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[size=16pt]Brookmumble --- ☂[/size]
[i]☂ --- Brookmumble was thinking.
This, of course, was followed by pacing. Which, inevitably, came with her name-sake mumbling. This was no rare occasion - when a random thought that came into her little noggin should trigger a series of other little thoughts, followed by even more still..well, then you got yourself a mumbling brook here.
It was a surprisingly warm winter's day. Brookmumble had pushed her way out of the den, awoken by hunger and the terror she had missed a patrol. When her name hadn't been called, she decided to turn to her second issue and went for something on the prey pile. It wasn't until she got there, noticed all the prey, did she begin to wonder if her brother, Mothwhisker, had gotten his share yet.
Then she wondered if she, as a younger sister, had the right -or, really, the position, to fret over her brother.
But that was just what sisters do, right? She always worried about him and their other siblings - wasn't uncommon. Perhaps then she should pick up something and go in search of her sibling? Oh, then, what about her other siblings? Didn't want to leave them out, that was a very non-sisterly thing to do. But what, then, of her clan mates? They must be considered family as well, correct? So should she bring them prey, too? That was entirely impossible, however, how could she make sure everyone in camp was well fed when she had yet to be fed? oh, hold on, but apprentices weren't supposed to eat until queens and elders- were warriors supposed to eat before them, too? Oh so then should she-
And thus, we are here. The overly thoughtful young molly pacing back and forth in front of the prey pile, completely oblivious tot he world around her as she tried to answer the questions in her head but only finding more to respond to. For such a calm, quiet she-cat, the inside of her noggin was anything but. It was truly a wonder she didn't go mad from all these echos and chattering in her head, though it could be noted that her thoughts, at times, seeped out her maw and bubbled into a rather odd conversation between her and herself.
"then if the kits and queens and elders eat first then I should bring them some prey-" she turned around and continued her pacing, "But wouldn't it be odd for a stranger such as myself to be offering prey? Might scare the kits, y'know" she turned, again, and paced some more, "Good point, good point, but didn't we establish we, as clan mates, are family?" It was on her seemingly hundredth change of direction that she misjudged her closeness to the fresh kill pile and, with very little fortune in her favor, managed to trip over a limp, slippery carp.
Unprepared for this unforeseeable turn of events, Brookmumble had barely enough time to mumble, "Oop ? " before falling, rather hard, on her chin with a resound CRACK as her jaws snapped shut. Oh dear well now THAT would hurt come morning time.
//I did not expect to have this much muse haha my apologies
☂ General ::
Brookkit || Brookpaw || Brookmumble
------ Cisfemale [She/Her]
------ 15 moons [ warrior ]
------ Single [Homoromantic | Bisexual]
☂ Physical ::
------ Thin furred blue-furred, white left paw, spot behind ear, aqua-green eyes and heterochromiac blue flecks
------ Bitten off tail and gruesome scar on her throat
------ Average size, average weight
☂ Personality ::
- Thoughtful, Kind, Honest, Trusting, Quick thinker
- Gullible, Shy, insecure, sensitive
- talks a lot to herself, mile-a-minute thoughts, adventure-seeker,
[b]☂ Interactions ::[/b]
------ Inexperienced in combat
------ attack in UNDERLINE WHITE
------ Speaks in Lightblue
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