[fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 400px;][justify][size=8][font=arial]Hopefully this was the right place. Oh Maker, please be the right place! Forgingpaw was out of his element, sent out on search of Shadowclan with gifts as part of his weekly tasks. But where was Shadowclan? He knew not. The hulking liger cub had never set paw anywhere near this place, nor had he heard much about it. But this was his mission, his duty, and he was going to complete if it was the last thing he did. Imperialstar was counting on him to do his duty as a loyal member, and he couldn't let down his not-dad.
Despite the cast amount of anxiety filling his disproportionate body and pumping through his veins, the hybrid predator sat still as a statue, molten copper eyes smoldering like a dormant volcano. Be cool, he told himself. Be James Bond.