Posts by Caribou

Golden eyes flickered warily, the wide-shouldered blue form of a Shadowclan apprentice inching slightly closer to his unsuspecting prey- an adolescent crow. Even the young bird had become fat, engorged on the worms that had came up from the dirt in the rain the previous night. Tightening the muscles in his hind legs, the round-faced tom unsheathed his claws, and leaped forwards to barrage the fat black bird.

Catching the bird's back, it cawwed and squacked loudly, wringing and writhing against his blackthorn-sharp claws. Trying to silence the annoying bird, Curlingpaw snapped his teeth towards it's neck. The crow dodged in it's squirming motion, and the blue apprentice was forced to hold it's head down against the half-frozen marsh.

Little did the apprentice know, that danger lurked nearby in the form of a white wolf.

Thanks again for letting me adopt Curlingpaw~

Grunting with a roll of his golden eyes, Curlingpaw shook his head. He knew his grey paws could easily squash this new tom, but really, what would be the joy in squishing him so soon? A traditional badgering was in order for the tiny chocolate and white apprentice.
"Yours too."

Growling at the bird as it flapped and cawed beneath him, Curlingpaw bared his fangs again, letting them glint in the dim leaf-bare light, taunting the crow before he dug them into the sweet feathered flesh. With a shake or two of his head, the avian had perished, and sagged limp from the blue tomcat's jowels.

As soon as the wide-shouldered apprentice had dropped the black mass back to the ground, his ears shot backwards, for the sound of barking echoed over the marshland and it's sparse forest.
'Dog?' In his mind Curlingpaw had hissed, and he opened his mouth to let the scents of the territory wash over his glands. Not only had the blue cat been wrong about the species, he had been wrong about the number of predators which stalked the brush. 'Wolves!'

His back arching, the tom backed away from his kill, the blue fur along his spine ruffling in the cold breeze and stiffening it even straighter. Wide golden eyes darted left and right, and every inhale of breath scented of danger.

Gypsy wobbled uncertainly into the Darkclan nursery, a subtle fear-scent wafting from her pelt as she gazed around in the dim light, her tiny heart beating rapidly in her chest. The queen was a loner, but was recently welcomed to take shelter in Darkclan by Sootyowl and their leader to have her kitting in safer conditions. The silver torbie-calico skirted the outside ring of the nursery, tail hung stiff but low as she looked for an open nest among the other queens, of whom carried the scent of Darkclan, the contrast of her sweet pine-sap like scent making her wary.

Knowing her mate Paintedeyes, also a loner and an ex.Shadowclan tom, was outside didn't make the she-cat any less worried, for queens were often protective of their kits. Then again, the quiet and obscenely shy silver torbie had grown more protective as well, occasionally unsheathing her short claws nervously as she neared a nest further to the back of the den. It's scent was old and musty, the bedding made of dry grass and the little bit of moss that had already dried. Laying in it, Gypsy found it hard to get comfortable, and she silently wished Paintedeyes could catch a bird to help line the nest with sot down.

Stalking low in the shadows of a tree, a pair of silvery yellow eyes scanned the area before her. For days, the loner had scented many trails that led away from this camp, many different cats and of different ranks in dominance. Under the fall of the leaf-bare night, Tondra had slunk her way along one of the paths, the muscular, swift she-cat's curiosity peaked by the amount of scents.

On her own pelt, the black-smoke cat had coagulated an infinite amount of scents, the clearest of the jumble are the scents of both the Blackheart Rogues and the dangerous Bloodclan. Travel had worked Tondra hard, and she had learned all she could of each clan she spied on. She had even learned new means of attacking, especially in the role of a surprise attack.

