miracles | private

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.

    Typhoonstrike's eyes probably should have scared him but Carrotkit was used to them. They were just part of who the warrior was, as much as Carrot's own flame colored paws were part of who he was. Not every cat looked the same, and it seemed to the kit that personality was more important than appearance. Even ugly cats could be nice, after all. (Or so he assumed, because he couldn't think of anyone in WindClan who was ugly. Ugliness was probably reserved for BloodClanners.)


    Having recently awoken for a midday nap, the tiny kit wandered toward the main cavern. He'd eaten just before he fell asleep but, wonders of wonders, he was hungry again. Hungry and ready to play, and the latter seemed more important than the former. As he made his way toward the freshkill pile, a familiar fluffy figure drew his attention, and Carrotkit changed course, heading straight for Typhoonstrike. "I'm bored! Can we play a game? Please?" He was used to getting his way, from sympathy if not from charm, and he had no real expectation that the warrior might say no.


    Typhoonstrike

    carrotkit. wrote:

    Ugliness was probably reserved for BloodClanners.)

    LMAO!!!!


    Typhoonstrike whirled around at the thing that had charged at him.

    "What in StarClan?! Who is that? Oh, Carrotkit, you want to play? Okay, what game?"

    Typhoonstrike just couldn't say no to a kit, especially not Carrotkit. He was just too cute and energetic and...okay, he reminded Typhoonstrike of Tuftpaw - er, Tuftheart? -, his adoptive son he'd lost to dogs a few weeks ago.

    He'd clearly shocked the warrior, and a brief twinge of guilt flashed through Carrotkit. Surprising Typhoonstrike hadn't been his intention, and although it had been amusing for half a second, he was vaguely aware that it wasn't a nice thing to do. "Oh, any old game," was his breezy answer. Bouncing up attentively, he wondered, "What games to warriors play? I want to play a warrior game."

    The warrior laughed. "Um, warriors don't really play, but I guess you could say that hunting is sort of a game. Hey, do you have a feather or a leaf?"

    Shock spread across Carrotkit's face, eyes widening and jaw slackening. "Warriors don't play games?" They were busy, of course. They had to hunt and patrol and do whatever else it was that warriors did, but they also had free time. Didn't they want to have fun? Didn't they want to relax? He let out a horrified breath, nodding slowly in response to Typhoonstrike's question. "Yeah. I got an eagle feather." An apprentice had given it to him some weeks ago, and Carrotkit had cared for it carefully since then. "What are we gonna do with it? Should I get it? I'm going to get it." He would turn and race toward his nest, reappearing just a few minutes later with the large brown feather clamped between his jaws.

    "Okay, good. We're going to hunt with it. It'll be kind of like training, in a fun way." Typhoonstrike would grab the feather and blow it away. "Now catch it! Catch the prey before it gets away!" He yelled, laughing as he tried to help catch the feather even without eyesight. He kept landing on his face, not catching the feather. (He was even going the wrong way...)