Cry me a river.... (open)
Nov 25, 2013 10:57:25 GMT -8
Nov 25, 2013 10:57:25 GMT -8
White.
The camp was full of it, the territories were full of it, and worst of all, the river was white ice.
A desolate sense of unease and inability to do anything weighed Flintstar down…. Though not physically. At the moment he was pacing back and forth in front of his den across the spongy ground, having long since removed or trampled the snow with his large paws. The cold and the small flakes of snow that littered his pelt like icy cobwebs were ignored as he grimly considered his situation. Most of his warriors had been sent out, they had to be if the clan was to have enough food. For once he felt truly worried about his clan. It was said that Riverclan had always been the more fortunate, with their almost constant food supply from the river. They seemed to be the ones who were the best fed during leafbare. Most of the time. But now with the river frozen over…. His clan, though not defenseless was vulnerable.
And Flintstar was not in the least pleased.
He stopped then, closing his eyes to take a deep breath. His anger and worry was partly due to the fact that his mother had recently died. It bothered him that he had not been strong enough to save her. But if he could not focus himself and his thoughts, he would not be able to care for his clan. Suffering was just a part of daily life and the death of his mother had not been all that unexpected. She had been willing to give herself for the rest of Riverclan, to give up her share of food which would have been in a way wasted. She had saved another young life and given hers instead. Not that she had had much life left anyway. Even so, Flintstar missed her, and he knew that Blackstone would miss her just as much.
Riverclan needed a strong and able leader to watch over and lead them in this tough time. Flintstar was doing his best but he wasn't entirely sure what more he could do. Right now, most of the hunting was being done in the wetlands further down, or up by where the twolegs were. He sneered at that. How pitiful he would seem to the other clans for sent his warriors to hunt there. But the warmth of being near twoleg nests had made it possible to, in some places, break through the ice to get to fish and their other usual prey.
It was the best that could be done, and Flintstar knew it.
Today Flintstar was in camp, trying to think through some other strategies that might be able to get his clan more food. Right now they were surviving, but he feared that a worse blizzard would come. The tom briefly considered stealing prey from Windclan but decided against it. His clan would not consent to breaking the warrior code unless absolutely necessary.
All Flintstar could do now was ponder what he would do next. So he sat there just outside his den seeming as a cat turned to stone. Except for his bright eyes, which held more color and life than the rest of the camp combined.
The camp was full of it, the territories were full of it, and worst of all, the river was white ice.
A desolate sense of unease and inability to do anything weighed Flintstar down…. Though not physically. At the moment he was pacing back and forth in front of his den across the spongy ground, having long since removed or trampled the snow with his large paws. The cold and the small flakes of snow that littered his pelt like icy cobwebs were ignored as he grimly considered his situation. Most of his warriors had been sent out, they had to be if the clan was to have enough food. For once he felt truly worried about his clan. It was said that Riverclan had always been the more fortunate, with their almost constant food supply from the river. They seemed to be the ones who were the best fed during leafbare. Most of the time. But now with the river frozen over…. His clan, though not defenseless was vulnerable.
And Flintstar was not in the least pleased.
He stopped then, closing his eyes to take a deep breath. His anger and worry was partly due to the fact that his mother had recently died. It bothered him that he had not been strong enough to save her. But if he could not focus himself and his thoughts, he would not be able to care for his clan. Suffering was just a part of daily life and the death of his mother had not been all that unexpected. She had been willing to give herself for the rest of Riverclan, to give up her share of food which would have been in a way wasted. She had saved another young life and given hers instead. Not that she had had much life left anyway. Even so, Flintstar missed her, and he knew that Blackstone would miss her just as much.
Riverclan needed a strong and able leader to watch over and lead them in this tough time. Flintstar was doing his best but he wasn't entirely sure what more he could do. Right now, most of the hunting was being done in the wetlands further down, or up by where the twolegs were. He sneered at that. How pitiful he would seem to the other clans for sent his warriors to hunt there. But the warmth of being near twoleg nests had made it possible to, in some places, break through the ice to get to fish and their other usual prey.
It was the best that could be done, and Flintstar knew it.
Today Flintstar was in camp, trying to think through some other strategies that might be able to get his clan more food. Right now they were surviving, but he feared that a worse blizzard would come. The tom briefly considered stealing prey from Windclan but decided against it. His clan would not consent to breaking the warrior code unless absolutely necessary.
All Flintstar could do now was ponder what he would do next. So he sat there just outside his den seeming as a cat turned to stone. Except for his bright eyes, which held more color and life than the rest of the camp combined.