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| [fancypost bgcolor=#ffffff; bordercolor=#000000; borderwidth=2px; width: 420px; height: 300px; overflow: auto; text-align: center; color: #FF7E00; opacity: 0.6;] [size=14px] Before we begin, I feel I must assure you that your cat is not on drugs when they see this. Lo, the sun shone so brightly that day! Birds flitted from tree to tree in the late greenleaf air, relishing the heat before the cold winds of Leaffall snatched it from their tiny wings. Small clouds dotted the lightly darkening sky and the air smelled more metallic than usual, a clear sign that a light and welcome rainshower was on the way. Too bad no one gave a crap because the thick pine canopy blocked the entire dang thing. Dapples of light bespeckled the worn and barely seen trail that a lumbering beast slowly thundered down. Not many cats have ever seen a Galapagos tortoise before. Even fewer have seen a Galapagos tortoise with a broken red wagon tied to the top of his shell. While this may have seemed a bit cruel to do to a magnificent beast such as this, the tortoise didn't seem to mind it at all. He simply trotted down a worn path that scraped against the Shadowclan border. Though the path was relatively solid, the heavy reptile's feet still sank deeply into the mud, coating the greyish-green scales with filth. The tortoise had his head raised high in pleasure, apparently relishing the coolness on his feet and enjoying the marshy smell of the land. A small tune was strummed from a stringed instrument of some kind, though the exact source of the tune could not yet be seen by the random keen observer. It did appear to come from the wagon on the tortoise's back. Now, about that wagon. It swayed from left to right with the tortoise's slow strides, the many baubles hanging from its sides and its empty wheel axles clinking together harmoniously. It was filled with what could only be described as random junk, but interesting random junk all the same. Amid the pile of junk jutted two slender black ears, between which sat a rather grumpy looking hummingbird. The strumming suddenly stopped. "Oi Freddie, you have any idea where we're at?" came a distinctly American accent from the wagon. Well... while it was American, it seemed to have a few extra things in it. A low groaning noise reverberated from the tortoise that was so deep it would vibrate your core if you stood too close. Though the groan was unintelligible to the common cat, the guy in the wagon seemed to understand it perfectly. "Dude, I don't know what that is. Are you alright, mate?" Another groan. 'Freddie' lowered his head and slowly blinked, his beak-like mouth opening and closing aimlessly. The owner of the two ears poked his head out of the wagon, finally revealing himself to any passerby. The tuxedo tom looked distinctly like a kittypet, but somehow one would know that even among kittypets he would stick out like a sore thumb. From his deep obsidian colored eyes to the green scarf wrapped around his neck to the prominent cowlick on his forehead that stuck up like a beacon, every aspect of him seemed strange. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? We would have totally stopped." He was answered by yet another groan. "You can't walk off a stomach ache, Frederick. Not to mention the... uh..." The tom lifted a paw and coughed into it so he could avoid discussing the subject of constipation. "Well, I don't know what to do now. You should have said something when we were at that forest bar with all of those squirrels." A small chirp came from the blue hummingbird that sat on the cat's head. Even though not many cats could understand the bird language, it still sounded extremely condescending. The cat, of course, understood the chirp and turned towards the Shadowclan border. After a second of not-so-careful thought, the tuxedo tom suddenly brightened. "Yeah! They might help! Don't all clans have some sort of witchy-voodoo cat that can use leaf magic or whatever and make everything better?" The hummingbird buried her head into her chestfeathers. She had obviously meant to point out the Shadowclan border to warn the tom and get the crew moving, but, as per usual, the guy was too stupid and naive to understand that they don't want some weird guy striding into their marshland. The tuxedo tom pushed the ukulele he had been playing earlier aside and jumped out of the wagon. He immediately shrieked. "Eeeeew! It's muddy!" He pranced up and down on his tip toes in disgust. "My paws are white! I can't stand mud!" After a few seconds of girlish panic, a low groan from the tortoise silenced the tuxedo tom. "Oh. Right." The cat planted his paws onto the ground and raised his head triumphantly. "I have a purpose! I will walk across a thousand muddy fields for you, Frederick!" He quickly checked under his paw. "But I'm still going to take a loooong bubble bath after this." And so the cat started off into Shadowclan territory, a hummingbird perched upon his head, a neon green scarf slung over his shoulders, and obviously not attempting to hide from anyone. In fact, he looked more like he was walking across hot coals than knowing trespassing into one of the most powerful clan's territory. He simply wandered onwards, hoping to meet someone who could help, all the while softly mumbling under his breath as his pristine white paws were soiled. "Gross, gross, gross, ew, ew, gross..." [/size] |
[c] Wendigo
