
In the centre of camp, perched upon a smooth rock, Islapaw was lazily sprawled out. Mismatched orbs of green and blue nonchalantly gazed upon the bustling hustle of the clan - hunting, patrolling, training. Her ears lay flat across her skull, no one ever took the time to relax, and become one with them self. Apart from Islapaw of course, who took perhaps a little too much time to be zen. A yawn parted her lips, and the calico unravelled her limbs that were curled up beneath her to stand to her full height.
“Yoga class, anyone?” The femme chirped in her distinct accent. And with her announcement, whilst waiting for her clan mates to join, she began the warm up with what’s known as the child pose in yoga terms. Her rump high in the air, her fore-arms stretched out as far as they could go and her fluffy chest pressed against the ground.
