Fighting is what kept him sane. It was hard to tell if this came from his history of constant physical and verbal altercations with his clanmates or if had been like that since a kit. Whatever the reason, the battle with the mountain cats hadn't put him on the edge of worry. It made him keener, calmer. He felt prepared. And he wanted to actually be prepared for any other attacks the Talonclan cats could be preparing, which is why he currently walked along the border closest to the mountain, scanning the dark fields for signs of other cats.
He wasn't uneasy; he was itching for another fight.
ic;
Grassthorn was out alone, as he often was, wondering yet again along one of the borders. He was pacing near the corner of land that simultaneously touched the open, unclaimed fields, and the river that marked the difference between Stormclan and Midnightclan. Wind had been rushing through the forest as the last of the sun dipped below the ocean, bringing with it the smell of rain. A storm was coming, but that was hardly unusual for greenleaf nights. The hot sun seemed to dry up every pond and puddle in the territory, only for the sky to drop it all back down during the night. Used to the schedule the weather had created, most of the clan cats seemed to just stay in for the night, excluding the few patrols sent to make sure the borders were secure.
The warriors seemed on edge after the attack from Talonclan. Grassthorn didn't necessarily feel the same unease; he loved to fight, especially for his clan. Fighting is what kept him sane. It was hard to tell if this came from his history of constant physical and verbal altercations with his clanmates or if had been like that since a kit. Whatever the reason, the battle with the mountain cats hadn't put him on the edge of worry. It made him keener, calmer. He felt prepared. And he wanted to actually be prepared for any other attacks the Talonclan cats could be preparing, which is why he currently walked along the border closest to the mountain, scanning the dark fields for signs of other cats.
He wasn't uneasy; he was itching for another fight.