who are you [p vixen]

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  • Fawnkit strode around the river weeds of the clan's camp without a care in the world. She was adapting well to clan life, despite having only joined very recently. The sound of moving water caused her ears to still rotate time to time, and she often found herself with terrible bouts of wanderlust, but she was getting used to Riverclan. She was happy. Tilting her sharp olive green optics towards the sky, she heaved a minuscule sigh. Cloudy. With the lack of sunlight, her normally electric yellow and olive green eyes just seemed dull. A dirty shade of muck and grime, which completely contradicted her mood. Her gaze danced upon the dens and various cats walking by, and she swiveled her cranium around to and fro. Fawnkit just found that there was so much to see!


    For a moment, the little femme thought her chocolate brown ears had caught a strained sound, somewhere in the distance, and her elegant tail shot straight out. What was that? Was there something there?


    The athletic, long-legged chocolate brown and linen white kit slinked along the soggy earth, keeping low. Her fur, soft as feather down, was heavy with the water saturated air, but she felt light as a feather.


    The joys of being a kit, so blissfully unaware of everything.

  • [fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 375px;][justify]Wide, flat paws slipped through the reeds of grass. Silent, terrifyingly so. It would take an owl to be able to hear him coming from even this distance. His breath was stilled and careful. Calculative predatory eyes peered out from the underbrush, sharp cheekbones jutting out from his angled skull. Soft fur beneath his paws cushioned his steps, making him a deadly and silent fighter and hunter. He would have been the perfect warrior, had he perfected his technique. Alas, Vixen still had yet to learn.
    Toned muscle rippled underneath his wiry frame. The caracal smelt wild and foreign, the softest hints of RiverClan scent starting to grow on him.
    He watched quietly as the kit he had stumbled upon slipped about, so oblivious and so loud. He would have scoffed right there and then, had he not been in danger of revealing position. So he just lied and waited, with no intention of stepping forward and revealing himself. Why would he need to? He had no intentions of interacting with this kitten or being found, so the caracal lie there, eyes tightly closed and resting under the cover of a bush, his side barely rising.
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