[fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 500px;][justify][size=8][font=arial]Two years. Two long years. Two years since he disappeared without a trace. Two years since he saw his mate, Chillygaze. Two years since he saw his son, Onering - he was Onestar then. Forgingswords missed them dearly. He was never a very good father, and the last time he spoke to Chilly, she reprimanded him for abandoning them. Forge did not know why he found it so difficult to stay in one place. He thought he was too much like his father, his first father: Coppermine. Copper found it hard to stay too. Forgingswords often wondered what would have happened if he had stayed. Would he know his own children beyond their first names? Would he have more than just one litter? Would he have been a good father like he always hoped? But it was all useless speculation. No amount of daydreaming on what he missed would bring them back. They were gone.
He had died, though he could never recollect exactly how he met his demise. One moment, he was alive, and another he experienced rebirth. New parents. New body. New surroundings. He was no longer a scrappy domestic cat with too many scars to count. The parents he had been reborn to blessed him with a form that was larger than most, and he was impossibly large for such a hybrid. Even in his old body, he was large for his species. And now he was that but amplified.
The golden sunlight danced across fiery orange fur and stripes of a darker, ruddy brown. The passionate glow of the sun highlighted hues of copper and gold in his fur, and a faint breeze ruffled the meager mane that grew along his jaws and chin, and tufted at the back of his neck. He gazed at the open plateau and emerald foliage with volcanic orbs, a somber expression gracing his handsome features. being here made him so nostalgic. Granted, it was not the Skyclan he used to know, but it was Skyclan all the same. Despite being born and raised in Bloodclan (twice - originally and in his new life), he always considered this place to be his home. He abandoned his desert oasis for a pretty spitfire who was smarter than him and stronger than him. Forge was so smitten with that girl...
But he left her.
The hulking predator's heart clenched, and he was suddenly anxious for someone to find him and save him from his destructive thoughts. He considered calling out and drawing attention to himself, but the thought made him uncomfortable. It felt too... what was the word? Pushy. It felt too pushy. He sat down quietly, resting his haunches upon the silky green grass. Forge could be patient. Patience. Patience. Patience. Five minutes passed by in utter silence, save for the chattering of birds in the tress towering above him and his eye started to twitch. Patience.
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