His wide paws landing noiselessly on the dirt, with claws long enough to show even while sheathed, Omen has entered Blackheart territory. The goliath dilute-tortie smoke was undaunted by the strong scents of dominance that had been left with the scent marks, but his nose flared at just how many different scents he could count hidden among one another. The longhaired tom clicked his yellowing fangs together with a quiet clack. He wasn't one to intrude so rudely, so patiently, the smoke tortie nestled himself in plain view, his long tail brushing the dust while his muscles tightened under his mottled fur, ready for any kind of welcome.

Silver-green eyes rolled left and right in their sockets, scanning the territory for any movement which might be one of the Blackheart's own. Omen had wandered a long quarter-moon to reach this ground, but his large paws and heavy build hardly showed the strain he had taken in crossing the land in leaf-bare. Lifting a white tipped paw to his maw, the tom ran a pale pink tongue across unsheathed claws, thick and large and tapering to a point as sharp as blackthorns. Truly something the bulky cat was proud of, and often teased others of his specie, with charismatic grooming of the dangerous nails.

'This group, I have heard of from far across the land. An unwavering dominance folds through their scent, and I can sense the strength in their cats. Truly a worthy home.'
His thoughts flitted through Omen's mind, and his round-tipped ears flicked with curt amusement.

ooc: Toffee's a kittypet who just moved in the day of the rp. She hasn't really met anyone yet. ;)

From her happy fumbling in the grass, the cinnamon tabby chirped as she felt something large and feline drop out of nowhere and topple her over. An alert sprung in her mind, and the kittypet arched backwards, her amber eyes wide as she examined the cat who had tripped over her, by the sound of her squeal, she sounded young, but out of house-cats she knew, it was often hard to tell an age. With that thought settled, another one entered between the cinnamon she-cat's ears, how did this cat know my name?

Her fish-shaped trinket clinked against the link of her collar, reminding her of the two-leg writing etched onto it's shimmery golden surface. 'Oh.' Nudging herself up to her paws, white now stained with chilly mud from the grass, Toffee shook out her fur again, dirty green blades of vegetation drifting down off her stripes.
"Toffee came exploring. Is new to cat-scented land." Taking a brief moment to lean over and sniff the cat, she asked, "Are you new too, to the land here?"

Fretting continuously over the small lilac bundle of fur between his paws, Pesto smiled warily down at the kit. Between his paws, Lemonkit looked so much smaller, her round face and tiny body characteristic of her runted state. She seemed as small as a hummingbird to the bulky battle-scarred tom, his sleek black and white fur littered with scars of many past battles, rippled over the hefty muscles of his back and shoulders. Even though the miniature lilac she-kit wasn't of his blood, the large tom had grown to care for the bundle of mewling fur.

Though as his mind was trained on the kitten, of whom he knew neither the mother nor father, Pesto's large ears flicked backwards, to where a pair of she-cats were talking, hissing after a few sentences. It appeared that the one queen's own kit had been taken from her, and no one other than the Blackheart Rogues had obtained him.
Ignoring the simple realization that eavesdropping was rude, the tuxedo tomcat picked up Lemonkit gently, his teeth only just skimming her scruff as he padded over towards the two queens.
"The Blackhearts are our allies, shouldn't an allied mother be able to reclaim her kit from them?" Between his teeth, the lilac ticked tabby kitten purred and murmured quiet mews.

Pesto flinched back roughly at the tone of the queen Helix, his light green eyes closing partway, though not in frustration so much as he knew the scorn of an angry queen's claws. Leaning his muzzle downwards, he placed the small lilac kitten by his forepaws, her kitten-blue eyes closed while she rested against his white paw. From Lemonkit, up to Helix and Sky, his eyes flicked, and a look of almost embarassment waved over his scarred muzzle.
"Please pardon my rudeness, Ma'am. I'm quite new to the 'group life', I'm not familiar with many things."

With a quick appearance of his misty-pink tongue, the tuxedo tomcat licked a scar that ran horizontal along his nose leather, and one that was occasionally the itchiest thing in the world. Many similar ones criss-crossed over his black and white pelt, the only untouched portion being his skinny black and white-tipped tail.